Short Rampages Poems

swift stream rampages

                        over the edge of boulders

                                      that can't shout orders!...

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first love never dies
its flames rage loose in the wind
ashes smolder still
as fire rampages untamed
scorching fragile hearts blue-black...

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A soft blush
creeps onto the face
awkward and timid
it attempts to convey
embarrassment, pleasure
in the most attractive way
it is shyly vain
almost unnoticeable - 
does it even exist?

A hard blush
is an explosion of emotion
conveying the extremes 
of anything
it spreads throughout the body
rampages the nerves
in itself
it is a profound expression
of the extremity of feeling...

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Somebody please help me, I'm in great distress.
My wife is having her period and she has PMS.
One time she grabbed a television set and hit me in the head.
When I came out of my coma, I was amazed that I wasn't dead.

She goes on rampages and she screams and shouts.
I told her to shut up and she nearly scratched my eyes out.
This time of the month causes great stress.
Somebody please help me, she has PMS....

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Death
Rampages
All things take their toll
Must we suffer so?
Always lamenting loss or change
Till we know not why we exist
Is it just to suffer?
Can we not see past the pain?
Eventually we must move on
Virtually dragging our minds out of the
Eternal darkness that drags us down into chaos
Nothing is worth the heart ache and the pain
That  these dramatic events drag us into
Seize the opportunity to grow!...

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There is a new rage that is taking
over the country,
Vigilantes going on rampages,
No one is immune from their acts 
of passion, 
They are making recompense
for imagined slights,
not really thinking about the
consequences or ruining
other peoples' lives,
The spurned are unleashing their
feelings everywhere,
Folks are no longer free to roam,
afraid to tackle life openly,
because a wicked wind may arrive
suddenly...........

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The gunfire rages
through the cracks
of neighborhood cages
as every fetid tenement ages
and voodoo economics suppress wages
of waitresses, cabbies and sages...

while the slick-shoe alderman engages
in taxing your turnip-blood in stages
and blue-jeaned billionaires decry outrages
of clothes-hanger abortions back-stages
and gang-banger rampages --
as this feckless dog-and-pony upstages
detonated death's tick-tock gauges

-...

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Today at six I tuned my television set
To gaze attentively... Propaganda they
All say and that today I could testify to
The spelt evil. The vision telegrammed.

To no avail the brother that was caught 
In betwixt the shooting and rampages
Of the commuters was not screened...
Yet they say no to press censorship too

I later realised that I had no saying even 
When terrorised by my own. So absurd 
And my groans never impact the comrade
Even the commissar so reluctant to my plea....

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