Broken wings flock together
But once they flew so very high
Now they wilt so tarred and feathered
Their spirit spilt across the sky
Broken wings mend together
But not in the wink of an eye
They weep for their long lost feathers
With too many tears left to cry
Broken wings laugh together
Once past pain slowly drifted by
The rain helped to mend their feathers
Now watch them fly so very high
like a miserable cockroach he wriggled
through wreckage in the sump of his life
bottle in hand and at delirious mouth
in a macabre rehearsal of final strides
what had once been a passionate waltz
had become a legless inebriated pirouette
moribund madness personified
liquified insanity stumbling to hell
with wings of destruction in overdrive
it was a sink hole leap towards the abyss
each jump digging deeper and faster
into the rock bottom of body mind and soul
eventually all music and heart stopped
yet he remembered cacophonous decrescendo
enough to wake up from self-inflicted catatonia
like a phoenix and still tarred and feathered by booze
he decided to rise again whatever the cost
the rest is a miracle and sober blessing and still
he knows that Icarus had pinions of wax
therefore he stayed close to new foundations
of hard-won truths and the reality of his privilege
I may be pilloried, tarred, and feathered
Let me say how America has weathered
The onslaught of divisive ne’er-do-wells
[Many of whom are now in prison cells],
The good people in this country stand up
Refusing to drink from a fomenting cup
Choosing to stand with those of integrity
Not with a disgruntled, angry minority,
Who would tear down our Democracy
And attempt to replace it with autocracy,
While setting up one pointy-headed fool
To take over our government and rule,
While lying and stealing from good people
Who loathe him, unlike his poor sheeple.
Patriotic Americans stand tall and proud
Avoid fools like this for cryin’ out loud!
Written October 5, 2022
Emotionally, a wrecked ship
Battered to smithereens.
Tarred and feathered
By the tempestuous ocean wave
That is grief. Her faith in the Lord,
Blueprint for her reconstruction.
Date written: 06/19/2022
Written By: D. Collins 11/9/21
In my mind I have this picture of Ahmaud Arbery.
Being tarred, feathered, then hung from a tree.
Hunted like a runaway slave with dogs in pursuit.
Five-O treated the scene like "Good 'Ole Boys" do.
The truck was the horses, and guns were the whips.
Chased down and slain, became this Bruthaz end.
His killing strikes up some old time memories.
And, remind me of how I made it through the Ancestry.
Some had to be tarred and feathered, which still exists.
Just in a different location, such as Minneapolis.
Black women sacrificed based on the 3-strike rule.
Get the the next generation, the objective is proved.
Arbery got treated like teachings of Willie Lynch.
In the public of slaves, stretch a man in different directions.
Lynch taught all his disciples, it would last 400 years.
Passed down through generations to the Great-Grankids.
Here I stand before you good people of Liberated France,
The Nazi’s have been beaten and it is time to dance.
But we have a job to do before the celebrations begin,
These woman that stand before you are traitors.
They slept with Nazi soldiers and some even had babies to them.
I cannot believe the horror of these women.
Well now is the time of judgement.
We must shave their heads and paint swaztikas on their chests.
They must not forget they were traitors.
Speak and see if we will forgive you.
“I am Jacqueline. Yes I slept with the Soldiers. I had to do it
to get food for me and my baby. My daughter had already died.
I did not start the war. I was captured and put in a prison camp.
I would have died if I didn’t do these things to survive.”
Shave her head and paint her chest and tar and feather her back.
We must send a message. Viva La France.
May mornings turned a blue iris white with the sight of petaled plates on your stubble.
By surprise they appeared as a dawn shadow, thick on a black jaw,
Smelling of Millionaires against your stout chin.
I blinked and sent you into my record fayer then when I needed a shot, my blood could be filled with your sweet liqueur.
Spring white blossoms faded and you grew an October Ginger beard, I trimmed it and groomed it to take out with me to dinner parties and stand close to in smoky rooms.
And I pictured you full blossom and evergreen, through ice bite dark days and winds from Tibor Mountain. Cruel Calder Valley beasts zipping vengeful and bitter.
And as Delilah took her shears to take the strength of an Immortal so they came and took you, beard and girth. With much frivolity they laughed and took it.
I see you with your sparse hair, tarred and feathered like a plucked Goose you are.
They tore you from me.
Too long I limped along a lonely road, born into this Sahara desert of a life,
parched and hungry, face weathered and gaunt.
A deaf, dumb, and blind man, drawn and quartered by her knife,
back tarred and feathered by a vulture's taunt.
I searched the wide world for your wonderful smile,
tired soul devoid of that whole, found wanting of the other half.
Try to find the right words, after each lost and lonely mile,
my sorrows washed away by that sweet, infectious laugh.
Like hopeless romantic's lot, who climbed out of a dark place,
beyond my wildest dreams, I finally found you.
Yet daft was I to hear not., your prayer for love's embrace..
as two hearts lifted in love were bound to.
When last moon fades, no more hopeless romantics left,
and strings of sanguine hearts untwine.
I will hold on to memory's tender touch yet,
and all the warm days when you were mine.
Unbearable Beauty in Black
The light has fallen down the endless solid cliffs
dejected there it sparkles lures on impact’s flight
Gunshots from a black revolver six shiny bullets
one bright explosion flashes mindless radiance
The hangman darkly clothed in jester’s gown
mocks tarred and feathered un-dyed blaze
A dose of over un-pigmented pills and pillage
sweet dreams of quiet and one last muddy void
Black is unbearable the pastel brush demised
but after thunder slowly comes the rainbow
A sentinel cries crisis please do not head the call
the change of guards disguised in shining armour
Requires holding on to blackness’ shielding voice
until unbearable becomes bearable once more
Pitch-miserable epiphany shouts when you cannot
want not paint no more yet flaking scraps find colour
Once you resist seductive guile beheading escapades
embrace depression as your strongest torch of change
07th November 2016
As of right now I am closer to the moon than happiness.
My sunshine on a cloudy seized to exist.
So many shots at making things right but I always miss.
I wish you were my Mrs. instead I am stuck missing....you.
As of right now I am marching in my parade through the freezing rain.
I can be hit by a car, lit on fire, struck by train.
Trampled by elephants, tarred and feathered,
but losing you is truly pain.
As of right now there is no reason to breathe.
You are my anti drug, my Xanax and weed.
I know it is my fault, I never called,
continuously broke your heart, cut you open and poured salt.
As of right now I wish I knew how to express my love.
Tell you the truth and just be honest and be man enough.
My mistakes are mine alone, and I deserve to be alone.
I wish that I had choked and died
On those chocolate candy bars.
I wish my mom had tanned my hide
About those tempting cookie jars.
I wish that I'd been tarred and feathered
For the dinners that I skipped
Because I preferred to gorge my taste
On Lays Potato Chips.
I'd like of course to quite forget
The delightful sweet 'life savers'
Which turned out to be unfortunately
A roll of nice teeth haters.
I wonder why my father
Didn't put a final stop
To the in-and-out of the refrigerator door
For another soda pop.
In truth, I would have received more mercy
From a family of alligators
Than the sticky, gooey caramel
Of flavored 'Now and Laters'.
The bantering I'll put aside
For I must now reflect
On the searing pain that's gripped me
Consuming tooth and jaw and neck.
I do agree the joke's on me
Now would someone please find
The 'painkillers'; the Orajel
Before I lose my mind.
RETA PRUITT
August 8, 2016
in the modern world we have been hurled,
the maelstrom is inside us,
the greed of rich do cast their pitch,
the feathers can't abide much.
tarred and feathered,
brainwashed for 2 blind us....
of: Kerry Singleton-s "Revelation"
Don Johnson
A lonesome coyote howled deep in the wood
And a MOST unwise owl somehow misunderstood
Oh, alas and alack!
She rashly hooted back
(And she hooted as hard as she possibly could)
"Who the heck heeds my howl, for god's merciful sake?
Could this perhaps be my potential life mate?"
..."Give a hoot who you hoot at
if you don't know just who 'dat
You hoot at!" screeched the owl a wee bit too late
The gossip that followed defied explanation!
Squirrels scolded scathing and righteous damnation
The eagle screamed from his peak
"Don't even show us your beak!"
(An owl with a tarred and feathered reputation)
The coyote's good name turned muddy and mucky
Rumor spread like the plague so he never got lucky
"Your character is fowl"
Hitting up on an owl?"
(Last I heard he migrated to Kentucky)
Onward now to vanquish the behemoth
And bequeath the cataclysm unto your kindred
Some squishy doom lingers
On that lithe aquiline figure in the distance
Guttural pinks cannot fathom
This species of maritime tranquility
As anchor splashes into ocean
Waves kiss splintering crevices
Beneath the moonlight-bathed rebellion
Of scoundrels squabbling over air
While the captain slumbers beneath
The bellows of his brethren
Behold! the spoils of the lines
A falcon tarred and feathered
Lashed upon the bow supine
In payment for his prophecies
Which guide the ship beyond the world
To where the phantom doth reside
To The Tune of Winter Wonderland
Sleigh bells ring,
Are you in the way?
Yes you are, GOT you with my sleigh.
OH what a sight,
I’m happy tonight
dodging in a winter wonder land.
Gone away is the Blue bird,
Here to stay is a new bird.
And he still flies low,
When he has to go,
walking in a winter wonderland.
In the meadow we can build a snow man,
And pretend that he is Parson Brown,
He’ll say “are you married.”
I’ll say “Hell No!
I’d rather be tarred and feathered and run out of town!”
Later on we’ll perspire,
As we sit to close to the fire.
The rooms nice and hot,
But fellow your not,
So go walking in a winter wonderland
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