Long Blowing smoke Poems
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The trees have shed their multi coloured coats
There’s People walking round like dragons blowing smoke
The big coats pockets checked
And last year’s cough sweets found and scoffed
The black Friday sale been and gone
Presents bought, and useless gadgets you didn’t really want
Xmas trees leave the loft
Then Half an hour undoing Christmas light knots
Freezer doors that will not shut
And more booze than your local pub
Wrapping parcels and writing cards
And then POOF whats that’s beneath the tree
A book shaped package in my name I see
I cross my fingers , make a wish out loud
Oh please make it john lindley love and cross bones
that's neatly wrapped up
“WOE IS ME”, CRIES THE WEARY LAND…
As the day bade its circadian farewell, the fleeing sun
withdrew its glow from weary war worn trees;
on distant plains, vacant honey hives no longer
buzz with the songs of industrious bees.
The thunder of exploding bombs rains down dreaded death
in the midst of innocent crowds;
as the swollen moon struggles to peep through spiraling
wind blowing smoke and eerie clouds.
What is it in the psyche of man that cause
destruction of his own kind?
Can’t man see that wanton wars will cause us
to run out of time?
“Woe is me” cries out the blood soaked weary land;
When will peace triumph over this insanity of man?
Here we
Here we
Here we ing go
Snarled from within the orange
comfort glow
as i passed
by local pub
Churlish laughter
from a lass
searching for the knight
to give her forever after
ends up with a bastard
Cough and sneezed diseased
Staring at their feet
drawing on paper sleeves
deformed amber gargoyles features
choking on the winters cause
Music tremors ripple
blackened puddles
Not a t-rex in sight
snuggle my own collar
Blowing smoke and mist
Focus on the point
where both mix
Fermented caveman scrawls
echo
and trundle
through
through
a chill that kills the air
Aired secrets crumble
beneath a love undone
the ghost child
waiting outside for a father
that will never come
Take a step
perhaps to be the last
Losing grasp
feeling through the darkness
for homes path.
Wildfires don't recognize borders.
Neither should common sense.
But the nonsense coming out of your leaders' mouths
just proves that they're really dense.
Smoke doesn't come with a passport.
It's not some thing you can just deport.
You see, here's the way it goes.
We can't control the way the wind blows.
Maybe you should clean up your own mess
before blaming others for your distress.
We actually have way more
boreal forest than you.
Yet, statistically, for some reason,
you have more fires than we do.
Your priorities are something
you need to rearrange
because the problem is not Canada;
it's climate change.
Through the mist ...
vision blurred by the bias of our views
clouding our reason
unable to walk in another men's shoes.
Blinded by the fog ...
thoughts offered by signs in hand
daring others to cross
convinced we are right, our dissenters lost.
War is declared ...
the air thick with opinion.
Battles commence ...
destruction of all that is held dear.
Guns blowing smoke
Swords red hot metal forged
Wrapped in the rising haze of heat
Voices raised dirty the streets.
Nowhere in sight ... clear rationale
no time to hear; no effort to see.
Air, a toxic mist, release the inner pain that i feel
eyes blinded by tears - no more chances, my friend.
Through the mist ...
no one hears.
This our reality when ideas supersede our fellow beings.
Through the mist ...
I see no love - hate guised as ideas.
Oh if they could see through the mist...
That is us on both sides of the street.
18~12~2014
Maurice Yvonne
can you imagine my disappointment...I believed her
...she might of been the one...that one woman
that has eluded me my whole lifetime...but...
...she...she was...
she was just blowing smoke up my ass...
story of my life...it's just never right...so many frauds...
but her....well her I trusted...I was willing to try...but
well she did me wrong...
she did well with the Vaseline...
lubricated my ass clean...
but when she shoved
that PVC up my bum...
well...that I liked!
the smoke?
that was the problem it was too hot,
your suppose to let it cool...
she let it go when it was
still hotter than burning coals...
all my friends...well now they call me hot pants...
it's not funny...I had severe...burns to my hole...
every time I have to go...you can hear
me yelling...feels like the pipe in reverse,
exiting instead of entering...it burns...
it bleeds...
but what hurts the most...
what really upsets me...
...as long as I live I will never...
what hurts the most,
...she won't take my calls...
my ass has healed
and I'd like to see her again...
give the pipe another shot...
she said she liked me...
called me good looking, vibrant,
kind, generous, intelligent ,
witty...but she didn't mean it,
I guess...
she was just blowing smoke up my ass...
...yes please!
High Noon Antics
High noon, the time was set upon this arid, sultry day
The guns would set against the other, quick-draw style
In speedy rivalry and bid to have their final say
With keen eyed rapid movement versatile
This Western town could not contain two greats
Fanned were the flames of liquor and land dispute
Thus one would remain, the other to a deathly fate
In quick draw fashion and concluding shoot
The saloon doors yield to the spurred and booted big boys
Holstered guns secured against their denim hips
They walk out with swaggered gait and angry poise
Out from the quieted hub bub of secure sealed lip
A spitting sandy cloud cause tumbleweeds to roll
Across the vacant lot betwixt a row of phantom, cardboard houses
Where twitchy curtains hang, but of people, not a soul
They count the paces for the big encounter
Ten honest steps with one determined turn
And steel eyed stares that cross the shaky divide
With hands that hover o’er the fire arm unconcerned
Now sudden moves determine who might live
Discharged the flash of solar weaponry betwixt the gap
A groan from somewhere denotes a direct hit
On crumpled knees the gun relinquishes its grasp
Now prone upon the dusty earth, a final moan emitted
He took the bullet between the eyes by one more precise
The other just grazed upon the arm, remains unfazed
Blowing smoke from his gun, he revels in the others demise
Only room for one here, he removes his gaze
Backyard Mechanic
by Bob Moore © 2019
I’m a guy of the ‘60’s and ‘70’s, a Ford man, or a Holden or two
we didn’t bother with garages, if the car broke, we knew what to do
We only needed a spanner, a shifter would fit all the nuts
another one for the sparkplugs, and enough room to get at the guts
Two screwdrivers, a straight and a phillips,
a hammer, in case things were stuck,
a few timely swear words to use on the way,
time to start now, so wish me good luck
We could fix the transmission, or gearbox, change the tail shaft
or even the diff, we didn’t care if the cars in the air,
we’d crawl under, without wondering “if”
Clean out the carby, so the float would now work,
change all the plugs and the points, check the alt, and the dizzy
the air cleaner too, then you can grease all the joints,
Blowing smoke, then change the head gasket,
a squeal in the brakes, check the shoes,
you can change the brake fluid, and hope that will do it,
glad we didn’t end up on the news
we knew that half of the things that we did
a real mechanic would not try to do,
they were smart and they said, those things would not work,
but not knowing, they worked fine for you
Those days are gone now forever, the cars talk with data and files
Just diagnostics, and computerised, and not a mechanic for miles
Whenever I hear someone say
I was always taught to believe
in myself and I can be and achieve
anything I want and put my mind to
The sky is the limit dare to dream
and don't let anyone else tell you otherwise
The 1st that springs to mind to me
Is that's all well and good if you wish
or choose to buy into that
But unfortunately in life cold hard reality
dictates that seldomly doesn't actually happen
Until you eventually wake up 1 day and figure
out for yourself sadly life don't work that way
That belongs and should be resigned to
the inside of a greeting card
With a footnote saying P.S
If everyone could be exactly what they
choose or wanted to be
Wouldn't life be great
Or are you rather suggesting some
people make the conscientious decision
To be viewed and treated as nothing more
less than worthless scum by other people
Now ask yourself who is smart and who
is dumb
Is it me or is it them
Or are you testing or is this a test of my intelligence
And did I pass because that to me
sounds like as if you are
blowing smoke up my backside
And that's ok and not a bare faced lie
so long as what you are asking me to
believe in is
That you are bonufid living proof stood
before my very eye's
Proving all your and everything you ever
dreamed of and aspired to become can
come true if you believe and try hard enough
So answer me this is this all you ever wanted
to be
Good enough for you but not for me I can
do so much better
To all my fallen homies, know you're not forgotten/
I'm constantly pouring bottles in your memory/
When I'm awake, I feel your energy around me/
So I'm striving to be on top, on top is where my spot is/
I'm fighting demons trying to knock me off this mountain/
I work too hard to mount it, still feeling like I'm climbing/
Even though they want to knock and try to stop me/
They won't knock me off my pivot, trying to box me, I box 'em/
My homies were Malefic influenced and was persistent/
On doing the things that demons persuaded/
And the bed that they made, was the bed they lay in/
The demons they fought, was the demons I'm slaying/
From that drain in their brains, to that flame in their veins/
Spawning fire breathing dragons, blowing smoke like a train/
Front line banging that war drum/
Redrum that come with sniffles, you know my gist/
Like a fist punch, you catching a fist/
Or a wind you can't resist, you catching my drift/
We were dropped in poverty, so death is inevitable/
I'm here to give you knowledge/
You can eat up like edibles/
The same knowledge that Satan gave to Adam and Eve/
That turned them into God's, deprived them of Heaven's stool/
So to all my fallen homies, you will rise again/
Real homies don't die, we only multiply/
Rise and come together, we never divide/
Reverse domino effect, we fall and bounce back up/
Mass incarceration, population control/
Psychological warfare, brain washing the soul/
Homies don't have a chance, we are fallen/
We are only remembered by loved ones and homies/
That's why I'm pouring out this liquor every Sundays/
Locked up or in a grave, is the only way they want us/
Guns, drugs and money is our only components/
The government and the system is our only opponent/
Dark clothes, dark clouds is how we live our lives/
When we're mourning, depressed in our daily vibes/
We keep on living, regardless we won't ever give up/
RIP to the fallen homies that went back to dust/