Long Wrecked Poems
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Deep in the piney woods
A call beckons across the branch
A call that isn't animal nor human
A call that makes your hair stand alert and skin prickly from fright!
The light of the full moon awakens the spirits and the calling from the piney woods.
If you doubt my story and risk your very life, then make sure you take a
weapon into the piney woods. Well, I believe the call is from the ghost of the moon
shiners that have lost their lives in the mica mines many years ago.
The mica was
big business one time until the mines went dry.
The deep holes were perfect cover for the moonshine stills until
the revenuers caught the culprits. A great gun battle raged until death.
Today the crumpled mica shimmer in the red clay is all that is left of the mines.
The local children like to scare
themselves with the
abandoned rock graveyard along the edge of the piney woods. If you look close at
the mound of rocks...it appears that there is a bony hand protruding from the grave
and pointing directly at you to leave. The ancient thick cedar trees seem to
guard the graves and whisper "Warning, Warning."
In 1969 there was another vilolent firey death on the road through the piney woods.
A man died inside a burning wrecked truck, screaming
"Don't let me burn to death" repeatedly until the bitter charred end.
When the moon is right the echo carries his screams across the hills.
A young man only age seventeen lost his life in a fatal car wreck on
the steep curved road. His life was taken so fast; he is said to walk
the hills searching for his sweet ride to
carry him on his journey, unaware of his eternal fate.
On a short walk along the shallow creek bank reveals an old rock formation covered
in moss now but built by a people of long ago. Maybe Indian or early settlers,
no one knows the architects but if you stand in a certain spot where the
ground is always wet with a reddish ooze. You can feel a cold icy finger
across your face and neck.
Is the call a young buck calling his bride in the after life; is the call an
evil doer fighting to avoid beelzebub's snare? The apparition can be seen
briefly if you desire look when the wind and moon are right. Waynesville
holler offers more
than beauty in the day but beware of the moon lit walks that
young lovers
brave or you
may be the next victim of the piney woods!
The Halloween Party was in full swing
Witches, wizards and an alien thing
with tentacles and one huge eye
Flourishing a laser gun shouting "Die".
Alison and her friends Ada and Jo
Were all dressed as feline kittens "meow"
Carl and Simon had laced the fruit punch bowl
As the evening drew on it took it's tole.
Drunkenly a bet was stupidly placed
Who of them would last and not be outpaced
A nightly vigil at Haunted Creek
Where rode a phantom horseman, there to seek.
Everyone there all knew the awful tale
Making in unison a quick inhale
It was long ago in 1702
A mounted stallion there cast a shoe
The rider's name was Squire Abraham Knight
Was set upon and put up a good fight
He was then butchered for a gold doubloon
Was then thrown in the creek and found at noon
Unexplained sightings, that then disappear
have been recorded, it is very unclear
Warnings come from parents to their own child
No-one goes there, it is left to grow wild
With youthful bravado they all met there
Torches flashed around, as the trees stood bare
Alison and her friends huddled together
Shivering in the inclement weather
Bart and his brother camped down for the night
on a hillock, keeping the creek in sight
Joining them was the terror gang of four
Troublemakers, who all acted hardcore.
Two hours later it started to snow
Huge flakes falling and wind began to blow
"I've had enough of this" said Alison
"I'm all for going home. I'm all done!"
Eagerly agreeing, walked back in step
Suddenly Jo tripped up and in pain wept
"Can't go further, my ankle is wrecked"
Leaning on shoulders, onwards they all trekked.
"No, I can't, please, you must stop", poor Jo wailed
"It's agony! she gasped and then inhaled.
"Come on Jo, we can stop at Adam's place".
"We will make it there at a slower pace.
Adam's place was an old abandoned farm
"No, not there!" said Ada-May in alarm
"Afraid of ghosts and ghouls?" mocked Alison
"More like rats and spiders and not much fun!".
Giggling they arrived at old Adam's place
The moonlight showing fear on each girl's face
"We have to go in there, we have no choice"
Jo jumped. "Was that whinnying of a horse?"
On that retort they threw open the door
Stepping inside, they all dropped through the floor
Not one of them survived their dreadful doom
Trapped, without rescue, in the dark, dark room.............
Unaffordable, yet valiant speeding,
tailgating, and zooming Pep Boys, I cannot dodge.
Yours truly grief stricken
(sob... sob... sob)...
wheely hard to bear
this anticipatory anxiety
riddled joker impossible
mission thwarting despair
death knell tolled (told),
woebegone news, I did fear
hears stunned me into silence,
the unwelcome prognosis,
I needed to hear
no joke, but good humor
totally wrecked vehicle forces
yours truly to become...,
no not a lion tamer
but, yes a panhandling junketeer
begging, copping, dilly dallying... ha
to accept unpleasant
unexpected dire straits
gravely digging within lithosphere
bidding... fare thee well
treasured automobile faithful and near
synonymous with ideal paramour, yet now
must confront stark reality,
lack ample disposable income available
no financial resources to persevere,
and worse case scenario me
and the missus will need to don
faux Santa Claus outfit,
and roundup available reindeer
for ourselves (yea... yea... yea...,
I realize how spare
and tired, pessimistic,
forlorn success such short notice
unless if... nah no fat or slim chance...
apocalypse ushers abominable thermonuclear
war, (I doubt Trump would
pull publicity stunt
to be re elected - ha) whereby
Beatle browed, foo fighting
foreigners, survivors impressed, feted,
compensated... for service
unless they willingly volunteer.
Combination future pluperfect
birthday presents and Noel hi
Christmas gifts well nigh,
noah ark cake "FAKE" attempt,
to hoodwink, engine ear,
trunk hate, et cetera
drum, harp, trumpet... belie
including objective to shanghai,
nor fall out of good amazing graces
toward (me) garden variety generic guy
providing steadfast generous
figurative air supply to fortify,
revving me shaky talent,
ye may oft times decry
as unintelligible gobbledygook
brainstorming ideas to try
single handedly ambidextrously
poetically kindle indeed codify
to elucidate how transportation
car reared and gone awry
moderate expenses as original parts wear out,
(i.e. battery, fender, brakes,
hood latch, shock absorber, tires...
albeit almost all simultaneously), hence I sigh
aware expounding circumstance that doth defy
immediate resolution incumbent to pacify
troubleshoot immediate impasse
squarely render quintessence
problem solving the overriding
challenge, I vilify.
But the lover he knew this would not be enough
In such games as romance the going will get rough
And his youth had not abandoned him yet
Such failures monumental he would not so soon forget
And all had been less than this goddess on earth
No other had touched his heart so since birth
So amidst the glorious dreams of love in spring
The icy chill of doubt began to take its wing
The mirror told truths he’d never liked to hear
When faced with himself he’d rather disappear
Than bear witness to what he saw as a goon
A common ugly brute, spawned from a cartoon
With his disproportioned limbs and pessimistic hunch
Never had Ryan stood out from the bunch
His muscles had weakened from ailments past
And his metabolism sadly had deserted him too fast
His green eyes burned fiercely for his love had not gone
And sleep seldom reached him until long after dawn
Ruminating at length on the woman he desired
Wrecked his body and wracked his mind so tired
Could she ever love one as common as I?
He asked many times neath the midnight blue sky
His answer proved negative on most mornings young
And the tears had scarcely left him when the first sparrow sung
At last, the abused and depressed young pup
Decided he would go out on the town and drink up
Pounding beers with no regard for the consequences thus
Leaving him to stagger, cry, and flirt and cuss
And as sudden as the sun blooming on the skyline
The lovely Lyla was there, alone and looking quite fine
In an instant all sorrow was cleansed from his mind
And convinced him once more no greater love would he find
On that evening with conscious sobered by passion
My old friend took to speaking in a serious fashion
Only I was there to listen to his marvelous speech
Of the intensity he possessed, I know I cannot teach
With a storm gently rolling on a westward winter wind
The dark haired young man, chilled and quite pale skinned
Turned to me slowly with the look in his eye
That told I would recall this moment till I die
“Tonight,” he began, “I have chosen to wait
For this woman I love until some later date
And I shall stay to this, if months or years may pass
If that is the price of being worthy of the lass
If I must stand by and watch others lay
By her drunken side, while I have no say
And hundreds will flirt and many win a kiss
So I will remain in a life without bliss
9904
9904
CharlaXFabels
Ninenintyfour
Autofixation
A Dialog Fabel
Mrs. Smithster: BOSS let me help you clean up your computor today the new
auto program disc is arrived in my snail mail box.
BOSS: OK just don't lose any of my contacts on the list the accounts are way too
important.
JUNE: to her self: an aside: GET HIM who does he THINK he is giving me that
guff so early in the mourning.
BOSS: Poor June is my secretary and eye love her like my sister but she is so
dense the bullits bounce off her like she is Superman, or wait no Supergirl
mabe.
Narrator Ed.Note: This is the twilight zoned for the next five minutiae you can not
understand anything but this fable you have been transported to the twilight
zone. This Lady Bosses Secretary one Mrs. June Smithster has been the
receiver of a program sent to her inside her snail mail marked as a FIXIT
program disc the entire story is now centered around what comes next let's
watch what happens…
Charlax the Narrator: June reached into the envelope slowly and opened the disc
cover reluctantly she was wondering now just where it had come from it was
compelling her to use it she could feel its message somewhere near her left toe
and the eye her left eye was twitching like a nervous wrecked her whole face was
letting go she had to she had to over and over like a ROBOT compulsion she
HAD to place the disc in the BOSSES computor NOW.
June: something is almost forcing me to use this new hardware it's an alien tech
rippoff of an image of the MOON it makes me want to dress up and wear my
cape out.
Charlax the Narrator: The Bosses Computor is slowly being eaten up by the disc
all the contacts on the every list are gone the moral of the CharlaXFabel number
9904 poor gentle reader ewe is never use a disc program to enable accounts not
meant to be edited by ewe. The computor is now gone the disc dropped to the
floor lets go back and see what happens now…
BOSS: walking in to his office to check on his computor and June Smithster: well
that is not funny did the android charlock pick up my computor for cleaning
again?
Charlax the Narrator: but there is only silence from the corner of the room where
June is laying down curled up in a ball of Supergirl costume her cape lay furled
around her like a hobo blanket cover…
We opened a book that started with the name
of our country.
The right side was numbered corruptions and the other side was numbered greed & bad leaders.
We burnt the stride of our bodies into aches and dreams waving away fire and foliage of silence.
Women learnt to carry portrait of bodies of their dead children on their shoulders, beautiful corpse.
It reminded us of the civil war in front of our Father's betrayed house.
It reminded us of lyrics written on the walls of our Hut with a framed keys of memories.
Love that taught us to look back into our heart and draw current of men in their ignorance in search
of a better home than those bridges we burnt.
Things like the pains in the eyes of a boy,
Things like the tale on the lips of a girl,
Things like sadness in the soul of a mother painting the images of her lost children in prayers.
Those strange tears stranded between chapters of the smoke as they travelled to the lonely cloud,
With the echoes of our forefathers last libation
Like the voices trailing from a boy's name for the lost of his prestige.
There are things that we may not know that leave our footprints to our heart through the opening in our nostrils and ears.
In our land was where a boy once stood on the face of the sun, his shadow reflected on a mirror.
He saw his future carted away by his fears.
Lost girls found in his assaulted plights
Trying to find home in a shark's mouth.
They hold water from the oceans together basking their hope on the traffic of women holding their bodies and leaving their dead for survival.
We do not live in the moon!
We do not whisper to the wind of the song we
heard him sing every day!
Of things that come in white and black are
like our straying country weeping with the
images of the masses.
Like those corpses brought back to BENUE.
Those images are the images of darkness projected by a big screen of the sky to our eyes.
Our names burnt into different rivers holding different tribes that seek for freedom.
We wrecked our testimonies to bleed blood with flames to suffocating cities surrounded with pity.
Those things on white are the way we were built but the black demons corrupted us all leaving memories to sneak our hearts into dark places where mischievousness can take over us.
©John Chizoba Vincent
From_A_Pen_Refusing_Frustrations.
Bullet Wounds in My Heart of Golden Revenge Chapter 3
Bite down on the bullet…bite the bullet – you’re in emotional debt and you groan
Bite down on the bullet…bite the bullet – Taste the venom…don’t spit me out like GUM
Bite down on the bullet…bite the bullet – Feel the words that move you in the negative zone…you’re a useless, dry bone
Bite down on the bullet…bite the bullet – Numbness prevails over me…brainwashed like SOME
And, now – you expect me to be this strong boy
That’s tainted with saliva and spit like a toddler’s toy
You ruined me…you wrecked me with your plastic glory
Where shall I flee? I’m a bird, ensnared in your ribcage of melancholy
Bite down on the bullet…bite the bullet – you’re in emotional debt and you groan
Bite down on the bullet…bite the bullet – Taste the venom…don’t spit me out like GUM
Bite down on the bullet…bite the bullet – Feel the words that move you in the negative zone…you’re a useless, dry bone
Bite down on the bullet…bite the bullet – Numbness prevails over me…brainwashed like SOME
Bullet Wounds in My Heart of Golden Revenge Chapter 4
Desolate in the place I once called My Home Sweet Home – what’s left of it?
Now, What Have I Become to You? I’m the one lost in your twisted, wicked paradise
Heartbroken by your fickle, outlandish ways… You have a frivolous spirit…
Your heart i-is the embers a-and ashes down under…don’t seek me – I-I am not wise
You have a frivolous spirit… Heartbroken by your fickle, outlandish ways
I’m the one lost in your twisted, wicked paradise; Now, What Have I Become to You?
What’s left of me? What am I left with? Nothing…and now, I rot, I rot, I rot on my own…but I am not alone…I roam in God’s Gracious Grassland of Gratitude
Bite down on the bullet…bite the bullet – you’re in emotional debt and you groan
Bite down on the bullet…bite the bullet – Taste the venom…don’t spit me out like GUM
Bite down on the bullet…bite the bullet – Feel the words that move you in the negative zone…you’re a useless, dry bone
Bite down on the bullet…bite the bullet – Numbness prevails over me…brainwashed like SOME
Where shall I flee? I’m a bird, ensnared in your ribcage of melancholy
You ruined me…you wrecked me with your plastic glory
That’s tainted with saliva and spit like a toddler’s toy
And, now – you expect me to be this strong boy
Crying Mercy
Hurled down the depth of a desolate ditch
By folks envious of my blazer to cloak,
To the lowest tide of despair, I`ve reached
And pace of my breath points to a heart stroke.
With sad clouds of stress stretching to the neck
Hardly I can eye sunshine in the sky
And the boat of my life seems to be wrecked
With the weight of rolling waves of deep sighs.
No more can I stroll for long on a beach,
Tread along the flank of a sloping hill,
Swim in the azure sea like a grey fish
Or taste the sweet joy of tilling the field.
O Good Lord, I pray for your compassion
To melt any guilt of mine from past lives,
And beseech your lenience for infraction
To any of your rules during my strife.
O Mighty Lord, I yearn for your mercy
To gaze at the shine of your divine light,
For your lenience I am ever thirsty,
I pray that you shore up my astral flight.
O Supreme Lord, I cry for your mercy
To bestow on me strength to quit this ditch,
Of your fatherly grace, make me worthy
That I may attain the shrine of your feet.
O Graceful Lord, I scream for your mercy
From the very depth of my pining heart,
All that I cherish is a humble lee
In your realm that I may serve you apart.
O Lord, I pray I`m released from this drain,
InflictIng upon me bodily pain,
That the celestial sky I may attain
Your humble servant ever to remain.
Hello. I am Jim Crow, and I was born in America after the Civil War and met my fate many years later after much civil unrest. You may have never encountered me, but some things about me you might already know. I was not a real person, but rather a caricature designed to berate, distort, and ridicule an entire race of people. I represented a system, behind which stood millions of people. They gave birth to and upheld me proudly, using me to implement their blood-letting ideas.
I caused lots of pain, inflicted massive wounds, and was responsible for the death of many innocent people. A psychological nightmare, I had no desire to change; but I was left with little to no choice. You see, people create the systems they want to live under. People and their ideas changed; perhaps others simply disappeared to fight another day. So I also changed, and more precisely, also disappeared. Most of my closest friends would rather pretend that I never existed.
I resided in the southern region and inflicted innumerable emotional scares on certain people. My social order demanded that there be separation of Blacks and Whites. I know. You heard and read about "Apartheid" in South Africa; in America, it was me, Jim Crow.
I must say that it was not my idea to talk about these things. I along with others were given the theme, "Let's Talk About It", and was asked to write something about abuse. So I decided to write about emotional abuse, the type I'm most familiar with. I inflicted lots of it; so I ought to know; I'm Jim Crow. The inhumane treatments to my fellow humans are too numerous to note. I never believed they were humans anyway. Realistically, the only thing inhuman was me, Jim Crow.
As history now reveals, I am no longer around, needed, or desired. I wrecked and ruined lives, causing havoc upon generations of people until the whole nation said, "Enough!". I'm Jim Crow.
8317PS,Let's Talk About It, Richard L., 1P Personification
By hook and crook
I passed two days of lockdown.
On 3rd day i made up my mind
Not to take task at home in hand.
I left kitchen and home on her behalf.
But 12 hours of day
I couldn't spend without work.
So i decided to play an adventure game
My soulmate was competent in the game.
First of all i made a cloth ball with my hands
We shall try to catch it on both end.
She and i entered into the hall
To play game with hands made ball.
The rules of game were decided first
Hold catch 2 points and dropped catch 3 points
We started it only for fun
But regret, we forgot it very soon.
I threw the ball
She caught and scored two points .
She tried to dodge me
But i caught and started with same points.
The game was going on
Throw and catch
Catch and throw the ball.
Clapped at every point
We were the players
We were the spectators
Enjoying game at both ends.
But my fate never liked my happiness
I was just behind her on points table
It my turn to throw the ball
I held it as rugby player hold ball.
Threw it hard towards her
Unfortunately she missed the ball
It made her face an extra ball.
The game was finished without declaration
No one defeated, no one was win.
One side the flooded Ganges
Other hand the hungry lioness
Childhood song i understood this day.
Hurt lady at home
Corona warrior was on road
To catch culprit of lockdown
Difficult to select
Either stayed in or out in lockdown.
I stood unmoved till conscious back
Hurriedly i took towel to use as mask
Opened the doors and ran out.
'Stay in', ordered a cop to me
But who had time to listen it.
A ball from my doors targeted me
But this time luck saved me.
Married man knew married man very well
So he helped me to save from hell.
He said me politely,
'stand under margosa tree in isolation '
I followed his instructions with deep breath
But it was damn evening
When honest man asked me,
'Choose home or quarantine of 14 days'
There was no option
So defeated soldier turned back to home.
She was sitting in sofa as queen
Watched as tigress looked lamb in grass green.
She turned on the TV at high volume
Highlights of WWE was going on tv screen
Punches after punches listened neighbours
With wrecked smile on lips
They asked me next day
' who won the match yesterday?