I'd rather fall at the hands of nature—
endure the whiplash from changing seasons,
be ransacked in storms erasing verdure
but not by crude loggers or their reasons.
In time to come, I might be metallic,
slip from imagination, unreal!
What is wood, this leaf, but an italic?
Who will append me to the holy grail,
will to elegize my lost symmetry?
Today has already begun with breeze
lilting foliage; fluttered melody,
transporting berries, bewitching degrees.
A caterpillar licks my face away,
and a worm is canceled by a blue jay.
My body
a temple
that you ransacked
and destroyed
Alright still gobsmacked how we were
Attacked..hacked..hijacked...whacked
Ransacked cracked shellacked poleaxed
By his relaxed Rat packed knack maxed
So here's a witty ditty ode to Travis
No ifs or buts can't tut tut... annul it or cull it
Straight out of the hut a classy brassy strut
Gung ho have a go heave ho maestro Mullet
Slaying & flaying.. no rut just a glorious glut
Left a stark dark smut.. every bowler's a mutt
Like some flirty dirty sl*t playing with the nut
Hard not to swoon at the boon of the loon
Croon at Travis's off his Head buffoon tune
Stubby not chubby tad tubby like David Boon
Us staunch fans of the promising paunch gasping
Can't snub or sub.. like a lad down the pub or club
Another out of whack attack does launch rasping
Rogue's Bogan brogue.. flashes his blade like Shogun
Wizard of Oz as loved as X men's Logan or Paul Hogan
Dashes and lashes.."Taches win Ashes" the Travis slogan
Lirena was a songbird born of yore
Who dearly loved her husband everyday;
She sings her songs of contentment no more.
An adversary’s troops ransacked the shore,
A ruthless marauding they did display;
Lirena was a songbird born of yore.
Her loving husband whom she did adore
Abducted mercilessly from the fray;
She sings her songs of victory no more.
She trailed the captor’s ship on raft with oar,
Enduring stormy gales and restless waves;
Lirena was a songbird born of yore.
Making landfall, sprinting upshore,
In tearful attempt to plead and persuade,
She sung her people’s secret song of yore.
But the Adversary had no remorse,
Her beloved was already in decay.
Lirena is a songbird of long forgotten lore;
She sings her songs of compunction forevermore.
Take a look who’s behind the kit,
he’s not our regular drummer;
Make no mistake he’s taken a life,
with that jackknife to a pounding heart;
So notorious, his beat’s ferocious.
He’s ransacked an alley and the bar,
on tour he remains midnight’s shadow;
Take a look you have seen him before,
in the corner of a club poster;
So ferocious, his beat’s notorious.
Bouncing from one band to another,
the cymbalist committing vile crimes;
Don’t try to memorize his face,
he has mastered immortal glamour;
Bloody scrumptious, a bit dangerous;
He’s not our regular drummer.
As time shortens
The aisles fill
Hollow-eyed scavengers
Prowling ransacked shelves
The challenge
Of the “tic-toc” clock
Santa will get the credit
They will get the debit
As they sit deluded
Batteries not included
The glossy acrylic smell of new editions
is cordite to my nose,
an explosive mixture of - need to know.
I finger trawl over dust covers
mindreading unread masterpieces.
Movies ransacked many of these novels,
hearsay and word of mouth
account for aisles
of open secrets and
commonly revealed revelations.
I should obtain a dozen or so acclaimed sagas,
display them on a prominent shelf –
because, well, one really ought to,
or maybe just read last chapters,
if not too long.
i once stood
within my own shipwreck
blaming cruel seas
years past
flotsam and jetsam
built a driftwood home
when storms came
that ramshackle shelter
self-destructed
while i
cursed foul weather
looking outward
never seeking inward
i decried a faithless fate
unt
a blinding truth
ransacked
an unseeing mind
simply that
I ALONE
am the author
of my own life-long
melodrama
none other than me
bore this responsibility
of such a tangled
tragicomedy
She held a quiet wish;
Lyrical objections
ransacked Fate’s will to
concede to a Princess;
A line was drawn right through;
She held a quiet wish,
her soul always ignored;
Lying to herself now
passion was left embers;
Her belly yearned for ‘Wow!’;
She held a quiet wish,
her path now befuddled;
Tears reflecting riches
she’d lost interest in
smolder with lit matches;
She held a quiet wish,
composure found it’s crown;
No longer desolate
she escaped false freedom,
created her own fate.
The holoscopic image constructed
appeared enormous and interrupted me;
Constantly;
Traveling through the bloodstream
it simply wanted to nourish
yet nothing positive could flourish
save my terrified scream;
Anxious agenda always bustling,
I’m left begging for the solace of silence;
Constantly my thoughts are ransacked,
and slowly they eat away at me;
Burdened by the illusion of weight,
shoulders weary with the imaginary
collapse; The ironic contradiction?
I know the power is in my hands;
Constantly;
It’s up to me, it’s always been up to me;
Hesitating and second guessing
my own power and all .. that ..discipline;
But why? I know that it WILL work.
Stopping.. Constantly;
Aspects of indecision
flaunt a twice fractionated oblivion.
Brazen acts, once under cover of night
trust now ransacked in broad daylight
Rape, armed robbery, carjackings
released from murky lairs on alien wings
Our beliefs torn asunder, the world upside down
no foot traffic seen in our part of town
Change
Flowers dance in full bloom
In the garden of spring,
Buzzing bees adorn the garden
And adds tune to the dancing flowers,
Amidst the buzzing bees i stand
Glaring up for the chilly shower,
I ransacked hither and thither,
Under the leaves, inside the flower
And so on the twigs and stalks,
No cocoons to be found anywhere,
Oh!you changed into a glowing butterfly
And flew away so soon,
How could you change so fast?
You were an unfidgeting cocoon an hour ago.
Written in 2017
No arrests have been made yet,
but an investigation and manhunt for the suspects are underway,” says police spokesperson
Col Mavela Masondo in a statement.
The family of the deceased was in Cape Town
when they tried to contact him but he could not be reached, a family friend went to check up on Gordin.“Upon arrival, she found the back door of the main house locked and the key of the door was in the lock on the outside, she entered the house and discovered that it was ransacked,” journalist was already dead with multiple injuries.A television and Gordin’s car were stolen.
Last night a great heaviness
fell through the roof
dropping like a boat anchor into my dreaming mind.
It was sentient,
a being as hard as steel and massively stupid.
I felt its dumb confusion, its awkward alarm,
I winced as it lumbered around my head-space
crashing into my own startled thoughts
though I realized on some level of awareness
that I was still living in a bad dream.
The brutishly bulky being wanted answers,
I wanted answers, the dream had no answers.
Eventually that solid hulking creature gave up
turning my inner-state over and smashing
my neuronal workings over its big stony head.
Oblivion took us both.
When daylight unveiled the long night
I looked about me
the bedroom was not ransacked
but my brain was blinking on ‘check engine’ light,
and something was still asleep
on the backseat of my mind.
Tonight I will take a strong drink and 2 Ambien
incase its guttural snoring, or its chaotic dreams
wakes me up again.
We are winded and on the ropes. Backwater banjo boys
strum against us. Clouds feed upon a shoaling light.
A bad day for going out or staying in.
A time to be sleepless. We must live timidly,
or push deeper into a glaring daylight
toward the drugged dreams of the wide-eyed,
go shopping in the poorer parts of town
seek thrifty ways to survive among the striving,
give all our prayers to the birds; then eat them.
Some say they have heard the sky flap away
but many stuff fingers in their ringing ears
and gainsay both the seen and unseen.
There is no sanctuary in night's lean pantry,
the ransacked are laid bare.
Many pick the pockets of the anxious
rattle catch-penny cans on shoe-strings.
Misgivings trespass, tumble ever inward until
reason becomes the reason to flee.
Paltry inklings gnaw at ever longer nights,
and we wonder what ‘tipping point’ tipped
what lid flipped; what line was crossed
as an ever louder twanging strums on?
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