Posive
Oh you're gonna feel that
Be positive on all things
Hard to be when they
Sawed off your damn legs
Where'll you run to now?
sawed-off on the
crimson emerald from a cloudy sky
squeal
and, at times, the reason
low-slung why
sparkles of a pearly salver
modicum of encrusted damask mist
befuddles me
albeit
moon, amber, and opalescence
spawn a charming sight
the perspective
strikes each crevice of the flesh.
and psyche advise
shrouded in a cinereous cloud
hapless and helpless, a glum-blue wolf
growls out a bluesy bemoan.
creating a lacuna
of gallivant love touchstone
leaden wails of anguish
rhythmic echoed refrain
plainchants of auric yearning
reminiscent of challah
aiming for eleemosynary seeds
cahoots to germinate and thrive
2nd place contest winner
Written: March 20, 2023
A Strand No 1201 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
The rebel who came to town
In search of inner peace
She roams the American West
Specifically, the Texas Hill Country and South Plains
She keeps a journal of her adventures and fights
injustice where she finds it
With a revolver and her dead father's sawed-off
double-barreled shotgun!
Used to call him ‘half-pint’
He was a sawed-off runt
He’d down his drink in seconds
Then he’d burp and grunt
Manners had he zero
He’d grown up down and out
Roughest patch was X-mas Time
All alone, he’d bawl and pout
But then came New Year’s Day
when this runt became a king
He’d toast the Strumpet, Fortune
removing her g-string…
In the morning he’d awaken
and reach for his good luck
But he’d clutch an empty pillow
~ back seat of a pick-up truck
Sawed off iron
Has been lying
For a long time.
It's rusted
Like my life.
We look into each other's eyes
Neatly laid out on a stone
That is warm ,
Waiting again , for the rain .
crusty blood in the flower garden
sawed off body parts as misguided soil
broken sharp objects strategically placed
yet and still she is one of the living
this is the day when she was supposed to start kindergarten
her excitement was similar to visions of sugarplums dancing in her head
then suddenly........once upon a time.....she would have been.....
oftentimes too often enough too much.....
*Basilisk's Support Group*
On the train to nowhere.
Tracks leading to the end, of another bottle.
Down goes the soupeur, knowing where the express leads thee.
Remaining complacent in a steady, off the rails attitude fills the gaping truth.
Steady like a sawed-off snowman with the carrot on a stick.
Sewing breadknives into the vast chasm of self-righteousness.
The river flows, yet the tropics of Capricorn see to its dissipation.
Even the piper needs to water their shrubs, basilisk.
Come on over and have some spore soup, she said.
If I ate that stuff, I knew I would be quickly dead.
I had already had surgery on my foot, it was a tumor.
A spore had been the cause of it, that’s no rumor.
I pictured that soup with a dead foot floating around.
It would have blood gushing from it, turning red brown.
I saw the toenails, they were ugly, jagged, and crusty.
I am stepping on a nail tonight, I told her. And it is all rusty.
Can’t you step on the nail some other time? She asked me.
No, and then I have to have a tetanus shot. Sorry, Aunt Bee.
My husband rolled his eyes and told me how awful I was, after that.
But he did not see that sawed off foot floating in the soup vat.
Opleth
the pain inside
threatens the honesty
we hide behind four walls
burrowed pews with sawed off shot guns
those once claimed innocence in your eyes
has been poured out by wrath from a broken heart
the dull sky takes me away to this place
where suicide is never a solution
Opleth
the notion of angelic fervor in its vested remedy
Satan desires the dripping off of blood out of the mouth's side
still we run away & hide
to a field with sullen dreams
the stench of suicide gives way to love's embrace
evil minds that plug destruction
wandering aimlessly through darkened portals
viscous long hanging fangs that bite
eyes with spots having holes
out of the brilliance of the damned existence
a clear awakening evokes
with both hands open in the air
we then surrender to the very notion of twilight fervor
A sparkling array of blissful care
to reach Opleth with every fiber of my being
springs forth the loving praise of a heavenly attribute
A new day has just begun
aim your arrow to the sun & have a bit of fun
There once was a flexible stripper
got her nipple caught in a zipper
the fabric flexed
but she was vexed
It got sawed off in the gripper
There once a one-nippled stripper
she lost her nip in a zipper
but she’s still healthy
and now she’s wealthy
‘cause a one-handed fan’s a big tipper
There once was a one handed guy
who saw a loose nipple go by
at the Bada BIng
shoulda heard him sing
he caught the next one on the fly
Now the one-nippled stripper has money
Now the one-handed guy has a honey
you never know
how life will go
You might not miss what you lose ain’t it funny?
I cannot show it. I have promised.
Building up in the shores of my thoughts and soul,
An overflowing ocean of emotions I'll risk,
To drown in my own sorrows and tears, in folds.
Tirelessly I longed but only in secret I'll whisper,
I am haunted by the essence of you, this fear sips deeper,
You crept everywhere in sight, endlessly, searching for her figure,
As those beats grew faint and this ocean grew bigger,
What of me, "Oh God! Please do your worst!
I will be far away in this ever state of Cursed,
Nothing said but I still feel this agonising thirst,
As my breath utter those words, in knives I immersed.
I'll hide in the abyss. I will keep myself hidden.
The truth. In infinity I will hurl.
Sawed off chains from your heart and set it to Eden.
I'll stay silent forever so you can have the World.
The young trees weren't agog with winter snow
As the leaves chose to wither than grow,
Wafting gently its autumnal crocus to the frozen ground,
While the night birds carols in sonorous sound.
Yet it is garbed in prismatic glimmering ice
All over the street it dazzles the eyes
Of Dryad, then it heard a roar breaking the ambience
As if the wind was arguing with silence.
Then the sound lead to another, then another -
A cacophony deafened the air and shakened the order
A man with a chainsaw needs a Christmas tree
He sawed off the root and fissured it with glee
A young lad - a sentry was stationed by the way
He held his own star, lights and candies in a manner somewhat gay.
"Careful dad!" As the tree succumbed its teary droplets on dad
Before making a fall that made Dryad sad.
My daughter is dying and as I'm praying, I'm pleading.
She has been stabbed and I can't stop the bleeding.
An ambulance is on its way but it may not arrive in time.
My daughter wouldn't put out so her boyfriend committed this crime.
If you're wondering how many other people he'll stab, the answer is none.
I'm so enraged that I blew his sorry head off with my sawed off shotgun.
My daughter just died and tears are rolling down my face.
She died for being a respectable girl and it's a disgrace.
(This is a fictional poem)
Lock me in solitary
And throw away the key
It ain't no different
Then what I've already done to me
Already told you once
You done got the best of me
Ain't nothin' left
But what I want you see
Ain't no use in trying
To fulfill your fantasy
Goin' plum crazy
Is my mentality
And I went all out
When I lost my sanity
Even my own family
Was scared to death of me
And they should've been
They were led to believe
In something that wasn't
Deceived without a doubt
By a few words
From my *****es mouth
I swear to God
Thats what it was about
She stepped up
Then started bombing
She went all out
Never stopping
Damn near put me
In my coffin
But it didn't
Cowboy-ed the **** up
After the attack
Thanked them for showing me
All that I lacked
Then started wildin' the **** out
Like you ain't never seen before
Kept a sawed off fully loaded
And opened up a store
**** a shop
Vowed to never stop
Till all my foes
Lost their souls
To the buckshot pop
Out the end of my barrel
Forever
Till my soul rots
The last living light
Twinkles in his dead eyes
Alive a moment ago but now gone
Someone should shut them
A stare so lonely
Into a place that only he knew
He’s lying there on the floor
Bleeding hard from the head
Police don’t even bother
Just pay him his respects
It’s cold and lonely down there
Watching life go on
Knowing your no long part of it
Just a passenger who had made the final stop
It may not be where you are going
But it’s definitely where you will be
Somewhere down the line.
As he bled out no one stopped to care
He was nobody to them just a drifter
But even a drifter has a mother somewhere
His mother would have cared
Take him sweet Jesus and show him the way
He hath walked with the devil and a sawed off shotgun
Wrecked the lives of plenty a poor boy
Down on the wharf along the shore
Somebody cover him till darkness falls
Then we will carry him to Pointe Coupee parish
Across the river
And find his next of kin
Put him deep in that black gumbo
And let the devil do his work
For John Batiste was a man
Who needed no help
They’ll be frying up cracklin’s
At JP’s on Saturday night
Someone will crumble a beer can
And cuss John Batiste.
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