Short Pitchforks Poems

It's raining pitchforks I say,
Always in the middle of May,
O! The day in May,
When pitchforks come nay....

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The Angels
have gone
Only devils
are left
Clouds
die infested  
With fire
beset
Pitchforks
are glowing
Coal burning 
the harps
Grace lost
in the smoke
Tomorrow
— is dark

(Dreamsleep: September, 2024) 
...

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When they come in a pack do you run? 
Do you hide?
When they have pitchforks, do you cry? 
Or do you have scared laughter?
When they bring the tar, 
do you provide the feathers?
Taunting them before you fly out of their reach?...

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If the Rubik's Cube was Round
Would the Earth not?
Would the men with knives and pitchforks 
After Eratosthenes be proud?
Would voyagers search far and wide
Once more for the famous edge
Only for the fall
If only the Rubik's Cube was Round...

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No more swastikas -
you're with Daddy now.
When father sneezes,
Dachau odes are sprayed
onto sandpaper.

Linen tissues
glaze his black horns.
Dish rags polish
obtuse pitchforks.

Papa squirms
in a bag
full of God.

Achoo!
Ach, du

Die!...

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When you sound your battle cries
I will smile
When you match to my door with your pitchforks
Chanting, cursing, on your crusade of righteousness 
I will throw my door wide open still with a smile
It will be my armour and only defence
In the midst of all that you do
I will just smile...

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Clean down to the bottom bill 
Smashing gobsmacked cashless
Simply crass wealthy wanting more
The silent till awaits the masses

Pouncing plastic rapist rapture
Stripped!! The global bankers dream!
Control the dough by feckless reign
A reckless chain to pitchforks once again...

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How banal is heartbreak
yet the masses belly up to the bar
to imbibe the bitter brew by the gallon
fermented from the pounds of flesh
she's cut away with her pen 
that she keeps preserved 
in jars of formaldehyde

Drunk with disdain
her potion resurrecting their pain
her patrons grab the pitchforks
she keeps sharpened by the door
Silent she watches them stumble out
smiling as she counts the bills in the till...

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The devil whispers his hellos
and I enter into his hellish realm

I'm greeted by pitchforks pinching my sides
and the screems of those who have sinned

My eyes burn from the crimson fire 
and my hair goes totally ablaze

Next comes the pain of heat pouring through my veins
with my tears evaporating as soon as they form

"I don't want to be here!", I shout
followed by the devil's laugh

But for me, this will be home
for all eternity...

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music to kids ears
Pete carried on with his flute
without parental consent

his larynx engaged
as his footprints leave their clues
there would be scars over soot

townsfolk grab pitchforks
multilingual torches mad
with fear and grief chase down thief

find kids in a trance
listening to final dirge
and piper’s mocking laughter

parent takes the flute
second silence in forest
breaks the jester’s tool in half

Peter Piper’s dust to dust
...

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to rain on someone's 
parade ~ is spoil ruin someone's
fun joy happiness

saving for rainy
days ~ are when good turned bad and
you're ready for it

raincheck ~ simplify's
life scheduled prupose arranged
sequentially yours

charge it to the dust 
and let the rain settle it
 ~ just pay or get out

come in out of the 
rain ~ it's a losing battle
wake up to the facts

it’s raining pitchforks
British to rain stair rods ~ is
to rain heavily...

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