Ill burn you,
To the ground.
Let the vapors gasp in empty airs around you,
And suck into themselves until nothing is left to drip across these acres of empty soil.
I'll tear you from the very skin aching for leave from the sinew drenched upon your bones.
Frequencies of follicles, a fallacy facade.
Faking.
F'd you into the floor.
Foment you in flames until remnants are but memories, blistering in dust particles, hovered in sunbeams, hanging through naked windowpanes, planked perpendicular against wooden floors, never to be seen again until memory chances you in a whim.
Performances won the early acclaim,
Unleashed his metaphoric rise to fame,
Now poetry would never be the same,
Kersal to Kyoto, shouted his name,
Polemic eighties, verses sounding stark,
Opiod evenings, a voice from the dark,
Everybody said, “Those words are Maker’s Mark,
There goes that world famous, John Cooper-Clarke”.
You want to win/
You want to control/
You want to use people/
For your own goals/
You never think/
Of your consequences/
Your thoughts, words, deeds are like/
Poison to the souls of those/
That are in your web/
But, don't be surprised/
When it all comes back/
To haunt you/
To eat you up alive/
To make you sad and blue/
Because, the Hell/
You put others through/
Will be your own.../
Lake of Fire/
her shirt
poorly
read
"wife.
dog mom
aunt"
but a
wrinkle
made the
"a" look
like a
"c"
There was a day when punk rock was my thing
the rawness and energy of the music
really stirred up within ready to rebel
giving your all the focus that makes you kick
Then every Wednesday night on the local radio
'street sounds' was the name of the game
which played all that was the best of punk
the DJ encouraged writing about our lighted frame
Enjoying our music best on a live set
watching concerts was the real thing
at my local Apollo, I booked my seat
seeing and hearing made the arena ring
These days music was on tape
mail order got you a great deal
free t-shirt and postage were so great
plus the great music, what a steal!
These are great memories to remember
those days really made you rock
still can hear these punk sounds
so fresh and street-wise, so don't mock!
(Remembering life in the mid to late 70s and what made life tick musically, hard to believe that now I'm a classical fan but indeed life changes in its many circles.)
are you saying steampunk? I asked the woman with the invite.
she threw back her head and showed her pearly teeth, white.
I said pink-punk, she told me, come by on Saturday night.
I had never seen pink-punk before, it was quite a sight.
plastic Paris, prissiness, poodles, pretty pompousness, a plight.
I had to leave early, unfortunately, for I had an early flight.
but I will never forget seeing pink-punk in Paris that night.
I am so glad the strange woman handed me that invite.
Lucky steampunk faerie finally found an adventure novel
Deep in the nook of the black forest’s sycamore grove
Especially for you, was written in cursive inside the cover
She had no idea who wrote it, but enjoyed the sentiment
I told you a human would like your book, an owl whispered.
“Not if you tell her it was written by a mouse,” his lunch said.
Jose Cuervo’s Spit Cocktail®
Anonymous Nazis® from Swatch
Ocean Spray’s Sl*t Juice®
Playtex presents Toxic Stockings®
Fortress of Deception® by Hormel
Time-Warner’s Urban Tan®
Flesh Box® by Band-Aid
Drano’s Septic Wish®
Trojan presents Sperm Banquet®
Rotten to the Core® by Apple
Squalor Sux® by Electrolux
Ben and Jerry’s Flemish Cough®
Human Purse® from American Express
Nike’s Toe Jam Football®
Bank of America’s Velvet Fist®
Ethnic Stud by Viagra®
Starbucks introduces Pubic Comb®
Victorious Egret presents The New Bob Dylan®
Otis Trench® from BadSeedPress
On going problem with my hair
Will I won't I do I dare
Fed up with grey need touch of pink
Tattoo wanted~ sporting ink.
FOUR-LINE LIGHT VERSE
Poetry Contest
Sponsored
by
L MILTON HANKINS
His palette was every shade of grey
Jet black one end snow white the other
And never did a stroke touch the canvas
Before endless moments of pondering
Like a crow in a tree
Surveying a frosted wasteland
Then swooping with purpose
Only when the prey was sure
I would watch in awe
Barely daring to breath
As the landscape took shape
In twists and swathes
Delicate dots and bold waves
Skeletal trees appearing
Against a bleak winter sky
Chimney smoke stains
From a distant town
Broken figures bowed
Against the harsh terrain
His head would tilt back
In tense contemplation
Fists clenched and eyes closed
Summoning the strength
To make his next move
Awaiting the muse
Inhaling the heavens
Clutching for inspiration
Then a sudden inhalation
And a whispered sigh
As his vision restored
And the brush led his hand
A world without colour
The death of hope
Questioning God himself
Channelling his demons
In exquisite form
It was still dark when I awoke
To the tinny clang of my travel alarm
The bedroom cold
And the day unwelcome
People's perspective of having the freedom of expression
Understanding the like-minded people around you
Nothing will take away your freedom to be who you are
Koolest genre and thing to be in the world
I hate Periods and like most Commas,
a Full Stop turns me off
Quotation Marks I can endure,
but Semi-colons not
I love a good Exclamation Point,
all Question Marks so so
But my favorite is the Em Dash
—replacing most of those
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2020)
happy Saint bucket
raisin keep
turtle pocket wail
it seems
to me that
your asterisk
is breathing
or at least
taking a
breath
except
mine is
subjective
to certain
subjects
that are
willing to
subject me
NOW
slowly
breath in
and
out
and
in
and
*
.......out
Patti dropped her pants, turned away from the river, reached down and touched her toes, and squirted back a big spray of piss. The river rose, spilled the banks, washed away the world. Now we are free, at last, at last, on this empty empty planet.
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