When picking the poet to precisely perform your poem of preference, the poet should be able to project their words to a populated package of people in a party at any given part of the day. If this poet produces a pathetic presentation of your poem, you may punish them with pits of pointy spikes. While your poet personally picked from the pool of poets you perused performs the piece, you may pitch a new poem to your professor. If the professor has positive words to pass onto you about your progressive poetry, the parcel of poetry will be passed onto the next pool of poets you personally know.
there is no rain
before a storm
just a deafening sound
of silence
thoughts provoke
bearing down
on the darkness
lingering
within my mind
a winded breath
shutters
in short gasps
as twist of fate
and fury impede
Inevitable doom
lashing out
are cries
of pitiful lies
deceitful pain
inconceivable truths
buried within
a shrouded mask
unveiled
before blind eyes
now illuminated
neath tearless skies
thunderous roars
echoing
erupting
as the force
rages on
scattered
bits and pieces
of half truths
strewn about
as silence
falls again
One that became two becomes one again
Written 10/18/2025
Unseeking seekers contest
bragging, boasting, brainy Barney Blithe brought buxom Betty Brown
braised, boiled, baloney. Beaming Betty Brown bestowed baked berry
baklava on Barney, besting bragging, boasting, brainy Barney Blithe.
cone shaped it appears
zigzagging across the sand
the wind is its guide
Lets be really clear
A crystal clear plan to get near the man
Just Follow the titty twister
Just follow the hooha hurriCAN
Follow as sure as you stand
On two feet we dominate
On two knees we congregate
With a Gang of my precious baby friends in my face
In the foot race in the first race
I place fate on a sure thing
On the street the heat sits
On 4 wheels at least
So many more wheels on the beast
What is the HooHa HurriCAN
What is the titty twister
She looks just like your sister
And your best friends sister too
A really big sister crew full of sister
We knock on a 454
We ball on cams and lifters
Positraction on the main attraction
Attracted the sister
We are twisted insane and laughing
Were twisted insane and laughing
Even though the girls got me trapped
in I keep ing rappin
IT Professor Simon Rogerson
a first-name his surname began
Folks often twisted the two
thus Roger Simonson came into view
As the wind starts to spin
Blowing everything from without and within
Damaging property in it’s path
Getting this and missing that
The sirens blare in alert
It starts to gain power and thirst
Cycling faster and faster
Picking up sound a pending disaster
Everyone and everything is running for shelter
Underground getting out of the weather
First a silence than a roar
As it shakes and rattles the floor
In the bathtub you must hide
To stay put is suicide
Nothing is safe from its power
Choosing what to destroy and devour
Pulls a tree out of the ground
Grabs it and spins it around
Throws it far and wide
As it moves through the sky
Destruction is all it knows
As the energy grows
Then it is gone in a flash
The beauty of the rainbow at last
Do not idle by the sign,
Waiting idly for a sign,
That the sign be waiting idly,
For an idler idling mildly,
By the sign,
Waiting idly for a sign,
Of the sign be waiting idly,
For an idler idling snidely,
For a meter maid to sign him,
As an idler idling idly.
ding-a-ling bump bee bow wow boo
thing-a-jing jump me how cow coo
wring-a-fing grump free frow how who
string-a-ming rump she pow wow foo
The cat wants in
dark spiraling clouds stretch
to grab at our throats,
the cat has made a fort of its
spring-loaded
corkscrew body.
There is no distance now,
just this on-rushing rumbling
a sign that we have mislaid
our past
in this brick-walled moment.
They say when it tracks us down
it sounds like a train,
the heart ducks below its own pounding,
thoughts become
a sensorium of beheaded sensations,
ears are left to ring on their own.
The term ‘Tornado’ does not cover
the many reasons to run blindly
or stay hunched in a bunker of reason.
Wide-eyes search out
nests of kindred heartbeats.
Then there is the wait,
the explosive ticking of electric moments
that shake both bones and faith.
You may not know it
but your bent body is praying,
your mind
has become a begging bowl.
Then the banshee whoosh
and clatter
of a near miss.
No flying cows cross our eyes
just a frigid silence
between the loud drip-drop
of a spent and broken rain –
then
hands reaching.
My day started like any other,
A quick breakfast and out the door.
No sooner did I hit the road,
When a heavy rain began to pour.
Lightning cracked all around me,
As storm clouds raced across the sky.
The wind was swirling left and right,
And loose debris began to fly.
A smell of ozone filled the air,
The sky was tinted olive green.
Then dropping from the clouds above,
The first tornado hit the scene.
The second funnel touched the ground,
I was caught up in a trance.
Just as I pulled off the road,
Twin sisters then began to dance.
Like ballerinas they performed,
A pirouette around my car.
They lifted me so easily,
Then tossed me like a falling star.
Screaming off into the distance,
Like demons shot straight out of Hell.
Landed in a tall oak tree,
But still alive to tell the tale.
hail storm
tornado
silence
“Prairie Storm”
The air turned
Deadly still,
The trees no
Longer swayed,
The horses neighed,
The church bells rang
Rabbits ran
For their caves.
Old men rushed
To close their doors.
Storm on the Rise!
Storm on the Rise!
Twister but a mile!
Be here in a while!
Hurry, grab the kids
To the cellar quick.
We haven’t the time
To worry.
It’s coming with a fury
The clouds grew deadly black
As deadly black can get.
Whipping and churning,
Rumbling and growling,
Twisting and swirling,
A tail was coming
With a vengeance it came:
Bolting and striking,
Snapping and crackling,
Exploding and blasting,
The tail kept churning.
The roof from the
Barn was thrown.
The windows in the
House were blown.
The trees ripped
From their roots.
The horses ran.
The rain
Came pounding.
The hail
Came battering.
The wheat field
Turned to straw.
Up from the cellar
The family rose.
The mother poured tears.
The father fell to his knees.
The little ones clung
To mother’s skirt.
There was little left.
His dreams disappeared.
The neighbors
Came calling.
The storm unkind.
He lost his mind.
The church bells rang.
Plans Twister
By: Inking Al'Kallio
Speak me the language of love,
for that's what my ears long to hear.
Reach down deep in my soul and draw me the pure water of passion.
In the arms of your embrace my manly flame ignites.
Close the eyes of my mind to forget the painful truth,
futures and ruined and destiny destroyed,
just in the flashes of sane madness.
Shallowing depths of my subconscious brain tries to object,
"shut up''! my vessel enlarged shouted.
One,two, three,four,five,
close my eyes and watch my stress faded away in the sweet pleasure of my correct mistake.
Hmmm, flash of what has been,what would be,and what could be comes rushing back.
Inundated by sour wisdom, another unwanted child is formed.
a fox runs up to me
and asks me for directions
i reply to old sly by shrugging
my shoulders and having a seat
the fox then lays down next to me
to watch the sunset and take in the
brisk morning air
lost in thought, we both say we ought
to get our individual movements going
and use our personal prayers as high premium
octane
partially inspired, we both get up like aging men
at the same time
i go my way and the fox goes his
in my mind, i am wishing for stronger achilles
tendons and eyes in the the back of my head
perhaps tomorrow morning i will say good morning
to a bobcat.....uhhhh.....on second thought and beyond,
i think i will hope to see the fox
that's right, it's monday, and my apprehension is also
running late
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