Short Pinball Poems

The Pinball wizard is dead
That deaf dumb and blind kid
Was shot dead by a stranger
It was such a senseless murder...

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I have an awful stressful job
I have to do it to earn a bob.
Shunted,……..
Pushed,………..
Round and round
Like a shiny ball in a pinball machine.

2004...

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viscera wound tighter
   than the tightest rubber ball
   never mind bouncing off the walls
   guts like a pinball machine
   an arcade between the ears
   with tilt alarms screaming




02.10.19


For Capture That Emotion Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Nina Parmenter...

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it loves me
it loves me not
this ball of id and fiery snot

bleet bleet bleet
the runt of life 
this shallow sheep
stomping Gossomer mice.
Eating shadows keeping score
a sagging Teet 
a dripping bore.
The game is up, the pinball tilts
this tired game of slag and silt.

It loves me 
It loves me not
this ball of id and fiery snot....

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He was frightened by direct scrutiny.
He frequently was a pinball machine.
He knew he couldn't talk in this mutiny.
He was frightened by direct scrutiny.
After airflow, he repents fluently.
The naked truth is still taboo when seen.
He was frightened by direct scrutiny.
He frequently was a pinball machine.

Written: May 09, 2023...

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Running and running.
Where to I can't explain.
My feet our light and the past is flying by..
My heart cry's and my soul is in despair ..
I cry and I really don't know why?
 When will it stop ...
Will I ever be me?
Feelings our  so overwhelming to the  heart...
Like a pinball machine used again and again..
My feet stay in one place bound...
When will I be me again?...

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We've all been invited to the masquerade ball
where everyone's frowning underneath it all
the elites are still getting paid
for playing pinball with our minds
and charades with our lives
such a heavy price that they'll pay-

The unveiling will commence 
when the kings grow tired of the game
demanding the mice to nibble off their masks
back into the froth of their mundane-...

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I Remember 

I remember a time
When all was so bright
With bustling crowds 
And neon lit nights

Covered wagon caterpillars 
And bunnies of blue
Teacups that spun
You sat in them too

I remember the days
When scooters could fly
Pinball was king
And everything thrived

I remember the smells
Of hot dogs & beer
I remember it all
And wish it still there

Bill MacEachern
05/02/2022...

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PROGRESS

What happened to that coffee bar
With the pinball  machine
That focused our attention and verve
On Saturdays when I was sixteen?

Where did all those girls go
That wore flared skirts and white socks
As we listened to American rock ‘n’ roll
On the juke box?

They’re still around,  but changed
With time’s passage there;
And the phenomenon called progress,
Diluting the verve, damping the flare....

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A  good rifle or shotgun,
Kittens, pups, and Panda cubs.
Harley rides,
juke boxes and pinball machines.
Cool stuff like that.

Oh yes, and ogling Cosplay girls
In their sexy costumes,
and those joyful shuffle-dancing females 
on You Tube.
Vintage p..n

It’s then that ghostly desires rise up like sump
from a rusty oil tank,
impulses that make me tremble 
as if I had 
some kind of geriatric palsy....

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and then buzzing starts below skin
shocks shoot along veins

I hold my arm 
a different pain today

it buckles the knee 
grinds the shoulder
it burns the elbow
gnaws the hip

I rub my back
a deep breath and sigh 
ricochets ribcage-aches like children 
playing at pinball machines

another new pain today
another old pain tomorrow
the everywhere everyday unsurprising surprise

and a spasm grips within muscle...

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