Monday, August 10, 2009

The FaceBook Chronicles

These bits of poems come from my FaceBook 'status' lines from the past couple of months.

sun on fire
a crackling pyre
a blazing liar
that won't expire
nor my work inspire
before I die or
escape the desire

can be troubled and ever toils
but to the poet go the spoils

Make mine fat: sugar salt and butter
I like all that.
Make ours cheap: plastic junk and clutter
We like it heaped.
Make theirs dead: spastic drunks in gutter
They need no bed.

I'm intox tox toxicated
by the way way way you play it
don't stop stop stop to say it
just walk walk walk away it's
still the day day day to pay it

Sees a shade on the land, both feet moving slow
Heart bludgeoned by bland, no fire down below
Now pushed round at random by ebb and flow
The trudge of a man with nowhere to go

To a blow job ordered by Ray
His flatulent bride did obey
Alas, he was cursed
She said, "You go first."
And then she just blew him away.

likes the sound of rain
and the heat restrained
though now in the main
it goes down the drain

Beg though we may for a right to health care,
some say the cost is just too great to bear.
While we cling to life; they false witness bear.
With pitchfork and torch we rage and despair
But "all that is solid melts into air".

Wants to look for clues that survive
But waits for the news to arrive
I am what I chose to deny
With nothing to lose but more lies
Can you see the blues in my eyes?

lost wax
post fact
most lax
tossed back

Looking round
For a clock unwound
On that broken down
Side of town.
Do you know of that place?
Do you see it on my face?
Not today.
Look away.
It will vanish without a trace.

sun sun blazing like a gun gun

turning the wheel of history
but it's always been a mystery
just how and why I'm here. You see,
everything seems amiss to me
broken links and missing keys
are just more things I must release
on the path to inner peace

was a wrasslin' with the devil
came in my sleep a revelation you ain't on the level
so put the pedal to the metal
before the dust is settled

gettin' the blues
lookin' for clues
tryin' to choose
the one I'll lose

time just won't stand still
in spite of what you will
you cannot get your fill
of this, the daily kill

Coffee breath smells like death
So take this hint; eat a mint.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

stream-of-conscious all in rhyme! poetry so hard to comment on, but please don't let your heart be bludgeoned-(surely not by bland.)we all wonder randomly so let's go hand in hand...