Tarantino Poems


Musk is a Farley's Rusk

Demagogue not pedagogue

Aghast & agog

Perfidious insidious fog

Reeks of the past

Slog through the smog

Musk seeks to flog

Earth & its serfs

Downed & drowned

In his dystopian bog

Even starry nights

Elon’s neon satellites

Seedier media perch

Utter nutter besmirch

Thriving in the gutter

Conniving depriving church

Vex "X" & Tech T-Rex hex

Or next bogus Rogan

Bogan slogans prevails

Alpha male tales derails

Sod the planet’s scars

Cruise trips to Mars

Odd bod driverless cars

Spawn a fake Tarantino 

Remake.."Musk till Dawn"

Devil may care lair..

Loads of lies..skies chock a block 

With spies...all eyes on the prize

Everyone Everything Everywhere dies

Let's not parley with gnarly snarly

Musk...takes the mickey & the bicky

In the dock for running amok

Time guys he did finally own up

To being as grown up..

As a Farley’s Rusk (a British biscuit/bicky for a wee kiddy)
Categories: tarantino, confusion, corruption, hate,
Form: Rhyme

Premium MemberAbrupt Justice

Find xanthium' squeeze in a sigh  
asking a righteous void, hear my entreat
hand to heart, in a beggar's sky
not just for myself,
not just for why...
  
Can a heart devoid of hope
seek to find salvation
   from a Quentin Tarantino film
 in a strange pulp voice
that sounded just like mine.

Your sin, my sins
vowed never relent.. 
nor let cementing cold take you  
so don't despair..

Place two fingers, just beside your neck
feel it pulse?
it's you,
and you still care.  

Search the world's underbelly
the meek and mild 
little mouse infirm, the whooping crane strong, all us  
no longer beguiled.

Roaming streets and back alleys
afraid to meet my neighbor's eye
I, the guilty   
waiting a just reply.

It's a quarter past two,
last train leaves at three..
the sign at the platform's final end
stands glaring,
waiting a reprieve.  

A proud primping Whooping crane calls out
'it's justice'..
All a lowly titmouse discerns,
'it's just us'.
Categories: tarantino, journey, society,
Form: Rhyme


Pulp Fiction Burger Conundrum Future

Say

You know what they call a burger
in the future

What

I can't believe it's not a burger

Because it ain't got no meat or
cheese in it

It's a bun but that ain't bread as we
used to know it either 

With some or other kind of meat
substitute as the burger

And the side's have gone as well

And don't even get me started on the fries

Just maybe that was what was actually 
in the briefcase after all

Tarantino just didn't want to spoil the
surprise until his big reveal when he 
gets to say , i told you so 

And Vincent the hitman would Kill Bill 
or even Jules for just 1 more 
bite of a juicy burger as bloody in the 
middle as Mr Pink himself 

Because at that point nostalgia has
become the newest kind of pulp fiction 
that takes us back to the future
Categories: tarantino, film,
Form: Free verse

Antonymous : Theatre Parallels Cinema

Theatre
ancient, organic
previewing, staging, performing
Sophocles, Chekhov, Ray, Tarantino
filming, screening, releasing
modern, edited
Cinema.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 22 / 10 / 2016
Categories: tarantino, art, film, inspiration, tribute,
Form: Diamante

Western Movies

Western Movies
At the Chinese supermarket, they were selling cowboy revolvers 
with holster very cheap they looked, and I tried one, but it was too light, 
I have never held a revolver but thought they must have some weight
in the American city slums, black gangsters shoot not pointing but with 
the hand held flat, and they tend not to hit anything but a wall this
his because they have seen this in a Tarantino movie.
In my childhood, we watched Hopalong Cassidy he when opening
 a salon door chewed spearmint gum drugs was far from his mind. 
There is an institutional bias against black people I think when police 
the program is always showed someone black, and they get arrested for 
the banalness of crimes, like having a bit of marijuana in their pockets.
But where poetry congregate the majorities are blacks this is not 
because they want to be there but little has been done to get them out 
of this mess, the slum and the gangs were they are,  welcomed and can 
For a short time drive around in an expensive stolen car and feel like 
winners and throw money about, and not saving the loot. And out of
crime private corrections centres make money
Categories: tarantino, arabic, baby, bangla, beach,
Form: Blank verse


Premium MemberHay Seeds

It’s noisy in here
The engines don’t shut down till midnight
That’s when the sweating begins
The deep human subsystem checks in for the morning
Orange lights permeate the dust that rains down
And people move like ghosts in the fray
No one talks they just move in slow motion
Like a bad Tarantino film
It’s shift change in the data mines
The operation folks wait for the elevator up from hell
Chet Baker streams out bits and bytes of the blues from his trumpet
While the next shift downs their power drinks and coffee.
Drones and ants.
Moving from server to server to application to application
When does it end?
Where did it begin?
Taking it off boss
Need a drink of water boss
Yeah get some water there boy
Internets down.
Corporate is screaming they can’t get their dose of unimportant email.
Get a ladder and prop up the Exchange server.
AC is down in the data center.
Call Buildings and Grounds they’ll know what to do.
Google it Bob. 
Google it now.
There’s water on the floor 
The whole damn town is about to blow
Where’s the Calvary? At the Alamo?
Categories: tarantino, computer, horror,
Form: Free verse

Bourbon Eggnog and Ham

June is nice,
I love the air.
I’m just making stuff up,
I’m full of it you know.

Isn’t it kind of nice
to know it?

It feels fresh.

I have friends
that pretend wisdom can be accumulated,
that love grows

up rather than down.
Ridiculous.

Things are jagged and raw,
even when they look black.

But I love the challenge of hunting
for that illusory exception,
because I play for the fun.

Isn’t honesty one of those things
we like to parade around
on a pedestal, 
the god we chose?

We aren't, because we never
knew ourselves, too busy 
blaming the devil
we placed on our shoulders.

Our sins
were the high expectations
that should've led us to glory,
but didn't.

Don’t take my word for it though,
see I’m in with the drugs
and Tarantino films..
I like Christmas
for the cinnamon bourbon eggnog 
and ham.
Categories: tarantino, irony, life, social, truth,
Form: Rhyme
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