There’s an
Energy tag on my big toe
“Zapped to death:” it says
I’m a “John Doe”
A lightening bolt
Sent my soul a jolt
Into the next dimension
Permanently disabled and
Unable to be grounded, you see
Living life on the edge can be fatal
I don’t even know who I am
I think I’m fried forever
But I can tale you this
I still have destiny's will
I’ve felt the power of the gods
I’m all charged up; that was some vitamin pill
Electricity is 1 + 1 = 1
Electricity is one by one to freedom
I feel it deeply in my bones
In the gap in between gods’ ganglia
Perhaps, I do got stinky bits for brains
I’m letting go now
Finally, slipping into oblivion
I finally remember
Yes, I remember
who I am.
Thou art O Lord a unique One,
And I am a value-less nought,
(Sans thee oh what a worthless dot!)
And an object of abject fun!
I've come thence to thee, this to plead:
Be thou Good Lord my life's sole lead
And let me just tag on to thee,
To One-- zeroes like chicks of hen--
In various powers of ten,
This way can we grow, ye and me.
Sans zeros One remains just one,
Sans One, zeros are next to none.
This way it may sound a wee bit selfish,
But so-how’s cooked in this world every dish!!!
______________________
Sonnet (tongue-in-cheek) | 02.03.2007 | humour
Note: Most prayers sound like a bucket list of wishes and wants. Often, they are conditional give and take— if you grant me this O God, I'll do that, so on so forth. This ditty has reduced it to a business deal, no less!
Read also 'Take heart, thou canst all I can', a sequel from this.
The sky didn’t open—you did.
That’s what He said.
And suddenly, silence stopped pretending it was empty.
Eyes locked to an alien like it was trendy—
But the alien was memory, dressed in something friendly.
A silent scream’s polka-dotted bow tie is world-endly.
He offered me a mirror wrapped in a question gently.
It read:
“If you’ll let me? Lay still and let me rock your world.”
But I had earthquakes in my chest I never learned to hurl.
I don’t know if he got my letter,
but I sent one back—
Written in breath,
sealed in a panic attack.
It read:
“If I am the curtain…
then who pulled me back?”
Illusory energy, you steal my thunder,
Turned me into static so you’d feel like wonder.
Truth knits a sweater of desire,
But leaves the tag on, tangled in the wire.
Return policy reads:
“No refunds for souls that chose silence over schemes.”
This curtain is yours,
when you return to your dreams.
Just knock twice
on the seam
where the fabric still breathes
Don't go weeping at my grave for I'm not there
I've a date with a butterfly to dance in the air
I'll play tag on the wind so wild n free
Waiting for the day you'll play with me
Your life was a blessing, memories a shared treasure
Your loved beyond words, missed beyond measure
I held your hand as you took your last breath
But had to let go and let you leave with death
I'll never forget you, your smile and touch
Go fly with all those Angels you love so much
On looking through the window
A humorous sight I'd seen,
A quartet of lively ewes
Were playing Tag on the green.
Leaping over twisted logs,
Around the rocks they skipped,
Sweeping round the bendy field.
Down and up they dipped.
Butting heads and locking horns,
Bumping each other in the side -
( I think if I was one of them
I'd be terrified! )
At times it looked violent.
But it's their way of having fun.
What a joy to watch these adult sheep
Baa and play and run!
Written By: D. Collins 10/25/23
To misuse the word indoctrination just ain't right.
If 70% of your land was taken, would you stand up and fight?
I remember rocks against bullets not long ago.
And Palestinian youth shot dead lying in rows.
I remember the fight lasting longer than all wars combined.
Because what is now called Israel use to be Palestine.
We could slap a "terrorism" tag on just about anything.
Lest we forget how America came into being.
I can remember and I'm really not that old.
This is just the way a true story really should be told.
This is not about Hamas more than an extermination.
You hear in their heart when they say "indoctrination".
Maybe for some they've never been in love
Cause its never been easy for them
Or cause they have a hard time trusting
Trusting that all will be okay
Some don't even believe in love
Thats why they have a hard time
Accepting that they worthy to be loved
Or that they can even have someone in their life
Some believe in love but believe in money more
That money sweetens any tongue
And that lips can easily be opened with this
For it's been clear people are willing to put a tag on it
Maybe for some have never know what it is to love
They just get emotional and think that is it
Or theyre up in their feels and it feels right for them
Only for them to hurt over and over again
The PO£T
The clip on my folder has finally cracked
From all the paper that’s been stacked
All the paper piling up on top
My mind has unwaveringly become an emotional shop
A pivotal moment of a significant heart beat that can’t stop.
An influential mind of days’ nights and time
Running free of feeling and thought
Of integrity and dignity that can’t be bought
Not a cheap bargain that’s for sale
There’s no price tag on these tall tales
Irrevocably
Permanently
Conclusively
As you scan
Beep
Beep
Beep
The screen reads decline
I’m sorry sir, madam if I sound out of line
They say that’s okay its fine
We understand
We have a mind that can comprehend
It’s just that we have a strong love for your written hand
I say here then take a copy for nothing
You have given me more than something
Your respect I take willingly
Far more worth than money.
The pink polka-dot nightgown, made you look like a funny clown. Wrong tag on the gift box, my husband really needs socks. On your face you wore a silly frown.
Date Written: 12/14/2022
7 Place
A DECEMBER MEMENTO Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
I run out to see the joggers.
The prettiest one screams.
I am not scary! I think.
A mean old one is blaring a can that hurts my ears.
I run back into the thicket.
What is wrong with these two-leggers?
Do they not know I only want a bit of food?
Dang! Here comes that uniform guy with the badge.
The one that shot me in the butt and put a tag on me.
I crouch down low. Wishing he would go away.
He is ruining my visit with the next set of joggers.
In idle pleasure he spends aimless days
A waste of time, no motivation.
He shows reluctance to divine design
His tag on life: no destination!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sin of Sloth Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Margarita Lillico
© 16th July 2022
How much is this duvet? Elise asked.
I found a tag that said two hundred and seventeen dollars and ninety-five cents.
Not bad, she said.
Is she nuts?
Another tag was attached to that tag. It said $895.95.
What is that for? She asked me. “The rest of the duvet?”
This is a really upscale store. Not sure why we working girls are in it.
Maybe because three of us “girls” are retired?
I began to point out the crappiest stuff.
Saying nice things like “I wouldn’t pay nineteen cents for that in a thrift store.”
Guess how much this ugly thing is? Elise asked me. We were howling now.
Sales help was following us around “offering to help us.” Ha!
The chair I liked the best was seventeen hundred on sale from twenty-four hundred.
Is that dollars or cents? I asked the sales lady. She tried to smile but couldn’t.
Rita was rubbing a chair’s material. There was a price tag on it and another on the seat.
What do you think the $200 price tag is for? She asked.
“That’s what it costs to rub the material,” I told her. “Cough up.”
Our friend Susan was keeping out of our way, pretending she did not know us.
Our story is wild style graffiti
’We fell in love then we fell in love again.’
thrown up on an urban wall for eternity;
We could write legal but chose illegally,
bombed the building with expression;
Our story is wild style graffiti;
Inspired by Love’s rebellious personality
etched a passionate confession;
thrown up on an urban wall for eternity;
Fairytale of daredevils painted artfully
a legend spoken of now and then;
Our story is wild style graffiti;
Writers personify nonconformity
relishing a dangerous artistic break in
thrown up on an urban wall for eternity;
Masterpiece matching soulmates intensity
may have our tag on a spot up in Heaven;
Our story is wild style graffiti
thrown up on an urban wall for eternity.
Faces half shrouded at a social distance
Grim acceptance or an angry resistance
I get the jitters, shakes and chills
So, I climb out of the Valley and into the hills
I crave a hiatus from this virus obscene
But a sign proclaims, Closed Due To Covid 19!
Oh damn! I howl. Has my ascent been for naught?
Has my elusive karma at last been caught?
On my trail I’d amble as skies glow blue
A healing vibe afforded to few!
Away from road rage, despair
A concrete smog asphalt stew
Is it so shocking I feel forsaken and blue?
Ignoring the sign, I forge ahead with a will
Rambling onward and upward hill after hill
And down toward the Pacific’s deep blue expanse
In a stumbling, humbling, transfixed dance
Call me a trespasser for breaking a law
Or an unrepentant sinner with a character flaw
But no matter what name you may tag on me
While on the trail just call me free!
Blue
Why is it, if people are sad,
we say they are blue,
when blue is such a happy color?
Blue are electric skies of October
that bring cool breezy weather,
and find children joyfully
jumping in piles of dry leaves,
playing tag on the playground,
and munching crisp juicy apples.
Blue are the eyes of the little
blond girl with golden curls
who smiles up at me from
a tea party with her dolls.
Blue is the sparkling ocean
on a hot day in summer,
waves making little slapping noises
as they hit the rocks of the jetty,
calling swimmers to jump in,
skip flat stones across the water,
or search for pieces of beach glass.
Blue is hyacinths that perfume the air,
and iris and forget-me-nots
in the garden in spring, and
elderberries and blueberries
and blueberry jam for your toast.
In the marsh a great blue heron
steps majestically toward dinner.
There are blue frogs, blue mussels,
blue claw crabs, blue butterflies.
All are delights of nature.
How can we call blue a sad color
with such a myriad of happy blues?
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