CDs
Every second Sunday my CD collection disperses
fertiliser from
blimps and
zeppelins onto a
great distance areas.
Categories:
zeppelins, humor,
Form: Free verse
A hazy crimson light races a soaring falcon
as swallows spiral all about the rainbow sky,
Above the Jersey Shore where zeppelins rose
as far as a teary eye can see, within eternity.
As I slowly close my dry, weary, reddish eyes
those old memories of whence I was not alone
pour forth in an enchanting new kaleidoscope
with vast illumination and electrified emotion.
I wish to depart and plunge into a limpid sea;
become lost upon the arid shores of vastness;
a lover without love; beauty with a heartbeat
lost but never alone; a victim of guilty pleasure.
In dungeons of dark, shadowed desperation
many ghostly spirits hunger for life’s essence
flowing between the veil as mists rise at sunset
upon the icy breeze, tipping a Falcon’s wing.
Categories:
zeppelins, allusion, beautiful, flying, imagery,
Form: Imagism
Arms, legs,
fists, feet,
beating chests;
teeth meet.
Stones, bones,
sharp-honed tusks,
poisoned darts;
obsidian clubs.
Slings, arrows,
outrageous bows,
black-edged flints;
sharp-pointed swords.
Red-glare rockets,
gold knightly spears,
squat-humped cannons;
trebuchets.
Muskets, pistols,
bayonet rifles,
spitting Maxims;
Tommy guns.
Gray battleships,
deep submarines,
articulated tanks;
V-ones, V-twos.
Experimental Zeppelins,
jet-fighter planes,
flying forts;
atomic bombs.
Poison gas,
Laser rays,
will it ever end;
the race?
Categories:
zeppelins, war,
Form: Free verse
I need a woman who doesn't mind being alone.
Not into quail eggs but doesn't mind eating crow.
Does her own thing and is not one bit clingy.
A little bit tart but never saccharine sweet.
Slightly off the drumbeat is just fine with me.
A velvety pianist is what I don't need.
Call me a pig but I don't like them fat.
For fat could mean an unabashed gasser.
or a big yawner in the sack.
I need a lean black leather panther.
or a rhinestone studded wildcat-
She has to be witty, but I run far away from too silly.
She must live for poetry, more than she lives for me.
Likes rolling in stones and riding led zeppelins.
Slow dancing on the dark side of the moon.
she'll ride pink flamingos, just shy of the loon.
She'll fall in love with Van Gogh's fields of crows,
Salvador's melting clocks and twisting, spiral stairs.
She'll scavenge blue sea glass and musical snow globes.
Gently knead my jagged darkness into double rainbows.
Most importantly, she must make a vow to outlive me,
because at funerals I become a cracked, unwinding time piece.
Categories:
zeppelins, funeral, life,
Form: Free verse
I'm heading home - I have a date
Chills play my spine - I pass my gate
Time to eat - hope I'm not late
I rush myself up spiral stairs
I'm hurrying cause I like mine rare
It's dinner time, I'm feeling fine
I lick my chops and grab some wine
I sing and dance across the room
To one of Zeppelins silky tunes
"Squeeze my lemon till the juice runs down my leg
Squeeze it so hard - I fall right out of bed"
Alas with ringing of the bell
Wafts cross the room, 'OH! delightful smell
I sit to eat, has it gone too far?
You know I like my meat Tartar
I squeeze some lemon on his leg
And lick my lips as I am fed
I Slurp His blood so darkly red
My secrets out, I love the dead
Daintily, I wipe my chin
Daintily, And then I grin
Categories:
zeppelins, dark, desire, fantasy, funny,
Form: Free verse
tempered steelheads migrating through the
shallows, their metallic scales lubricated
with penzoil two stroke motor oil.
moving over sand and rocks
some gray, some brown,
some smooth, some jagged and torn.
with alloys glistening in the summer heat
they brush up against the rivers stones to break
off the fishermens disappointment.
all those scarred gums whose fishhooked
lines caused thier lead bellies to rust.
in the muddy waters they stir,
drink to much whiskey and sink to the
river bars sandy bottom.
their rigid frames drifting through the sediment,
with heads lowered swaying
slowly like submariner zeppelins, trying to
navigate against the turbulent waters.
now these mechanical nomadic sailors keep for
themselves a tin compass in the sky filled with
memories of home.
but still they are mellow preachers
rolling and tumbling in their hardened
elements trying to find their way.
Categories:
zeppelins,
Form: I do not know?
It slams
And impacted instantly
Hoarded like gold
The rib to my side
Aching in its stirrups like Adam
Swallowing hard and dispersing
A fickle attempt to blend into the walls
And edge a conquest, those beautiful red planes
Smashed. A man half ferocious, half dead
His Mussolini smile and little left of his gait
Detonation
Like canaries in deep mines, we slip from our perches
Slowly we breathe, heavy paper bags
Illuminating like so many zeppelins
The thick carbon smell hanging like dust
Free to roam, though essentially just cattle
Inexorable we branch and explode ourselves
Feeling like Eve as the bell chimes
A forceful amputation, it felt like abortion
Settled and quiet and then blown to the stars
Days snapping
Like matches, struck then useless
Emerging half a world away and ages older
Renewed in my old age and wiped
Pure by the smoke and the bombs
Precious as diamonds and pure as an infant.
Categories:
zeppelins,
Form: Free verse