Long Bite the dust Poems
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Some like to say “give up the ghost”,
To mean forever abandoning your post.
The rowdy ones prefer to kick the bucket,
Though that would surely make a racket.
Many are said to bite the dust,
When they’re catching the skyward bus.
A gambler would likely cash in his chips,
Hope he’ll change his winnings into tips.
I knew someone who turned up his toes,
When on habaneros he overdosed.
The more vocally inclined tend to croak,
Then become quieter than a dead oak.
My granduncle may soon fall off his perch,
For both food and sex he has lost the urge.
We will soon shuffle off this mortal coil,
Pack it up and immigrate to the soil.
You’re scheduled to go the way of all flesh,
Whether your figure is average or a smash.
It’s no great tragedy to breathe one’s last,
If regrets are few and life’s been a blast.
When I’m ready to sail to heaven’s arch,
Raise a toast and wish me bon voyage!
The earth seems flat and Godot decided to arrive on the scene
Like a boil stuck on a pancake dressed as a trans gender carnival queen
He carries a prophecy written on a tag hung from his shoulder
Suggests Sisyphus had it easy on slippery slopes with his boulder
A Mocking Bird rears its ugly head on ominous spread sheets of doom
One Hundred Years Of Solitude and Paradise Lost for a safe tomb
No divine comedy but rather Robinson Crusoe's forsaken enclave
Bell Jar meets Darkness at Noon in a world neither new nor brave
Is the cute fluffy bear safe or lost on tracks near Paddington Station
Has Peter Rabbit met Alice while loo roles are the prize for the nation
Will the Famous Five dwelling in a cave of adventure survive the storm
Can Pippi darn enough stockings when isolation becomes the latest norm
A decision for the Little Prince is to whether to leave the planet in time
Would Momo kiss Benno the street sweeper or is it declared a felony crime
Tom Sawyer has to heed aunt Polly's advice and avoid Huckleberry Finn
Who puts genie back into the bottle when Aladdin's lamp shines rather dim
Surely there are more important questions to pose during epic disaster
Why do the marginalized suffer more badly than those who master
Has Donald Trump enough money to put more bricks in the partition
Can we blame Russians or Muslims or some other satanic mission
God forbid if the Monarch of Britain was to bite the dust in the crisis
Would it be a vile conspiracy theory to accuse Jihad Al Qaeda or ISIS
But the worst had to be watching a funeral cortege on computer screens
Or that socialists villains take over the country which is not what it seems
10th April 2020
Why would I want to be a flower
when I can smell as sweet?
Why would I want to be an ephemeral spectacle
when I can be an eternal bloom with love within?
Why would I want to wilt and wither
and bite the dust?
But if I have to, I'll be a DANDELION!
Invincible, unconstrained, conspiring with
the wind to spread my domain
of golden-yellow flowery quilt
over the lawns and the meadows
as far as the eyes can see.
Slighted, ignored, untended,
I still flourish unabashed,
Teasing, mocking playfully--
An unrelenting pain in the butt!
Flower: Dandelion = Lion's tooth
"Picture yourself as a flower" contest by Andrea Dietrich
I see that winter has now broken,
steam fills each word, as they are spoken.
Cold air seems to fill the room,
as the stuck in side, brings on its doom.
The land is now covered with snow, and ice,
to go outside, we better think twice.
Slipping and sliding, as we bite the dust,
landing so hard, our rumps we bust.
I haven’t built a snow man, or ridden a sled, in years,
I haven’t had a snow ball fight, being in good cheer.
Now I am old, but I still remember the good times you see,
they will always have their part with me.
Be careful of the snow thats yellow,
cause it belongs to another fellow.
I can still make snow angels,
while I’m flopping around,
might as well do something, instead of laying on the ground.
When I finally, get back up to my feet,
I take two steps, and myself I repeat.
I sure do make a lot of snow angels you see,
once I fall down, the rest is all left to me.
Is it still there, swaying in the
Chicago air?
I dream of myself with dark,
ribboned braids, being just seven.
And swinging my tanned legs as
hard as I Could,,trying to kiss God's
cheek in heaven.
Oh to be seven again!
When free speech reigned.
Girls had cap guns and trains.
We played games of all kinds,
No PC police to say,"No, No"
"No cowboy and Indian games.
Choose marbles, they are PC tame"
(Yes and so maddeningly lame!)
Nobody hit one another.
We were of all nationalities!
All colors and yes, were sisters
and brothers.
No such freedom for Children today.
They must, bow, kneel and kiss
whatever pressure groups say!
They are trying to make girls into
boys and boys into girls.
One androgynous nation under
no God at all?
Where all are "whichevers" and
Freedom has taken it's fall!
We use color to get our way.
That white man is pure evil they say.
So we beat them good, though they
did nothing to us.
It's the sign of the times.
All white women and men must
Bite the dust?
Sadly, sadly, our freedoms down
the toilet go.
To the SS Socialism Ship we blindly go.
Cheering for free everything.
You will never hear another
Liberty Bell Ring!
October 23, 2019
The Omnipotent Hand knows what is best;
Man sees himself and nature at blind spot.
Now in a sine graph we are at the crest.
Yes, a turning point is what we have got!
The Hand constructed a clean house for us,
But we cook what we eat in the fireplace.
The scented air turns into greenhouse gas,
Increasing the temperature in the space.
The Hand let the rain fall and river flow,
But we give them artificial flavors:
Rain gets an acid, river a shadow.
Sickening soft drinks have various colors.
The Hand gave us the land to tread upon,
But we make the wheels to send us away.
And we bite the dust; diseases have won.
We choose to die and not to walk a day.
The Omnipotent Hand showed us the sign
To bend the trend and take full reversal,
Like searching for the grapes, the source of wine.
Unless we go back, all shall be fatal.
(c) 2012 by Sherwin
Balbuena
Never seen beautiful angels
sprinkle angel dust on me
as snowflakes on a leafless tree,
and I don't expect them to alter things
when they swoop down with their long wings;
where were they when I faced fears and dangers?
Angel dust has another meaning...
besides the magical power to alter a destiny,
kids of my age used this drug
and went insane, not recognizing
themselves, their personality changed drastically;
some even wanted to jump out of a window.
Sweet angels, leave Heaven and visit me
on the days when wishes freeze on silent lips,
let them resemble snow falling on distant hills,
and deserted roads like the one I'm traveling on!
Let me catch many snowflakes softer than a baby
with soft skin...whiter than daises basking in the spring sun!
A boy, barely fourteen, has been found dead as a poisoned rat
on the bleachers of a run-down baseball field frequented by a hungry cat....
his red eyes were wide-open imploring a merciless sky color rust;
no angel came down to save him: he laid there and painfully died!
Who gave him that powerful drug? Did he want to bite the dust?
He has taken that secret with him...why didn't anyone listen when he cried?
Entered in Gail Angel Doyle's contest,
" Angel Dust "
Written by Andrew Crisci
on 10/18/ 2012
It’s true that we are different, but life can be tough for all of us
No matter who we are, we all shall one day bite the dust
So take your liberty to debate and disagree, to fuss and discuss
Let’s exercise our freedom of speech and argue if we must
There are some things we must stand up against and fight It's not a fight to prove who’s wrong and who’s right
It’s one way to supply the world with salt and light
It’s also another way to separate the night from the day
It’s another way to keep the darkness in its place
It’s another way to give hope to the human race
I tell you, we must be brave, bold, and not run away and hide
Never giving chance and opportunity for an evil and rising tide
May our voices be heard, never giving sway to the absurd
May we step forward and cast our vote while there is still hope
cj01192012
May you close your eyes in advance
Before Lucifer captures your soul
In our saviors final dance
Alexander the Great
Commander of the darkest fate
Sheathe all swords!
What is it my lord
You have captured me at my weakest point
I want what these dead seekers don't
I see an empire, a nation
Nothing higher than inflation
I Julius Caesar hold freedom in a tear
My hopes and dreams are what everyman fear
In the presence of tragedy
You will love me
In a tub of petals
The gods will rub me
I am all but immortal
See the shadows of jealousy
And ever so often, I walk toward her
Lust caught up in mislead trust
Even holy sinners bite the dust
John Proctor’s Crucifixion
A slain soldier’s prediction
So content with death
That you wouldn't give a piece for what's left
When all realms are expired
We come to a cease fire
When the pictures fade and legends die
Imagine if generals could cry
Adore fate so rudely
And leave as yours truly
You shall remember me
The curse of September, but let it be
May you close your eyes in advance
Before Lucifer captures your soul
In our saviors final dance
We bite the dust every morning,
spitting gray powder, like desperados.
Firebirds nosedive in forewarning,
perverting the trees into hell’s tornadoes.
We taste sooted smog on our tacky tongues,
dragging all our shadows of remorse.
Finding no habitat for our wheezing lungs,
we long for the rain’s fecund watercourse.
We find Death Valley spreading like a contagion,
and dodge parched patches, bruised and baked by sol.
So delirious our meandering, we know not our region,
our infernal night camps reek of cinder and wood coal.
We chant, not knowing the meaning of an arcane lyric,
unsure how to summon the recondite eidolon of Seth.
As city shells smolder, all chronic hearts await some mantic.
Surely hell will freeze over, so we wait with bated breath.