the clever ones are tightening nets
'round the neck of the masses
who
swim in the mist of
overconfidence
under a flimsy umbrella called faith
but the blood net is closing fast
soon the masses will panic
thrashing into one another
like mad stars swirling in
then devoured
by massive black holes
called deception
they'll be winched onto the deck
hooked -then stripped of amendments
steaked -put on display
buried in mass graves
extinction being the final stage
their obit will read;
lived freely until death stripped them of their
APATHY.
Categories:
winched, america,
Form: Free verse
Bored God's
How atrocious it would be
if the moon were a giant plate
with nothing behind it
desolate, inadequate
How peculiar it would be
if the stars were mere sparks
holes in black velvet
diffuse in darkest dark
And what if the sun
was winched up at dawn
by folks in gold suits
we could generally depend on
and if god was an engineer
with a warped sense of humour
the cosmos a distraction
on her office computer
Categories:
winched, humor,
Form: Rhyme
Finn was in some searing pain
as he went to see the Doc
Good thing, it wasn't very far
a short walk 'round the block
As Finn walked in, He managed a grin
But his voice was week and shaken
The Doc said "Please sit down right here,
For some test you may be taken"
Finn explained he was in pain
from his head, right down to his toe
And how in hell did he get like this
Only heaven was sure to know
So, Finn with his finger, pressed on his thigh
and he winched at the pain that it caused
Then touching his toe his arm and this cheek
The pain Finn was in, gave Doc pause
"So Doc can you help me, do you know what it is,
I sure hope this pain doesn't linger"
The Doc shook his head, said "You've done it again,
Finn, you've broken your finger
Categories:
winched, anxiety, humor, humorous, ireland,
Form: Rhyme
Candle was center staged
A Candlelight Romance perspired
Flame lit up beautiful faces
Flame, ruthlessly pierced with rushing Nicotine
Lovers Love drowned in the Sea of Smoke
Passionate kiss became oblivious
The burnt lips cried in vain
Only Pungency of Ashes, choked fragrance of Love
So many cries, so much noise
Numb Eardrums, an agonizing mum
Estranged from Jazz, envious of Saxophone
A burning Spirit, a claustrophobic Heart, left tussling
No Mango for Tongue, it’s all bitter Booze
Trembling with Disgust and debris of abuse
No sense of direction, no sense of senses
Compassion dwindles in all Tenses
Those long Drives look real long
Like a rush in a Marathon
Windows are ruined by viscous dust
Praying Lords for a heavy Rain bust
Scent of a Woman is cringed
Manifestation of Romance winched
It’s high time to burst the bubble
Time for a Kiss beneath the blues of water
Let those wet curls smitten you
Let that touch giggle you
Drive down those tamed roads
Feel the rush inside
Stop snooping for the Rains
Take a dip into wet terrains.
Categories:
winched, anxiety, beauty, girl, love,
Form: Prose