The oceans are mineI own the oceans and seas. They are mine and not yours. The waves break at my pleasure and call. They purr and curl about my caressing hand, happy as clams to be running with me. The horizon is my one and only king, and he smiles and races with me. We're in a constant competition to see who ends first. He always thinks he'll win, but I hit the shore with full force, scraping my knees on the coral long before he can even see his finish line.The oceans are mine by Abstract-Owl
Winning is everything its cracked up to be, even if I have the air knocked out of me every time I reach the shore line. Breathless and face and hair and smile and elbows buried a few inches in the clinging sand, I rise up in a gale of laughter, my faithful waves lapping at my heels. I smile and hastily scrape the barnacles and urchins from by legs, ready to begin the chase anew.
I wind whips my hair back, a gentle chiding at my foolishness and enthusiasm. She shakes her white head. My eyes are bright and focused on the horizon. I ask for another rac
word of the day: emasculateYou hit me in aword of the day: emasculate by Abstract-Owl
Instead of hitting back
I'll just say this:
I'd use sticks and stones to break your bones
If this was a shallow and kind state of mind,
I use words, and
Words will gut you,
Leave you penniless and penis-less and a pensive eunuch
On the Arabian night streets of Baghdad,
Exchanging your eyes to see your beloved one last time
And your voice for a chance to sing Vivaldi;
As they say the pen is mightier than the sword,
'cause swords can only cut,
But words can cut and castrate your metaphysics down
And yell, "TIMBER," so all the neighbors hear
About your impotence.
Words reveal that both sword and pen are metaphors for the phallus,
And while both can penetrate,
Only one can impregnate
Taking you over from the inside, an invasive parasite,
always just out of sight
hanging in your peripheral,
a shadow over all you do.
Only one can find you in your bed,
Invade your dreams, turn them to night mares
stomping your bones into flour to make their bread
Of cartoons and politicsSocial media brings us the news:Of cartoons and politics by Abstract-Owl
People report the hijacking of a plane from twitter;
give us pictures and updates while
anchors in crisp black suits shoot the breeze
(the gun smoke more reason not to breathe).
I bet the tweeting girl ends up a jail bird;
What a twist!
She was the hijacker all along!
You'd never know though, with her mastery of
bullshit, self tanner, and sweat glands
(don't forget apple technology).
Yogi Bear learns how to fly
with Malecifent black wings
scotch taped to his wrist and back
to hijack picnic baskets.
Newsmen hijacking the reunions of soldiers and family,
interrogating with Chinese water torture
(or was it 15 minutes of fame?),
forcing the regurgitation and examination of
thin-wristed, deep clawed memories of war.
Then they turn their white polo shirt torso
to the camera to talk about them as if they aren't there,
when they're standing just off to the left of the shot, happy to be on TV.
Hell, make polite fun of how they celebrate the patriarch's safe retu