"Money" Pink Floyd

Funny, isn't it?
How every time I win you just up and quit
Funny, had to laugh
Turns out that last remark was a must have
It's just poetry, next step love-ins
Pass me that wine jug, drinking binge

Funny, word choice
Stand up tall so we can all hear your voice
Funny, I don't know
Lets all light that high insight for the show
We breathe free, psychedelical, clean air, organic please
After this we'll all branch like trees

Funny, but it's time
Top the bottles, one last jazz bout to quench the mind
Funny, it's the shit
Crowd wants an encore of your big hit
Give them music to meditate, on the road, maybe
Forget about it

Money

Free Write Poem

The Men on the Moon

It's instinct, they say,
To fight when your doomed,
To break one's own back,
While other men's bloomed.

It's history, they say,
As they slowly look back,
Gravity pulling onward,
Time lost in its track.

It's living, they say,
To be stuck rolling forward,
Like winds nip your hide,
Biting, you just march toward.

It's redemption, they say,
To pick up one's pride,
Off the saloon's floor,
Then meander outside.

Urban Silence Poem

Hanged

Swinging like a hanged man in a calm breeze,
Upside-Down to defy old man Gravity,
Roots and Branches trading place,
Ruby's dipped in blood pull toward the earth,
Ripe fruit that inventions judged to grow differently.

IB Art walk Poem

The Reach

Closer than far,
Outstretched preparing.
Do you feel it too?
The atomic touch.
This natural sensation
Ripples out like a nuclear reaction,
Lacing the air like a web in weaving.
This feeling binds us.

Alliteration Poem

Moonshine Massacre

He's a miracle maverick
Drinking misty moonshine.
This medicated Messiah
Mocks man-made monsters
And molests moneybags
Quite modestly.

Personal Photo Poem

The Last Supper

 

Asleep,

With fur like a cloudy sky,

That slowly sifts to paws trudging through snow,

Gently purring a hymn of content,

While whiskers and his tuft of tail twitch,

As if reliving his last kill.

Awake,

His eyes split the clouds,

To reveal fields of grain and grass.

Power condensed into hunger,

Wanders into the kitchen temple,

Giving praise and alms,

To the box of waves,

Following the sacrifice to the alter,

Paws growing, claws reaching,

To steal my heart and chicken wings.

Today,

The clouds met concrete,

For the sun straddled my shoulders,

Upon discovery,

Blood and tears combined,

And flowed out

To quench the pavement.

Photo Poem

To Take the High Road

Parking lots

Pumping out

Paranoia,

Hypnotized

By flashes

Red,

Yellow,

Green.

Metallic messages sprint

Off on all fours.

Yellow and white

Warpaint dashed

Upon that stone cold face,

Direct the drifting thoughts,

From synapse to station,

Over the concrete waves.

Parallel to the rivers,

That savage animal

Runs through my head.

Pumping and pooling,

Circling the drain

Of parking lots.

Turcotte, Jennifer. "Copy of DSCF0081" 14 April 2009. Picture. FHS Poetry 2009. 27 April 2009. http://fhspoetry2009.blogspot.com/