Placement perched will measure the life of them.
Air begged resistance as trace lacks its forms.
Mute heed legs of Black Widow Spider norms,
ghostly strands of rare resilience sense strum
for the secretive possessor. Kindred,
most blacks, and some browns share Rama's clocks on
their red or orange paunch that some do don.
Due to our size, strikes are rare, flee instead.
Venom: fifteen times stronger than rattlers.
Not all males are killed by their mates end of
breeding. Finding well-fed virgins, a suave
term tactic furthered being: home wreckers.
Destroy web that females put pheromones,
assures their breed a place among unknowns.
There once was a girl,
Her life in a whirl,
As she questioned her life,
And all she could do was ask herself why,
Why did she deserves such strife,
For love and for security,
Her purity became dirtied,
And wished she could end it with a sharp bladed knife.
Good bye, love
Good bye, sadness,
Good bye everything she was once handed,
Good bye stress, I must confess you are the last one I shall miss
What is a world without beauty,
What is life without some security,
A roof over my head and food in my belly,
Is now a luxury instead of a need,
So I get on my knotted steed and jump into the heavens,
I take my last breath,
My dear home wreckers,
Was it worth it in the end?
A poem that comes at night without a thought in mind
Words appearing outside a plan yet finds a place to opine
They seem to lie in wait, for a chance to take a bow
completing the lines in need and leaving me to wonder how
Words, plucked out of the air while clamoring around for a rhyme
And battling the thief of words, an unknown in this space and time
Not seeming to be apart, yet, volunteering for the issue at hand
Slipping in under the radar searching for a master plan
A poem appears on my page built with suspicious means Words written without a thought at least, to me it seems
The poem master comes riding high and lifts a calloused hand
My horse, running with an empty saddle; I only hold the pen
The master knocking down the blocks that mute the good ideas
Unbolting the door that locks the mystery where useful words Appear
He rides to ensure success when the wreckers of the brain come in
I’m at a loss to his confusing ways, I only hold the pen
Hurry with their groceries.
Don't wait till I am overseas.
I'm asking where's the bagger.
If I do it I will stagger.
Why are the lanes so empty?
The people are of plenty.
Where are all the checkers?
You're a bunch of home wreckers.
I was due home two hours ago.
Why are they going oh so slow?
It's past my dinnertime.
It's supposed to be my dime.
My shoes are hurting my toes.
It's the day of waiting woes.
Motionless
It looked such a sorry sight
Standing in the shed
Covered in rust and dust
With just a trace of red
A vibrant red with a flash of black
Across the outside door
No sign of this embellishment
As the car sinks into the floor of the shed
A car that has lost its glory
Stands motionless and dead
This old car was my pride and joy
Many moons ago
It's going to be a wrench
To see this vehicle go
Even though the seats are worn
As are the tyres, gears and brakes
When the engine is turned on
A dreadful noise it makes
Smoke billows everywhere
The muffler has snuffed it
Mice have made their home in there
Which they must soon all exit
Broken windscreen, windows scratched
Doors all buckled and dented
Tattered stickers on the car
Air freshener that once was scented
I suppose it's true or so it's said
Everything has its day
This was my thinking
As the car was towed away
To the wreckers. a graveyard for most
One wonders if those worn-out cars
Become angels or ghosts
Mubarak is a case in point. You leave
a man on top too long, he loses track
of what he is, beginning to believe
he's Pericles. Thus white shades into black.
Magruder, Coulson, Mitchell, Liddy, Dean -
they all lined up to help him tell the lies.
The end can never justify the means.
Who put the blinkers on such piercing eyes?
Up to this point, the office stood for Good,
all that could be hopeful in mankind.
But Nixon grinned, as only Nixon could -
a thousand placemen wilfully went blind.
The strangest thing about these law-destroyers,
these wreckers of the State? They were all lawyers.
Nothing would stop her charm, sex and cool,
Especially on a hot summer’s day.
Acting all chilled I’d rev her maxed motor,
‘Til she screamed down that inviting freeway.
Celebrating life with a thrust and a swerve,
Obeying only some laws of the road.
Oblivious of others, she’d own the whole lane,
Leaving other cars looking like they slowed.
Fleeting and flashing, she’d shine on a dime,
And make all of the people’s heads turn.
She was my perfect hot car, my woman on the road,
Tailgating death without any concern.
Joyrides where common for my old flame of the road,
Until that fateful, wet slippery day.
Nothing could stop her slide to the tree,
Killing her motor, the wreckers now her graveyard decay.
For Rusted and Busted acrostic poet contest
Light false beacons, lure ships in,
To flounder on 'our' shore.
Kill all survivors, loot the wreck,
This night should bring us more.
The depth that man can stoop when pressed,
Survival calls the tune.
Their shame and dignity oppressed,
Those nights without a moon.
They prayed in church, for help to bring,
Ships close each storm swept night.
For wreckers thought that only God,
Brought ships to ease their plight.
They also prayed to save all souls,
That sailed upon the sea,
Except the ones, too near 'our' coast,
Their loss will set 'us' free.
Then they helped God, by lighting fires,
False lights to guide ships in.
They fed their families on their crimes,
But sold their souls to sin.
Ivor G Davies
All day he had felt her stirring
Under his boat, several times.
Surprised at the sundown
Shifting and holding the time and air
Had brought her to the still surface
To sun herself in the last, slow light.
Sparkling aqua blue were her fin
Adorned with pearls her hairs embraid
Wow... it is a beautiful and glorious mermaid
He could have got her then, carried her home
But knew, to have her alive was only
The sounding, casting, waiting, seeing
And praying the light not to move.
So he released her.
Surfing on the waves that quietly glistened
The Mermaid thus spoke:
“You humans, let me tell you something.
Mermaids, sirens, ship wreckers whatever you call us
We don’t abandon the sea for love or legs
We fling ourselves onto the ground for sound”
+++++++
May 31, 2014
Form: Free Verse
not all Barbaras are home wreckers, ladies
I heard the oldies and the goldie's of the sixties and seventies
Betty Wright and Peggy Scott sing them very fine
Beautifully at that, but ladies I'm here to tell you
That all Barbaras are not man stealers
I'm tired of the looks and stares
the avoidance and shunning
whenever I see you with your man
You or even him, may think I desire him, but
I'm here to tell you, I don't desire all men
they may flatter me, and
I may blush, or even flirt, but
rest assure ladies, your man is safe
because I'm not trying to score with your balls
because I got a man, can't you see that
yeah, yeah, yeah I'm aware their are married Barbaras
that cheat on their husbands, but I don't, never did, and never will
so keep those emotional trips away from me
I am so stuffed to the hilt with all of it
I can't swallow another bite of your insecurities
yeah I like men, I love them
it's a natural part of my makeup as a straight woman, but
I don't sleep with them, just my own
I don't love them all, just my own
so for the last time keep those emotional trips
away from me before I flip the scrip on you
Andrews and Katerina,
How did they name these,
wind demons,
and flood wreckers,
they blow like hell,
coming all of a sudden,
they are real real bad,
they do not mark,
a house from aroad,
a pole from a factory,
they simply destroy all they get,
they are ravenous when it comes to death,
they spell it so hard and bad,
that we cry for dear ones and leave thousands sad,
sad is not enough,
they uproot homesteads,
a sad man,
who is mourning dead,
is now without homestead,
how did they name these,
so soft and like a girl and a lad,
they are so bad,
that they should be named,
bad and bad,
may be followed by numbers to be had.