Terminals Poems

In The Airports

I see them as funeral houses.
I see the longing and the sorrows.
The passengers left—
and they became the ghosts
that greet me.

They show me the architecture,
the lights and the reflections,
then point at a random stranger,
mocking them in silence—
using my voice
for the mocking.

If the world has a graveyard for the lost,
they must add this place to the map.

But here I am,
still complaining,
still bearing this alone—
as if I volunteered
to haunt these terminals
in exchange for
one more unspoken goodbye.

At least
they could’ve revealed more.

Barefoot Earthling

It's taken me sixty years
Of evolution
To realise the simplicity 
Of Earthen electricity 

My naked feet, like freshly cleaned
Battery terminals
Strolling in hilarity 
To observe correct polarity 

Electrons flowing in and out
As I freely shuffle about 
In hippyfied insanity
With toes embracing nudity

The science is effusive
So wonderfully conclusive
My body craves perfection
In each pedantry inflection 

So to join the sockless roamers 
The grass lovers and beach combers
I will earth myself completely
With each step I place, so neatly

Is it magic or just factual?
Like a nature deal, contractual
Or perhaps we were never meant
To be disconnected, discontent

And maybe it's progression
To dismiss the shoe of intercession 
Returning to natural citizenship
Of barefoot - grass relationship

Reject the concrete, 
Resist the vulcanised persistence 
Embrace the beauty
Of a sole-full existence

checkout

I'm in line at a store, and I'm bored,
Typing on my phone, restless and alone.

I’ve got light-blue nails, like the sky or your eyes.
I like them, it’s my favorite color - I don’t know why.

I’m buying flavors for my coffee, nutmeg and pumpkin spice.
I like having coffee in the morning, when it’s cold, they’ll taste nice.

There’s a really old lady at the check-out, she’s moving very slowly.
She’s paying with cash and coin, from a pouch, counting carefully, holey-moley.

She’s frail and reminds me of my Grandmère, with her white hair,
her sturdy shoes, I want to pick her up and hug her - but laissez-faire.

When my turn came, I waved my Apple watch over the pay terminal - it’s fast and contactless - like the whole world. Does anyone hug old ladies anymore?

Death By Computer

Pale pasty forms,
                                       Soft bodies draped,
                                       Covered in the sameness,
                                       Dead eyes,
                                       Smiles with no heart,
                                       Step-step-step,
                                       Echoing on corridor floors.
                                       Behind computer terminals,
                                       Pressing keys,
                                       Alone,
                                       Room after room after room.

You

You are the opposite of everything I am.
You are so unique; nothing like a carbon copy.

Unlike the average--the reason you complete me.
Unlike many without identity, you are happily you.

You are the meaning of, 'opposites attract each other'.
You are so set in your way, often stubbornly unmovable.

Unlike two positives or two negative terminals on a battery.
Unlike so many others, you are able, capable, and very stable.

You appear to be a woman of steel, permeated with a strong will.
You are predictable, with little variation; yet so full of suspense.

Unlike plastic, recyclables, or reusables; no rival; you are the real deal.
Unlike anyone I have ever met or known; you have no twin, I'm convinced.

You don't need circumstances, or people, or things to make you happy.
I perceive the happiness inside of you, infused, permeated with God's Love.

God sees that you are the clay, designed in heaven, and a God-made woman.
God was the potter who saw what he wanted in you, and made no mistake.

To my devoted wife,
Happy Birthday.
I love you.

090721PSCtest, A Poem To Your Spouse On His/Her Birthday,                
Funom Makama. 8P

Fox So Brave

Fox So Brave

Fox so brave in the daylight air,
No people around, he doesn't care.
Elusive creatures come out to play,
No human predators spoiling their day.
Air smells sweet, less carbon, less diesel,
Foot of my garden, Stoat plays Weasel.
Heathrow is quiet, terminals asleep,
Pleasantly eerie, not a sound or peep.
Humans in sanctuary, stay safe and sound,
New order in place for wildlife around.
It won't last long, enjoy while you can,
In a few weeks or more the return of man.

Fox so brave in the daylight air,
No people around, he doesn't care.

New Bohemia

Welcome to New Bohemia 
where we’re looking for a leader.
The last one was murderous 
And we hung her for treason.
I’m hidden underground
it’s rebel hunting season.
But I’ve still got a family 
And I still need to feed em. 
So up I go through a hatch 
on a trap door.
Down the dirty alleys and 
the streets filled with crack whores.
And we breath as we come 
to the final door
Here it’s either death 
or the final score. 
We sneak in low 
as bankers do a Masonic clap.
Whilst three rebel brothers 
slide in the back.
Insert the computer key 
terminals to hack  
Nearly in there 
when someone attacks. 
A task force pounced quick 
right upon to them
The brothers died 
but we loved them to the very end.
But we had to carry on 
and go none the less 
And unlike the brothers 
we won’t end up dead.

I Drop My Friends When I No Longer Need Them

I drop my friends when I no longer need them. 
Disposing myself of them at bus terminals, airports,
and other places.

Please do not take this personally.

And if you are a faerie, I may leave you in a bureau drawer, 
but rest assured I will leave it open a crack, so you can get in and out.

This pattern has worked well for me, so I shall continue
practicing it.

The Times To Come

It won’t be long before we will see
breakdown of moral values and family,
Marriage won’t be sacred as of yore
we won’t see man and wife anymore.

The family will be considered a species rare
state protected and under classified care,
Free love will be a taboo for its high risk factor
sex will be coded and monitored by a doctor.

There will be computerized fantasy terminals
catering to a wide range of erotic potentials,
With sensual simulators creating titillating illusion
to gratify one’s lust beyond his wildest imagination.

In this age of degeneracy and prevailing vice
everything will be bought and sold for a price,
From the soul of a man to the love of his mother
in the stores, thru ads, and at every street corner.

Stripped of moral fiber from its social fabric
society will be thread bared, soiled and sick,
Doomed to a fast-paced life of strife and stress
it will yearn for a moment of peace and happiness.



~In 100 years contest by Brian Davey

Emotional Attraction

EMOTIONAL ATTRACTION

While in this world it seems opposites have attraction
Male - female, plus - minus, north - south, captain and crewman
Between these terminals, force yielded by interaction
Drives the machines of existence material and human

Another vector impels not by contrast causation
Draws together the similar and those of perceived relativity
Thus species, races, interests, languages and nations
Coalesce, combine, blend and merge with close affinity

In human life, its creations, exchange, let alone sin
Our actions and products are coloured by our emotion
Thus what attracts tends to match what we feel within
This accord can account for affection or even devotion

But away with these generalities and abstractions
So before your eyes are completely glazed, near closure
A case: those who find dismal poems to have an attraction
Have within themselves some sadness they're not yet over

As it's been observed, behind faces of calm insulation
There may be hidden emotions well concealed
Many living lives of quiet desperation
That are, in their responses, unwittingly revealed

An Adjudicated Ant

One day a tin got up from a shelf bed and walked out of a house. With the tin went eighty six knives, ten plates, and a large laughing ladle. They reached the outside world and bounced happily down a grass verge whereupon they came across an empty suitcase. It was crying. They all stopped to offer comfort. They did notice the case had wheels. When the suitcase had calmed it offered to give them a lift to the southbound area of flea and flayed flesh. An airport lay just beyond. They pondered for a moment then jumped into the case. Zipping up quickly the case sped off down the motorways over the bridge and beyond. Passing chapel buildings of torturous acts and the despised lemon dwelling. The biscuit man was nearly crushed as they sped down a road. Then finally away from the carnage they were and at the terminals. One two three and hud in the hold if a boeing 809642579000 f and up they did rise to seek fresh pastures in the world. Leaving mould to cause stagnation to suited ones in their turreted ideological sickness. How fantastically placed? Prolonged period pinned. No ha ha or x x merely  a % in a flushed pan. Adjudicational. Z

The Will To Want

© Ben Burton Feb 5, 2014

I view beauty with desire
But am seen through abstract eyes
Which begats a mystery
For I don't try to be that kind

The shattered pieces in my wake
As tea leaves wither in the brine
Leave only scarves to pacify
The punctured seal can't be revised

No posturing through symphonies
With trebled horns, but for the one
That is and was and shall remain
While hearts still beat and rivers run

Should I not come before I go
Indulgence can't be quantified
For every itch that is not scratched
Becomes a casualty to time

Yet, with decorum I imbibe
Without deception at the core
Or abrogation of the vow
Unto myself, no spawn of spore

And without mirror to reflect
The bounder from a boundless shore
Inspectors at the terminals
Will fruitlessly try to record

But DNA will not impeach
The gene which flawlessly imparts
Abilities to cherry-pick
The naivete of hopeful marks

So, to ourselves we need be true
From courtesan to bon vivant
And though restraint may be pursued
It will not kill the will to want

Dawn of Immortality

As second immortality has its dawn
Beyond it new powers top down will spawn
At its visage second abyss will look upon
Knowing it is superior as far as is concerned freedom’s flagstone

The four terminals increase, end of increase, finality and infinity
Are surrounded by numbers of higher majesty
The meaning of all is connected to numbers and to finality
So its sense isn’t lost by powers of beyond infinity 

All numbers beyond four terminals are represented therefore
As written in ancient lore
But it is the third abyss that has the floor
It is superior in freedom to device and mesmerizing once one open’s its door

The destiny connected at mortality abyss
Equal to second abyss is
It takes higher number and equals the first mortal abyss to third beyond immortal abyss is
The trend continues that is why abyss is bliss

Beavers and Black Widow Spiders

" Beavers and Black Widow Spiders ... "

(From The Solomon Studies Series # 6)
(Eccl. 3: 11 / Prov. 6: 6 / Matt. 6: 26, 28, 29)



Beavers and Black Widow Spiders
Both Architecturally - Skilled

Beavers and Black Widow Spiders
Both Born With A Blueprint To Build

Beavers and Black Widow Spiders
Both Furry Creatures - But To Few Appeal

Beavers and Black Widow Spiders
Both Have A Bite That Can Cause Damage & Ill

Beavers and Black Widow Spiders
Both Seems To Have Avid-Arrangement Zeal

Beavers and Black Widow Spiders
Both - Busy Workers In Their Field

Beavers and Black Widow Spiders
Both, Bold  & Blocks With No Trespassing Shields

Tho' Aracnids Can Spin and Create Aeirals
Beavers, Can Route Strong Rivers' Terminals

Tho' One Builds Dams & The Other One, Webs
Both Are Gifted and Noted Construction Celebs

Tho' One Owns Silk Factories & One - Lumber Mills
Both Are Building With GOD's Contract, Permit-Seal

Beavers and Black Widow Spiders
Both Denizens Are Divine Designs By GOD's Will


        Written & Copyrighted ©:  1/7/2014
                   by:  MoonBee  Canady

The Traveling Salesman

The four walls of this hotel room
Look the same as the four walls of the other
The name of the city where you happen to be
Is just another detail in which you smoother

The life of the traveler sounds glamorous
To those we leave at home
But there is no glamour lying awake all night
In a double-bed all alone

It’s the same sad faces in the hotel bar
Spending per-diems on a meal of booze
Business suits searching for the next prospect
Submitting bids they’re apt to loose

Your wife takes care of things at home
Thinking you’re out having a good time
While you wonder if at her bedroom door
The neighbor men are forming a line

Lunches consumed in airport terminals
Rental cars of all shapes and size
There is nothing fun about the people you meet
In the not-so-friendly skies

Yet bills must be paid
And your bread is buttered on the road
But don’t believe that this life is grand
Regardless of the lies the traveler has told

• Short Terminals Poems
• Famous Terminals Poems
• Best Terminals Poems
• Read Terminals Poems
• Long Terminals Poems
• Terminals Quotes