Long Diamondback Poems
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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 :)
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.
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?
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.
Cottonmouth America
bite the asylum-seeking refugees
at your border entry
Let them feel the hard enamel compassion
of your diamondback speech
Rip the children from their mother’s loving arms,
then take their daddy’s protective pride
and cast it aside
Give hard candy charity
to the forced orphan babies
with no teeth
There’s a flood of separation tears
merging into the Rio Grande
Fleeing families got a belly full of fears,
as human coyotes lead them
to the tarnished rainbow
at the end of their perilous journey
Boa constrictor America
choke the hope of the desperate,
crush the soul within their weary bones
Anaconda America
with the black mamba heart
Deport the parents,
and keep their children
Ouroboros morals ...
scaly dogs who voodoo viper bark
Let your slithering justice
retreat into a cave of isolation dark
King Cobra America
with the deadly adder heart
Feed more hard candy enamel speech
to your poisoned mind citizens
with rotting teeth
Ouroboros morals ...
let the war head
eat the saber-rattling tail
Cottonmouth America
feel the icy cold-hearted compassion
that will devour you from within
Taste the toxin: fiery radioactive fruit
of your mushrooming nuclear family inhumanity —
Molting to death on your own sin
Harsh sunlight beats upon the thirsty land
And glares upon the limestone cliffs and sand,
While waves of heat rise shimmering, above
The parched loam where the great saguaros stand.
And perched up high among the spines thereof
There broods in camouflage a mother dove,
Whose eggs lie hidden by her breast, her nest
A knitted niche of neatly-knotted love.
Along the desiccated ground, impressed
By tiny running feet, crisscrossing lest
A predator should see, a rodent’s track
Evinces its unending hungry quest.
Concealed among the stones of brown and black,
Its body hidden stretched along a crack
And waiting, watching for unwary prey,
There lurks a waiting, patient diamondback.
Ephedra, sage and creosote all stray
Along the rims of sere arroyos. They
Succeed in thriving: an exquisite feat
Amid the barren soil and rock-hard clay.
And seemingly unfazed by searing heat,
Up where the mescal trees and heaven meet,
Cicadas make the wasteland throb with sound,
Their many-years’ interment now complete.
The desert’s lush abundance will abound
With form and color rarely elsewhere found --
Throughout one sees the working of that hand
Whose word and wisdom nature will expound.
Parental desperation
is the dreadful flee bidden cause
Children separation
is the inhumane quarantine effect
Trying to cross the sovereign divide
is narrow mindedly viewed, by more than a few,
as a pestilent travel venture
Ill will is the chilling, unhealthy reception
The uncivil solution: Create an insane policy
for poor souls seeking asylum
Man-made designation is an animal control way station,
(also known as) Borderline K-9 Cages
See the perennially sad puppy eyes
laying fetal prone on the morgue cold, concrete floors
Watch the waning wag of the tongues,
their thirst for freedom dying behind iron bar doors
National psychotic behavior is borderline criminal,
keeping children in cages is morally indefensible
Diamondback mutes devolving into what?
Mental worms turning into heartless slugs!
Children developing separation psychosis
is a lonesome doggone shame
K-9 kids were never meant to be raised in cages,
yet no one wants to bear the blame
But many of the kennel keepers
have gotten so inured to the ear-piercing, borderline pain
And the womb-ripped parents
are never told where the aborted-trip children were taken
Snake oily palms
got a-plenty
under the table plans
Synthetic sly reptilian smile
bewitching many
Picking pockets with a hidden hand
Real filthy lucre fingernails
have the zircon gluttonous glow
that enticingly Endora sells
Dirty laundered money
boa clutches
that unclean epidermal soul
Those cobra soundbytes ain’t adder funny,
them sticky finger touches
love taking venom spit control
Dealing so anaconda treacherous
from the bottom of the deck
Pale poker face don’t wink reveal the poison ivy tell
Diamondback enamel scales
cover thorny digits —
Five fingers of sleight close the eclipse-colored veil
Oz-vader gator vice grip
unevenly tilt the bottom line balance
Stolen zeroes get a counterfeit eulogy farewell
Sympathetic shakes of hollow sincerity
accompany the revenue loss burial
Tainted double-cross lots of empty purse plots
Fervent loan believers only learn
when they forfeiture fit get iron glove squeezed
By the mint hidden hand inurned
Phantom phalanges scratch pilfering churn ...
fungi finger worms make the dirty green soil toxic turn
Emitting a dollar scent viper vapor burned
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.
A three ton python in a pair of roller skates can go very quickly around a room. But scores of pelican dashes on a music sheet can dive, dip and dunk in many a styrofoam cup so all must be ordered appropriately for the wide mouths and beaks. Stationary silver backed whales can stay afloat for over ten minutes in a boat. But oats boarding a plane can only be in the air for nine minutes and twenty one seconds. For the hungry pig cloud chases the plane of oats and wishes to consume them all in giant munching sessions. Doors that are left ajar and creak should never be mistaken for speaking really. For speaking is neither specialised spillage nor satirised salted spray. So all mind the puddles of pudding when traipsing around the kitchen in a pair of high heels. Better to be barefoot then bare said a bear who was coming for some cereal. Great. How marvellous a sunset sail on a crusty bun then? Hahah a mirror standing with a diabolical diamondback digital dog. Hahahahaha sealed over moon display in a current of prawn spittle. Chatting. Xxxxx zoologists z z z z z at half an hour to the approximate time of the talon tank. Z z z z z
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