Adventure

Until Next Time

Folder: 
Poems.

No motivation, but you made an apperance,

Exciting some of my inner exuberance.

 

The feeling was welcomed,

the newfound motivation appreciated.

 

I strolled down the street, consumed by my music,

On my lonesome I was, but quite happy with it.

 

I ended up in a park, planning to walk the trails,

A satisfying activity that never seems to fail.

 

Winding through the woods, meeting wilderness,

when my feet began sinking into the earth, what a mess.

 

As my feet became increasingly more wet with every step,

I turned around disappointed, that me and nature barely met.

 

I look at my phone to find a text,

but not from you, from another.

 

I accepted their offer to come rescue me,

Though the wind felt nice blowing through my being.

 

The sky was beautiful, and ever-changing.

One side was dark, the other side was light.

 

I sat there and watched the two sides collide,

It was oddly beautiful, the opposites meeting in the middle.

 

Metophors come to mind as I waited for my friend to show,

Still swinging, content, a tree I am suspended below.

 

I found that I was bummed when they arrived,

What a beautiful view, the sky and I had gotten aquainted.

 

Until next time.

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Shoestrings

Shoestrings (an affected poem)

 

 

Are people's

lonesome adventures

depressive masquerades?

 

In a culture of one's

design; only

'tis Not

 

Deceit tied them

together like

Shoelace

 

Solace.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote a free verse poem approximately on (possibly arnd the afternoon or dusk, or even in the evening hrs.) This was posted on my Twitter account on the 10th of the same month.  Its working title was changed from Shoelace to Shoestrings on the process.  Pls. kindly bear w/ it, as 'tis also an affected poem. 

Billion Dollar Beast

Near dead on some moon of Dakar
dying ship, Dark Scar,
Pushed it too far
to make myself Tsar of a distant Star
went hard in the spar 
against the blue cat crew from ‘Avatar’,
fighting fist to tail 
I refused to wail
when they beat me senseless,
I was defenseless
still on the fence about this,
and pissed that I missed
  Their Leader
a man of strong cedar,
a cat-people believer,
with equal brain & brawn
that motha fucka, James Cameron,
on his shoulder sat a Tamarin,
a monkey with an iron lung 
fluent in Mandarin which it sung
quite beautifully,
and here I’m stylin’
my hair with my blood
coagulated crud,
sort it out in the suds of the swamp
that flooded the house of the Swami 
Himself,
James Cameron.
 
Swam up
Went in
my head began to spin
such a terrifying thing
to see a skin pinned to the wall
about to fall 
into the bin,
maybe it belongs to his twin
otherwise the sin that is crawling
in the corner
is no ordinary 6’2” cockroach,
be very wary of its approach
it has coached a team of camera-men,
That Beetle Thing is James Cameron!~
 
a creature that's a preacher 
to not be a leecher,
rather a teacher, a dissector, a connector,
a cheap collector
of stolen storied nectars,
The Director,
Billion dollar bar-raising specter
 silly elder holding a scepter, 
at last my confession, I am now a defector,
a protector, caught in the messiest obsession,
the Tamarin and Him want Armageddon,
I dare not question  their progressions, 
driven demons need professions,
destructive depression
constructive expression
he’s after ascension,
just look what he’s done,
he’s fucking James Cameron~
fin.
 
Author's Notes/Comments: 

Random fun musings about a vile adventure with the Beast himself ~ hahahaha Carmelo

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Pathways

 

Travelling along my path

 

I find myself

 

At a crossroads,

 

However,

 

I do not take the road less traveled,

 

For that one looks overused.

 

And I do not take the road more traveled,

 

For that one looks forgotten.

 

Instead I choose to create my own path,

 

Carve a new trail,

 

Enjoy a new experience which no one has ever seen before.

 

I choose to take the path I want,

 

Not the ones everyone tells me I can.

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STALAG 17

Remember when you didn’t know about
Death…..
Every day was an adventure
Highlights…
Your Toys….
Ice-cream…
A walk through the fields
Like a trip into the unknown
Just two miles….
Will you get home before its dark?
Dirty knees…
Sole flapping on your shoe….
No resupply…
Till Mams sausage and mash…
Sunday night…..
Bloody bath-night…
Nick your chin…
Dads razor….
Torch on under the sheets
‘JAP KILLER’ in the Commando
Torch flickers…..
I will dig a tunnel
Escape Stalag 17
Lights out….
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ……

© Tony McNally

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We Remember

On the count of three, we sprinted away

From danger. Our feet tripped over the banks

Of white with snowshoes – homemade by duct-taped

Plywood. A ravenous polar bear nipped

At our heels, and the flurries burned my cheeks.

I twisted my head to look to my side;

A young image of Dad jogging close behind,

Smiling, describing winter’s adventure.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

a little poem dedicated to my favorite childhood memories with my father, enjoy! Comment with feedback or a story of your own to tell!

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Buccaneer

Sea of black, what is it you hide? 
Please tell me your secrets in me, please confide. 
  
On deck of the ship, blue moon in the sky, 
Into your heavy dark waves I peer and I pry. 
  
You conceal many things,  so pardon the brusque , 
I have some questions I  would like to discuss 
...thus...

I ask of you this mighty watery force,  
reveal to me please these things in due course : 
  
Tell me about how they were saved from the deluge, 
In the Ark a family protected in refuge. 
  
Or where lay the Isle of Greek titan Atlas. 
A land consumed by your eternal cold blackness. 
  
Share with me jewels and cursed pirate gold. 
Spoils in your clutches you so preciously hold. 
  
Of sunken ships and scattered bones. 
Failed quests to glory forgotten kings thrones. 
  
What monsters you hide in the dark of your deep? 
Things of nightmare that make grown men wake from their sleep? 
  
Reveal these things, so that I return a wealthier man,

Gold in pocket shilling in hand. 

With magical tales of faraway places. 
Lost secrets that lurk in your fathomless spaces. 

At night  these things to my children I'll tell, 
And a love of adventure will be cast,

Like a spell. 

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Dragon Come, O Dragon Stay

Dragon come, O dragon stay.

To breathe misery throughout my day?

Leath'ry wings beat an angry torrent.

Casting upon me shame and torment.

Reminding myself of what I could be,

Yet blocking travel and foresight to see.

Fed from the lambs of inner dark turmoil.

Feasting, he lies on my path in a scaly coil. 

Smiling a fanged smile I so despise,

A human character beneath that serpentine guise. 

As if to say, "You shall not pass!"

Forever am I caught in the sands of his hourglass. 

 

Revolution is at hand my fellow foul beast.

For I have become greater than you to say the least. 

Block my progress? Nay, I think not!

I'll have your guts for garters you dwindling snot!

Your scales for mail, your teeth for spears!

I'll have your flesh on my plate for years and years!

Your hide will be great and grant quite a show,

Donned as a cape against the rain and snow.

Begone, with your ramblings and traitorous wile!

My feet on my path I'll trek with a smile.

 

Hands raised to the heavens, boots stamping on the hells.

Parading to the reverberating of victory bells. 

Sword in hand and shield on my arm,

To this grand creature I'll bring such great harm!

Begone, foul beast! Move your ass!

This is no time for courtesies nor class. 

For adventure must be had and my mettle assayed,

I must quickly be on with this quest so delayed. 

Step you aside, horned devil of mine.

Clear from my way for now is the time!

Tally Ho! Tally Ho! Off we must go,

Unto the event horizon, Yo Ho!

 

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Ship of the Lost

Ship of the Lost

Chris Mumford

 

Bring me along on your ship out there,

Where we are destined, I don’t much care;

We must away, time to set sail,

Off we go to only God knows where;

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