I think its time,
that I departed,
I'll still
have the scent
for a scratch
and sniff
sticker.
My poetry now,
is foreboding
in the red & clause.
I'll still comment
on much poetry,
the fancy pens,
never come to fairy,
of never had a reality
for a pen that worked
with ink that spurted.....
worked for a luxury
My time is now
fragmented
and blurry,
and the timeless
has a single blur,
once happiness
of skirts and
fond-ness.
Principally
to rulers
here
of this poetry.
I advocate nothing
to a single something,
bless be a statue of
a monument
of a Goddess
Censorship
for which
reasons?
It'll be different,
if I was not
the pirate
of this ship....
But therefore,
I too take
the blame
of
annihilation
and
the
gallows,
our so called heads
in the hallows.....
This is poem 75,
reduced alive,
and so called flaying,
no, I won't accept
and time for dying.
I'll never realize...
Its just another end
to me...
Bill prodded his sebaceous cyst
‘Twas massive the size of his fist
It spurted green pus
His wife made a fuss
“Get treatment NOW, I must insist”
Blue lighted to the A & E
Huge spurting cyst medics could see
Bill’s livid butt boil
Made doctor’s recoil
Needs lancing now, they all agree
They bundle Bill onto a table
“Don’t sedate him” said his wife Mable
I will succinctly put
He’s a pain in the butt
I’m leaving him when I am able
The medics gave Bill’s boil a prick
Green gunky pus splurts, it’s so thick
Poor Mable was heaving
She said, “Bill I’m leaving
Because you’re an ignorant dick”
“You wouldn’t seek treatment for years
Your constant moans left me in tears
I’ll file for divorce
I’m leaving of course
I’m going to live in Algiers”!
Bills visage turned ever so pale
His final breath he did exhale
The cad passed away
There’s no more to say
I’ve finished the end of this tale!
I took up the call
The command was made
Placed the receiver down
Hardened my resolve
Steadying my shivering nerves
I picked up the gun
Shot at the innocent man
He fell with a thud
Blood spurted from his chest
With my descent into Hell
I fell from Grace
My gut swiftly swirled
Downwards the twilight zone
A throne of skin and bone spoke
"Thine sin you must atone."
I have walked about as far
as I can go before a weariness
threatens to withdraw the pleasure
of the evening light and the easy
mood of the park. The fountain
that had spurted and splashed
all day has withdrawn back
into its nightlong still
and caught a rising moon
in its mirrored skirt.
I sit and close my eyes
and feel the world withdrawing
into somewhere else
as I let go each sound
into a growing quiet.
It's becoming harder to hold
myself here rather than
to float off where
the sounds go and all things
not anchored to a self
find a place in the night.
It would be good to go there
and see each atom
of who I am settle
a stillness stretched across
time and space and there,
become part of what
mirrors light
even if it's for no more
than the length
of an earthly night.
It all began with the singularity,
the one and only one,
with one big bang it exploded,
velocity beat gravity,
for once this time,
matter expanded out,
it still does in time immortal,
debris and gas coalesced,
pulled back in
in gravity's relentless tug,
light sprang up from
gigantic balls of gas
squeezed so tight
they spewed and spurted
energy that radiated out
in heat and beams of light
that breathed the spirit in our souls.
without light
there's no sparkle, nor glint
from dust to dust
from a whole black ball,
a singularity,
and back again,
to a black hole light-less,
it's light
that's in the soul spiritual.
She ran up his spine,
he turned to water.
A geyser of light spurted out of an artery
of unrecognizable thoughts
that tunneled him into her.
He was being opened up;
he began to look around
see only the him/her
of everywhere.
He felt like
an empty can of Spam.
He loved Spam,
it was a cosmic kind of love
that came in many flavors.
A burg in a vale,
Amassed stones and rocks as bulwark,
Assembled stones and rocks as a stack,
Stones and rocks stopping the waters from losing the track.
Waters thrusting behind the concrete rock,
Forcing the stones and rocks to slack.
A slit on a rock transpired,showing a way to break,
Waters dripping through the rock with a crack,
Droplets leaked out of the chink with a knack,
Turning the slit to rift and the rock to wreck,
Moving winds aided the waters to go out of the rack.
Slowly and steadily
Droplets leaped into Water streak,
And the Water streak into a creek with hack,
Waters flowed with fiery speed breaching the barriers with a hefty thwack ,
Stones and rocks were crushed with a great knock,
People shook out of fear when the waters spurted with whack,
And the burg in a vale was flooded and destroyed in vain without any speck,
Like the words in rage from the clefts of lips which are bicker and stark.
The flashy words he deftly chose to seduce,
and with practice these became florid.
One word he once inadvertently let loose,
that he had kept for long under the lid.
He did this long after she came in his life,
sailing together in time in a fervent way,
until they were hit by the storm of strife,
and she had started to slowly drift away.
His door was open, she did not return,
the last thread of hope he had lost pained.
A simple word then grew in his heart’s urn,
but he had kept it as a captive chained.
His longing for her did not ever wane,
he disliked to see her get hurt and sore,
but unable to bear long the load of pain,
knew not when the captive’s chain he tore.
For her the injury could not be greater,
as his spite spurted the simple word 'hate'.
It was mea culpa, he ruefully realized later,
but belated, for it had sealed their fate.
______________
March 21, 2023
Contest : A Simple Poetry
Sponsored by : John Lawless
I caught a mermaid he told us.
We laughed until our teeth flew out.
Chocolate milk spurted out of Hubert’s nose.
I can show her to you, he said.
We could not stop laughing.
Until he did.
I fear no more
For death gives forever life
In death, life is known
But without death I’m dead
Death is no death since it bears the life
But to live is death if I fear to die
Life, there is in a cross gently born
In painful patience and meekness
In rugged road to Golgotha
Perfecting redemption of man
Life there is in blood that dripped out of head
Adorned with thorn and thistle,
Hands and legs nailed to the cross
And in water that spurted out of side
Punctured with weapon of the cruel guard
Now He lives and dies no more
That life may be portioned to the living dead
Who lives in His death to death
He lives and works in my mortal body
To rescue my poor soul from the grip of death
The vault is empty
This is my confidence
Shame to death and its sting
He is risen!
Contest name: Easter Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Regina McIntosh
Holding with ease
The point of release
Before the sentiment
Flowers to intent
Thought not converted
Into words not spurted
We reside therein
27-August-2020
Left Tampa bound for home
And though all caution we exerted,
We've landed in Virginia
Since our flight has been diverted.
La Guardia said no more flights
Could land and so we skirted
The airspace that surrounds it,
All the pilots thus alerted.
Though naturally I'm glad that
Awful weather's been averted,
The passengers, including me,
Are rather disconcerted.
My hope is that the thunderstorms
Will somehow be subverted;
If not, you'll hear some curses
Which my lips will like have spurted.
A young girl backed into my zipper
On a bus too crowded for kipper
With pressure exerted
My little thing spurted
What seemed to be from the Big Dipper!
In the world of brain and pen,
of frivolous games,
things that bring shame,
things that make things insane,
let us mal-practice tame,
with the might pen,
to name and shame,
what a noble game,
with bullets spurted by the pen.
by Luckson Mupakamiso Makaya
my hunters' bow was bent to shoot -
but i had no arrows!
instead i had to take my feelings...
and then i arched the bow once again.
i charged the bellows and my throat with breath
but only fire spurted out!
now i have to use lava
instead of words...
my senses fattened
like five rams for slaughter -
so i fed them the grain of psychedelia;
now i see things i shouldn't see...
the mortars of love-madness
continue their bombardment...
i seek shelter...
the shelling persists relentlessly -
my fortress lie in ruin...
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