Tomahawk Poems | Examples

The Voice

The unmistakable sound
of a bear crashing through undergrowth.

“You are a Shawnee brave,” a voice says
out of my dark space.

“No I'm not,” I reply panicking
“I am old and fat!”

“Take up your tomahawk
be a man, die well.” The voice urges.

I need to pee,
it is half-past three in the morning
briefly I know this
- but I also know how to run.

I run,
throwing my weapons away
as the bear charges.

“I am embarrassed and ashamed for you.”

“Fork off.” I gasp, dodging between trees,
then blunder into the bathroom,
a full bladder still yelling at me.

Chief Runs With Paws

Chief Runs with Paws was on the prowl.
His trip through the alley ended in a growl.
His war paints showed us he was at the ready.
He held the rat’s gaze, full on and steady.

Chief Runs with Paws gave the beast a chase.
He scooped him up and tore his head off with haste.
His tomahawk was not even used one bit.
The rat’s cousins and sisters pitched a royal fit.

Bang-Bang Shoot-'Em-Up

Bang-bang shoot-'em-up
  Thousands died, violent scenes
Grade-B Cowboy-and-Indian films
  The rage on '50's TV screens

I had some dandy cowboy boots
  Tomahawk and Injun headdress too
Several pistols, silver bullets
  A long-nosed rifle, 'most brand new

Must have 'killed' a hundred friends
  as we played our favorite games
Yet every one came back to life
  not one insurance claim...

We always knew that what we did
  was pure pretend, not real
Like today's violent video games
  ~ the same old bloodless deal

Tomahawk Steak

$100 Wagyu
conspicuous consumption
starving children die

Ancient Hunt

Moccasins crunching on crusted snow,
wolf-fur hood warming what I breathe,
jogging with lance and tomahawk,
other friends spread out, left and right.

The wapiti run before us,
big elk, eight or so moving,
no chance with fleetness of foot
to run down or diner out here.

They approach a wood bound by steam
and a corral we built last night,
funnel into a single, beige line,
when arrows slice through cold air.

A half-dozen of our tribesmen
let loose with stone-headed shots,
elk bleat and scream, some go down fast,
living ones trample them to flee.

Frantic milling, blood and hooves and snow,
then they’re gone, dashing through the spruce.
Eight lay on the ground, two alive,
I plunge my lance to end one’s pain.

Send a prayer to the creator,
words are vapor in the winter sky,
obsidian blades start to cut,
a runner is sent to the village.

All will help butcher this meat.

We Hear Our Tam Tam Drums

Our tam tams are vibrating
to the rhythm of the hunt.
Mighty bear is in the forest
showing his angst.

His claws are large
as the tips of our spears.
His teeth are as tips of arrows,
which fly to his fur.

Tam Tams are playing,
wounded bear is roaring.
Man outsmarts him with his tomahawk,
but no one conquers the circle of life.

Canary Ivanka

Buy your coal mine canary
From Ivanka's Canary Shop
You'll know you bought a bargain
When it does The Canary Flop

Tomahawk missile launches
Ensure a mining boom
So canary songs can linger
Like when Elvis left the room

So buy your coal mine canary
(Ivanka's are the best)
Knowing birds and colliers
Shall find eternal rest!

How Not To Toast a Marshmallow

fire god cackling
marshmallow sacrifice charred 
chief tomahawk grins

Love In Barren Land

Love in barren land 





I sow my love in barren land
as tears water
blood manures
no buds bloom
inhumanity crawls,

Dust shadows the bright sky
dark clouds veil 
cries the blue 
and masked moonlight
hatred rips my soul,

There comes no twilight
no new sun rises
lost in absolute black
wailing through night
to erratic sleep's embrace,

I sow my love in barren land
and wait and wait
eyes end up in dryness
heartbeats regress
nothing to anticipate ...





Written April 21st, 2016
For "lyrics" poetry contest by rob carmack 
Inspired by song by Tomahawk

Sheriff's Last Ride

When visions crawl into his dream
to grate against a hilltop’s ire,
a sheriff flicks like soft campfire
where hazy winds dip low ,midstream.
Bandit frays stab a roguish past…
he gazes at Time…in lone sojourn
as plucks of hummed guitar return,
to soothe a mind now calm, steadfast.

Though old wounds bite the edge of glow
a hundred stars bathe eyes quite whole,
and moonlight kindles to console
the raid of dark through glazed halo.
From where he rides, the visions fade
in homage to a pure moment…
that on warm breath of contentment, 
morning knights his final crusade.


4/18/2016
For Rob Carmack’s Lyrics Contest
Inspiration from lines of the song,
‘God Hates a Coward’—Tomahawk

Lament of a Banshee Cowboy

I can’t look back; too many tears are there.
The woman that I used to know and love
is someone else now, and much less than fair
is what my God has given me a part of.

In Banshee I must use a different name
or leave this town and leave the woman who
has left me cursed, and yet it’s all the same.
She can’t be mine no matter what I do!

By some I’m called a beast; at least I’m no
damn coward, for I rise up from the dirt!
And since I have no roots where I might go,
I stay and face all foes and swallow hurt.

By violence one day I’m bound to die
but here in Banshee, I keep getting by.

Written April of 2016
Inspired by the Lyric contest of Rob Carmack and one of my favorite cable shows
Lyrics shown in the contest were from  ‘God Hates a Coward’ by Tomahawk

God's Cowards - For Contest

God’s Cowards*


Sad demons roam mind’s endless plain
searching blindly - frightened prey
clinging to their earthly pain
waiting for the “cowards day”

Seek instant absolute redemptive
inclusion in the “Rapture”
lifted from their hiding places
freed from evil’s capture.

Sad demons roam mind’s endless plain
searching blindly - frightened prey
clinging to their earthly pain
waiting for the “cowards day”.

Shun the solace of the Saints
cold sanctuaries towered
creep about in shadowed fear
where God’s cowards - cowered.



3/26/2016

*Prompt for poem was based on the song ‘God Hates a Coward’ by Tomahawk

submitted to Lyrics – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Rob Carmack

Once He Had Some Pedigree

 
He exists in the shade of the mandrake plant,
It is his only passion in this twisted world;
Face down in the dirt- drugged and delirious,
Does not care if he wakes up or who walks by;
Hey man, it is what it is, just keep walking.

Is he alive, better take his pulse, go away,
And in his hallucination, a giant with one eye;
Takes him up and away, to a high nasty place,
Who is he, who was he, of no consequence really;
His family tree is lost in a dream, forgotten.

He comes in and out of warped dreams horrific,
Tears and thoughts of suicide, maybe kill someone;
It seems like a real good idea, but he fights it,
Cause, hey, God hates a coward like him;
He used to play his music, once .. 

Yeah, once upon a time, he had some pedigree  . . 

_____________________________
March 25, 2016

Poetry/Verse/Once He Had Some Pedigree
Copyright Protected, ID 16-771-949-0
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym

Inspiration - Lyrics - God Hates A Coward by Tomahawk

For the contest,  Lyrics, 
sponsor, Rob Carmack

Sixth Place

Thelonius Monk

Thelonius Monk
we must credit with the first ever Tomahawk Dunk
in between riffs
he was in no way discouraged by his occasional whiffs.

While the Sail Danced Her Dance

Tales of returning
On a cold winter's day,
With the sails in shreds
Dancing every which way,

Total despair,
Knowing numbered were her days,
Looking on her life
Through a rain-like haze.

A madman driver 
Hollering in Tomahawk style,
Gray epic waters,
A sea-going child,

As far as the eye could see,
Huddled figures
Dressed in nautical
Style.

One once a
Scintillating starlet
With many eager fans,
Clutching at a rope,

With cold-bruised hands,
Huddled there,
While the sail 
Danced her dance.

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