Long Pigeons Poems
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Eminem Protege 2
Don't care what you think
I need Ten Shrinks an Ten Pens Full Of Ink
To Let my Inner Wisdom Tink
Colder Than Ten Penguins In A Rink
My Spirit Fitness & Physique at it's Peak
Adrenaline Obese
Extinguished to Concrete
Out the Pyramids Extinct
Into this Physical Dimension as A Sphinx
Face of a Beast of a Lynx
Idiot Beliefs placing limited reach
on my limitless fatigue
My Old Image Obsolete
I stole Potion from Ten Witches An Ten Wishes
from Ten Genies an Ancient Magicians
an Buried the lamps in the Ditches
while I summoned Ten Fighting Spirits
of Venegance as My Apprentices
I Opened my Sealed Syllabus
to Reveal my Ventriloquists
Just left Hells Kitchen with Skin Itching
with Skin Blisters open Skin Pigments
Stealing Lucifers Instruments
to Use them Against Him
To appear as Glitches
against the System
I cook Hot Meals with Mittens
an make him taste the Illness
I'm Inventing
But only an Sample for Interest
for His Taste Senses
cause Hells angels can Sensor the Sizzling
I'm Fly like Ten Twin Pigeons
with Eagles Precision
I'm a Scientist but I ain't writing Science Fiction
with Knowledge that would leave Einstein Winded
I been Fighting for Living
100 percent Percentage
an no less than a Percent difference
Still Power in my Engine
to keep the Ignition Driven
You can't Compare to these Rare Characteristics
the Judgements from your Conscious
is InTolerant to my Unresponsive
Mental Doctrines
Im use to Antagonist
Real Hebrew who's a Zionist
False Prophets who Diabolic an Jewish
Judaism Created with Iron Fist
in A Luciferian Science
of Enlightenment
Jewish Hybrids Of Pirates
Stolen Israels Environment
I ain't Racist
Just apart of a Nation
Created
Created Generations to Generations
Heritage Invaded
an Culture Undertaken
Perpetrated
by The Synagogue of Satanist
my fire been Penetrated
the fire in the eye of the Tiger formulated
stripes on the tiger Blazing
I'm Judahs Inspiration
an Judas Envy Craving
But I'm not Babylons Patriot
Bablyonion Doom Waiting
Doomsday
when the Moon Change
The Wolf Rage
Waging Spiritual Shade
against Ravenous Wolves in Sheeps Wools
is Game
Sharpened Tools
my Sword is Shaped
Cut open the Wolves
an Bathe in the Pool
of Blood til It's Drained
I'm a Prophet in the Apocalypse
ONE100eight
ONE100eight
CharlaXFabels
www.three
SUN TRAN history
Passenger Pigeons carry messages to people entrenched at
www.wwone/ditched in doughboy britches wearing Army boots of wool
August 3, 1914 special free edition of the BerlinTageblatt announces "The War
with France” The Kaiser rolled away and fell from Germany the world is saved
they proclaim the war is over 1918
His hat was very black and ebon his vest hung down in back front was cut in
western sling style his hair was off white gray an old gunslinger out of old
Tucson days. He took a transfer out of his pants pocket and tried to slide it in the
bus to make it work but the driver had turned it off to see his face light up he had
been caught for this was the very first bus. NO the driver said simply with a smile
that will not work and left it at that and up to him he did not frown but added the
dollar paid the money for the fare the first time not again his bogus attempt at a
free ride had failed. He took his transfer paid he learned his western lesson
there the driver being kind and understanding could have been demanding that
he leave the bus and March 24, 2008 has come the carrier pigeons are taking
messages to www.wwtwo.com the war is over Hitler dead go home and live
without a gun without a dread. She simply simpered she opened up her bag a
purse no doubt without a dime or dollar amount inside her friend paid for hisself
one dollar kept the transfer in his hand she kept repeating to herself for all the
crowd to understand eye left the wallet with the money in it at home the wallet MY
wallet is NOT in this bag it has been left at home the man he seemed astonied
when she said in certain tones did you get a pass for me NO he said don't you
remember my pass and your pass is both in your wallet left at home the driver
moaned a bit but let her be she let them ride he said eye gave to you my pass to
keep for me she said so sad MY WALLET is NOT in this bag it is left behind at
home IT'S EVERYTHING the carrier pigeon flew with messages to the troop in
the trenchment ditch at www.worldwarthree.com/apocolypse
The message simply said
we airmailed
every missle
that we have
to hit the enemy
the world is over now
do not try to do anything
just pray
we are all going to see
JESUS
NOW
TODAY
Sounds of morning, fluid undertones, yet cacophonous;
Rhythmic rustling of nearby trees form the baseline for tropical chaos.
Each added layer draws me further into distraction.
I hear the shadowy neighbors breaking their silence,
Attendant to their morning chores.
A distant train chimes in, noisily announcing its slithering passage.
Sounds of morning vie for my attention.
New, hypnotic rhythms spiral close, retreat and then surround me,
to further crystalize direction for the day.
Can I break into the layers of deepening trance to realize the quiet peace
of enlightenment just beneath the busyness and violent distraction?
Pairs of red chested robins, lyrical cardinals, yellow flittering finches
each visit the backyard feeder in their turn,
While the brackish pigeons, bullish bluejays and sulking squirrels
noisily muscle their way in to feed among the bird-tossed seeds,
now scattered haphazardly on the ground.
Beneath it all there is Silence.
Stillness quietly directs peaceful calmness
to the center of swirling time.
"Just another dream." I smile.
Next door, loud frenzied dogs and deep tinkling chimes
add their voices to the concert of morning.
Busyness abounds, directing all attention outward.
While the Silence of enlightenment, like a stoic sentinel,
erectly stands, patiently waiting.
"They also serve who stand and wait."
Copious mirages pass through the early hours,
rising with the stifling heat, and yet,
Beneath it all I am drawn to Silence.
Yearning for Peace, order, calmness: where joy and childlike wonder
view the world through eyes of young divinity and matured praise.
I realize each moment is precious as it passes.
But I know there is only Now. There is only Here.
As I am here I am everywhere.
And so, I observe as the concert rages on about me.
It is enough to view the contrast within the borders of crystal sanity.
"Just another dream." I smile.
A marble Buddha sits atop a comforting splashing fountain.
It's waters of life spray the arid air with relief.
I wonder what He's thinking, behind his Mona Lisa smile.
What do His closed eyes watch so intently?
Will I ever break through the noise of embodiment
to reach His supreme level of attainment,
And walk beside Him on His jeweled crystal pathway in the sky?
"O! Just another dream." I smile.
Dawn Forever Rising
It starts
Street lights fade
their tiny soft-winged tenants flee
checkerboard facades change
last night's illumined squares now dark
become but yesterday's portals
some polished
some weather streaked
all reaching to reflect first breath
Steam ascends from the city's vacuum
gratings rattle with subterranean yawning
people-movers wind their way
through mazes of starts
stops
Topside tracks
like fixed contrails
glisten with frost
not yet enjoined by speeding transit
their skeletal tributaries
readying the trickle of humanity
into a mass ocean of glass and steel survival
Uptown
Downtown
A street sweeper's tire rubber and swirling brushes
beneath the overalled believer in Lottos
holding firm the wheel and gears of faith
of trust
gathering gutter-lodged disposal
glass and plastic
paper and cardboard
spinning into the vortex
lifting yesterday's careless cast-offs
inviting today's Starbuck anew
reflections of another kind
Leashes strain from anxious sniffing
bladders hold
ready to burst
seeking just the right tree
the right hydrant
the "ah, yes" that only a canine can know
Rays of sun begin spilling down alleyways
the long-tail rodents scamper for cover
their bellies full
seeking safety after a long night of ancient ritual
food of anything
digestion of history
all in a night's work
Suddenly
Full light cascades down avenues and streets
itinerant pigeons and seagulls spread habitual wings
ready to adore the steadies
the loners
park walkers
window ledge dependables
homeless with dance cards of crumbs
envying the moneyed insomniacs throwing chunks
baguettes gone stale
fit for few
a feast for many
senses loving the coos and warbles
the bobbing thank you
the reciprocal bonding
few but the lonely can appreciate
Finally
The steel and glass imitation of nature
comes fully alive
a sun's illumination without reserve
energy's provision for another day
Rich mix with the poor
money exchanges hands
the hotdog vendor
the hedge fund taker
the cookie jar provider
Most become tomorrow's yesterday
knowing little of the other light
requiring no rising or setting
illumination that never grows dim
something as nothing
forever light
never of darkness
Such for some
awakens from a New York sunrise
this dichotomy like no other
forever reminding
our eyes of dawn
one's inner light
is forever rising
You have been golfing your time away when
When your authority is dying and babies are crying
You have been golfing your time away when there is
no coffee in the pantries, and no food on the kitchen table
You have been golfing your time away when the
baby’s milk is spoiling in the kitchen sink and the
pigeons are dying. The roosters are crowing aloud
and the lions and tigers are gallivanting about with
a headless crown .Christmas and Thanksgiving is
a time for family gathering but millions had nothing
to share because many people were not there. Some
have been torn apart, others are left in the dark while
others are still six feet below the ground and their spirits
are prowling around . You are golfing your time away
When the postal service man and the courier service van
did not get an extra dollar to add salad to their
evening supper. The nights are cold, the rooms are dark
and the rich is singing and shouting amen hallelujah over a lavishing dinner. Listen carefully to what I have to say and don’t let your pride get
in the way. You must pay attention to what is transpiring around and read the messages that nature is sending you.
The big and bold the bright, smart and beautiful is the
the cardboard laptop woman who have been feedings you
I need your help with enhanced technology and resources to feed my belly
They have sworn to cut off my head and replaced it with a chicken head
but the chicken head fell to the ground before you could get to my
throne .Keep your eyes on the ground and look carefully at the hole
It is difficult to roll the ball in and you cannot throw the dice in
The ground is baked with rum punch and fruit cake
You have missed the shot because the covering around the hole and the hot grass on the lawn was too shallow .The heat is chiming in and you have to pay for your sins. You have been golfing your time away and don’t have time to pray. You tweet bad news in the middle of the night and your ego have made many sighed. Look up at sun and tell me what you see? the sun is shining with intensity in the sixth degree, and the galaxy is moving ferociously around you .It is time bury the guns and close the chapter behind you. The golf hole is closed and at midnight the lights will go out and darkness will descend upon the golf courts.
I close my eyes and I hear a sound,
Running water, joyful and unbound.
Leaping and roaring, swirling and swishing,
Loud slaps of waves crashing.
But the chaos yet fuels peace within me,
As I close my eyes and let my mind see.
Past the horizon, beyond the mundane,
My mind wanders off as I hear the sound of the rain.
Pitter patter of raindrops on the window sill,
Exuding calm as I stand still.
The raindrops purge the earth and all within,
Washing away my wrongs and my sins.
And I envision dew drops, sparkling and profound,
As they fall from blades of grass, purifying the ground.
And I find that sheer joy I can’t deny
Myself to feel through my mind’s eye.
And I can hear the wind howling through the trees,
Taking with it the seeds and the leaves,
It ruffles the feathers of the birds flying high,
The feel of freedom none other can satisfy.
A dazzle of colour, gray, green and blue,
Circling and singing a melodious hue.
And such are the birds that sail the air free,
That in my mind’s eye I vividly see…
And far off, I hear the fain song of a bird,
Ecstatic that the sun is now peeping at the world.
The first rays pierce through the darkness to reach the earth,
Lighting up a vibrant world, increasing its worth.
I can hear the pigeons cooing and the monkeys chattering,
Each one expectant and eager for a new beginning.
And a benevolent sun does smile down upon us,
Through my mind’s eye I can see him relish the early morning rush.
And through my mind’s eye, I witness time pass by,
As the sun hides his head under the blanket of his great bed.
And like the mice who play while the cat is away,
The moon peeps over the dark forlorn cloud
And invites a din magnificent and loud,
Of hidden creatures, loyal to the dark,
But beautiful and graceful like the singing lark.
With their voice like melody, they dance and fly,
This is what I see through my mind’s eye.
Animals of prey gear up for the hunt,
They move about stealthily, nighttime has begun.
An eerie silence reigns all around,
Such peace is very difficult to be found.
And again time flies as if on wings,
And the sun rises once more to brighten up things.
It seta again making way for the night,
My mind’s eye has shown me the most wonderful sight.
Written: April 14, 2025 for contest sponsored by Brian Strand
******************
The subject matter of this poem explores themes of transience, intersection of life and death, and the fragile coexistence of human and natural worlds.
a loaf of discounted bread
stale & crumbly
resides in a brown paper bag
teetering
on a park bench
a finger of cool breath
_____nudges
____________the
________________bag
___________________towards
ground
pile of used cigarettes
gathered by
a trash
can
&
an
array
of greasy
fast food, styrofoam cups
a souring banana milkshake
punctured through
---a rotting apple
core
&
an
assemblage
of stale and wizened
McDonald's medium fries
family of pigeons
peck at brown paper
bag--
it topples over &
spills its guts
across
grass
a swan watches from a pond
--eyes peer--
from its snowy face
water cushions every ounce
of its body
caresses every single
feather
sky is a petri-dish
c r a m m e d
with scarlet c l o u d s
a young girl falls
as her size four sneaker
is caught
on a hidden tree root
swan chuckles
to itself
a college student bites
into a decorated
hot dog
condiments slip
his button-down
shirt &
a swan extends its wings
a platform for sun
as droplets of
crystalline water
sparkle off surface
of each
feather
A light mist of ethereous rain falls
silent on his thin, sharp-angled
face. He lengthens his stride and
leans toward the wind. He walks
through plundered poverty; crumbled
by the weight of exodus. Abandoned
to the blood-rough nails scratching
on the concrete diasporas of multiethnic
history.
Past the playground echoes of PS #59,
as they drift along the faded asphalt
haze of time. Echoes still ring true with
elemental bones of hope: the children
break out and through gunmetal gray,
graffiti covered doors, outside to the
saturated heat of inner-city rage.
Past gothic orthodox cathedral
mausoleums which sit like ancient
stoics and stare through burnt-amber,
azure, crystalline-blue stained glass
eyes; focused out with a kernel of
eternal mustard seed hope: souls will
come again and warm the sacred pews.
Past the Puerto Rican market
where the pig's head led the
carnivore parade of mastication
promise every day. A meat-market
window of letted-blood and death
reminiscent of Amsterdam whores
with their wares on display for the
dead-eyed stares of the men outside.
He comes to the dust and
grime of an empty lot covered
by old and broken concrete slabs.
He stops and lets his mind drift
back to watch a woman who wears
a ratted fox-tail wrap around her
neck. She holds a long, un-filtered
cigarette, loose, between her two
bright, fuchsia painted lips. She
wears a black velvet hat with veil
to her nose and a straight black
dress that flows below her knees,
mid-calf, above her shiny black,
high-heel, patent leather shoes.
He can almost see through the blur
of a chiaroscuro choreography his
mother, visiting with the Kazakhstan
neighbors, in this dreamlike memory.
The multi-plexed, subsidized project,
where he was born, once stood just
beyond his vision of a mother's visit in
high-heel, indigo, tangerine, sibilant
sounds; lit with electric light smiles
of denial.
She would hold her cigarette between
fuchsia lips and wear that ratted fox-tail
wrap until the cancer cough began to spew
Chesterfield blood on the molted fox-tail
head of her beloved fur.
Then she went to bed. Went to sleep. And died.
Pigeons cooed quietly on that New York City night.
Gale force winds are expected; time to tie your knickers down
All heads bent, and everyone is pushing their way across town
Mouths are tightly shut, just in case their dentures out and fly
Ski goggles are on, just in case you get something in your eye
Skirts are all flying up with long hair that’s blowing out of place
Time you get into work your looking more than a total disgrace
Time is spent behind your desk rearranging all that went astray
Sat there hoping the wind has died by the end of the work day
Dinner; sat on the bench outside, eating someone else’s lunch
As the wind sends their pickle onion right into your own mush
The bloke sat next to you is eating your fly away in my face hair
Reinforcing that old saying, how nice it is for everyone to share
And, no worries about putting your left over rubbish into the bin
The darn bits just fly out again once you have so neatly put it in
Then it is all back to the office heads down and pushing through
As we clogged up the elevator without as much as a say, or a do
Then it is back behind the desk, rearranging all that went a stray
And hoping the wind has died down by the end of the work day
All signs are not looking good as the pigeons huddle on the ledge
Even worse when one drops off, because another in, does wedge
As 5 o’clock end of day arrives and no one is in a great rush to go
Stuck to their seats it’s almost as if the work force is on a go slow
One fresh air freak limbers up and starts heading for the exit door
Wow' one blast of hurricane winds and the guy was seen no more
The thought of settling down for the night was more than an idea
As we started to rearrange “We can do anything with bits of Ikea”
We gave the trouble of eating, to those brave delivery pizza boys
Though when we sent the orders in, the guys were a bit annoyed
It is not much fun delivering pizzas, on a light weight moped bike
One was lifted by the wind, once landed he was **** up in a dyke
The pizza boy arrived, and said that's it the wind has took my bike
We piled all the pizza boxes up, the pizza boy bedded for the night
Then the next day morning came, at last the wind had died down
Drama over we sent the pizza boy home with a tip of half a crown
Prescribed blood tests
present no qualms,
unlikely nothing askew i.e.
ticking time bombs
nor prone to catastrophization,
albeit anticipatory anxiety
plus demeanor of poetically titled
medical practitioner allays, calms
alleviates agitation exhibited
by dad's and/or mom's
panic minimizes si? no sweaty palms,
nonetheless precautionary measure taken
thumbing apostle Matthew psalms
ayee feel grateful relatively
clean bill of health.
Nine thirty morning
appointment earlier today
September tenth two
thousand nineteen no way
found yours truly bright
tailed, and bush shay
eyed, cuz mine circadian rhythm
(reed sleepiness), I cannot betray,
yet medical plight concerning
bowel movement analogous to clay
stool pigeons ever ray
now and again plague me: hay
4 four at aye
oh elle dot com, alias math they
you scott harris happy as jay
bird for personable rapport
she, said practitioner did display
offering friendly feedback
proactive measures to avoid
finding mine psyche
analogously scrambled (think) souffle
even absent such agreeable
pharmacological medications keep at bay
panic stricken state
seeding additional gray
hairs (matter of fact
synthesized prescription -
pills selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors)
only necessitate small copay
Medicare bonafide dogsend
whereby nurse practitioner equal
however much she doth weigh,
in salt, though an oft worn cliché
feather in her cap coup d'état
personable, laudable, hospitable...
winning accolades regarding
humbleness and modest stay
expertise within her craft hoop fillet
staving off general mills concerns
reason I wrote rhyme, eh somewhat passé
even Mister Ed would neigh say
so with his horse sense to stirrup
unbridled jollity - me hoof finds rein
ching words cathartic je ne sais quois
experimenting with this, that,
or t'other typed out array,
perhaps hashtagged as tripe courtesy quay
zee poor ah shunned poet fray
ming tropes distinguished (ha)
even if garnering no pay
English language I play
juxtaposing incongruities
to tease out reactions probably lay
build rickety lettered edifices
manuscripts best sentenced to sauté
within steaming vat
fed as swill to petsmart hogs
grunting as they fertilize mulch greenway.