Long Diamondback Poems
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Twas accursed destiny
since birth alack
nascent emasculation abominable barrack
emergent deus ex machina,
viz zit ting older sibling counterattack
thirteen plus chronological gap
eldest sister struck like diamondback
surrogate "mother" role
assumed tubby exact
protectorate pseudo fullback
against cruel beastie boys
bullying barbs
comeuppance giveback
pummeling spongiform
gray matter (yours truly)
fisticuffs she didst highjack
proxy mothering
kept corporeal essence intact
jilting nefarious nemesis aligned
(maligning) and stalking,
this fee-fi-fo-fum
ordinary bean sized Jack
are runt (arrant) cowardly
(non lion) nerdy lad owning a knack
courage lack this glum
older married chap doth adumbrate
satisfactory accomplishments lack
king, where crazy quilt aimless wandering
described purposeless multitrack
thus, sympathetic
to hue men/women nonblack
or decimated aborigines
once populating Australian outback
existential nihilism would,
undergirding hypothetical
unwritten paperback
with little need to prevaricate,
nor appear as quack
pot, one measly *****sapiens,
who accrued millennial palimpsest zeitgeist
where, punctured
disequilibreated psyche dust rack
asper protean (in utero)
multitudinous setback
soundlessly resonating
with concussive thwack
as this rickety ship of state
(a haunted junk ket)
unwanted emotional ballast to unpack
asseveration, asper assiduously
preferably welcoming
dry suction no vac
jar this pawn (knight wannabe
in his bishop rick) torrid
me psychological wrack
king within (castle keep)
complex edifice shackled
in dungeon with repast constituting.
SLAPPY THE APPLE TREE OF OZ - WIZ
Dorothy and I go way back, don’t you know
and by the way I’m familiar with the bale of hay,
thundering tin can and the trembling kitty show.
At first they were hesitant to let me stay.
I had to pull my roots up from the ground,
put a cafeteria net in place to hold its yield,
then follow the yellow brick crowd ‘round and ‘round
and avoid a screaming witch out in the field.
She threatened to tear me limb from limb.
I stuck out my red tongue, told her to just try.
The knees of tin clattered together - poor him,
and dear Dorothy and her little dog let out a sigh.
I fell asleep standing in the poppy garden of snow.
My apples were nearly poisoned but I shielded them
before my eyes closed. Thankful for Glinda’s glow —
awakening even the brave one with his absent brain stem.
The growling yawn of the cowardly furball freaked me out.
I shook the diamondback crystals from my leaves and trunk.
Our Kansas girl led the way to Oz with a tree-mendous shout.
For the millionth time we grab arms and sing - this time in funk.
We reach the wonderfully luscious land of oz - green as my hair.
Begging audience of the wizard, he finally sees us.
I’m patient as he listens to the beggarly needs — a lion’s share.
I won’t bring myself down to their level - make a great fuss.
The wizard listens to this wizened curmudgeon tree.
I ask him for unending sweet apples without any worms.
And as he has done with the rusty-eyed gang, he makes a decree,
for he must give a long winded speech and make us squirm.
The only drawback is I must stand guard in this breezy courtyard —
a lookout for writings on the skywall that might jeopardize our lives.
Still, I am the crowned jewel, so humble, in this emerald vanguard.
We sang and danced our way down the yellow brick and survived.
10/29/2018
Off To See The Wizard Poetry Contest
Charles Messina - Sponsor
In the Wizard of Oz, Dorothy gets slapped by an apple tree. This is where I came up with his name :)
~Living With Love Faith And Hope~
(Diamondback)
With love I can keep positive thoughts in my head
Try hard not to let anything that's bad...
Contaminate my heart and soul
Faith enriches and helps soul grow
Greet each day with good attitude to cope
Faith and trust in God reinforces for sure my hope
Faith is having hope at your command inside you
All my confidence and hopes with Him grow
I can dream when I keep my hope
God's love helps me with my life cope
With His love and guidance I'll make it through
He brings me peace and love when I am feeling blue
He fills of joy my heart
From Him can't never part
Hope takes me far
God love you as you are
His love is there for you
Your hopes renew
With faith hope grows
When there's no hope
Is hard to cope
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2011
November.24.2015
~Author's Notes:
" The Diamondback" is a poetry style created by Christina R.Jussaume.
Sol hung in the western sky,
in the western sky Sol hung,
like a dead man on a rope
when dying time has come.
Watch how you tread in the desert,
in the desert watch how you tread,
the vultures soar high on the thermals
as they seek out the dying and dead.
Take water to drink on your journey,
on your journey take water to drink,
there's a lack of sweat, on that you can bet,
but you've dried out more than you think.
Plant your feet with care when walking,
when walking plant your feet with care,
the horse crippler cactus is waiting
to take you unawares.
Pass by the brush with caution,
with caution pass by the brush,
the diamondback lounges in shadows
but his strike comes on with a rush.
Disturb not the stones on your travels,
on your travels disturb not the stones,
a scorpion may surprise you,
their sting goes down to your bones.
All is not dread in the wasteland,
in the wasteland all is not dread,
but vultures fly high on the thermals
as they wait one and all to be fed.
All is not death in the desert,
in the desert all is not death,
beauty enough for the seeker
to take away their breath.
One or two of us
Were home on leave;
For the rest of us,
Christmas came by mail.
Our callsign: Gunslingers.
Our Military Transition Team
Was embedded with
The "Triple Deuce" Iraqi Infantry,
For a year our home
Was LSA Diamondback
Mosul, Nineveh province,
In northern Iraq
A Team member's wife
Gave us all Santa hats.
I have an old photo
Of us standing on top
Of an old Iraqi bunker,
Bearing pistols, rifles,
And those Santa hats.
My wife sent a small
Plastic Christmas tree,
Which was decorated
In the Gunslingers' office.
My mom sent a warm quilt.
When you're acclimatized
To wearing battle armor
In the high 90s and 100s,
80-something feels cold!
I remember the nights--
Dark, but full of stars,
With Orion's belt
On the horizon.
Soldiers made bonfires
In the oddest places:
By a concrete shelter,
Or in classified burn pits.
Once exiting my office,
I saw a fire in the sky.
Soldiers were on top of a bunker
Drinking near-beer, singing.
Another night, I stood
Just outside of the light
Looking at some troops,
And the chiaroscuro image.
I went back to my "choo",
And penciled the scene.
To complete the masterpiece,
I inserted myself
Roasting marshmallos.
I went back to visit them,
Showed them the drawing,
Then completed the picture
By searing a marshmallow.
Christmas was what we made of it.
That diamondback with turquoise eye
Beneath the copper colored sky
Is best left there alone to lie
Aware of ev'ry passerby
Commanding it's respect
But lofty prowling also reigns
If not supreme its threat remains
So vigilance is what maintains
The losses equal to the gains
This delicate balance to protect
Each predator will become prey
When stars of night find stars of day
The system was designed that way
To keep the intellect at bay
That would upset that order
LIke most designs it has its flaws
For those who don't respect its laws
And seek to fill rapacious jaws
Displaying disrespectful maws
Which grin within disorder
The snake that lies in plastic grass
The raptor’s flight through prismal glass
Are visions meant not but to pass
As though they were but sheen on frass
Only useful when they’re rent asunder
Philosophers are left to ponder
Why nature would allow this wander
'Tween balance here, disorder yonder
Peacemakers struggle… troublemakers squander
Ill-gotten gains, their rotten plunder
snakes on a wall
rattlers all three
no pictures or any
pretty things
just demon scalps
no
they're not evil
I ate the big one
he was old and rough
three days from pay day
half a tank
two shotgun shells
no mourning doves
and there he was
yuck
they're better young
taste like chicken
and not so tough
won't shoot 'em anymore
just shoe 'em off the porch
little bullsnake last night
on the patio under a box
picked him up before the dog
got his scent
tossed him gently
over the fence
I see 'em crossing the road
and stop to help them
wherever I roam
not to get crushed
maybe a snake is
what I was
or maybe a snake is
what I become
~Living With Love Faith And Hope~
(Diamondback)
With faith, love, can keep positive thoughts in my head
Try hard not to let anything that's bad
Contaminate my heart and soul
Faith, love, enriches, helps soul grow
Greet each day with good attitude to cope
Love, faith, trust in God reinforces for sure my hope
Hope is having faith at your command inside you
All my confidence, love, hopes with Him grow
I can dream when I keep my hope
God's love helps me with my life cope
With His love and guidance I'll make it through
He brings me peace and love when I am feeling blue
He fills of love my heart
From Him can't never part
Hope takes me far
God love you as you are
His love is there for you
Your hopes renew
With faith love grow
When there's no hope
Is hard to cope.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2011
May.13.2016
~Author's Notes:
The "Diamondback" is a poetry style created by Christina R. Jussaume.
Jacob R. McGee©
“Jake” was what they called him with respectfulness and awe
Ever’ since he came up here from down in Arkansas
Never was a bully who’d confront our family
Cause my Dad, was the big and bad Ol’ Jacob R. McGee
Theres’ stories told about him right up unto this day
Like when, with just one hand, he picked up a Chevrolet
Or the one about his knockin’ out ol’ Jerry Mason’s bull
But the story ‘bout Jack Savage - now that’s a big earful.
Ol’ Jack Savage was a nasty man, that no one would deny
With many scars upon his face and with evil in his eye
But “Nasty Jack” met a diamondback all people did agree
When he crossed the path and aftermath of Jacob R. McGee
No one knows just why they fought that August afternoon
But Jack lies in the ground within a coffinized cocoon.
And the face of ol’ Jack Savage it went unrecognized
It was ol’ Jacks’ scarred-up face that Jake had pulverized
All Jacks’ ribs were broken, and both his arms were too
The undertaker said ol’ Jack’s neck was twisted and askew
The man who’d done the damage, and walked from the melee
People say it was my Dad, ol’ Jacob R. McGee
Jake passed on some years back and now there’s only me
And no one knows I kicked Jake’s butt when I was fifty-three
I knocked him down to the ground, then tied him to a tree
So let me introduce myself: I’m Chainsaw R. McGee – ya’ want a piece of me?