Poem by: Mr. Ronald Watson
Sep. 13, 2012
My Poetry on PoetrySoup
Stinking thinking/ it leads to drinking./
What moisten the soul without an inkling?/
Unto making a wild left turn /while the right signal light were blinking./
Within a mild mix of rice, hops, and barley,
Since/ it is too much laugher at a karaoke party./
How Elvis sounds like,/ a broken Bob Marley?/
Now it’s as if,/ inhibitions are lowed/
Frozen in time/ and slipping far out of control./
As intuitions of minds does loathe,/ as such weariness echoes for tomorrow./
Yet,/ a stinking breath that smells just as death/ and it's where all funky asses dwells./
Though/ all hung over /and unjustified to flinging heavy heads into that porcelain king,/
Even this is a sight for red sore eyed Kings!/
It is an aftermath of ravishing through them royal purple cloth bags./
So/ afraid to admit that shallowness slowly drags!/
When,a sense of clarity which will just admit it.
That stinking thinking is difficult to kick, but
One day at a time, it is the only way to shine, or get fixed.
Thank youMy Poetry on PoetrySoup
Berty Beaver, he was quiet
He never said too much
Yet Molly, Berty’s little wife
She mouthed off just a touch
She’d always threw her weight around
And poor old Tiny Tim
He got a slap most every day
And times his days felt grim
Molly, well she was his mum
And though she loved him so
She always had to nag someone
And give them a cuff or blow
Tim became a poor young man
And shrunk from every one
And as the bully’s hung around
More evil did get done
His mum she says ‘now that’s not on
They don’t do this to my son!’
And she goes running to the school
Oh, she’s an angry one
She glares the teacher up and down
And lets her know who’s boss
Teachers try hard to placate her
Though, they only suffer loss.
Then Tiny Tim, comes running in
And says right to his mum
[Frustration snatching fear away
No more his mouth hangs numb]
‘Look Mum, at what you always do!!!’
He says with voice stern
‘If you’re a bully too, then how
Will us kids ever learn.
28 June 2013 @ 1727hrs.
There is no other
as loving as a brother.
I seek admiration
like a promotion
to find me smothered
in an instant, my lover
of life seemed in motion
as a song like a lotion
to put on your hands, another
love line I write, my mother
would want to hear this commotion
or, not so much to give out this information.
The rain is extremely cold, above better
days. Just be here for me, as my admirer
War has come , war has come,
My home once a gem of beauty , to fires and rage it succumbed,
Powerless i watched , the desolation of man
How evil overwhelms and greed robs one of all sense
Day by Day loved ones fell,
Till our lives became nothing short of hell,
I prayed in silence fearing my inevitable doom,
For the grim reaper lays in wait ,
Thus i have resigned to my fate..
The morning sun arrived,
With the heavens granting me another day,
The screams have gone silent , with no presence of tyranny,
I run through the village searching for a sign of hope,
Till my legs grew weary and my vision grew dim,
I muster what strength i have,
Refusing to become a victim of fate,
Footsteps i hear , approaching fast,
Men with weapons with black souls drenched in hate,
As i look into the eyes of my executioner ,
with the certainty of death,
memories of my life flash , as i take my last breath,
War has come , War has come
I think I'm in love
Blahh am i really?
How could i be so certain
i've been "in love" twice before
how do i know he is "the one"
Love is artificial
Things has change,
Our world is coming to an end.
On our destiny,
The wicked now sit.
An our hope is gone.
Our laughter, has been wiped
Away by our sorrows,
And we fear for our own shadows.
Upon our land,
Bloods are shed.
On our land the innocent crouch
Their tooth with pain for revenge.
Whiles we moan our dead,
Our food and drinks are taken
And our daughters in which
The pride of our nation are
Restored on are sexually used by them
In the name of celebrating our defeated.
we pray, cry, whiles they laugh
And mock us not noticing,
That our is hearing us.
Our men has been killed,
And we fear for what will happen tomorrow
Our heart are heavy,
And we are restless.
We see but now blind
For the tears of pain has make us blind
We are helpless,
And we need help.
We are weak
And we need strength.
seeps from swollen eyes,
and severed sobs
stab into the surrounding
I'm suffocating in a sea
struggling to stay
afloat but I'm
Somebody save me
before it swallows
The red rose declines in the cruelty of time
gentle sunsets fade in the midst
from barely lonely skies,
silver streams die.
What of those days of sweet bliss
the tunes of a symphonic kiss
my soul miss,
and orbs of light are close
in search of emerald nights
the stalks of white ghosts
creeping softly upon shades of grey
the touch of deadly strokes.
Visions of slanted monsoons,
and flawless white pearl moons
hanging above the tides
those opalescent hues of fire.
Fall flaming chariots of deliverance
oceans a glint
in gloaming of earth's tint.
The mystery of the quiet still
shards of glass scattered
across the twilight atmosphere
diamond coated tears.
Sublime, jet stream geyzers
and star night gazers
infuse scientific minds
like eagles soar high.
The beautiful water lily flower,
the Japanese iris,
red bark cypress
there traced divine knowledge.
The minerals of the soil,
and treasures of spoil
the naked eye, though it be
finite will see.
Yet seasons come swiftly
Autumn, Summer, Fall, and Spring,
but still the red rose declines
in the cruelty of time.
I fear, I will not be enough for that world outside,
I will not measure up to that who they expect me to be, want me to be.
I fear the one I breathe… the one I see, will only see another.
I fear for these faults I have, these weaknesses… those flaws.
Who will cherish, who will want… those flaws I have?
I fear, for my weigh on a machine...
It says repellent, it says obese
I fear, for my length on scale…
It says unattractive, it says midget
I fear the night, how I prefer the light instead, the bright instead
Those owls and rats and bats; those foul creatures of the night.
I fear the world, will misunderstand these thoughts I have
Misinterpret these ideas I have.
I fear the world will not appreciate;
Those hours on the mirror, those rivers I sweat.
I fear I shall not attain those goals I have, those dreams I dream
My enemies will prosper, while misery and despair are paired with me
I fear they will change my parts… make me into a thing with no heart
A thing with no face… and look down on my race!
I fear the questions I have, the doubts I have
But more than ore, I fear I shall die before I live,
I fear I shall not live till I die!
It weren’t too many years ago
I worked on the building site
The work was hard, but pay was good
And it suited me just right
I knew this bloke who worked with me
Little George it was his name
He was short, built like a bull
And Lord that boy was game.
Now he was Maori, through and through
And he hated Islanders
So one day we were in the pub
And someone George did stir
They called him a ruddy Islander
And he wasn’t taking that
And boy, that man could really fight
Just like a jungle cat.
There was six of them and one of George
And folk thought him insane
To take on all those blokes at once
But I could not refrain
From betting on that Georgie boy
Because I knew him from old
It only took our boy five minutes
To knock four of them cold.
Then I saw the other two
They were running down the street
Regretting it with all their hearts
That Georgie they did meet
I guess those guys will shrink in future
From picking a Maori man
There’s not too many that can fight
Just like a Maori can.
5 August 2013 @ 1545hrs.