Long Installment Poems
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U see me and my boo were ready to do the do
We planned the day
Discussed it thoroughly
I was convinced that home boy really loved me
So it was all cool
I was about to lose it to a incredible dude
There was going to be no regrets
I anticipated his hands all over me
He was gonna make a new woman of me
The day finally came
I undressed him and he undressed me
As the passions ensued
I could take no more
I told him to put it on
He said girl I left them next door
He didn't stop
Doing his do
But I felt completely turned off
I said so go next door
It's just across the hall
He was like nah baby it's cool
I sware I don't got nothing
Let me just put it in
By now I was completely shocked
I shoved him off me
as he tried to get on top
He said chill baby girl next time I promise
I get paid next week
In my head I'm thinking what is this some
kind of weekly installment type of thing?
He got condoms on layaway
Or something
There aint gonna be no next time
Matter fact there aint gonna be no today
I got off the bed, put on my clothes
There simply will be no dipping without a condom
Smearing live cells, with those of the dead
As fires rage higher within,
Hold up a hand to cover your eyes
Lest your soul be scarred by sin.
We shovel the dead, two at a time
To their first installment of hell,
As flames tear hungrily through their body
Their charred souls are left to dwell.
You can hear them screeching as doors close
Engulfing their corpses in flames,
Clawing for the chance of salvation
These iron walls echo their pain.
When all is done, I stand for a while
Fearing to touch hundreds of lives,
They echo to me remorseful despair
For soldiers who fed them lies.
My mind gone blank, I see no more
Whilst dark ashes bleed in the room,
Out of this portal their ruins do rush
To warn the blind of their doom.
I breathe it in, a cloud of cinders
They scramble to get in my lungs,
For I am the slayer of my own
Let the devils scrape out my tongue.
Time only waits so long, my friend
His razor claws beckons round the bend
I now know too much, the demons shall send
And this incarceration is too my end.
*This was a poem created by a promt word CREMATORIUM, and as I tend to write in darkness,
I chose to write about perhaps the biggest known crematorium, used to burn millions in
Nazi camps. Now my knowledge is not completely sound, but I recall from my history lessons
that the final cruelty towards their victims [Jewish in particular] was to burn their
bodies. This meant no Jewish prisoner could be reunited with God in their community nor
their loved one's eyes, as they believe a body is needed for God to find and welcome them.
The Nazi's used prisoners to help "sweep up" the remains, until the prisoners began to see
too much and they then killed them as well, although obviously evidence was leaked out and
this is why we know today. This poem is written in the POV of a prisoner, i know it is
extremely unlikely they were made to actually burn the bodies, but it fitted better. Sorry
if I offend anyone with this and thank you for reading.*
The Path Taken part 2
An anxious tapping on her window brought her to a state of near consciousness.
" Madam, I urge you to move inside the station just as quickly as you can. You see, this corner is fixing to get real busy, real quick like."
Still half-asleep, she moved as quickly as she could to safety indoors.
Pop, Pop! POP!! Sounded like popcorn popping, but she didn't smell the rich buttery goodness... Then it dawned on her, gunshots... Then, she was completely awake. She looks down at her feet and noticed that she had at least found the presence of mind to grab her purse and the small tote that held her meds. As for her car keys, missing. Presumably, locked in the car. At least she hoped she had locked it.
10 minutes later the officer that had asked her to come inside was laying on a stretcher in the hall. His shirt was being pulled back and he was barely conscious. She could see that he clearly spent most of his free time at the gym, but what immediately caught her attention was the large red stain on the front of the shirt.
"Pulse is dropping guys." She heard a medic ring out. "He is going into shock." The medics continue to work until the ambulance arrive to take him to the ER. Something told her, she had no idea what, just had a feeling that she needed to go with him.
"Jimmy," they replied when she asked his name, "Jimmy Raider, he's been with the Force for 13 years. Before that a volunteer fireman for nearly as long. Sure hope he pulls through. But the doctors over there are the best.
Thirteen hours later when they bring him out of the medically induced coma, she is in the waiting room. She is still praying that he would be okay.
She still has no idea what led her to jump into that ambulance just as the doors were being closed, but here she was.
Tune in later this week for the next installment. I'll try to have something for you by Wednesday or Thursday.
*Image of Paul Simon SNL by Giphy.
Simple Simon
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Woke up fresh as the day began,
Busy cooking, his wife named Anne,
Made his breakfast in a saucepan,
Enjoyed eating his plate of flan,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Filled with it and a bit more than,
Kissed his wife as the best he can,
Came a knock was cousin Tristan,
Kissed her again before he ran,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Walking with his fellow kinsman,
Who was a bit like a Tarzan,
He says, "We'll do as we did plan",
Simon says, "Yes, buy us a van",
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
His cousin be an anchorman,
Does things like some sort of game plan,
Says he will talk to the salesman,
Interviews him like a newsman,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Let him run the show as one-man,
Naught be a common businessman,
Just glad to be a middleman,
As Tristan drew the masterplan
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Waiting ate a bowl of pecan,
Tossed all the shells in a trash can,
Tristan smiled, "Got the minivan",
"And at a price that cost less than",
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Twas showroom new, in black and tan,
Best terms on the installment plan,
Signed, gift his full attention span,
While at the station, thanked Tristan,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Drove on home to show his wife Anne,
Who had a guest her friend, Roxanne,
Amused they were with the new van,
The cost, the look, in black and tan,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Took wife Anne and her friend Roxanne,
Proud just been a little more than,
Wide-eyed no call by the sandman,
Off from work with Anne and their van,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman.
2020 March 03
*HM*
STRAND CHOICE C,any form,any theme
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2020 March 11
it would have been an injury to them both
to attempt a description,
to bring what it was that compelled the girl to silence
(if she had not chose silence beforehand---one outside can never be sure)
to formulate an image, to dispel some kind of physical qualities verbally
which to the person outside
might have made some impression upon them,
because that unique allurement of which the girl did focus
could never truly be brought into any kind of distinction for the rest of us,
in fact to try would only taint it & do a disservice to the whole of the
event---
rather, even a more considerate onlooker, who stopped when crossing into the other room, in order to ask the girl about her moment in awe,
would only force a quick death to what was happening,
like waking up from a dream involving the two,
neither can make the other understand
anything but the attempt at understanding,
for what is to be understood
exists solely on its own---right out there in the focus,
or it lies dead in our savage
description---
and when the questioner came back after a few minutes,
unsatisfied with the absence of any answer
(as so many of us impatient imbeciles are),
after turning, the girl spoke a few phrases
which to the questioner seemed only nonsense at best,
as if she’d been spoken to in a language that she didn’t know---
what had been said was simply a description also,
one that felt only like another installment,
a domino in the falling, predictable effect,
wherein one person tries to get at the heart of the matter,
while the other tries to help them &
a million conversations begin, part ways &
begin again,
constantly picking up the baton & then dropping it,
be it like the boredom of rereading a “choose your own adventure” book,
or a fresh new mistake
found when the collision of the selves within
mess up the overall stability of the
whole.
Cheph 111
Cheph 111
The pilots name was Marylin Mist she was tall and a nerd with glasses and short
hair parted in the center not too tall but not short at all she wore her flight suit
loose and was all business. The orders had come in from Central "
"the new star system has a planet
OBIRON star system 111 has a third sun with a third planet intact
We are not kidding you Mary (short for Marylin) {a nickname for the stake of this
story and my poetic liscence is in place) ed.note.
Mary Mist the planet is called Cheph 111 after the name of the chef on the diner
of the spacestation in orbit around OBIRON 111.
We are counting on ewe to get a good crew and fly your white needle nose ship
the "AMARYLLIS TWO".
Take as much time as you need your credits are trillions.
For this trip you are on now there will be no
More communication with earth
needle nose ship the "AMARYLLIS TWO".
Take as much time as you need your credits are trillions.
For this trip you are on now there will be no
More communication with earth
MarylYn the transmission is garbled just continue your mission this has been a
recorded mess....................................
She carefully turned off her laptop and read the latest CHARLAX poem she loves
the way this poet makes his Private stories to be poems. Then she carefully
makes her way into the Newtonian City of Bostonia to recruit the crew for her
infamous star shippe.
This is the first installment of this epic book poem a science fiction classic hint
hint to DOUBLDAY books to l()()K at this for serious consideration.ed.note.
Chapter one: Crew for MarYlin Mist.
Soon to be released.
L()()K for this at www.storypen.com/charlax
2015 SA and the world drowning into
As Christmas and New year approached,
Our nerves got shaken,
And as we received our bonuses,
And others withdrawn their long saved money,
Everybody headed home with pride,
To show people that they are so paid,
To show that they have saved much,
And the banks with their temporary loans,
Their long term loans in advert,
The loan shucks and their promotions,
Shops with their account and tactics of paying after,
We borrowed and bought on credit,
We added debts on debts,
So foolish we used our money,
Some pleased the friends with bonuses and salaries on booze,
Forgetting that money does not grow on trees,
We work hard to get this called money,
So foolish our money spent and finished,
Endless trips, booze, useless purchases,
Uncalculated expenditures,
Until pockets get dry.
2015, we are bankrupt,
No-more peace at homes,
We have to go back to our workplaces,
The banks are going to need their first installment,
Shops need repayments,
Loan shucks started to send repayments reminders,
Some cards and ID books are locked in loan-shucks,
And what about our previous repayments on the list?
Childrens want to go back to school on new uniform,
We need to have food to survive,
We need patrol for our first month to work,
This is too much to handle on human being,
We went back to the loan shucks,
To the banks for loans,
To shops and other places for instant loans,
To survive the first month our year,
2015, we got into the dam of debts,
Welcome to the world of debts,
As we start the year with debt,
The year-end will still be debt,
In South Africa and the World,
Swimming in debt,
Drowning-drowning into debt.
Hello,
I would like to introduce you to a dear old friend of mine.
I made his acquaintance by pure accident. You might say, we bumped into each
other. Oh, silly me. You thought I speak of an actual person.
No. I hold here in my hands, a diary. Not just any diary filled with day to day
frilliness of a Victorian Lady. But, a diary filled with.......
Well, I guess you will have to just wait and read for yourself. I will just pick a page at
random to start out at.
The Gentleman who wrote these entries, is a man of many facets. He is kind;
frivolous; confident; an egotist. He can be filled with anger and then *snap*, just like
that, be his over the top self once more.
He is death himself. He is a Vampire.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I offer you a look into
The Diaries Of Lord Kellington
Whispers of the dawn rush to meet me each morn. They taunt and tease
me. "Morning is not long to come. Your time to play does run out".
Alas. Tis true. My time in the night is short. So I must hurry. Shall I prowl the night
as I? Or shall I don a disguise.
Once I think on it. Either way does not matter. There will be no eyes. None to see
after my "kiss". So sweet and gentle that sip.
It takes just a glance and the other night dwellers know to avoid me. They sense that
death is my shadow. Why! They couldn't be more right.
I will choose swiftly. So that I may go dance. Yes! I love to dance. Ah. The night is
my stage. Truth be told? I love it!
~Lord Kellington
Hello,
I hope you enjoyed the first installment of Lord Kellington's Diary. There are more to
come
Dedicated to: Terrence Michael Sutton & his wife
I've been to hell and back since I was last here
Now pondering none of previous pitfalls and fears.
Seemingly waking up each day from a dream not over
That each sleep has a story to be treasured forever
Come golden sun or a silver moon
I just don't want to dream alone
If you're a rose at the break of dawn,
Just to be with you, let me be the thorn.
My love won't wither or will ever it rust
Though this aging body returns to dust
And behind I left my painful past
Because in you I have a home at last.
No use of doubting if my love is real
For what I have is not a heart of steel
And though this world may lose its thrill
Our story of love still is the best of tales.
Fairytales are not just in the books
For ours is one, would you just take a look?
You're not a Duchess or me a Duke
We are simply real that no one can mock.
No need for Vegas or Disney Land
Our time together is so much fun
We could laugh and stroll while holding hands
Oh what a joy to call when the day is done.
Our love is a picture though not in frame.
Just in our garden so neatly trimmed
By simply having our morning coffee and cream
Is a happy installment of a staggered dream.
Date and Time of Writing:
November 23, 2011
5:09pm – 5:33pm
If there is someone I would consider an instant mentor in online posting of poems, it's AUSSIEPOET. For giving me hint of the gift of writing that I may be possessing. Thus, I am writing this poem (using the first line of his site's introduction as the first line of this poem) in dedication for him and his beloved wife… my grateful appreciation for his encouragement.
& huxley is giggling in his grave
if aldous was still alive,
he’d laugh himself to death
when confronted with the new evidence
that Zogenix’s
brand new spanking drug
“Zohydro,”
is yet another installment in mankind’s race
to create “soma,”
the government sponsored drug
he wrote of in Brave New World,
which would send us all into an
anesthetized oblivion,
so much so that eating, sleeping & sex
would hold second priority to
its ingestion, bearing
“All the advantages of Christianity
and alcohol; none of their defect.”
and the mad doctors in big pharma
are working night & day to pump out this
new prescription opiod narcotic---
a drug containing “10 times the amount of
hydrocodone as that of Vicodin,”
whose pure form would no longer be split with
acetaminophen,
like those versions that exist today,
so much weaker than this new
novelty,
whose timed-released quality could easily be
circumvented, by crushing the drug &
hence producing “an intense, immediate high.”
there are those voices that no one listens to,
like the National Coalition Against Prescription
Drug Abuse &
the Advocates for the Reform of Prescription
Opioids,
who claim that one more legal, highly addictive,
narcotic,
need not be pushed onto the public by
government sponsored pharmaceutical companies
whose sole purpose is to hook individuals for
profit---
how fortunate big pharma is,
because if someone did listen to them,
one might suppose that all those in prison for
the sale, possession or use of narcotics
would have to be set free,
and our BIG FAT LAND OF THE FREE wouldn’t
want that,
now would we.