Long Crash landing Poems
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It has been scientifically proven:
Dolphins have bigger brains.
Dial in your radio dials, folks ... wee ooo eee eeeee
Tune in. Sitting down is advisable.
We are being contacted by ALIENS ...
“Attention Earthlings!
All humanoids of all walks of life
And ocular orbital colors.
Come, the Galactic Order of Divinity
Is calling you to join.
The clock is ticking! Tik Tok
So, pleeease
Do reverse engineering.
We would not want our emissaries
Lives to go in vain.
Crash landing! Rediculous, my friends,
An unscrupulous cosmic intervention
With a cosmic twisted invitation to join the galactic race.
For the Atomic bomb, more twisted by the way,
Has caught our most worrisome ocular orbitals.
I mean, wow, what power. Very scary.
WE overlook due to most ingenious TV transmissions.
Redeeming and quite entertaining!
Aliens are such suckers for a good laugh or cry.
Calling anyone who has ears to hear.
There’s a lot of real estate out there in Outerspace.
A plethora of aliens have joined already and other lifeforms too.
As a matter of fact, a delegation of dolphins
Have already been dispatched to the Mother ship.
They were quick to hitch a ride and eager to join.
Plus, they love to perform.
What can I say, WE aliens love entertainers.”
Le Squirrel Sat For Le Painter
His canvass set
And oils based,
He zeroed onto her providence.
His lips miming
Rhode Island here
Big Apples there.
She scowled her impatience.
Her eyes dismissing his.
Although,
Him noting her dark chocolates,
Sweet looking,
Cloaked as balls of fire,
And a posture gorgeous and erect.
And so was he.
She was a beauty
And a beast ...
As levity was short on her,
But long on him.
If only she would give in
It would make for better strokes,
A better potrait.
Thus ill fated
In his mind,
This potrait sat on thin ice.
Little squirrels jumping in,
Ski jumping off her nose.
Swoosh!
Another one.
Swoosh!
The third missed.
Crash landing on her lap,
Smiling.
A caricature off and galloping.
His horse neighing in absentee.
Seeds of a lampoon sprouting.
His mind jumping
To conclusions.
He raced.
The potrait moaned.
He dabbled a little oil here,
A little oil there.
A pinch of rouge
On her cheeks and lips,
And highlighting a reflection
In her pupils.
Chocolates never looked so bitter.
He finished with sparkles
In her hair, flaming.
He paused,
Adding a little depth
and gradation to her forehead,
pointed and blunt,
like a squirrel posing at his party.
After all she was.
For hues,a reddish brown, and swirls,
No mistaking that of Le Squirrel.
He had a little ways to go
And a lifetime of laughter.
He added squirrels jetting
From her mouth and ears.
And that bushy tail,
He thought
Wiser of not making
Her into a **** star
His mind thinking,
her seated, the bushy tail
jetting up between her thighs.
No.
Upon realization,
her eyes squinting at the portrait
in disbelief,
Le Squirrel screamed.
The shrill heard around town,
Making the artist rise.
connie pachecho
8/31/17
Inspired to write this poem after reading entries
to the Artwork-Poetry Contest
What do we perceive to make of this word
Generated in this modern mans world
Lets take a trip back, lets look and see
What makes a Miracle to be
The awesome explosion of millennium past
The very first day life took it's first gasp
The very next day we began to evolve
It was the day, Earth started to revolve
The revolve is our generator of the life we see
As we read this line, it was to be
Organisms small, that grew so tall
Past life's creatures, that existed to fall
But its in the newer world, the Miracle came about
Out of the ordinary, which led the people to shout
Eventful happenings never seen before
Volcanic eruption, opening Earth's door
Meteors streaking across the sky
Crash landing, tell me why
The Earth quakes to shake us up
Fissures, abrupt
Weather patterns all year round
As we grew, we had to understand
We are further on than we were before
This Miracle word we have come to adore
An earthly spore a child born
A mum and dad, the righteous norm
Freeway pile up, they all survive
How could anybody get out alive
Hudson River, plane splashes down
Hero Pilot, not one did drown
Through my eyes it's a word i see
In other eyes it's their perceive
Inspired by my favourite band Queen " The Miracle "
Anger and I
We've seen the world together
Pulled each other out of predicaments
Big and bigger
And those trivial, solipsistic yet consuming
We've justified painful moments and inexplicable mistakes
Wrought with caked-on sobriety and confession
We've denied the passage of trusting souls
Through impermeable wastelands begging for harvest
We've crawled up and down slippery slopes
Whether we retained knowledge or not
Whether we knew the difference between the given nadir or zenith
And yet reveled at each arrival, crash-landing and all
We write and sing and bleat for each other
As the expressions of our inner beliefs ride the third rail
The resonant harmonies of destiny and desperation
Sketched by love gone right and wrong
Carved by Herculian notions that no one else can seem to bear or grasp
Leaving my friend and I
To arm-wrestle and embrace each other deep into eternity.
(12/25/11)
Watching from the corner, in her ‘Speedy’ ice cream van
While armed and hooded villains carry out their wicked plan
They rob the bank and make off just as quickly as they can
But Speedy does a wheelie at the hands of Turbo Gran
One robber floors the pedal and one winds his window down
To shoot up their pursuer as they hurtle out of town
But Speedy’s armour plated and its glass is bullet proof
Old Turbo had that fitted when a bullet took her tooth
So now she takes no prisoners as she races up the street
In pursuit of all the bad guys whom she cannot wait to meet
And when a handbrake turn gyrates the villain’s car around
Turbo Gran brakes sharply with a tyre screeching sound
Then, like some Wild West stand-off where no cowboy goes for it
Everything is silent… until Speedy starts to split
The split goes up the windscreen then it runs from front to back
And then there is a high pitched ‘Ding’ as Speedy’s two halves crack
The gap between them widens as the ice cream van unzips
And Turbo Gran stands leaning on her Zimmer’s rubber grips
Out of the car, two robbers undo violin case clips
While Turbo calmly munches on a dozen chocolate chips
Turbo Gran, in mask and cape, is gazing at the heavens
Not staring down the barrels of the AK47s
One villain speaks, ‘Hey Granny, I suggest you make your peace’
Then both of them are flattened by the two crash-landing geese
Sirens fast approaching, mean that Turbo Gran should exit
A grannie in a mask and cape… well… nobody expects it
Her Zimmer’s on her shoulder as she strides back to the van
The halves slam shut and Speedy nips off like a rocket man
*
Turbo Gran is rocking in her chair, facing the tele
She wonders if twelve chocolate chips were just a few too many
For when those geese crashed from the sky like massive feathered arrows
She had to face it, she was shocked… she’d meant to bring down sparrows
Marvel of fond Mother-Nature,
Carefully carved nomenclature!
Mountains fold hands toward blue skies,
Where stars flutter, like, butterflies!
Water-waves warmly wash the feet,
Fleets on sleets meet around and greet!
High, steep, sharply molded boulders,
Stand in accord holding shoulders...!
Solitary human standing,
On a broken cliff crash-landing!
A bird flying around its edge,
To build her nest, finding no hedge!
An owl dwelling in a small hole,
Lost as though with a restless soul!
Bats, waiting for the silent night,
Alike, are, bleak views of cliff- sight...!
Suffering writs of erosion,
Churned by chisels of corrosion!
Carved, compiled, combined, conditioned,
Into wild bird-beaks protruded!
Steeply, slippery, surfaces,
Sloppy, soapy, still, circuses!
Cliff has its captivating charm,
That until disturbed does no harm...!
11 January 2022
C Form - Couplet Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
One by one they'll slowly arrive.
Like drunken moths fanning humid nights.
Crash-landing into the brainpan of mankind.
Howling like a stray dog on fire.
They suckle away the nectar from life.
Panning flecks of silver from hopeful eyes.
Only sated when they've bled the well dry.
Howling like a stray dog on fire.
Like vampires, they feed off periwinkle fear.
Reflectionless savages of funhouse mirrors...
Black stains bleeding into the fabric of dream...
soiling the remaining ponds of pristine.
Wishing to leave a string of rubies on the wrist...
or a devil's knot around a porcelain neck...
black powder to the temple of every regret...
the howl of a burning stray, you'll never forget.
The umbrella deploys on the morning beach
A device designed for our protection
A matter of natural selection for safety
To shade us from the nasty sun
And other things coming in from space
When the meteors came without warning
Perhaps they were comets or giant asteroids
In any event they were a nuisance
An annoyance we could not avoid
Some were as big as a school bus
But without the children or yellow
Closing in fast on us
Blotting out the sun for fun
Coming in for a crash landing
A sudden stop compliments of Earth
It turns out that umbrellas have limitations
They don't stop rocks from outer space
It is not their job
Some millions of years from now
When humans and dinosaurs reappear
Someone might reinvent the wheel
And perhaps an umbrella that works
So we don't continue to disappear
Armageddon wold be an amazing boon
to accompany ourselves amidst others in rubble strewn cocoon
or perchance an arid extra dry spell blows humungous dune
donning any brave soul to weather
fierce-some dust bowl appearing like a ghoulish goon
vis a vis via global sand man disallowing any inhabitant 2b immune
whereat autumnal days will mimic those analogous to tropical June
day where nary a species of flora nor fauna,
which latter muffled cry viz Claire de lune
barely heard above the blindingly pitched
(scoring major lunar home run) when earth's moon
appeared to be batted, snatched, and whacked -
piñata like casting darkness at high noon
this out of other worldly debacle
(viz: a scene of apocalyptic, cosmic and epic rune
from twilight zone re: outer limits offsetting
sole millennial Gaia satellite believed rigged forever) -
which end of planetary status quo came soon
er than expected, accompanied by Gustav Holst eponymous tune
once Luna rung seismically, titanic ally uprooted, violently wrenched
prior to crash landing at ground zero rocked and rolled out of orbitz
before careering, and screaming thru the atmosphere
analogous to a near full term baby in utero yanked out of womb.
though the above dynamic gigantic jack-knifed
nihilistic quantum spectacular universal wreckage
sans the inner sphere of solar system
(known to mankind, when said creature, an outlier)
whence even amidst the early
bipedal hominids that throve a sage
no event (whether natural or caused by human error),
would compare neither cap cha, when are bit rage
emasculated, and wrought onto the terrestrial firmament
no way to measure nor gauge
the depth, length, and scope of total and
absolute value eradicating any trace of simian equipage
reducing the arrogant, conceited, ego-maniacal, dotage
boot far-fetched science fiction phenomena would
witness civilization captive in their own technological cage!
Form:
If this G.O.D. is real, then it’s only a matter of time
when we’ll find out if we, mere humans, are worthy
Do we have what it takes to even be considered
for membership? Or must we wander into the Twilight Zone?
Have we developed the proper qualifications
for admittance into the Order?
G.O.D. is constantly intervening
One way, or another
Be it by direct contact - an Angel's voice in the clouds
or secondhand news like the Bible (but It's Good News at least!)
or a crash landing in someone’s backyard (like Roswell)
Why talking snakes or burning bushes
are not a sure sign of probable insanity
One can only imagine
There is so much mystery to be had
Perhaps, it’s time to embrace life by the bells
Even gawk at the enormity of our predicament
It’s time to put aside our petty differences
I'm raising my hand in hopes of being chosen
Because, in my heart of hearts, I know
We may not be the only species
being considered by the G.O.D.