Poems about alligators

There is no more pain,
The sky has fallen
So many times,
Like the final scene
Of an epic play,
A curtain call
Raised up again
To fall,
Bowing out
To your addiction,
'till the next time
The glue of your heart fails
To reach the stars
& you cry alligators.

Home boy thought he was a killer
Kept a necklace round his neck

In a villa near manila
A strange accurance
Small body found dead
Little homey died underneath the currents

Homeboy was sure of his assurance
A good swimmer
His name was probably Laurence

He was just a few feet from shore,
When this Alligator about six feet or four,

His eyes went wide, bug eyed and crazy
This is when it all got a little hazy

Coffee and Dead Alligators to Go

The Flying J, Orange, Texas

Dinosaurs are said to be gasoline
But under the gas-station gift shop fluorescents
Three shelves are lined with alligator skulls –

Small, medium, large -

The dinosaurs must be at the gas pumps

Crocodylia to alligatoridae
To alligator, and onto the shelf
Between the “Don't Mess with Texas” tee-shirts

Hecho en China / Fabrique en Chine

And the “Don't Mess with Texas” travel mugs

Whaddaya know, gotta go, cuppa joe
Don't need no dead alligator head, no

One time, when you were six years old,
Your parents took you to the alligator farm,
Which is exactly three. 02 miles away from the beach, and
Your father, with his beefy hands, lifted you up in his arms,
Let you peer over the safety railing at the scaly green creatures
Below you, and sometimes now you wish he would have
Dropped you down. maybe you would have died. or maybe
You wouldn't have, but at least then you would've had
A survival story to tell.

Perhaps the problem with
Starting poems off with a trip to the alligator farm is that readers
Expect you to get chopped into sixteen pieces by means of
Teeth larger than hands, break your neck, but
There's no conclusion to this story other than that sometimes
You wash your hands until your knuckles are bleeding,
And that's by far worse than being swallowed by a reptile,
Clawing out your own vocal chords,
Dying,

The right way to do this thing >
This disruptive message I'm crafting >
Their inevitable resistance to hear and heed what I'm asking >
My fear to deliver it and suffer their bashing.

Gulp.

I'm sure there's gonna be a fight -
I hope I solved these inequalities right!

I planted a mango seed,
Hoping?
Not sure what...

But the mango grew
Out of its context,
Poked shiny green leaves
Looking for sun and surf,
But found itself awakened
In a land of snow and cold.

Seven leaves into its
Exponential Mango growth,
The newest leaf
Yellowed...
Shriveled...
Died.

The Minnesota Mango
Meditates now...
Watered, but waiting...
Slumbering?
Planning a spring break?
Meditating?
Waiting for summer sun?
Perhaps...

Today
I heard about
A neighbor boy
Who smuggled in
A baby alligator
From the Bayou,
South and warm.

At least my Mango
Stays inside its
Crockery planter,
And an alligator jail break
Will leave him
Freezing in his tracks...

We'll see what happens
In the summer.

I always differed
For the sake of semblance.
Feathers did not agree.
You flew away for your sky.

Impatience had killed the defeat
My elixir, the baby sea in my eyes.
Genocide of the figs, unlearning
The sweetness of life.

Yet a white python was hungry.
A heart rendering feat to dig-out
A home after the earthquake.
Alligators were dying in midstream.

I was running after the desert.
Why bustards were disappearing?
Trees were hung upside down.
There was no suicidal note.

I always differed
For the sake of semblance.
Feathers did not agree.
You flew away for your sky.

Impatience had killed the defeat
My elixir, the baby sea in my eyes.
Genocide of the figs, unlearning
The sweetness of life.

Yet a white python was hungry.
A heart rendering feat to dig-out
A home after the earthquake.
Alligators were dying in midstream.

I was running after the desert.
Why bustards were disappearing?
Trees were hung upside down.
There was no suicidal note.