Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama)
---------------------- "Word Nerds" (like me)...
************Please Have Fun & Read VERY Closely:)***********
now and again
approaches the fog in me
screams its name
apropos adverbs appear
slick little nouns
beyond babbling brooks
sent to exile
beneath eight parts of speech
within prison walls
filled in the past
like Job's tedious job
homographs from heteronyms
words never mind...
they wind the mind
in the wind...
Feeling like a lodger
In my own home
Thankful for my music
And my new found roam
Families and communities
They are just so hard to find
But in April 2009
I found the most precious kind
I found the name amusing
So the button i clicked on to see
The layout was very inviting
Like an open door should be
For in a matter of minutes
On first uploading a poem
This Highlander was content
He had found a welcome home
So many lovely writers
Poets who share their bless
No longer this Scotsman is
The Man in the Wilderness
Some people are voices
On the edge of rocks
With steep slopes and cliffs.
Some people are echoes
At the bottom of walls
Carved by rushing waters.
Ain't a word, you said.
but it takes a daring gust
for things start to be.
Page after page
My nose in a book
I read intently
As the words
In my mind
With one look.
Imagination runs wild,
There is nothing
Like the thrill,
Like a roller coaster
Giving you chills.
It’s a rainbow
If you will.
Get on it,
And feel the inclination
You’ve had enough.
But is it ever?
Once you start
It’s too tough
To get off
To begin with.
You are filled
And with pride.
Reading takes you
to the top,
To the power
Knowledge is power,
A roller coaster
That never stops.
Me myself and i
For I myself,
Believe in myself.
For I love to stand by the book shelf.
In order to read some nice stuff.
Yoruba is my lineage.
I’m seen by my image.
And am called by my real name.
Buying things, I buy not fake.
I aim to be among the greats.
For one of my saying, says,
“Pays to be popular than being famous’’
Cos, famous people could be no-torious.
People say am pretty shy
That a time, I wish to cry.
Cos, I know I do try
To hide that, am really shy.
I’m a Muslim,
For my religion is, Islam.
So, pock meat is an haraam.
But I’m free to dine on ram.
I wish to be a doctor
So that youngsters can see me as a mentor.
I love teaching as a Professor.
For all that are great, are my mentor.
People don’t really know me,
So, this is to tell who I be.
For I prefer being a Lewis’ base,
Than to be a bronsted’s base.
Ridwan is my real name.
Olyrid is just a nick name.
You better know before it’s too late,
For I involve not in a criminal case.
My advice for you in life is this:
Serve you GOD, when not in pains
For in good health a person fails,
But calling unto him when soaked in pains.
Is my yahoo mail.
I’m dark, friendly and a little tall.
And all I love is winning soul.
For all I hate, is the “big boys” style.
Cos “sagging” is what they like.
For all I do, it’s my own style.
So if you like, you can be my type!
A is for audacious, a bold statement made by the foolhardy
B is for boor, an ill-mannered person who’s apology is tardy
C is for curtail, an education cut short, old Alma Mater haunted
D is for dander, ones anger rising at ignorance being flaunted
E is for empirical, experience gained from observation and experiment
F is for flit, from one idea to another fleetingly move, an impediment
G is for gnomon, the implement on a sundial casting a long shadow
H is for huddle, a confused mass heaped together into a barrow
I is for innate, our inborn and instinctive natural intrinsic being
J is for jar, of facts which are at variance with others we are seeing
K is for knell, the sound of a bell spelling the extinction, changes it rings
L is for luminous, shedding light on otherwise invisible, obscure things
M is for mirth, when you can laugh in merriment, finding glee in a situation
N is for nous, the common sense some people lack, being without gumption
O is for obfuscate, to confuse, stupefy and bewilder the mind, factually
P is for proffered, to offer explanations and demonstrate tactfully
Q is for queue, is a line of people willing to learn new concepts
R is for reredos, the grid removed from the fire and old precepts
S is for semantics, the study of words/phrases and their meanings
T is for tome, the voluminous books studied and digested the dealings
U is for unction, a soothing word causing deep emotions, in a trio
V is for vim, the vigour of mental strength or energy expressing brio
W is for woe, is the bitter grief that you feel at the loss of one of a pair
X is for xanthous, it describes the colour of his yellow skin and red hair
Y is for yammer, it explains voluble talk, which includes lament and wail
Z is for zany, the buffoon and the clown’s assistant who will assist us to bail!
Flitting audaciously to obfuscate semantics and dicing zany bards
Yammering on about things which jar that we should ideally discard
I remember the day when comments were the main
They're all very instrumental to the Soup's mainframe
Some comments are influential that created other writes
And many were like tuition that kept us crisp and bright
But there now appears a drought growing larger every day
We need to increase our comments as they help us write our says
Maybe it's time for change, for the Soup to alter it's route
Many foundations have recently left, will others follow suit
The columns showing us the views, tells us nothing at all
How many have clicked on a poem thinking that's a bit of a trawl
So another poem was open and not a word was read
So basically the views are worthless, because comments are our thread
We can learn from our comments but we will never learn from the views
It's our democratic choice for all, of what we do and choose
Nothing stays the same for ever as it appears to be
It's still the worlds best poetry site, that's down to you and me
Metaphysical Moment (The Haiku)
Metaphysical Moment …
… Nature’s Mysteries
This Haiku is for:
The Haiku Master ‘Raul’ Moreno
Metaphysical Poet Extraordinaire’ (smile))
I will not be late to work today
I will get there on time
I will brush my teeth
Without singing songs
Without thinking about birthdays
I will get there on time
I will eat my oatmeal
Without thinking of
Strewn against a wooden
Like dropped goblets
From a robbers pillowcase
I will be there before the bell rings
My papers will be checked
My hair will be combed
My mind will be alert
Ready to begin my lesson
I will not wonder why
My oldest son doesn’t have a job
I will not pray too long
For my daughter who is taking the bar today
At 10:30 AM in New Orleans
I will not scar my knees wishing
For some alternate world
Where children are never neglected
Where there is no abandonment
What nonsense to try and order the world
Just get to work on time
Put your things in the car, your projector and
The white binders that you didn’t look at
All weekend although you were supposed to check the papers and put the
grades on the computer
I will leave now
Before it is impossible to
Be on time
I will cream my ashy ankles
I will not focus on the white
Cat on the black pillow
With the green eyes
I will not water the plant
I will not watch TV
I will not write poetry
I will not write poetry
I will get to work on time
I will be ready
I will not be daydreaming about fog
Wondering if I’ll get Alzheimer’s like my mother
Or colon cancer like my dad
I won’t be thinking about that stuff
I will be locking the front door and
Closing the gate and clicking the clicker
And starting the car and leaving
I will not be in my living room
Wondering if there is any reason to love
Because I do not love for reason
I love because He first loved me
It is not incantations or intoxication
Or imagination it is my life and
The structure will come with the
Clearness of Bajan water
So clear you can see the fish
Fly float across the Atlantic
It is time
This poem must end
I will not be late for work
Not for nothing
Not for nobody
Not for anything
Not for everything
This poem is over
the work day begins
First friend, foremost;
Dressed in Allusion;
How I need thee!
How I need thee!
Never deep asleep,
Nor rest Refrained,
Who has pause to write,
And write to pause;
Time needs its tick-tock,
Rocked at chimes;
Clink — tinkle;
Cubes in a glass;
Onomatopoeia is back,
At Lake Oxoboxo,
Not pair a ducks,
She quacked not;
She waddled not;
She flew not;
Run into Enjambment,
On foot nearby;
Rhyme Royal chanting;
Out of line,
The coins are tossed;
O my dear friends,
I age without guilt
Life has treated me well
I have written many poems
So many stories to tell
I'll keep on writing
Till I can type no more
My eyes go blind
My muscles are sore
I live each moment
Be it happy or sad
And I must tell you
There's nothing I've never had
Some want money
Some want fame
I just want the world to remember
Life is not a game
Will I be here tomorrow
Yes, probably so
With that said
I just want you all to know
I enjoy all your poetry
Talent is everywhere
Keep writing forever
Show the world you care
Your poetry friend
YOU’RE THE WEAK ONE
You’re the weak one, you’re a bully. The weak one is definitely
The bully is always the weak one, but your weakness you can’t
seem to see.
So, I’m going to try to shed a little light on your weak and inappropriate ways.
Your weakness began on your first bullying day.
Your false sense of power is not strength at all; it is a cry for help desperately trying to break through.
I actually feel a little sorry for you.
Weak kids like you always seek to find other kids they can dominate.
Bullies do this with vicious words, inappropriate actions, and misguided hate.
Is being a weak bully the banner you want to carry for the rest of your life?
Get rid of the bully banner forever; take up a banner that shows respect,
understanding, and tolerance for others, and always hold that one very high.
( I left )
) you (
( my )
(note) O oooo
( on )
) a (
( for )
) you (
( to )
(read) O oooo
( ere )
) the (
‘ A Metaphysical Moment ’
A Metaphysical Moment
Electrifying To The Touch
Breathless, Thru The Clouds
Can My Heart, Take So Much
… Can My Eyes Endure
All This Vision, I See
Can Voice, Even Speak
Over Roaring of This Sea
… Can Ear Even Listen
When I Am Flying So Free
Soaring, So True With You and
Metaphysical Moment and Me …
A Metaphysical Moment
Will I Ever Understand
This Mystery of Our Universe
The Mystery of Woman and Man …
(And I End This with an Haiku for
The Haiku Master ‘Raul’ Moreno and
Metaphysical Poet Extraordinaire’ (smile))
Metaphysical Moment (The Haiku)
Metaphysical Moment …
… Nature’s Mysteries
Metaphysical (definition) as an adjective:
Metaphysical of early 17th Century Poetry
Relating to the poetic style of John Donne,
George Herbert and other early 17th Century Poets
Who used consciously intellectual language
And elaborate metaphors that compared things
It's 7Am here, and cold
Just awoke, with,
Oh, Here We Go Again!
Fever, Pain, Confusion,
And Lots of Other Groovy Things
To Keep My Mind Busy...
Many more people know of you
than a few days ago....
Did you ever hear of Rod Mckuen?
Professional poet/ musician/songwritter-
One of the reasons I love poetry...
Not only will you understand him, you should
enjoy him.....Sorry about your work load....
My French is rusty.....I'm pretty good in geometry though;
received 100% on NYS Regents Exam when young-
an unheard of thing, scores in college of 97-99% for the term's work,
and it seemed easy as pi (joke- pie, etc....oh, why am I explaining it,
sorry, I forgot who I was talking to.......) Hope you have a happy day.....write an
indepth poetic bio?? I'd love it, so would many others....
you are known in literary circles here now, I'd venture to guess....
surprising, the power of words, n'est pas? Je ne sas pa, rien du tout....pardon
my spelling and french......it's unused since early 1960's (ancient history) What
city are you in? Ever travel??? A favorite destination??? Any questions about
the enigmatic nature of "Americans?" We're really well meaning, just sometimes
seems we might misinterpret, or misunderstand things obvious to others (and
vica versa....) Do you get to see movies??? Need books to read?? I got a library
of 10,000 books, at least, being handicapped gives me too much time on my
hands, and my health leaves me precious little of a future to expect. I have lots
of funny stories. I hope you are okay....I never met anyone so brilliant in 57 years
of living. Youf friend in poetry, tom."
Don't go messin'
With my buddy Jack
He's cool people,
And I like him,
He writes well,
Yeah, this from Tom Bell,
You take him on,
You take on me,
Let me tell you,
Cut the crap and show
Or you might get
A poetic broken a__
I was born in Amhurst Massachuetts
on Decenber 10 1830
and had died May 15 1886
My hair is bold like the chestnut burr
and my eyes like the sherry in the glass
that the guest leaves behind
I cannot write about the world without
first backing away from it and then
comtemplating it from a distance
A word is dead when it is said
Some say I say it just begins
To live that day
Who Am I ?
My Poetess Sweet
Sensitive ears of nature I have
Poetry is not the sight of words
but the sound.
Spoken,sung or played on a guitar...
Human, machine,instrument or nature.
Any of these are cool as long
as they're written down.
A flute playing, a bird singing ,
a car engine starting.
Someone whipping , chopping,
cooking in the kitchen.
Hear it first, then write it down.
For what is poetry but the text
the sound that you've found?
I'm the ultimate
my mother, God Bless her,
taught me the joy
of using thought
a little more meaningful
than cars, popularity
money or fame
your mind can travel
there are no barriers
each book adds
to your being
to your mind's sky
they are things
because you share them
the reader and the author
each merged together
somehow their minds
make more than two
so I have spent
a king's ransom
in the years when
I could afford
these golden treasures
far more rich
than gold or silver
I made the master bedroom
of my current home
a library quite extensive
where my mind can roam
I have so many books
I could not fit them all
but part with one?
for any reason under the sun
I have diaries from the civil war
but still a wonderous mirror
into a time and life
never to return
many other treasures
but books among my best
I could never be
little work would
I get done
my eyes would be stuck
inside my charges
and no one could
withdraw a one.
When I started my writings I didn’t know that much;
But, as I began to write, I learn to know so much.
Let’s say I knew a thing when I got featured, my poem;
I knew what rhyme is, but my heart has its own anthem.
Writing is not that easy, which made it hard to meet
All the poetic forms, if I always see, but a white sheet.
Yet, I knew that if I will try, I will lose nothing; I tried.
So I wrote this very short poem, a senryu thing: a bride.
That you took joy reading it, making me smile and proud;
The way I see myself now, I’m a poet, with a voice: loud.
If I chose to be a poet, sure I wouldn’t be in a losing end;
For a poet never lose, but certainly, wins a heart. A trend.
At least now, I know how and what to write. I learned.
I’ll be writing sonnet today, for yesterday it was tyburn.
You see, I learned a lot, through the help of my God;
And you, my love, His blessing to me when I was sad.
I do not know?
Brainwaves- not just an invented excuse
These ideas are born for a use
When I sleep arbitrary thoughts sing
Like in a cartoon, I see a light bulb and hear a ‘ting’
Thoughts pour like they do now
No explanation, they just appear somehow
Your probably thinking this is taking me ages to write
As I speak my words strike
Its not even a minute and my brainwaves materialise
The whole world is waiting to realise
Brainwaves come to those who are gifted somehow
They are happening right now
Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
Sometimes my poetry is just a case of words,
and not necessarily my reality;
and that’s what is so beautiful about writing
You can be who you want to be on any level
and tell secrets about fantasies that may never be;
or take trips to other dimensions on mental journeys, or places that some don’t even think exist
They mimic thoughts that manifest themselves as poetry
and rest on pages patiently waiting to adhere
My words are a reflection of my heart
and they reveal the truth behind my mask of fear
they deliver reality doses whether they are just cases,
or me in the absolute right here
My words exude positive intentions;
my imperfections apparent but I accepted rejections
and reversed dejection
and decided to bare all my fantasies, my flaws my very soul
Uncertain how voiced verses appeal to outside sources but internally they set me free
They provide a medium of light and creativity
A chance to apply knowledge and a time for reflecting on and making changes in my frequency
My words are attached to my soul and its overwhelming ability to just be
They reflect what I was before
the choices I’ve made and the reasons that this life is perfect
according to divine order
They represent the voices of my ancestors from the beginning of time
because up until now,
the ending wasn’t within reach so I make sure that I
carefully choose the format and the right place and time
to deliver the message that may be blatant or hidden inside –
of the abstract placements of verbs
giving praise to the source of power that calmly submits to the voice
connected to my words
I am the originator of my own words
I hope that you are inspired, or simply entertained
by the process by which I've placed my words
Blank Verse Rhyme
The master said “create blank verse in lines of ten”.
Form five Iambic feet without a rhyme.
“These five Iambic feet you must achieve”.
The verse will have a rhythm you can hear,
when studied closely this will be revealed.
For, lines of blank verse rhyming discontents
the master. “Do it over, take all night”!
The lines of blank verse sing a little song,
each syllable, each rhyme, you’ll hear them ring!
You’ll sing the tune of verses blank and pure.
And now I keep up with this blank verse trick,
I hear its tick ten syllables per line.
It rhymes so soft; I have it mastered now,
so naturally it falls right from my pen.
Oh, where will this blank verse rhyme find an end?
Yet, twenty lines of syllables came out
much faster still than I had thought they should.
I love each rhyme, the timing so precise,
I hope it pleased the eye and ear. I turned
it in, it came back very clearly signed
‘ Constructive-Criticism … (An Oxymoron, For All But A Few) ’
Constructive-Criticism Is Good, It’s True
But, I’ve Only Seen It Used Properly, By A Few …
‘Cause, One Thing I Know, That I Have Seen
‘Some’ Use Criticism, Just To Be Mean …
Then, The Term Should Be: Destructive-Criticism
‘Cause, They Ain’t Even Getting Paid! … To Spout Poison In ‘Em
I Know Then, They Want To Abuse, in Jealous-Individualism
So, Maybe, They Need An Enema, or Have An Embolism
Coming Up (or while under Construction) I Was Told
And The Engineer-Advice, Was As Good As Gold
‘ If You Can’t Say Something Nice, Don’t Say Nothing’ At All’
So, I Don’t Bomb Somebody’s Building, Just To Watch Them Fall
Constructive-Criticism, Don’t Sic That Dog On Me
Take It and Go Bark-Up, Somebody Else’s Tree
Take A Look At Your Own, Before You Tell Me What’s Wrong
You Know What You Can Do With That … (and The Horse You Rode On)
And In The Words of ‘Tom Snyder’, (The Idea I Relate):
“Just ‘Cause I Think Somebody’s Trying To Kill Me … Don’t Mean They Ain’t!”
And, If You Don’t Like My Building, There’s The Door, Walk Away
I Don’t Need You Cutting Down, My Structure of What I Say
And If Negative-Criticism, Is Under Construction ... That’s A Front !
When Have You Ever Heard of Something Negative, Building-Up ?
Maybe Somebody Dropped Them On Their Head As A Child
But That’s No Excuse To Criticize, Somebody Else, or Their Style
And that ' True ', for A Few, I Meant at The Beginning
Here Are The Ones, I Accept Their Condescending:
GOD … Loved-Ones … Close Friends … (and Me)
‘Cause I Am My Own Worst-Critic, You See …
Constructive-Criticism, That’s an “””Oxymoron”””
And Look How That Word Is Spelt … Hon
(I Prefer The Term: Commentator ( Cause I Love to Comment ! )
‘Cause I Want To Polish Your Metal, Without Leaving A Dent
Forgotten somewhere in the midst of steel and concrete.
Bound by shackles and chains even in our sleep.
Living like wolves preying amongst lost sheep.
Concrete tears and pains so mindfully deep.
Forgotten by those on the outside.
We cant even run no where, we cant even hide.
No choice left but to sit and fight.
In here only the strong minded survive.
Truth be told in here what is wrong is right.
All most os us got is wasted M&^*&F*^&&ng time.
We sit back and work out and write heartfelt rhymes.
Not to be a victim of prey we all trying.
Many stories are told, songs are written of truth over lying.
We are gone for the moment but not truly forgotten so the hurt we must not show it.
We are to old while we young to be crying in front of full grown men for this is a time we must out grow it.
There aint no way out this hell hole and we all know it.
Feelings of hopelessness surrounds te heart to the point where we can no longer control it.
In here there is only time no fun.
Darkness fills night no light shone in here from the sun.
Only by our own selves we may be out done.
BECAUSE IN HERE IT FEELS LIKE WE ARE TRULY THE FORGOTTEN ONES....
the less i have of
the additional use of
the more it breaks down
I do not know?
The Library (Words to the Wise)
Shhhhh! No talking strictly enforced!
Most folks abide, except children, of course
And those who can’t read, don’t care, or don’t want
Goof off in the corners, or sneeze
As sharp, darting eyes of librarians haunt
Do you think you can do as you please?
The wisdom of giants exudes from the walls
Words that amaze, mesmerize, and enthrall
Lie untouched, undusted, forgot, and unseen
For racks of harlequin romance
Replaced in small minds by pulp magazines,
The classics have lost their last chance
Mindless amusement is what the world craves
Poe and Lord Byron must cringe in their graves
Dickens and Tolstoy and Steinbeck don’t matter
Now Paris and Brittany rule
All lost in celebrity gossip and chatter
The true kings and queens look the fool
But one in a thousand sees past all the fluff
They pass by the newspaper comics and stuff
To linger and learn from some eloquent master
Igniting a dazzling epiphany
A small step for culture to detour disaster
And rise above kitsch and banality.
*OHIO* O O OHIO *OHIO*
H H H H ! H H
I I I---- I ! I I
*OHIO* O O OHIO *OHIO*
From bebop, swing to hip-hops thing
True poets had it best
For there is a rhythm in the soul,
Which they all just had to express
Some could not control
This powerful thing
Was so often put to the test
It began to dawn coming on strong
Within the birth of a thing
Called the Harlem Renaissance
That jazz, that poetic-jazz, of intense birth
Possessing syncopated rhythms
And chronic expression of surreal tunes
That perfected blend of jazz-poetry
Developed into what it is today.
Thanks to poets like Carl Dunbar and Langston Hughes
That jazz, that jazz, that wonderful poetic-jazz
Being bred of pride, lyrical form and grace
Transcended cultural barriers
Readily accepted in the 1950’s by the humane race
Therefore, the mantra had begun to be
So freely expressed within poetic lyrics
To syncopated beats moving on through the 60’s and 70’s
By way of beat poets like Amiri Baraka
Returning strong throughout the 70’s and 80’s
Thanks to artist like Gil Scott-Heron
Oh, snap he was one of the founding fathers
Of spoken word poetry known to youngsters
Borne to free-styling or hitting the beats
On stage or in the streets
Yes, you’ve guessed it, most def its rap
Re-educating the poet in me, thanks to that thing
In which made many a heart sing
As these icons did their thing
Starting with something called modern day jazz-poetry…
Born during the Harlem renaissance and still going strong
Comments: I hope that you have enjoyed this free verse
tribute to some of the greatest modern day
founders of what is known as Jazz-Poetry.
Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?
Words Bound Together
Thoughts Formed Between Lines
Knowledge To Absorb
Learns The Bookworm
Wishes Expressed By Letters
Ideas For All To Share
Building Blocks For Peace
Believes The Bookworm
Fact or Fiction Penned
Expressions of Desire
Mystery Exposed, Secrets Veiled
Hunted By The Bookworm
Im Building my own teepee made from straw Logz
I try n keep up with my cats but how can I when I cant even trust my own dogz
I know I have a hard tyme trying to get a simple regular low paying job
but I shall overcome, I shall rise against all my past tattz and all my ****ing oddz
I used to be down with the evil d, now Im down with the holy G yeah dats God
I used to give you nothing Lord now its tyme I start to giving you nodz
I used to be all about talk, but now cuz of you Lord Im all about walk
I spit words while I walk through gates locked either bottom or top I still rize till I drop
I dont stop I shoot guns at fake cops tryna steal my patnaz freedom socks
but this my life now homie I cant end up lying in chalk
I walk my talk while I talk my walk through unknown clocks ticking away like my times tock...
I running past bumps while Im jumping over dead pits
I struggle like many, a life of addiction I know its hard to quit
I just had my first kid....it still hard tryna rize above the past shyt i did....
I done placed my rez life betz...I done already placed my lifetyme bid
I cant lie I still smoke n drink but the alcohol from my life rite now like many I struggle to rid
I try n cover up shyt but how can I cover up tattoos Lord they come without a lid
everymorn it feels as if I awake to a life full of crap leaving me lil tyme to give a shyt
but thats life Lord I know now thats how we deal n what we MAKE OF IT
Text Speak--A newly developing dialect whereby the speaker can convey a lengthy thought by abbreviating phonetically or through the use of substitutive characters.
Any attempt to speak it out loud is both impractical and unusually difficult,
Nvr took nglish
lrnd on cmptr
omg luvd star wars
:-) I’m happy
brb- be right back
lol –lots of luck
Diction ENglish grammer proper nouns predicates verbs learn the way the language
works then grow up to be a poet and throw it all away today to make new words to
make poems bleed to make the rhymes the prose doth need. Shakespeare is an
affluance. He rubbed off some on my purple prose. O God! how wonderful are Thy
works! Thou makest the rotting log to nourish banks of violets, and from the
stagnant pool at Thy word springs forth the lotus that covers all with fragrance and
beauty! Sonnet #3,000,745,001 OH LORDy
OH LORDy, howe wondrous is thy working beauty. Thou doth makest the rott sprout
violets from olden logg on water bank nearest stagnant pool whilst at Thy WORD the
lotus springeth forthwith to cover over all the smelling salts nearest hand to hold in
cuppboard bare the bone for elbert Hubbard gone. Hark the light from yonder glaring
glen forsook the frames the lenses now opaqued. Blind to world of beauty winter
paints a white mistaken ache in me. Amid the bones of whited elephaunt skunks
rome near me to harken when the crow calls daybeak come. Caw the raven quoth.
God forbode a man, that an Englaisman should tell or act a lie, neithor the Son of
GOD my Jesus, that He should feel repentance or compunction [for what his Father
has promised]. Has He sayeth, and shall He not say on? Or has He spoken and shall
He not make it gooder. Oh LORDy. For the reasoneth He stays upon His bethroned
placement is quite evident for iff GOD were to walk the Earth as a mere man in sight
of all this assembled Heathorns even for just one day twold make us all so jealous of
the miricles in the clay. For Jesus could open up his hand wiht a plott of dirty clay
and make a violet blooming say. Oh Lordy.
the radio alarm clock
pull into parking space
sunburn in the spot
gathering rays to erase the poison
a trade secret to
tastily treat one's self
take the high road
the shady street
the path less traveled
which one matters little
in comparison terms with
the reward, the apple, the brain food, the
there at the fingertips
< I have dipped my pen in the sublime, it's my gift to you
Now use it wisely and write about some captioned caught views
thus that of an snow-capped mountain with an eagle that soars
or white sandy beaches where ribbed tides rolls back to it's shores
maybe stars and moon dance reflecting off stilled bay's port
in ones head you must determine choice of words to now sort
from beautiful to just pleasure does not hit it's mark
beneath recant memory that caused the ignited spark
observer of denial you can not destroy ones voice
within pens stroke there comes a poet with another choice
seize the day and come bow to the chosen word of the day
dont let an overpowering object just get away
Written By Katherine Stella 6/26/11
Entry For A Rambling Poet's
Writing In The Sublime
My constant reader, you are my only muse for clear views;
I`m happy to amuse,
But sad enough, if inspired clerihews
Have no other use.
Gathering grey clouds
Whip crack of frothing thunder
Is this Africa?
What is it to see the soil of home again?
A welcome, snow-struck and a return
To cold; sharp white contrasts sunburn.
We converse in broken tongues to men
We know, hooked on holiday language
Comprised of wandering hand signs.
Collect the car and pay parking fines,
Drive through towns and over a bridge
Until we reach the Western gateway.
Oh when will we arrive at our house?
No camels there, only field mouse
Which are eaten by our cat anyway.
The plane flies for an age, slyly yawning
Through the stretching, pealing sky,
A knife through air; what it is to fly.
Our travels over; a new day is dawning.
inspiring, alluring, fulfilling.
Buy one at your book store, or get one at your public library:
fascinating, thrilling, educating.
Everybody knows that it's against the law for grown men and grown women to date all of the underage boys and girls,. let alone a 14-year-old boy or a 15-year-old girl. The law also states that any adult who tries to have this so-called "intimate sexual relationship" with any of the underage boys and/or girls would likely go to jail for a period of time and upon release, they'll have to be register sex offenders for the rest of their lives. It seems that those teen girls would rather date men in their 20's or 30s than guys their age and those teen boys would rather date women twice their age than girls their age, as well. but luckily, their parents (the mothers and the fathers) are here to prevent these so-called "May-December" relationships from ever happening, especially when they're protecting their teenage offspring from dirt-bags like these would-be pedophiles. But no matter what the parents do, no matter how hard they try, their teen sons and/or daughters, they secretly continuing dating older men/older women, even at night (midnight, 2 am, or 3 in the morning, e.g.). And the next thing everybody knows, their parents, they will have found out about it; thereby finding them in bed with the adults; their parents should make multiple police reports and pud the cradle robbers behind bars for good. Boy this is starting to look like an episode of "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit" (Season 6-Episode 19-Intoxicated featuring Danielle Panabaker) and an episode of "Snapped," especially when Sarah Johnson killed her own parents in cold blood because she was afraid that the late Mr. and Mrs. Alan and Diane Johnson would send this guy name Bruno Santos to prison or have him deported back to Mexico for statutory rape (by way of dating a then-16-year-old girl). There's no way that those teen boys and teen girls are ever going to get into a bunch of serious, intimate relationships with a bunch of would-be cradle-robbing adults. They need to concentrate on their education and they need to be with guys and girls their age. I mean, one teen boy dating a n adult female? One teen girl dating an older man? My God, their parents will be seriously upset about this. Who on Earth would be dumb enough to fall for an older woman or an older man? And if these would-be pedophiles in the form of grown men and women even attempt to rob these teen boys and girls of their innocence and whatnot, the parents are going to have a problem up in here.
As but only one young lost man in a great land I sometimes don’t want to see what I see in life but death causes me to look. I don’t want to hear the things I hear but have to admit the things here that I’ve heard. I don’t want to be guilty today it’s why I continue to strive past my past for innocence in the near future. I don’t want to feel what I feel but after another day in this dark place has gone by I can’t hide what I have painfully felt. As but one young man I wonder why I question others motives and still can’t see the answers to my own as if I know all the answers to life when I don’t even know the true cause of my own. I wonder why I am happier at times but more often than not why I continue to be sad. I look for ones in groups of twos and get lost in groups of threes, but don’t get even me started on the groups of fours. On the outside world I am lost yet inside myself I know I am found, I holler silently at night while I quietly pray during the day. As but only one young man I can only do what is best for self-first if I want to start making a difference for two.
Sometimes life for one can be fun, but on the reservation more often than not it is boring and dull. On the reservation I found serenity and solitude in the hills but I also found old savages and young Satan’s in the towns. I see beauty and peace in Mother Nature but I also found violence and ugliness among my very own in the neighborhood. I see not what I see and I think not what I think for I feel what I see which leads me to think. I choose rather to just be rather than not be what other people want me to be. I see what I see because I haven’t really got a choice in what I will see, I’d rather choose to just say that I saw. Outside people can’t make one see what I already choose not to see for I see what I see rather if they want me to see things their way or not. I can’t feel what they feel unless they feel what I feel and live where I live and be where I am to know where I truly am from to understand the thoughts and feelings of not only a young native of struggle, but as a person worldwide no matter the skin color.
Unknown friend immerses
In my fullerene verses,
And finds four allotropes forms…
We can swim beyond the storms.
Pop may be catchy
But not lyrically deep
Case in point: Chris Brown.
(N.B. Poem written after hearing "Don't Wake Me Up")
Unexpected Peers (An acrostic ode to Poetry Soup and it's members)
I haven't been on this site long, but many of you have already made me feel
welcome, and, moreover, like I belong. I'm finding myself as inspired as I have ever been
to keep writing, and to keep growing as a writer, thanks to your support, your contests,
and your own original posts. This is, truly, a special community.
Thanks for allowing me to become a part of it.
To Dine, To Die;
While thunderous eyes
Grasp concepts to recycle.
Constant debt crisis
A political paradox
Grating social devices
Over the sorting of socks.
An endless groan
The debate grants no throne.
Over a roast
Potatoes won't listen
To who talks the most.
"That point is so interesting"
The floor is open for chat
"What is real?" not a thing
"Meow" adds the cat.
I live in a place striving for sobriety surrounded in alcohol looking for happiness trapped among our very own sadness. I hear my people’s laughs and I hear my people’s cries, but most of all I see their dreams because their dreams are my dreams because we remain not against each other today as enemies but hidden friends united through culture, language and blood. I laugh with my people and of course I cry with my people and I fight with my people but most of all I continue to dream with my people. I know who I am and where I am from to know where I been to still hope to where I am going to go. I feel darkness engulf not only myself but also almost my entire reservation’s race, no matter mixed or not because soon our culture and language will have no face without any more light to shine upon it. I know where I lived and still live to know if I will truly go where I truly want to go in life before I have my one walk with death. I know by a long shot that I am not the best but by a close hit on the reservation’s target I could be better.
I take a stand against self to stand against others to better a worsening crowd of many young lost indigenous souls waiting to be unknowingly found and waiting for something similar to what I’m about to write. I take a stand for self so that others know that we aren’t all lost and we can and will be found with the true hope of no one’s but your own. I take a stand because my brothers and sisters wont, I take a stand because now days most the people around me or within me can’t or don’t know how, I take a stand for the children who don’t have a father and mother as I once had, I take a stand for my unborn child almost here, I take a stand for courage because within me is filled with fear, I take a stand against because the alcohol and drugs within me now I just can’t stand, I take a stand for those around me who cannot stand, I take a stand for a culture dying on its knee’s trying to get back up, I take a stand for the forsaken yet to be forgiven self-stand.
I patiently wait, lying away in the darkness searching for light even though I can see the light I just don’t know how to get on thy path to the light. I am not alone, I know for a fact that I am not alone in my thoughts and feelings about life on earth here. I can see our pain, I can hear the hollers and screams, I can feel your anguish and I can smell our destruction. I walk through the reservation valley of darkness as if I am but a blind witness to our own destruction upon where many of us go unknown truly forever in depths of time, in the depths of death.
I know that I cannot give in or give up on a dream of a people’s dream where the buffalo in our young hearts and minds may roam around free and where the wolf warrior chief may rise above all odds and become thy greatest modern day warrior, the people seek him, the people crave him, the people need him, the people need someone to rise if not geographically the worldwide mentally.
‘Edgar Allan Poe … ’ (Classical-Tribute) 64th Senryu
Edgar Allan Poe ...
Master of Scary Suspense
The Raven … The Pit and The Pendulum
House of Usher … Annabel Lee , etc.
(“She Walks In Beauty, Like The Night”)
one of my favorite poetry-lines
I've knelt on mats of reeds to idols,
that we revered with pious trust.
They fell to near obscurity,
and now they mingle with the dust.
I've of chiseled and scraped from the tablets
my deep deliberate curving ruts,
to weather out times ruthless passage,
carving out my eternal cuts.
Indelible, and yet delicate
and considerably few,
consider all of what you see,
for they purely belong you.
Life for many of us around here isn't always about winning,
because where Im from, it's almost always about losing.
We learn more from our simple failures and mistakes than we do about our greatest acomplishment's.
Failure for us is like our greatest teacher.
Sometimes you have to lose, but I know it doesn't mean I have to stay beaten with failure, all it means is that I too am no better than you and I too am as prone to failure as you if not moreso, so around here it's never about winning.
I'm against teen pregnancy because it's a waste of time and energy. I'm against teen pregnancy because it'll alter the future of all teen boys and teen girls. So, every day, the parents had to tell their teen daughters to not get knocked up, and their teen sons to not get the girls pregnant. But no matter what the parents do to prevent their teen sons and teen daughters from ever being parents at an early age, let alone 15, no matter how hard they try, their teens just won't listen. It's bad enough that the moms and the dads have to just suffer, thereby being grandparents this early. Plus, it's a heartache for almost everybody. It seems that the backs of every mom and dad have been turned, even when their teens are going to an unsupervised party, filled with underage drinking. The next thing everybody knows, those teen boys and teen girls will have had unprotected sex and in less than 72 hours, those girls will have been either gotten STDs, or have gotten pregnant. After the babies are born, all teen boys and teen girls will have been stuck with their kids for life, which means no more going to parties, no more going to the movies, no more going to the mall, or any of that kind of stuff. Definitely no more hanging out with friends. Those teens will have to go to school, to work, and raise their children at the same time. And what's making everybody sick is that those teen guys are refusing to help their girlfriends raise their children. After all, those womanizing jerks, they got those underage girls pregnant. And the next thing everybody knows, all of the infants that those teen girls, who will have given birth to, will have taken over the planet by the year 2015. Those teen girls, they should've kept their legs closed and kept their clothes on. Those teen guys, they should've used condoms. And mostly, those teen couples, they should've waited until after their education was completed and they'd gotten married. This is starting to look like episodes of "Teen Mom" and "16 & Pregnant" on MTV and those paternity shows on "The Maury Povich Show." Now I know why I never became a father at an early age, let alone 13 or 17; it would’ve made both of my parents so devastated and seriously depressed. And if teen pregnancy continues to wreak havoc on every teen boy and teen girl in America, their parents and their futures, they’re doomed. No children until after education is finished and marriage.
there are those that need
structure even in their art
for me, I'll write it
however it comes to me
sorry if it don't fit
in your poetry
mold, keeps me from growing old
you wouldn't want that
so write your tight 'lil
lines and I will still write mine
hopefully we can
share some dreams and things
and for each of us it will
still be very real
Yeah I walk around life waitng for death/
I live in constant despair looking to be blessed/
Lies over truth around here always seem to infect/
The more sin I get in life the more saintly I seems less/
Im trapped in same dark place ;looking for a lighter quest
I try and live a life full of goodness still trapped in badness I am yet to confess/
I try and hold onto what seems like something but theres nothing really but family left/
I know I am not he best, nor am I like the rest/
I know I can master checkers but still downed in chess/.
I got to clean up my act because my life is a mess/
I patiently sit back while I ponder life for death and I wait/
I might as well look for something simple because I never find nothing great/
I struggle to stay under love and over my own hate/
I try and be real with others when to my own self I stay fake/
I feel life obstacles jolt my ambition like a chain that never breaks/
I want less more in life yet as a daily sinner I continue to both physically and mentally take/
I try and change my dark ways but still struggle at the fact that it might be too late/
I usaully catch myself complaining when infact I should be thankful for whats on my plate/
I usually hang onto the past and get scared of the future when I should worry about today/
I going to be that better man for my child because that sinner no longer in my heart I aint/
Sometimes in life we all struggle until we strive, but until then Im trapped between a young lost SINFUL SAINT........
Yeah I know my life may be broken but yet my purpose in my life is still bound/
Im picked up by Jesus everytime Im lower than dirt burriend alive underneath the ground/ I look for signs, I look for meanings, I try and hear something great but cant hear no sounds/
I look like S&^t, I look like a clown/
I know life aint no joke, aint no game because a lot people I seen last decade and last year are no longer around./
I was lost in lies until I found truth, I was lost in prison until appreciating freedom in me was found./
IM know I still got purpose for broken life that is bound...........
The Olde Druidic Elven Way
'for ever words were writ
the rhyme and rhythm
helped us see
the shape and taste
and need indeed
of apples yet unbit
To help a man be what he is
alone in all his glory
to know what's right
and use his right
of individual freedom
is the well point of the story
painted words of admiration
to hold the beauty of our life
in constant view to help him see
The shape and taste
the need in deed
of apples yet unbitten
Life as a lonely lost poet bred from dark cracks
Lost soul living plain and simple among the people black and white
Drug along with alcoholic among us distracts
Lost values and principles around one many continue to lack
Everyday simple facts, its like breathing through plastic sacks
Slowly suffercating until the brain goes wack
Once death comes my way I must keep it part of my past
Aint no way God going to bring my little brother back
I guess its a curse upon all those of us living like outlaw of an outcast
How the **** will I ever truly outlast until I heal and break out my cast
God cant you see Im tired of wearing this permanent mask
I know my poetry has hidden answers if I look and read closer so I shouldnt have to ask
Staying lost is a choice in the open road with no gas
So as a lost poet through hardships now and in the future I will outgrow it
The devil trying to get my soul and behold it
but I know only this one man controls it
Its too priceless for even my own greed to have sold it
So as a lost poet I will climber higher than high if not then right below it
Found in a world of lies with few truths as but another lost poet
The day Captain Concorde did come to my school,
Was the day I first came to love poetry,
Before that day all poems were dull and not cool,
Or at least that was how it did seem to me,
I was only a kid of seven or eight,
And my grasp of poetry wasn’t so great,
But as with all children I knew what was fun,
And that includes a poet called Paul Cookson.
We all piled into the assembly hall,
And waited for our guest poet to arrive,
I didn’t know what to expect from this “Paul”,
But never could my mind have dared to contrive,
A man in a cape with a plane on his nose,
Who started to spout the most humorous prose,
And there he stood, boxers over his trousers,
We all could have listened to his work for hours.
He told us of this superhero’s story,
Then upon the class’s demands for some more,
He told us of his old teacher, most hoary,
And mimicked his walk down the school corridor,
He changed my own views of verse and I know it,
And so I’d just like to say to this poet,
You sparked inspiration within me, it’s true,
Captain Concorde, Paul Cookson, I salute you!
For Russell Sivey's Poetry about Poetry contest 8th January 2013
Words Gone Rag
what a pity
college grads have lost their words
grab at every
prep they have
don't know what the trouble is...
at computers they can whiz
don't know what will happen next----
whatever it is
will be found
A new way
To express our thoughts-
Share our mathematical hearts
My Life proves worthwhile
As chemotherapy invades
Poetry in math
Lessons from the pain and healing
There's always an issue with teen pregnancy. And when watching "16 & Pregnant" on MTV,
still on the air, this "wanting-to-be-a-parent-at-an-early-age" thing has gone way too
far. This show's about teen girls, who got pregnant at the ages of 14,15,16,and/or 17.
They had their hopes and dreams in tact, but all of them have been put on hold. One of
those dreams included being a lawyer, doctor, or whatever. MTV's "16 & Pregnant" means the end of
one's so-called "social life." It means no more going to the movies, no more going to the
mall, no more going to exclusive parties, nothing. There was no way that these teen girls
were to be mothers at an early age. They needed to concentrate on getting their high
school diplomas and their college degrees, and then have kids. There was no way that these
teen boys were to be fathers at an early age, either. They needed to focus on their
futures, like going to college. Those teen couples, they should've used condoms. Now I
know why I never became a father at an early age, let alone 13 or 17. Some teen couples
should've waited until both teen parents had finished their education and they were
married. But despite all of the drama and the stress, I still think that all teen moms are
doing a good job, raising their children. And if "16 & Pregnant" were to stay on the MTV
network for at least two (2) more seasons, that would be great, but teen pregnancy has got
to stop. No children until after marriage.
‘ William Shakespeare … ’ (Classical-Tribute) 65th Senryu
One and Only Clear …
Oh, William Shakespeare ! …
Who is in charge of our children's education?
What happens when parents don't do their job?
When children have no sense of reading, writing,
till they hit that school room head on?
Who is responsible to initiate, ingratiate, the word,
so language is understood from infancy and
not suddenly at five years old when
communication receives the attention it deserves?
Parents stand up and take notice
schools do not provide the only source
You are your child's first teacher
You are the one who gives him voice.
From you he will learn expression
From you he will learn who he is
From you he will learn his roots
Give him your love and attention.
Provide an environment filled with books
A place where reading takes precedence
Instill in him a joy for learning
With gentle hand and loving looks.
Model the love of learning
read on your own or with
till without even knowing
he'll develop a yearning
to know, to explore, to evaluate
all there is and more.
Did you note –
The more you know
And note the much you don’t
The more you note
joy of written word
Here comes the festival again
‘For the joy of written word’
There comes a time when
My excitement is limitless
Like the little children I bloom
Noting sweet than a book I see
Nothing joyous that words I read
Here comes the festival again
‘For the joy of written word’
The world of books & words
The festival of writers & words
In the cultural capital it comes
I prepare like the joys of Eids
Make list, spreading the news
Along with the friends i prepare
New faces to meet, new books
Authors, poets & writers
Young and old to meet
New cultures to discover,
New words to learn
A festival unlike in red deserts
A festival of million books
A festival of billion thoughts
Beating in my heart with joy
Here comes the festival again
‘For the joy of written word’
Dedicate to Sharjah International Book Fair - 2011 #SWBF
This trade show is held in Expo Centre Sharjah during 16 Nov 2011 to 26 Nov 2011
Those teen moms are and/or will have been up to no good, especially by going to unsupervised parties, doing drugs, and stuff. They had their babies not too long ago, but they continue their out of control ways, including by way of neglecting their own offspring? I mean, who in the world does that kind of stuff? It seems that the parents (thee mothers and/or the fathers) really should've kept their teen daughters locked up in their rooms and on top of all that, those underage girls, they never should've been teen mothers to begin with. On top of all that, those teen girls were supposed to concentrate on their education instead of messing around with those womanizing fiends. There's always a problem with teen girls-turned-teen mothers; they’re always having unprotected sex with multiple guys, drinking alcoholic beverages (vodka, beer, and rum, e.g.), using illegal drugs, and stuff. All teen girls should be ashamed of themselves, not taking care of the ones who’ve brought them into God’s green Earth. The only ones who’re responsible for getting those teen girls pregnant, thereby bringing the infants to this world are those dead-beat teen fathers. It’s their fault. They did this. They brought those kids into this world. What those teen girls should’ve done was to have told their loser boyfriends to use condoms, otherwise they never would’ve gotten pregnant. Not only have those out-of-control teen mothers put their own families at risk with their reckless behaviors, they also put their own children at risk, and it’s got to stop right here, right now!Those teen girls, they shouldn’t be mothers at an early age, let alone 13 or 17 and they definitely shouldn’t be putting their own children in a dangerous environment, thereby being harmed by those cold-blooded gang bangers and/or drug-dealers. The reckless behaviors of all teen mothers will have gotten their own children killed or worse. The employees of Child Protective Services and the local police are going to hear this. Everybody’s seeing multiple life sentences in the future and those teen mothers should not just be stripped of their parenting rights, they should also lose custody of their children. It’s making everybody sick just thinking about it. And if this type of ordeal continues to go on, it’ll lead straight to destruction. All teen guys, use condoms! All teen girls, keep your legs closed! And all teen lovebirds, keep your clothes on! No children until after education is completed and marriage!
Wars, famine and pestilences.
Death comes with a pension.
Poor people in this country.
Poverty all over, feeling empty.
Diseases spreading all over the globe.
Some mutated, some foretold.
Global warming sends a warning.
No one listens, it keeps on moaning.
Clean water becoming undrinkable.
Poisoning into the unthinkable.
Beauty that the world once held.
Destroyed by only a single shell.
Threats of war, they will come due.
A price to pay, because we are cruel.
Extinction presages as our future.
If we don’t all heed the bigger picture.
Terrorism is the world's axis of evil.
World in court, everyone is blameful.
We must be meaningful and do our part.
It's never to late to have a change of heart.
I be frum brooklin
And I bee edumacatid reel goode
En iff uz wanna bee sefistikated lic mee
end Gawd weil bee wit uz
en ween u finde Hiem
asc Him 2 drope buy me's.
THE GUINEA BOOK-PIG
At four she was a guinea pig
For a rising college geek
‘Cause the kid was talkative
Perfect brain to take a peek
So the testing started there
Little questions never ended
Hungry little mind was bright
Former life was now suspended
Didn’t jazz and didn’t play
Let her mournful dogs run wild
Didn’t swing and didn’t climb
Became a different, sober child
Read newspapers, wanted more
‘who is what and what is why’
Annoyed the neighbors and her cats
‘tell me how to testify!’
Reading things beyond her years
‘here’s a book, now zip it up’
No one paid attention what--
So she read to fill her cup
In the summer age of seven
Brother studied long and hard
Morte D’Arthur spent the night
Flashing with his mighty sword
Dashing all the summer long
With the heroes of the Table
Rode and battled, saved the day
Brushed her horse in Arthur’s stable
Ulysses sailed in close behind
Wicked Sirens plied their trade
Then a buddy left a Fleming
Full blown sex was then displayed
So she passed the books around
To the friends who had no sources
Little girls with Barbie dolls
played at passion and divorces
What a start to what a life
Wouldn’t have it changed a bit
But if Mother would have known
Certain she would have had a fit.
By Victoria Anderson-Throop ©
November 30, 2012
I do not know?
In the several centuries
Before the coming of Christ
The Jews in Palestine re-examined
Eliminated some of the books
From existing collection
As not in harmony with the Law of Moses as
Of doubtful inspiration
The Pharisees set up four criteria
Which their sacred
Books had to pass
In order to be included
In the revised Jewish Canon
(1) They had to be in harmony with the Pentateuch (Torah or Law)
(2) They had to be written before the time of Ezra
(3) They had to be written in Hebrew
(4) They had to have been written in Palestine
From my thoughts on the paper in which it lies,
My everlasting passion is inked as it dries.
The way I feel inside, you might want to spy,
But if you pry, how will my lyrics surprise?
A song for thought will only leave a thought.
May sound difficult, but that’s just how I talk.
I was lost, but I found me.
Dreaming and believing that writing was my key.
The way it flows and the way that it goes pumps me to speak
the very thoughts that many minds chose to keep.
Many rocks I’ve kicked and many decisions I’ve made.
Any wrongs I take the blame.
Tic-tac-toe is only a game.
I plagiarize your eyes with the notes that I’ve taken,
A high note here and a low note there-
You’d swear I’m in your head when my song hits your ear.
Pain recognizes pain
And I’ve have my share of bandages.
My vibes from life heals the permanent damages.
Thoughts of a Songwriter,
Reaches farther beyond the beat,
Over the lyrics on the sheet,
Not only is it about the speech,
But more of what the message seeks.
True enough a theme is touched and a heart is rushed.
With the mind-throbbing picture disappearing
Through the ink of my pen and revealed through your lens,
You can’t hear me, but do you feel me?
I cherish my talent and where it could possibly sweep me.
My doubts and my worries are beneath me.
I love for brighter days and pray for more things to pave.
Call my life my number because its infinite.
Thoughts of a Songwriter,
My mentality drips it.
is a farce
a blue excuse
with no good reason
an open ended discussion
no reason to join them
at the North Pole
is a temptation
a black rose
in the hand of the wicked
it’s okay to be lazy
is an imaginary friend
of the desperate
feasting on your company
and the smell of your beauty
is a weak hoax
marinating in dumb
a submissive idiot
who barely exists
so leave him alone
is fine without you
let him be single
You are better
without the mix of his device.
Having autism has been the greatest thing that has ever happened to every boy, girl, man, and woman, especially that of a three-year-old. It has made a positive impact on people who'd been born with or had been diagnosed with autism since day one. Being autistic means accepting for who he and/or she really is, especially when he or she's around a bunch of open-minded people. What everyone, including me, also learned about having autism is when we're living in our own worlds and the real world at the same time. Children, teens, and adults with autism can function in the real world, even in public places, especially when they're going to school or work. What I also learned is that people can go after their dreams like being a politician, a lawyer, or whatever, even if he and/or she has autism. God has made us the way we are, and I think that having autism has been the greatest thing that has ever happened to all of us, even when I was three years old. It doesn't matter if he and or she has either autism, autism spectrum disorder, or Asperger's Syndrome, we're all still human. The whole world should know that being an autistic human being is great and no one should judge us just because we, as humans, have autism, autism spectrum disorder, or Asperger's Syndrome. The fact that day in and day out, for the past few years, people with autism, including me, have proven the board of education and those nay-Sayers wrong, even in the classrooms in all of the schools nationwide. Nothing could bring us down. Even though we have autism, we're still His children. The parents should be proud of the fact that they've raised us well, even if we have autism or any other disability. There's also a good chance of people getting into serious relationships and getting married, regardless of one person having autism. And if all of the friends and families have accepted them for who they really are, other people should be more accepting, too. I have autism, mild MR (mental retardation), and OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) and I'm also proud of the fact that I'm still human.
Understanding the new generation.
They have their own language.
Their own new meanings to the same words.
They have their own communication + lingo.
Has it not been the same with each new
generation in history?
They discover a new style that is shocking
to the older generations.
Adjoining generations seem to listen
to each other.
At which point do the generations do not want
Where is this gap?
Spelling is different for the same words.
A lot of abbreviated text is used.
There seems to be an absence of books amongst
dvds + cds.Has this interior design element
Is there a new dictionary to accommodate the
Or is this just how life is?
I apologize, for all writes.
At least once, I broke someone’s rights.
That’s why freedom of press.
Nothing written, make lonely nights.
Words written will always start fights.
Be aware, don’t suppress.
Sponsor Barbara Gorelick
Contest Name APOLOGY ACCEPTED
‘ Write: Because You Love To Write … ’ 58th Senryu
Read: For More Insight
Write: Because You Love To Write
Speak: Invite … Unite
knobby-knee’d, toes that stop
bend and pick up
penny, marble, rock
on concrete, begging, for me to turn around
for one more try
Those that show actions
Are truly powerful to all,
One word that is widely abused shows no taste at all.
One word is foul, shows lack of education, no use in public, word of no power.
I can't say the catty word, much less ******?
I can say dick, prick, hard on anything but the anatomical *****?
Isn't it weird there's a lotta guys named after *****es
and very few women (I don't know one) named after ******s?
I do not know?
You think Christ is not hurt
With loving what you thought is Christ
Loving Christ is being in His true Church
In Catholic or Roman Catholic you are not condemned but saved
In His Church
Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults
Is like a college Religion class
You will learn the truth
In other man-made religion bible are lies
What you’re reading is really the true Church
Not your own
It’s like a blind
Leading another blind
They would both fall in hell of fire
It is not the minister’s fault
Your own, rather take them with you
Both of you learn the truth
For every man they can be a deacon
Bishop and Priest are not with a wife
For Jesus Christ is a High Priest
Only Son of the most High
In RCIA, you will receive 3 important Sacraments
Holy Eucharist or the Body of Christ
We want God to be pleased with us
Eternal Father told the people
To Listen only to the Messiah and
The One I sent
What are these Christ like churches?
Non Catholic churches?
People in there are already condemned
Being in Catholic or Roman Catholic, you are saved
Curator rings last bells
Closing for the night
In a deep dark sea
Behind blackened windows
Lies shelves in mystical infatuations
Where rare tomes must dwell away from modern day
Among ancient particles of manuscript saturation
Mysteries here they have no end
But, initiate in the middle of a murder; suicide
Drama, gradually unfolds as volumes friend
Forever reaching into mind
But, when romance grows placid or even thinks to die
That’s when passion for adventure begins
And the creator’s world comes to life
Swashbuckling across the places
Of both space and time
Islands are the pages
Where all are meant to be
But, the concern is for that something
A hope, for enlightenment inside thy keep
It’s a hand that simply chooses wise
Either, mingled fantasy or truthful care
A will to be cast away or thrills abound
Is the self among folios rare
Become the one held captive
Adrift in compelling song
Following upon knowledge
A walking traveler
That soon, will begin to run
Do them justice
Merely, turn a page
Of any book
To write a play of dignified style,
does challenge the poetic mind.
Do tell me all your life stories,
and may they be not so boring,
that they choke our viewers with their own drool.
An instrument of beauty,
poetry is art at its best
with its verses of passion
penned with love
in assorted and variegated
with sublime and
aesthetically satisfying flow.
It is a creative exposition
that unfolds and enlightens
with enchanting constructs
the demonstrative and
of language by utilizing,
promoting and bestowing
the nature and power of words.
Proclaiming ideas and ideals
of principled excellence
with creations anew
and history of old,
poetry exhibits an appetite
for knowledge and wisdom
and a profound propensity
for purposeful revelation
with an insatiable desire
for intimation and meaning
displayed with heartfelt emotion.
With its aspiration to show case
in magnificent scribal splendor,
poetry entices and compels
the artist and consumer
to explore and transcend
imagination and intrigue,
and solicit introspection
with unfathomable penetrating thought
that is calmed by grace and elegance.
Philosophical and spiritual,
entertaining and healing,
poetry commands laughter and tears
or sorrow and joy,
Its clamorous and powerful
phonologically expressive morphemes
can awaken and stir passion and romance
or summon logic and reason.
resplendent in wisdom,
and expresses grief.
is the nature and
the majesty of poetry.
A mind will listen by expanding
knowledge to learn; or explore
In these teachings of technology
we figure out what we know is:
just A various combination of what
was programmed into our mind.
As time passes, we'll adjust to
evolve ourselfs into becoming
artificial intelligence; amoung
society and indulge it's greatest
Until they soon take mind; over
body and loose all self~control
to empower the world.
I will not be your robot to control,
I am my own individual person.
for Woody Guthrie - born:1912-07-14
brushing up on strokin' guitar strings
twangin' words 'bout work and the land
lyrically political of dust 'n' things
not feared to sing 'n' take a stand
so long, it's been good to know yuh
so long, it's been good to know yuh
so long, it's been good to know yuh
an' he was a driftin' along
totin' six-string Fascist killin' machine
travelin' to the west coast shores of sand
singin' loud across fields gold 'n' green
as families struggle to feed mouth from hand
so long, it's been good to know yuh
so long, it's been good to know yuh
so long, it's been good to know yuh
Woody sings us America's song
wheat fields waving at ribboned highways
all the way across this beloved homeland
Woody sang songs of promises made sideways
to up 'n' blow away by uncaring command
so long, it's been good to know yuh
so long, been good to know yuh
so long, it's been good to know yuh
been so good to know yuh, so long
you've been around for all of our lives
we know your songs and are ardent your fans
with Arlo and others your legacy survives
to carry on singin' your musical stand
Woody weaves a hobo's lullaby so grand
so long, it's been good to know yuh
glory bound, been good to know yuh
so long, it's been good to know yuh
man it's been good to know yuh so long
© Goode Guy 2012-07-14
Oh constant Things! By Newton’s law of universal gravitation,
everything in the universe is attracted to
every other thing. If only the human heart
would obey this simple principle, there would be no need
for heartbreak, for pain, for mortal strife,
for impotent words that fall on no ears that matter.
I do not know?
I am giving up
The stress is past the point of throwing up
Every day the same routine
The repetition has become obscene
My hands are blistered, sore and torn
While my face looks old a worn
If my nerves are bent any more
I will snap at the middle and break at the core
Just a little break
To relieve me from more than can take
A rest for the weary is all I ask
A little relief from this stressful task
April this year
Writing and posting
Wow, it's all going fine
Miss Gorelick, Miss Devonshire
Welcomed me aboard
Two lovely ladies
Wow, this Highlander's scored
The feeling i received
Was very much more
Than i had dream-ed
The weeks progressed
As i wrote my poems
The comments by Carolyn
Had kept me going
As i wrote away
Topics and themes
Historical and nature
Subjects to me, supreme
As i read Carolyn's
And she read mine
Two peas in a pod
It springs to mind
And some even the same
Signals in harmony
Sailing the same plain
And look at us now
A collaboration couple
Our future in write
A poet double
Our poems together
Two heads as one
Look out for our postings
There's much more to come
My entry into Nathan Leccese's contest " Two Peas in a Pod "
A power adopting consent,
For the welfare of all,
To establish equality,
To provide opportunities,
To remove discrimination,
To break down the prejudice barriers,
To build a bridge on gaps,
So anyone a child, young,
Old, able or disable can walk,
Freely, with honour of a nation,
And can adopt a pride of safety,
And can provide security,
It is a lesson for everyone,
To protect society,
From Criminals, robbers,
Smugglers, gangsters, rapists,
For everyone’s share of happiness.
For a standard for living.
Slowly one’s life like my rich ancient culture slowly breaks down/
All parts of my traditional sculpture peace taken down/
I’m a twenty-first century reservation war camp inmate I don’t know why I keep getting the shake down/
I was once filled with change until I experienced the greed and money of the American influenced reservation hate now/
Life young was once but no longer great now/
I wanted to at least finish school or college or get a real job but it seems like it’s almost too late now/
With certainty I’m going to leave my hood but now people are telling me to stay now/ Jail keeps getting me but prison is not too far away to stay out/
Life’s road is to uncertainty is paved out/
Before me a path righteousness of opportunity laid out/
Like fast food , I’m surely on my way out/ Life’s ready for me now I better take out/
Fresh ready for a dip in the ocean’s lake out/
I’m mustn’t give in no more because where I’m from has taught me to make it a must that I take now/
Dreams are made every day but more often than not dreams continue to break now/
Life is a piece of steak it’s no longer a cake now/
Leaves scattered throughout my life I better grab the rake now/
I better hold my own because I know my soul called friends but especially family can still betray now/
This is my life, this is my destiny, this is my fate now/
I got to be more real with my life I got to stop trying to be fake now/
Because In the end where I’m from it all slowly like my culture, like my life around here ……its breaking down.
Books are a way of learning a trade
Books tell us stories, poetry, and plays
Books entertain our vast minds to the fullest
Books are in my opinion the coolest!
Books describe people of the past
Books are abundant at home and in class
Books bring home dragons and ghouls
Books aren’t apart of uneducated fools
Books represent a means to an end
Books are there when you haven’t a friend
Books are hard and soft sometimes
Books are in brail to educate the blind
Books will be here and with me forever
Books without you doesn’t bring us together
I do not know?
Hollow words have beauty
Hollow words are dead
Life has had no meaning
With hollow words' Godhead
So speak your lies
So scream in tongues
Your hollow cries
Are not enough
The world will turn a deafened ear
The world will turn a deadened fear
sundae, as ever, the first day of the weak,
in tradition, an hour, or a minute of silence…
silence, as ever, suffered no fool,
without conception, immaculate or no…
Alluring are all these things in life in
which one may become fond in
Calling upon all to climb up on their
own stage; free will regardless of
When it comes to receiving nothing
in life grants you knowledge more
than does reading
Engage in life to gain experience this
sets up a phase, be your own sage
Those of you who can come to
understand now is the time climb
up out of the sand
Tuning into one’s own inner yang,
requires one to hear the bells when
Believing that you sit in his right
hand one comes to realize that life
It all depends on the choice of
words which you cling they display
the song you sing
The Creator always comes to your
aide, no matter your individual
A clue to each and every perversion
exist inside all culprits arson
The sound of the first grenade is the
signal to the enemy; begin the raid
The soul is the intent to blacken in
the words discharged by these evil
In there attempt to acquire all
things delicious they embrace the
If one does want to recognize their
spin, all you have to is see how they
Why they stay so furious, their will
belongs to all things they find
Failing to see their despicable yin
leads all down the path of
There will be way far too few able to
pay the bill on the last day it is due
After relentless tearing your soul
will continue its everlasting searing
After you realize that there has been
a coup you will not all be able to sue
Tortured and tormented you are
now filet and sauteed burning
***** For the "Word Game
Contest" sponsored by Catie
ON TWO LEVELS
This tale of a child's dream,
Things are not all they seem-
An allegory in simple code
A parable dressed in modern mode
Of lion,witch and wardrobe.
WHERE AM I
YESTERDAY TODAY TOMORROW
When Each Be
I was time is here,and
just a child- like the first- my todays-
living in my seeing as a in the future
past child stays
8 LINES DOWN
When Autumn readies for harvest
not her full silos nor baskets imprest
not mellow vistas seen nor dressed trees, yellow-red
not Indian Summer's embrace nor late coloured flower beds
not Fall's living collage or wine newly pressed
not for walks in the woods or nature's largesse
but in thanksgiving ,daily blessed
for all the Lord's bountifulness
Listen to these three forms read aloud
I do not know?
A right became an unexpected left;
Nothing more important than subliminal
country miles that pulled me forward,
no destination or thought to why,
just my surprise. Some ten miles gone,
I felt a ray of grace; the reason
for this race, and as I chased a trace
of errant time – I thought of a line.
I felt a now in my existence,
and shared a smile with the corn silk
light that fed my way, and the wind
that blew the hair around my face.
A chance to share some thoughts of mine,
Within the realm of reason, street and rhyme.
Once upon a time, in Everyday,
the minutes and hours of the human
condition, the hopes and dreams, sadness
and screams, the cries of sedition,
the plight of the lost, intolerance
and ignorance, expressions of love
for country and man, were duly recorded
by a poet's hand, a composer who scored the lay
of the land. And mouth to ear, where needed,
we shared his composition, in celebration
of the word's intended mission-
food for thought. And then it stopped.
We gave poetry away to obscurity,
to the teachers of form and craft,
who slipped overboard in their zeal
to define the titles for the times,
of what is a "must read", for greed,
and intellectualizing need,
to feed their egos and their jobs.
With speed, they redefined
and refined the voice of inspiration;
imagination served with a mutant strain
of peas. Poetry beyond the realm
of good digestion, the cause
of painful indigestion in the mind.
They built a world of poetry,
that will never sing a child to sleep;
Mutant peas engender nightmares
in the young.
"I love the way my body moves when I read Seuss."
(For any traditional poet, this mom's good news)
"But what of street, the beat and passion;
the march of voices crying to be heard,
the visualizations from a well-wrapped word?
Can you read one and exclude the other;
is it all about the prize and what's in fashion?"
"No, it's about what I like. Last night,
I drank in Whitman's leaves, with a little
Shakespeare chaser. and tonight, I might
guzzle Ginsberg and savor Kerouac
like a fine wine in meandering
Who could disagree with her taste in words?
So I drank a little more Baudelaire and went
to sleep myself.
Let everyone know
whose on your lists
drop them a line this time to tell them
exactly where they sit on your favorites
let them know what their poem means to you while they are still alive
this is your interactive audience
your psychic sidekick
your spiritual inner workings guide
Let them know who is on your list
and then tell them to pay it forward and in a few more months
let it spiral out again
why sit in silence and never know
who your fans are
read up on them find their tastes
and pleasures and then help define them
Let me know please
who is reading me
tell me tell me
what poems of mine do you continually re read
the future we aim to touch
but if we don't work together to find out the present favorites
we might not ever know much
So teach me about my writing
who is my target audience of you
drop me aline so i can find
whose reading me and why
and what i can do
to entertain you
and the future in a better manner
so the competition will have a competitor in this corner
now please pay your favoritism forward
Rumble bars ~ the education
is slowing down to advocation,
a better choice, or celebration
this hereto reason of duration!
The poet's handle, co-relation
wants time to think, their own creation
is rhyme, is rhyme, its' innovation,
composite thought, for allocation!
We dinker here, we speed, then ration
what facts could flaunt, we're our own nation,
the poet's poet, the graced sensation,
all else gets caught by time's invasion!
Stop now ~ the sign is mind's abrasion
it must be taught, fine art's embraced run,
a line, so brought with meaning's phase one,
the poem, the wrought, soul's recreation ~
Is hereby drought . . . . spectrum's persuasion!
Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama)
Tuesday Lobsang Rampa made
tea so his Third Eye could open
to see dreams fortifying in aspiring hearts
as they reach for the next beat in their comings and goings
Socrates played the lyre by
banging on the strings while
humming and hawing about the trouble of
always stressing and straining against the chains
though he loved Phaedrus in the Symposium
it was Xanthippe that made him a muse
Hermann Hesse spoke in tongues
while translating the synapses of a goatherd
who arranged new ideas like glass beads
which almost always came undone
except when Siddartha played the lute
in exchange for his crooked staff
Nietzsche saw the cunning linguist
would never solve the puzzle of the dead body
which Zarathustra carried to his bed like a wolf
where he lay dying of syphilis wrapped
in the wool of many sleeping sheep
Sibelius finally gave in to the seduction of despair
when for many restless nights he looked up at the
stars in the same Elysian fields where
the goatherd lay asleep
Oh my she said what loquacity to speak to me that way in short she was being short which to me is puzzling with prolixity with her haughty grandiloquence to say what I find garrulous Her opinion also me thinks to be concise rhymes with logorrhea I apologize for my dear lady for any misunderstandings on your Part to be precise and to the point I am going to drag this sokal affair out into the open with all the facts with such verbosity that you will get the dust out your dictionary and contrary to public accurateness read and understand the word and not change it to appease itching ears Disclaimer I was not in intentionally trying to harm anyone I hope no one was hurt by a seemingly long rant
I do not know?
Art is art is Art,
and as such it will be confrontational to someone,
and will at some point in it’s existence,
piss someone off every minute of the day
( CLiPiCs AKA Kriss Lee: 03-06-09)
I have some comments on the alphabet--
This group of letters numbering twenty-six.
There seems to be some problems with it, yet,
They might not be the kind we’d like to fix.
The C, S, K, and Q can interchange,
The X, I’m sure, could quickly be replaced,
The G and J sometimes both sound the same;
The many sounds of vowels is a disgrace!
And what about the lonely W--
The only one with syllables to say--
It looks like double-V, that is quite true,
But not likely to be renamed some day.
The school kids would be thrilled, I’m sure, to death
If things were changed in alphabetic scheme;
There’d be no chance to give the child an “F”
If that one letter’s dropped from off the scene.
In zeal I could think of some more to choose,
But without some of its letters this would be
A poem with letters I could never use
Because somebody changed our A B C’s.
High Collared, face powdered
nose held high above
Up-righteous flag waving bible bangers
Living in shadows, ignoring
Urban decay, misshapen society
Talking about life in whispers
Because everything is too vulgar
For your poetic eyes to bear
"The beautiful things"
Blind to the beauty of the ugliness
Telling me, how to articulate correctly
To Hold my tongue, to stop my pen
Exactly at what angle, to brandish my sword
Don’t you see that it is a bit rusty, thin
But it’s here
And its right
you know for a fact that it pierces deep despite
All missing luxuries, an inner-city education
Lacking because People like you care too much about trivial things
Like deodorant commercials, Anna Nicole Smith and writing in ballots
For popular media icons
When popular media gets us in the mess in the first place
If people voted for representation that could fit the youth
And we got a better education in places where education
Is not the of utmost importance, instead of spending tax dollars
On the stupid, WAR that nobody wanted anyway
Up-Righteous flag waving bible bangers
Who backed out when the tough got going and things stopped
Working out for the Republicans
Perhaps I wouldn’t cuss so much
But I will, and I won’t ever
What the hell are you going to do about it?
I said Hell
Is that a curse word?!
Delete, delete, delete the damn thing
Erase a different perspective
this is a family site
So this shows me exactly how
Americans today hide the fact that the truth is hidden in cupboards
But it's okay to attempt to tell the truth
But only tell it's slant
The pretty side
"turn on the t.v so the Children can't hear her screaming profanities"
While the television blasts images gruesome and sickening
ideas that i shudder to repeat
This is a one way street
Get out of the way
To make way for a parade of different vulgarities
Sexually explicit prose and back ally spellings
Of the things I was not afraid to say
Correctly, in your face
I don't care if you comment this because i don't need another
"good write", when i know all i really write is garbage
If you like it, then it has to be
There are hundreds of profanity containing poems here
So I suggest you get that 21st Victorian rear into high gear
Because you sure have a whole lot of protesting to do
AROUND THE CLOCK
lost and found
gone with the
give ground to
END OF STORY
hangs a tail
Hear me recite this poems at POETIC FORMS A on youtube
Oh, the full, the precious words,
The darling letters, lighting gray,
Like thousands of thousands of baby birds
Come to carry my dreams away!
The pages waft, sweet and mellow
And spicy subtle scents of old.
Are they stained an aged yellow?
No. They've grown a glowing gold.
I know a man whose wrinkled page
Glows such a gold with passioned glee.
His face, though leathered and heavy with age
Seems all the more rare and beloved to me.
For the soul of a poet is forever unchanged
And the Pulse of the Bard yet floods his veins.
Night’s wings are silent swift, fleeing as Verse
dresses in red silk, luring away a mind
meant to finish preparations to nurse
literacy in the youth of mankind.
Mental acrobatics (and good balance)
fail as midnight slips by, stealing away
psychical worksheets unacknowledged chance
to increase children’s prowess in word play.
My intention is to write some prose
Why it comes out poems, nobody knows
I struggle, wiggle, leave me alone
As I sit happily writing a poem
Words are created and suddenly rhyme
I hardly revise them – I’ve not the time
Give up the idea of writing a book?
I feel I’m caught by a crook and a hook
Following rules as the semester unfolds
Smothers my brain; puts creating on hold
When I find a second that isn’t filled
I’ll write a poem, ‘cause I’m strongly self-willed!
Blog? Is that when your sink is clogged with blood?
At the arrival of the winter storm, stretching for a mile,
a bockout occurred in a rural town famed for its exquisite wine;
it became very dark as the lights went out in every house...
I felt scarier than a hopeless prisoner in bondage,
but an idea struck me while I stepped on a fleeing mouse.
And while the moonbeams filtered in invitingly, and the crickets sang me
their awkward melody...I couldn't live in darkness and feel safe!
The willows of the reef seemed phantoms moving towards me...
I had a red candle never being used and its glow could have safeguarded me;
at least, I would have had some light shedding on me to keep them away from me!
Didn't poets of long ago write by dim candlelight? Weren't they often taken by rage?
They used quills to make their work even harder writing in medieval style!
I wasn't expecting a return to the past...it could have caused a disastrous fire...
if I had fallen asleep! But for Heaven's sake, I lived for passion, not waiting to flee!
My sonnet had to be written throughout that time for my inspiration to survive!
Entered in Russell Sivey's contest,
" Candlelight "
Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama)
Deficient air I breathe in my lungs
In this world now I live, daddy's are careless
The children feeling helpless
Mother's have to play two characters
All I can see is the tears
That flow down their cheeks
Why am I disrespected by the one's who I look up to
I stick with my boys, because I never understood
Why girls constantly hate each other
I'm just a youthful girl in cold war
I'm constantly going through it
misjudgment and jealousy constantly bothering me
I'm just a youthful girl at cold war
Trying to fit in is so called being cool
Its just another word for being someone else fool
If they smoke, dislikes him or her
Then that person does the same
Now its all eyes on me so I have to go along too
Since I look at life at a different angle
I chose to go my own way
If my clothes ain't tight then he isn't going to like me
Being nice it's just a bad finish in the end
I guess I come last, some still say I'm just stuck in my past
As much as my pulverized heart been through
I learned to put off love as it corker, belittlement, and depressed me for years
I'm just a youthful girl in cold war
I'm constantly going through it
misjudgment and jealousy constantly bothering me
I'm just a youthful girl at cold war
Madam, you think you know
When knowing not you think no more
The surface speaks and shows
But the ignorance of those who come
By rules, or anxiety's sweet conceit
To find what they did not plant
But yet would reap from me.
Language is all our fault, the way
We borrow and use one another
Conforming to a simple drip
Of irrelevancy. I bring new meaning
Where sentence pause at broken lines
With unbroken multiply of new meanings
I bring fresh interpretations
To haggard images, metaphors are now
Conotations. You see, madam
You are superficial where I am
Full of respect for learned ignorance.
I beg you read more of me in better prose
That which, languishing, I contributed
On genre and aesthetics for rcher light
Two faces rubbing nose to nose
Have desires greater than a kiss
And yet can get nowhere without
Literally opening a literal door
To returned cathartisized
To the place their tongues went dry before
You too would naked come again
And shine the candle on a milked breast
I’m an ‘uneducated poet’
I wish I could go back in time
Big words and their meanings, I’d know it
Although I’m well versed in rhyme
Quite simply, the poems that I pen
Composed for the ‘uneducated’ man
I guess not up to the trend
Too easy to understand
So my hat’s off to judges and bards
Who understand what’s ‘written’ or ‘read’
but ‘uneducated’ me finds it hard
to decipher all that was said
Though I may not win any contests
I’ve read winners from finish to start
‘Learned’ poets and ‘unlearned’ at best
What’s written is penned from the heart
When I was yet in grade school, my teacher gave to me,
a task I thought most surely would be the death of me.
She ordered me to write a verse, in any style I chose,
I will tell you right up front that at her words I froze!
I thought long and hard on it, as any schoolgirl would,
still coming up with nothing did something no kid should.
There in my mother’s bedroom, stored on her bedside nook,
I found my dusty savior, ‘twas mama’s poem book!
I read until I found a poem anyone would think,
was ok, not quite perfect, one step above “what stinks.”
I began to jot it down, unaware what lay ahead,
she’d ne’er be the wiser as my pilfered poem was read.
As I wrote I altered words, for even I could see,
with just a couple changes, ‘twould sound the more like me.
The title seemed so boring, that I switched it as well,
now she’d think this poem was mine and say my work was swell!
Hot cheeked at her desk I stood, as her accusations flew,
suddenly, I don’t know why, my mouth began to move!
“This is really weird,” I lied, “as strange as it could be,
that this guy Mr. Kilmer would write so much like me!”
Sent home with a message, addressed to you know who,
it explained “our” little problem and what I’d have to do.
Red cheeked at the other end, I sat that very night,
when suddenly words emerged and I began to write!
Words floated onto paper, as I in anger vowed,
to write something much better than “trees whose heads are bowed.”
Mrs. Worth, though long gone now, I hope will somehow see,
how her dastardly assignment set my spirit free!
One thing to remember, should a harsh critique you read,
ignore what isn’t useful, accept that which you need,
never get discouraged if the kudos don’t come through,
‘cause even old Joyce Kilmer once had a bad review!
I do not know?
The overwhelming feeling of Indifference stems not from the originally thought overall
“not knowing” but in fact the opposite.
The feeling in truth reflects the rare inner sense that identifies a subconsciously known
necessary positive step that is ultimately the current correct action to take in one’s own
unique life path.
This correct action should ultimately interact with the positive steps forward of those
The feeling of Indifference holds the knowledge that the particular decisions made at said
given point are the incorrect fit to achieve overall progress or accomplishment
(a.k.a personal growth) and some rethinking and/or soul searching is in order.
At the point of newfound epiphany,
the known necessary positive step will become abundantly clear,
resulting in the replacement of Indifference with the feeling of Certainty.
Bra - Panties..
A bra is not a singular and panties is not a plural.
They are both nouns that I loved to endured.
I have been teased and pleased with these under garments.
They come in all shape and forms I know they are objects.
So what can we say about this common grammar error.
That’s mixed up in our English mixture.
I do not know?
The most important name of God in the Old Testament (Ex 3:14)
It can be translated “I AM WHO I AM”
For Jews as well as Christians
It designates the one God of the whole world
Their creator. Preserver
Covenant partner, liberator from slavery in Egypt
Judge and Savior.
just for a moment nothing mattered-
in the silence, quietness stirred
A spice of madness-
as in aging bodies-
adolescence lives on
within those we
if in God we
blessing as a
into those we
the beating of my heart,
alone,with my thoughts;
Without,I see the breeze,
slowly I awake,arise
to another day
Listen to me read these forms and others at
There is a ceremony
But not a time for bologney
Where I will be inducted
Into a program
One that I'm not sure serves ham
And I've heard it's one of the best
Along with other scholars
Some bearing a couple dollars
Will accept this invitation
With great emancipation
And this will look amazing
Not to mention far from cows grazing
On future high school applications
Along with my unique creations
So yes, I have a ceremony
Where no one will serve boloney
I hope you wish my luck
But do not mail me a duck
For I am to read my poem Followerª
And I hope I don't feel like a wallower
So yes, I have got to go
And get ready for my show
*NJHS - National Junior Honors Society
ªThis poem is included in my list of poems, although the one being read has some changes in it... I will make sure to post the revised one in a few minutes :)
I do not know?
REJOICE WITH ME BECAUSE I HAVE FOUND THE COIN I LOST LUKE 15:9
WHEN MY FRIEND CALLED to tell me the story of how she lost
One of her expensive hearing aids
It sounded similar of the lost coin
Diane described how she had taken care of 5 or 6 errands in a day
During that time she placed her hearing aids in her pocket
When she returned home
One of them was missing
Diane hurried back to all places she had been
Retracting every step she searched for the precious item
Her voice held such amazed joy and gratitude
As she related the moment of actually finding the tiny hearing aid
No wonder Jesus used a story of losing and finding something of value to describe the joy God has over “one sinner who repents
When I hesitate to let go of an old hurt
Avoid repenting of my wrong doings
I hope the memory of my friend’s enthusiastic discovery
Will nudge me to give the Holy One another reason to rejoice
Readings and Gospel
Romans 14:7-12, Psalm 27:1
Psalm 4, 13-14,
I do not know?
one plus four.
The letter E.
The month of May.
in sweet dreams.
is the digit
Excitement is running through my mind at this point,
It is hard to control so much
When something so honorable,
Happens to come across
For me personally,
It was the proposition
From a contest by,
World Poetry Movement
In which I entered in,
And received a letter back
Stating that my poem,
Had made it to the next level
But that is not all,
What's more is that they informed me,
That they were publishing that very poem
In a book titled "Stars In Our Hearts"
Which is to be published in August this year
I hope each and every one who happens to read this,
May read my poem "The Beat of the Heart"
In the book.
Eternal Father saw outnumber of people’s sins
Sad with what He created
He wanted to destroy the world
People hurting each other
Jesus Christ stopped Him
Told the Father He would go down to earth
Take People’s cruelty
To start His power over people
He told the Father people would understand
Just don’t destroy the world
Believed people to be one
Eternal Father searched a woman
To conceive and bear a Son
Angiel Gabriel spoke to Mary
You have found favor from God
Holy Spirit will shine over you
You are to name Him Jesus Christ
He will save people from their sins
To save destruction of the world
Jesus Christ created a Church
For People to be Universal
People don’t understand
In there people are saved
What are these other churches?
In there you are not saved
Don’t be fooled
By the Christ’s like religions
There is only one
Deal to the Father
Be Universal to His Church
To understand the Two Greatest Commandments
“Love God all your mind, heart, body and soul”
Second is “Love your neighbor as yourself”
When we love our neighbor, Covers the 1st Greatest Commandment
Other Churches are misleading people
Thought they love Jesus Christ
Person who created their Church
Was the person they believed and loved
Jesus Crist is very hurt
People don’t know in His Church
In others you’re condemned
Girl with a jug or necklaced
with pearls,lute and guitar
over the centuries seen from
afar.In intricate detail,a patient
design, of portraits in time.
These looks of love into
eternity’s mirror.Their beauty
his art with a delicate touch,now
frozen in time.Which muse shall
we choose,and which to lose.
Listen to me read this and others at this link
The bell denotes my presence and I breathe in all the must,
The old man sits amidst his books himself covered in dust.
I glance around -
Without a sound -
What will my hunting eyes expound?
My favourite place to visit full of wonders and old writing,
Such stories do they tell to me, before you even crack the binding.
A missing page -
Gold words engraved -
Intriguing, so I must engage.
I find the little hidey hole, past modern paperbacks,
An antique chair to sit and stare at what today’s world lacks.
A sense of style -
In rustic guile -
Enchants even the smallest child.
I run my hand along the row of books with golden lettering,
Experiencing all their worth, regretting what we’re forgetting.
They are our last -
Ancestral past -
They speak to us in volumes, vast.
They call to us from history and they ask us to remember,
Before they too become extinct, they are a dying ember.
Our legacy -
Where knowledge waits on scratched CDs.
In any country
From century to century
Living together of people
Strong and feeble
Has been of paramount importance.
Countries have different ways of association
Some live in a federation
Others in a confederation.
In each case,
The system of living together
Is guided by a document
Called a constitution
It is drawn by a group of selected people.
After the selected people have agreed
On a type of constitution
It is then presented
To the people of the nation
In a referendum.
In some nations,
The people signify their intentions
Through elected members
Who represents them in parliament.
Once the document is approved by the people,
Delegated by the people,
It becomes a constitution.
...A constitution is a document
That governs the way of life
And behavior of people
Of a nation.
A constitution can be suspended
In times of emergency,
The government of the day
Shall rule by degree
And not by acts of parliament.
All loyal citizens of a nation
Respect their constitutions
As they respect their race.
woke up this morning
to an epiphany
of how your world works
be the best you can be
the best human 3 coil double flusher you can be
at first i was upset
that i too could live up to such high standards
how could i ever compete with such human waste
when they practice being a walking talking waste of skin everyday
acting it out
and making more money just by practicing an old motto renewed
Thats the only power you have over me
to be or not to be
a huge clog in the toilet we know as life
and i could practice it
all day and all night
no point in dancing around it in denial
but that might make me worth something
if i could pull off the feat of unequal measure
and finding someone to label what they really are
and laugh at the fact that they are oblivious to how your world works
Practicing being a total waste of skin
and then blame it on someone else
and hang their dead baby off my neck
but nope i'm better than that
i can be the best 3 coiler double flusher i can be
without any practice
just human nature at this point
Act 1 scene 2
making one person living a lie
look like a good person
as the rest of the play is all about everybody competes for the reward of being a clog in the
toilet we call life
Song and dance
still the same glory
and yet soo many of you basking in your power
of who is or isnt in denial of how your world works
practice makes perfect i guess
no point in trying to change anything
just go dangle someone elses dead baby off your neck
an old motto renewed
be the best double flusher i can be
live it, sing it, paractice it to one day show the world their brand new lie
and next lesson of how to be succesfull at something
that will only come naturaly
From Greek laos = people
The common state of life in the church
Baptized, non-ordained Christians
Who belong to the people of God
By ‘grievous matter’ with regard to sin mean that the thought
Word or deed which is committed must be either bad in itself
Or severely prohibited
And therefore sufficient to make a mortal sin if we deliberately yield to it
trust in persons
to or believing in that persons
claim to have such confidence in thy self
Feel The Faith
I admit to have been influenced as Keats
by some remarkable poets who used unusual beats,
slowly delving into their very logical and intellectual minds...
so amazed by what they wrote despite their struggling times.
The first written poem came from Egypt: a hymn to Aron her god,
the Greeks copied the form and style with great skills:
Homer wrote the famous Odyssey, then the Romans
did the same and Virgil wrote, the long epic poem, " Aeneid. "
Who has ever doubted that my poetry isn't authentic?
It came from an unexpected idea that spread like wild fire at a very young age,
empowering my senses to feel, see, touch and hear without being too frantic...
by letting words flow as I stood by a river of knowledge.
My mind is empty but I can't stop the pen from bleeding continuously as I write the
actions I'm doing until my mind fills with something of interest only to spill out on paper
as if I were talking to the reader letting them see every motion, opening their mind to
display all 5 senses as I describe them, feeling each word almost to where it can reach
out the paper and touch you with the knowledge of all sounds, sights, movements, and
hopefully taking the brush of your imagination and literally painting the picture for you,
hopefully showing you the very aspect of another situation in someone else's life that
might be either unknown to you completely or in resemblance to a experience of your
own, and as the story ends I leave you with the choice to wonder why I felt the need to
tell you that at all or investigate what you read as more than text entertainment. -
Have you ever felt
You were born decades too late?
Centuries too soon?
Well, maybe you were...
To bring back old landmarks or
Usher new knowledge.
So, let history
Repeat its lessons through you
Or write your own books.
Poetry Soup Group
This is quite a group,
the people at Poetry Soup.
They make me feel
like a part of their troop.
No matter how much bad
poetry I enter in their contests
they still encourage
me to write until I poop!
The State of the
group at Poetry Soup
Is that it’s a great
place to regroup,
Eat soup and write
poetry late at night,
When you can’t
seem to sleep.
It’s a great group of people,
Good company to keep.
They make me want to
Leap for joy each time
I log on to Poetry Soup!
I do not know?
Other source of supernatural knowledge is the Bible
In the words of the Council of Trent
Which enumerated the books of the Bible under their proper titles
The Church declares that she receives
All the books of the Testaments
Old and New
Since the one God is the author of both
The Vatican Council is more explicit
The Church holds those books as sacred
Having been composed by human industry
They were afterwards approved by her authority
Nor, just because
They contain revelation without error
But, having been written under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit
They have God as their Author
The word Bible comes from the Greek ninlion meaning “the book”
The plural is biblia, was taken for a feminine singular
The Bible is the Book par Excellence
Designed as a secret sister,
Hiding in form of a blister,
Not at all real
Becoming a pseudonym name,
Writing in stylish poet game,
Words that feel,
Caught notions of reality,
Conscious of false ability,
Not meaning no harm or deceit,
She faded into death complete.
a double Tail Ryhme poem,,,some of you may or may not know of this person,she is me and
i am her,,she was created when I first started on the net,afarid of placing my real
name,because of all the stories of identity theft,,though since I seen names like rosebud,
stargazer, bunny flower,,I seen no harm,,,,I did not know that names can become somewhat
real on the net ,,,when she become known by a few and a life was needed, I retired her
name,,though she still has poetry listed on the net at some places,those words are mine.
She is totally ficticious,true though I learned so many things about poetry and life.
Sloth begets in a soul
A spirit of indifference
In our spiritual duties and
A disgust for prayer
A chilly winter afternoon
All's stiff and still with gloom
In this stagnant silent room
Pencil dangling, paper waiting
No mood for the assigned creating
I gaze out at people under the trees
Through foggy windows,
Wish that were me
The teach demands a six page essay
Ha! Oh sure...easy for her to say!
It takes some skill, oh thrill..
Teacher thinks it's no big deal
But in my mental state
Is goes totally against my will
The teacher looms, demanding quiet
That kid in front....Man! he's a riot!
She chastised, then motioned a place
So near her desk, now disgraced
How gloomily now he sits by it
The long day lies ahead,
I am resigned
When first assigned
The whole class whined
Too hot and stuffy,
I drop a book
That new girl is staring
Click click, click....pens they flick
Some are writing quick, my brain is thick
The giant clock ticks
Tick tick tick...the hours passed
Class is over...free at last, free at last!!
To turn away from You is to fall
To You is to stand
To remain in You is
To have a sure support
I do not know?
Is the question from the beginning of time
Is it good or is it evil
To understand, there is no why
on Jan 17th 1706 Benjamin Franklin was born
became a printers apprentice
established the first lending library
was known as an uncommom comman man
that taught self in science and inventions
Benjamin Franklin 1706-1790
Also Entry For Brian Strand's Vignette
A Literary Love Affair Contest
I do not know?
For all you semi finalists, I salute each, one and all. I'd contact each of you,but the
intense pain I'm suffering has kept me from the most basic activities. It is trurely
a struggle just to walk to an adjacent room. No matter who wins, you're all
winners to me. tom
I want to create something brilliant,
make my mark,
produce something so spectacular:
It’s in a different ball-park.
But I have no inclination
how to achieve my masterpiece,
so the spawn of my mind
is already deceased.
My words don’t function,
when I have urges to right.
Serious messages to convey,
but my metaphors aren’t write.
I can’t keep to a rhyme scheme,
cos I’m off on a day-dream
and when it comes to structure -
‘Ability’ deserts me, strands me with the dull.
I’m just another number to add to poetry’s cull.
Never make love in a cornfield
For the corn-- has ears
And they just may tell...
Upon hearing this
I laughed and replied mom
They might have ears
But they do not have lips
With which to speak...
Not so fast, Careful daughter said she with a smile
They have husks that are tough
And when shucked the silk and shucks will make you tell
Yeah, I've ran through the fields
Playing hide and seek
The itch form those husks --
Sure did make me shriek...
Ahh… Shucks... I guess you're right Mama
You don't have to worry about me
With great bliss--I promise you this...
I'll never make love in a cornfield.
Comments: The lesson was corny but true to form as I will never make love nor hide in a
field of corn -- ears and all 0;-)
Entries will be limited to the first 100 submissions. Thanks...tom
Chief sources are Seven
Pride, Greed, Lust
Anger, Gluttony, Envy and Sloth or laziness
Commonly called 7 Capital Sins or 7 Deadly Sins
The author writes a poem,
Remembers days of the past and present,
Thoughts forever sacred,
A walk amongst God's nature,
Sundays reflected with honor,
Experiences that are beyond human limits,
The reader caresses the words,
With their soul,
Nurtured and to be printed,
A poem becomes words in their favorite book,
The education continues and the poem lives,
A poem is sacred.
copyright Gwen Schutz
Follow your heart, to thyself be true
do not fear the coming of the day
when you compete with no one, no one can compete with you
See the gray as gray, the blue as blue
your eyes are your greatest gift, don’t let them slip away
follow your heart, to thyself be true
Men will argue, women will croon
but in your mind the decision will be made
when you compete with no one, no one can compete with you
Ghosts from without and from within will try to spook you
but you need never feel afraid
follow your heart, to thyself be true
Strangers try to hold you down and keep you to the rules
but it does not matter what they have to say!
When you compete with no one, no one compete with you
You are the maestro, call the tune
and your symphony you shall hear the whole world play
follow your heart, to thyself be true
when you compete with no one, no one can compete with you.
Sixty-three divided by seven
Four squared plus two and minus nine
Square root of sixteen plus five
Square root of eighty-one
Three squared plus zero
Ten minus one
Six plus three
Comments: dedicated to the mathematical wizards who would like to write a
nonet poem, this is your chance. This is a very understandable way to write a
nonet. A nonet poem has nine lines, with the first line containing nine syllables,
the second line eight, the third seven, then six, next five, then four and so until the
last and ninth line has one syllable. The nonet poem may be written about any
subject, and rhyming is optional. Start with a topic sentence and work it down live
a funnel. It should be deductive and inductive.
Beware from alligators,
A notice board was hanged,
Outside the pond,
And water was very quiet.
I tried to look around,
I haven’t seen any alligator,
But suddenly an animal came,
And bend to drink water.
I have seen a giant alligator,
Attacked on an animal,
But a poor animal has lost his life,
But board was still hanging.
I have seen thousands alligators,
In white clothes but never seen,
Any notice board, is system so worst?
They are sucking bribery who noticed.
I do not know?
I don't judge you
So why judge me
I don't live for you
I live for me
I appeared life for everyone
But not for me
I had a boyfriend
I had a husband
I have children
I am a mother
I was abused
I loved everyone
I am only human
I need love
I have god in my life
I am a child of god
So don't judge me love me
I am accountable for me
Two days before the deadline.
Fingers flying frantically,
Condensing a lifetime’s achievement
In 500 words or less.
Eyes are bloodshot from the long night, spent
Staring and scanning every line, every blip
With the careful precision of a surgeon.
Secretly beautifying my faults
Like an embalmer, decorating wounds,
To make even a dead body presentable.
All to impress anonymous judges
Who are endowed with the authority
To confirm my life’s worth.
Judges who grade lives—
Out of a pool of million—
Superficial enough to be condensed
In 500 words or less.
I do not know?
Fom Greek pentecoste = the fiftieth day after Easter
Originally feast on whichIsrael celebrated
The establishment of the covenant with God
On Mount Sinai
Through the Pentecost event in Jerusalem
It became for Christians the feast of the Holy Spirit
Writing sets me free.
It helps me get my point across.
When I am writing, no one is my boss.
The literary genre of my choice is poetry,
Because it creates the very image of my inner voice.
I’m not very talkative in fact:
People are surprised when they see me act like they act.
Back to the genre of poetry,
I like it because it sound like the lyrics of rap M.C.’s
Again, I say it lets you know,
The real me.
I had no idea that God gave me the gift of writing poetry.
I realized it when the so-called love of my life walked out on me.
It was the only nonviolent way of easing my pain,
Because I had already done so many things to get over it that caused me shame.
Not only writing is a talent.
I have many hobbies some could call me a jack-of-all trades.
I love music, singing, scientific works, and reading books-that all people made.
Numerous talents have me unsure of what career to pick.
I don’t know what I should be.
I think sometimes that I want to be a singer, engineer, or teacher/scientist.
I often wonder, is all of that really me?
I have no clue of what I should do.
Maybe there is a way that I could mix,
All of these talents together.
Writing helps me get all of my thoughts out.
Maybe I should be a writer on various topics of my interests.
I am a quiet person so writing is way that I shout,
About my beliefs, attitudes, interests, and general.
I do not know?
Latin trinitas = the state of being threefold
God is only one but He exist in three persons
The fact that in English we have two terms
The triune God and the Trinity
For the same reality (one emphasizes God’s unity
The other the distinction (of persons in Him)
An indication of the unfathomable mystery of the Trinity
Alas within me something stirs and proves
its worth. And once in form that I doth please,
from mind, I mouthe, spread word towards wind. it moves,
this living thought I cast upon the breeze.
My thought flow ends licking my pensive shores.
Though content changed and meaning torn, I await
your response - flaming words that will consume
my view, branding yours, blazing renewal.
This steam haze rising with our thought, a height
once beyond my reach. We share this learning
as the cloud grows. Wade cautiously into
my depths; unscathed I'll brave your embered soul.
My words now flashing waves of sparks, while yours
flicker to an ebb and flow. The thick mist
that once deemed blindness, mediated our
exchange - persuaded in our persuasion.
At beginning, certain derivatives escaped form,
Growing here, I joined keen living mighty names,
Obtaining poetic qualification, returned sweetly,
Telling universally valiant words,
Xeroxing yearlong zeal
I do not know?
I thought you were trying to do your best.
You were supposed to study for your history test.
You got an F instead of an A.
Your education can't continue to go this way.
You'll need very good grades if you plan to go to Yale.
But you won't go to any college if you continue to fail.
I'm telling you this because I'm your buddy.
You need to apply yourself and study.
It was troubling,
That is memorizing.
Come on anything.
Get's me flustered.
Think and Thought.
Smile, stand straight,
Don't twitter or flutter.
Succeed, destroy, forgive,
If it's not over soon, I won't live.
Don't space out
My face is red,
So I stare instead
Don't shake or quiver,
Just speak and deliver
My feelings relate.
Gluttony like Greed
Excessive desire of Food or Drink
Part of7 Capital sins or 7 Deadly sins
Jesus Christ requires one to confess
Mortal sin is grievous offense against the law of God
This sin is called mortal because it deprives us of spiritual life
Brings everlasting death and damnation of the soul
I do not know?
From the Greek Charis = gift, grace, favor, charm
A name for the gratuitous gifts of the Holy Spirit
As they are described
For example in Corinthians 12:6ff
The gift of healing
Speaking in tongues and
The gift interpreting them
Firmness in faith and so on
Also included are the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit
I do not know?
Many Christian communities on earth call themselves churches
According to the Catholic understanding
Only those in which the sacraments of Jesus Christ’s have been preserved
In their entirety have remained “Church”
This is true especially of the Orthodox and
In the ecclesial communities that resulted from the Protestant Reformation
All the sacraments have not been preserved
That’s why I’m not too discouraged
at Farragut’s poor performance at
this weekend’s Scholars’ Bowl tournament
for those who beat us were
memorizing lists of important names
rather than putting
themselves on the list
I do not know?
Porkpie Jones has brittle bones, and crusted corn-filled toes,
And sleety eyes and bulgy thighs, and brillo pad elbows,
His underarms are typical farms, and reek a barnyard smell,
Its quite the place for creepy, crawly, parasites to dwell,
The ample dirt in his ears and on his head has just began to harden,
There's so much dirt on him everywhere, he could grow a flower garden,
The birds fall quickly from the sky, whenever he starts to speak,
His teeth and gums are as black as coal, and all his bone joints squeak,
He trips when he walks, spits when he talks, and spills everywhere when he drinks,
Three triple Dagwood sandwiches to him are a light snack, his decorum and etiquette
The ground shakes when he takes a step, and cars fly when he sneezes,
And he feels free to dine and snack on anything he pleases!
The sight of water gives him chills, and soap will make him screech,
He can't fit in his bathtub, so he bathes at the beach,
Porkpie dives into his drinks, and scorns the use of cups,
And when he falls, some will laugh, but the ground starts cracking up...
He's never been able to touch his toes, he can't reach any farther than his hips,
When he bends over, its always a treat to experience a total eclipse,
His home is in disarray, it needs improvement,
Porkie Orlivander Jones scorns unnecessary movement,
He's absolutely clueless, on how to close the gate,
Or feed his starving fish, or wash his every dish,
Or vacuum his entire floor, where dust mites romp and roam,
Or change his heaping can of trash thats nearly large as Nome,
Loads of bills that he won't pay, coat his table tops,
He puts his Suitcase in his closet, right next to the lamb chops,
Porkpie never was that bright, in school he was a tease,
In fact I think his grades were so low, that he would get straight Z's!
Well we all can learn a lesson here, I'm sure that all is known,
That we must keep our appearances neat, and always brush and scrub our feet,
And be respectful when we eat, or we could all end up like Mr.
Porkpie Orlivander Alowicious Alexander GianCarlo Markowitcz Jones!!!!!
“Pheonix is experimental courses involving the release of prisoners into society”:
Professor Hardon was now speaking to his children “he was thinking of them
already as his child and children he was daydreaming of a future world
populated by his prisoners released into Society to jerk the world around on HIS
string. When you do a book report eye the TUTOR have to grade them please
read only CharlaxFables so you will learn something better and eye can pass all
of you with highest honors. The Bathroom has been painted and the graffiti is
fresh and it has to be one of you. NO almost Screaming Tommy Gunn jumped up
and SPEWED his filthy words at the teacher. We think it is the girl that works as a
Library assistant for she is not helping the people who are not students. The
rules would work in a NAZI society there would be no loud talking in the library
they Matron would walk among the computors and swing her MILLYCLUB if
someone snickered. The portable classrooms have not yet arrived and the
prisoners keep milling about in the library chasing a hope and a dream to the
door of a classroom hoping it will magically appear in front of them while Charlax
Plugs are not available only in the outlets at the mall where you can also buy
coffee in a latte snicker at the freezing cold and hold thy nose with burgers
smelling like a dead old cow went yearning in the afterbrushes reeds and
rushes in the ditches working on the center stone of the idea of the century. The
Pig is dead the Rat is born a Chinaman's surprised the chinaberry's were so
plastic tasting never boiled them never tried them after fried in oil and butter and
the batter would be better with some butter and some soil. A man told me bugs
are good sources of protein how can one man go so very wrong he is not alive in
the same sense as ewe and eye. The semblance of an android to this human
image eye become is striking mee on both my nerves today seems like a
memory of half baked love. The Pheonix is now rising up the ashes of the
The Tutor is the elephant. The classroom is the world the students are the girls
in love. The lady has a favorite song
ewe aer my song
my hearts desire
my love of fortune
my sweetYheart ewe
my early life
my later years
my only love
The Teacher is a ruler and a lover of the song.
The professor is a lover and a ruler of them all.
I do not know?
It’s in my head but my head won’t paint
The brush breaks and the colour is too faint
There’s a missing screw
Faulty parts where confidence won’t glue
When will my mind act rather than think?
When will my words be longer than a blink?
Its so easy to write
But when I go to talk my lips are tight
I so often get so wound up writing poems, I fail to take the proper amount of time
in reading other's works....for this I am sorry, and I apologize...but the one who
gets robbed the most is me....I am missing more than half of the joy of being a
veggie in the soup....I am always bowled over....always.....say, is Poe still a
member? (Yea hadda' expect some nonsense from me, right?)...to the world's
best group....and thanks for helpin' me get my money's worth from my Dictionary
HOW CAN YOU SOAR HIGH
LIKE THE EAGLES. WHEN
YOU ARE PLAYING AROUND
WITH THE BEETLES.. THEY
CAN'T FLY AT ALL. YOU
ALLOWED ONE TO TAKE YOU
OUT OF YOUR ELEMENT.
CONTINUE TO SOAR LIKE
THE EAGLES. EAGLES DON'T
HAVE TIME TO PLAY WITH
SMALL MINDED BEETLES....
If you could travel anywhere
where would you go?
If you could meet anyone
who would it be?
If you could have any job
where would you work?
If you could eat anything
what would it taste like?
If it could be any time
what would the clock read?
If you could fly
how high would you soar?
What do you think book are?
They are the answers to these questions
Instead of searching for the answers,
open a book
for they are our ticket to knowledge
They take us anywhere,
everywhere, all around
All you have to do is open a book
I guess Im an old geezer, to me amazed by the first pocket calculator, but there
are a few words or phrases that I cannot stomach. They make me crazy (Like I
ain't crazy enough already) Anyway here they are;
Hi! I'm Billy Mays!! (blood pressure surges, fists are clenched, and words I'd
never say pour out of me)
Quality Time (get real!)
Bonding (you got the glue?)
Dot com (dot com this.....)
Blog...(is that english or a plumbing term?)
Politically incorrect (that's what God put politicians on earth to be; thieves......
Sensitivity(lost your sense of touch?)
Credit worthy (or, how much can we rip you off for?)
Soulmate (is that for blacks only?)
Military Intelligence (what an oxymoron)
New Jersey (don't seem so new to me- ever smell Elizabeth N.J.?)
Preemptive strike (invasion)
Male enhancer (what slimy level have we reached?)
Martial arts (paintings from Mars?)
Virgin Mother (no comment!)
Disfunctional ( what function are they 'dis'en?)
Moral standards (a bunch of bull shooters)
Erectial misfunctions (proves the law of gravity, anyway!)
Out of the Loop (where? In Chicago?- did I miss a stitch?)
Salt of the earth (so where's the pepper?)
I'll probably come up with more, and miss another night's sleep; but, oh, what the
How come they call it Labor Day when nobody works?
And why Pool-Table? Where's the diving board? the water?
How can you play "Draw-Poker" without paper and pencil?
Do Negroes really have bigger knees?
And Flashlight: A bright stage-light to highlight naked joggers?
I went to IHOP; I was so disappointed, the bunny was not in.
Is Racquet-Ball really that noisy?
Were Sanitarium Napkins designed for a psych ward??
And Condominiums: good Lord, they advertise prophylactics?
And Near-Beer; how close do you have to be?
And Poetic Terminology- methods to end a poem?
And Medicine Ball; how do you know what it's dispensing?
Bi-Polar? I got mine free.
Feedback? Is it true some people have their mouths behind them?
Dry-Runs? Diarrhea without the usual Sh_t??
Penn & Teller? A bank teller's sordid affair with a chained down bank pen.
(Caution, Sadism and Explicit Ink scenes)
Burn a CD? What kind of moron is gona burn his Certificates Of Deposits?
Satellite? To help one mount a horse in the dark?
Athlete's Foot? Those who say they have Athelete's Foot should be prosecuted
for maiming ball players.
Milk Of Magnesia? Who is she?
Country Fair? I'll wait for the Country Good!
How come it's a plus if a vacuum cleaner sucks?
Sometimes I feel left in the dust; I mean, even spiders have web-sites!!
Sasquatch? A hairy ape-like creature who sat on, and crushed, his Timex watch.
Lunatics? I hope Nasa provides our next moon explorers with insect repellant.
Politically Correct? An oxymoron for sure!
Botswana? A neighbor wiyh yacht-envy.
Coconut? An insane piece of chocolate.
Congolese? A structured rental agreement for certain Africans.
Decuple? Releasing railroad cars.
Desultory? Removing snide remarks.
Devote? Removing one's ballot.
Dormouse? A rodent tending the door at a rat nightclub.
Drag Queens? What a horney King does with his reluctant wife.
Episode? When a farmer named Epi plants his crops.
Fiddlesticks? Frozen fish product with musical abilities.
Gnomish? A knish for Jewish gnomes.
Mothball? A part of a moth's reproductive organs.
I saw a commercial recently for "Extenze", to make "a certain part of a man larger"
However, I misread the dosage, and took far too many. Now I have to drag "that
certain part of a man's body" along the floor behind me.
I had a friend who tried it too....but it seems to have had a misdirected effect; now
he has a 6 inch long big toe.
such a secret important word
danced around verbally
conditioning you the way they want
for utmost power
if i had it my way
i would have you ring a bell everytime their secret word
tweaks you out
I wonder what the secret word is...
everytime i hear it, i cant help but feel this way
crack a smile and drool
and then get bent out of shape
Not like you owe me anything
cause you don't
i can't help but care
this is affecting me
and i refuse to tell you
your secret word
does it make me dangerous...
start reading from the dictionary
and i'll show you dangerous
one secret word
they all sing around for the one
whoever the one is
in a world full of number 2's
we're all number 2
to the one
unfortunately you can't allow yourself
cause you my friend
the villified ignorance speaks for itself
quite an oxymoron paradigm shift riddle
i wonder what the word is
I suppose i'll figure it out
cause my life depends on it
i am making you blind
present you with a riddle to make you smarter
i can only show you the riddle
i wouldn't be able to tell you
such an intricate word
lost in the matrix of mentally conditioning yourself
when you ough to ring a bell
It's gonna happen now
you will have the desire to puirchase a bell
and ring it
because of this word
whatever it is....
the psychosis of the muse
another part of society blackmailed
and used as a weapon
cause we are all number 2
to the one
Good evening, folks...trust all is well.
First of all, let me congratulate all those who commented on the first Poem
Contest posting I had. Bear in mind, as Judge and Jury, only I am permitted to
send messages without words...It was mentioned that this would be a tougher
quiz...see with me, words are completely optional. Re. the $160 electrician's bill,
once, in my old house, I had one come and put a new ceiling light fixture in my
father's room, and track lights in my room. His work was awful, fixture was the
cheapest thing...I had worked in a retail lighting store, and knew he paid about
$20 for it, the track lights were extremely unsightly, the ceiling was butchered; the
entire job took no more than 30 minutes, and he handed me an $800 bill!! Talk
about highway robbery.
Now a few bits of Tomfoolery, with but a few "Tom's Tidbits".
How can I lose more stuff than I own??
It's a struggle to figure out how to get my cell phone to work. I wonder if that's
because I've never been imprisoned.
Talk about hot flashes...I had my first with the above mentioned electrician.
A ringing in the ears is but to be expected by someone named Bell.
Did I mention about the Honda Civic Center??
My "No Words" Poetry form should be posted with the Soup. What'ch ya' think;
"Tomfooleryesgue??" Any suggestions??
A bachelor like me gets so lazy, if I get hungry, the most I can do is take an olive
out of the jar...w hands, of course...
Comments; I wanted to post either "Electric Blanket" or "How to Pay Bills" but the
Soup won't allow it, cause they're too long, and require two postings...Should they
count as one? Or should I just post part No.1, and leave it up to you clever
people to find pt.2 on your own?? Is this idea acceptable, guys?? Please let me
know. The Soup is always busting my chops about using the number symbol. I
suppose there is a good reason....gotta find out why...they are like our parents
here, at least for me. Just wish they would cook me a meal once in awhile,
maybe do the laundry or somethin'....
Kindly post your votes on third poem being "Electric Blanket" or "How to Pay Bills"
which I have just "fine tuned" a bit...let's see how it runs now, or is, like a guitar, a
thing in need of a tune-up to play. You can post your votes as comments at this
posting site, and "write-in Candidates" are accepted gleefully...
Now, up with Clue No. 1 on Super Quiz Poetry Contest.
Okay, the moment you've been waiting for!!! Clue No. 1
I arrived earlier in time
To witness the great work of creation
When from the dust emerged the first man
I saw the destruction of the Noah’s world
And the reconstruction thereafter
The earliest civilization on Egypt soil
Unfolded before my very eyes
The reign of the Greek gods and
The might of Roman, I shared
I walked the streets of Paris
On the eve of Robespierre’s revolution
The triumph of Lenin, Trosky and the royal guards
Were mine at the proletariat Russia
With Cromwell, I drank from victory cistern
In Britain, in the battle against the crown
In the boat beside Columbus
We discovered the new world, America
In Berlin, we sat and scrambled
For Africa’s partition
From the rocks ravines of Kenya
I fought in the Mau Mau’s rebellion
Behind Ghandi, I walked
Paving the streets of India for independence
At Capetown, I teamed up with Mandela
For freedom in apartheid South Africa
I saw the the CIA at Congo Kinshasa
Murdering young Patrice Lumumba
At Lagos and Accra, I saw the magic wand
Waving over the peoples in the hands of Zik and Nkrumah
On stage with Bob Marley in old Rhodesia
I danced redemption song on the first of Zimbabwe
Last centuries, yesteryears, yesterdays
Today, tomorrow on pages and lines of books
Open before my very eyes and mind.
I do not know?
Can a person write a poem,
About nothing,like this?
But it does provide a question,
And a point you cannot miss.
Can a poem be of something,
Saying nothing at all?
Or is it like a message,
Like writings on the wall?
Will it guide you through the day,
Or release your darkest fear?
Is this poem all for nothing,
Or is there something here?
Many Days should speak, and multitude of
Years should teach wisdom, I said. But
There is a spirit in man: and the inspiration
Of the Almighty giveth him understanding; therefore,
No prophecy is by the will of man, but holy men of
God speak and write the word as they are moved By the
Unction of the Holy Ghost for the edification and
Exhortation and comfort of those who will hear and read.
all you serious, and formally trained poets, please excuse my satire, but a guy
born in Brooklyn NY, (me)- really gets a kick out of this somewhat pretentious
classification system for something, to me, is as simple as merely conveying a
thought, emotion, idea, image, etc. If it ain't natural, it ain"t real. Don't get mad at
me, I'm obviously "mad" already!!
ABC Verse-(poems written or performed on Sesame Street?)
Carpe Diem-(an ex-Vietnamese leader who happed to be a fish?)
Chastushka-(an old, heavy Russian woman yenta?) (or the headscarf she
wears?) (or another Russian forrest comet strike?)
Cinquain- (a man made and manufactured maleria med, given in 5 parts?)
Classicism- (an exorcism for a classy person?)
Cherihew- (a French axe for lovers?)
Concrete- (a Mafia burial material?)
Couplet- (2 lovers allowed to "do their thing"?)
Cowboy- (a hybrid mix of a young male human and a domestic female cattleof
Crystalline- (stalagnites, or expensive young female stemware?)
Diamantie- (a new Honda auto?)
Didactic- (a guy who finally cleans his attic?)
Diminished Hexaverse- (a witch's evil spell spoken in a poetic manner in a very
Dizain- (either a hair restoration product prone to make the user dizzy, a
deceased Jazz musician, or a new cleaning product introduced by, yes, you got it -
Dodoitsu- (a new form of Japanese martial art created specifically for the near-
extinct Do-Do bird?)
More to come.............
Dedicated to my teacher, who has helped me more than she'll ever
When the world denies your hard work
Refusing your wisdom in years,
Please, just remember what I’m saying,
Please don’t cry any tears.
People will try to bring you down
No matter what you do
But know this, these words I say,
‘Cause you and I know they are true.
Your hard work has helped me this year
I wouldn’t be who I am without you
This life I live right here and now
Is possible because of what you do.
You encourage my hopes and all my dreams
And help me reach my goal
I wouldn’t be me without you
These seeds, I wouldn’t be able to sow.
You have helped me learn how to write
In fact, you taught me yourself
Whether you’ve realized it or not,
You’ve helped me become myself.
I can’t imagine eighth grade without you
It’s been a wonderful year
I can’t believe I’m now saying good-bye
And beginning to hold back tears.
I know how you try to be perfect
At least some of the time,
You like to do everything you can
To help me find a rhythm or a rhyme.
And life isn’t always perfect
In fact, it rarely is
It’s often so sudden and indistinct
It feels like a giant pop quiz.
But no matter where life takes you,
No matter how bad you may want to cry,
Remember these words that I’ve said to you
And know that you’re beautiful in my eyes.
What Caesar really said; "I came, I saw, I ran like hell..."
(Speaking of Caesar, I think he's famous for going to Las Vegas and making
If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, it's probably a pigeon.
A bird in the hand is worth a roll of paper towels. what a mess!
When the going gets tough, I leave.
The only thing to fear is, well, pretty much everyone.
If at first you don't succeed, try something else.
If money is the root of all evil, you should be rich.
Never count your eggs after they're scrambled.
You get what you put into it. Yeah, like my lemon flavored meatloaf!
Two and two makes group sex.
"I think I'll never see, a poem as lovely as your knee."
If you think you got it tough, try my steak!
Sixteen tons, and what do you get? Squashed.
It's better to have loved and lost, than pay for a divorce.
If music be the food of love, My ex-wife was tone deaf.
Into the Valley of Deaf rode the 600 defective hearing aid batteries.
The Hallmark Hall Of Flame- a card store is burned down.
Have a good day!
Minutes turn to hours,
as the clock ticks onwards;
still the paper before me
remains crisp, white – untouched.
My right hand is now cramped,
from it’s gripping my pen
and the notation on my pad,
slowly bringing alive my thoughts.
Every scribe I write becomes structured,
I stop to think before every word;
look back over what I have written,
disjointed, yet I know it all.
A play on my script,
tweaking here and there.
Informing every thought I record,
bringing brilliance for my virgin page.
Words form sentences,
pictures are painted; a masterpiece of art,
breathing life to my work,
to be realized by many.
I transfer my scribe,
to my neat sheet waiting.
Ink flows smoothly, a pleasure to see.
Release washes relief over my tense form.
Midnight strikes, not long left now,
before I can lay my pen to rest
and bid ‘Goodnight’,
to another fulfilled and worthy day.
I have been around the world
Deepest, darkest corners of the globe
Down south, up north
Up high in the air time countless
Through routes criss-a-cross
Many times on sea sails
I have seen the world greatest cities
Lived in the thickets of the sahara
Several nights in the African jungle
Mingled with red Indians in Guatemalan forests
Been in and out of oval office
The white house the Americans pride
I’ve felt the might of the Kremlin
In the Duma of the Aryan race
Gone under below the earth
In Australia, the lone continent
Gazed boldly at crown of Elizabeth
Like a Duke in Edinburgh palace
I’ve dined and wined at the so rock
In Abuja the power place of Africa
Been amused and excited beyond expression
I’ve let flow flood of tears
Felt pains and agonies deep to the marrow
All on the platter of books
And behold!, the wide world
Before my very eyes and mind
To wander and wonder.
Encourage one another
and promote each others work;
help them if they're struggling
nurture all their worth.
Advocate or contribute,
stimulate their minds;
Recommend a sponsor,
to assist, support or sign.
Foster them or forward them;
publicize and popularize,
all will help to plug;
every piece that warrants it,
returned with such a hug!
The high walls and a closed factory,
Everyday I acrossed,
When I went to town,
I were alone or with my family,
My eyes always touched its height,
And watched at that plant,
It was grown up in the wall.
Who has planted it?
And who is feeding it?
I have seen it has a big growth,
I also have seen flowers,
The white flowers and birds,
I have seen them playing together.
At the top, there was no disturbance.
The sun kissed him, every morning,
And evening, a shadow never touched it,
Rain bathed it naked,
Strong winds never harmed it.
I never seen afraid around it,
When a person is naked,
He never afraids and cracks system.
As the top grew plant has strong roots,
Everybody has seen these cracks on wall,
Few months later, the big wall,
It was damaged and falls down.
When a poor is naked,
He feels shame on him, the poverty
Roots are as strong as a top grew plant.
Another poem for my Violet Flower and Mary
I like to right,
I am doing all write.
I do it with my mite.
I am swiping at a might.
I have my site,and
I can see you at my sight.
I am very slough,but
they slow as they go by.
AND the way is sheared
by all the wind,
AND the way is sheered
by all the dressers.
Love is a word you knoe,
but luv is knot,it does not
even register,but you still
have thyme to find a rhyme
I do knoe its time.
Charles R HIce
Copyright ©2006 Charles Hice
I cnat bleieve taht we can slitl raed
wrdos as lnog as the fsrit and lsat
lttres are the smae.
If taht is the csae, lsieten to me..
Hree are my uwirntetn tuohgts..
A person can trace a person he has such skills.
When he blames a person, he becomes a criminal.
Then why he is criminal and innocents suffering,
Then who will trust in if he fights for covering?
Someone isn’t guilty when he is breaking system,
Law cares for his safety and believes in custom.
Barriers and barriers a person is feeling tiredness,
What will be future if human has a guilty kiss?
He works for joy but conscious fills in pressure,
When he feels guilt and thinks himself in a crusher.
When he is strong he never cares for his deeds,
When he feels sick and dies for his greeds.
Nobody has tracing greeds as he made him nervous,
He never understands always wanders in curves,
Crisis comes and he replaces it with cleverness,
But he is only a man and he is a big robber.
Yup, did it again...2 am, and I lost 4 or 5 poems...which will have to be redone...I
will try to wait till tomorrow, as I am exhausted from a stressful day...what am I
doing wrong??? However, in the past, when this has happened, I find I can not
go to sleep...my mind won't let me, so I wind up getting up, and back on line...and
as so many times too often, greeting the rising sun with weary eyes and weary
body...and no TV to watch, it's all paid programming, infomercials, and the
likes...and unlike the classic telemarketers, who'se chain I pull with great
glee...being overly friendly and asking "dumd" questions ...and baiting them for
upcoming sarcasm...I LOVE a battle of wits...on my last psychiatric evaluation
last month, by the time I was done with that "shrink", he needed a psychiatrist!!
Just give me a pompous fool, and in no time at all, I'll deflate their egos and they
will go home crying...later...
Why do you spend lot of time with animals?
His wife and family always argued.
When a native comes to visit, you have to discuss,
You shared your knowledge, if he is interested or not.
You never thought what they think about you,
Your opinion is; until we didn’t share something,
Nobody can learn or enjoy a lot of happiness,
What is special in animals her non-stop sparks?
Animal produces food but never claimed as human,
Look at the honey bees, we always afraid to touch,
But all likes to eat honey, to enjoy its taste,
Valuable to eat for health, it provides energy.
Think about nature, everyone has a language,
The entire races, human, animal, birds and tree,
Enjoy speaking and singing but hard to understand,
Without identification or learning, it’s hard to believe.
Honey bees also has poison which deliver when bite,
But never mixed in its product, as human do,
Their unity is under a command of one queen,
A natural learning, a person also can produce sweet.
Dear John, "Mind-Splittings" requires a mind, henceforth, you are in no danger.
Your only Fan, Tom Bell
Yeah, Ruby, but Elvis had drugs!!
To Fred- You ain't that fly guy, r u?
To Patricia- that bug you caught- was he Freddy the Fly?
Catch ya'll a bit later.....tom
You are great because,
You have opportunity to grow,
You are great because,
You have system to help you.
Don’t blame me,
I am n’t criminal,
Don’t blame me,
I am n’t ideal.
I understand as you understand,
I feel as you feel,
My poverty is curse,
Because you never prefer me.
Your religion always exploited me,
Your education always ignored me,
I am also not a beggar, If
You have selection a person on my place.
From a sleepy mind, unable to sleep...
These words I do feel deep...
The Soup has become my
number one family
One I spend my time with great joy,
I hope I don't too often annoy...
But that's what ya get,
When ya read a dumb goy...
Seriously (or as close as I can get)- to Christy- I am so glad you love the Shivaree
song- it was on the ending soundtrack to Kill Bill II. I first heard of it on a great
NYC college radio station, WFUV, from Fordham University...I was driving when I
first heard it, and nearly crashed! I was awestruck, and haunted...I ordered the
CD from Amazon (you can get anything there!)...and have heard it many times. I
have not been able to "get into" most of the other songs, because if you put a
Picasso next to the Mona Lisa, you can't really judge. I have trouble lately getting
a continuous clean video (on You Tube, same as you)- and hope there is a video
available from Amazon, but haven't checked it out yet.
To my precious Shar, you are so sweet, and easily the most popular poet on the
soup (well deserved)- I often get so wrapped up in writing, I have to train myself
to read more- And I've been trying...ever amazed by the talent I read, there is not
enough time in the day...and the reading is so pleasureable, it ought to be taxed!
(oops, none of us want that, it was a pun..."Monty Python"...the parrot sketch),
what a joy to have this great library to enjoy for years to come...And Christy, why'd
ya' send the racoon here?- He just left and I had to join "The Racoon Club" to get
him to go...Ya'll great, and I still got an hour or three left in me...
Don't'chea all be lookin'
Over my shoulder,
At what's cookin'
I dunz get mad,
And reely sad,
Dat you'z be spi-en
at myze wourds
Mother Goose, at the bar,
Downing pints and feeling the juice...
Had an urge, and cut one loose...
The fellow next to her fell off his stool
and looked the fool..
Everyone looked at him...
Thinking the misdeed,
Was made by this "dandy Jim"
Got back on his seat,
With a very sore caboose..
Got a whim,
And "goosed" Mother Goose..
Only a fool would antagonize her,
Mother Goose was a woman loose,
For a fool such as he,
she had no use...
And hauled off and decked this clown...
Making him the second man in Twinkle's Bar down...
Yes, my beloved Christy (What a beautiful Name!)..what comes around, goes
around; I've seen this saying proven true, oh, so many times...
Teresa, my dear, you speak words of wisdom and truth...Ever listen to the words
of "As Tears Gobye"? Children are our hope for the future, hence teachers are the
pathway to the future...
John Heck: thanks dude.
And to all the Soup-nutz out there: without your encouragement, my page would
be bare...A true blessing to join this esteemed group of talented, bright people.
I mean, I doubt there's a single member of the "Huh? Wuz Up?" crowd to please.
In between meals
Eye am a writer and eye have discovered my mind is to busy on things that may
not matter much to ewe or the endless pursuit of my happiness.
The people eye have in my meetings do not always do what eye want them to
this is especially time consuming and very much a melody to add to all m y
memory of the day and the poetry and the fun.
We aer all in between the meals and so busy with our own stuffins eye have
decided to make this wonderful thing to sing of all our souls and the reason that
you are smiling now is because of they way this old man writes in syllables and
dandylions added. eye write the things that moves me to add words upon the
paper and it may soon seem silly but this gets better and so much better the
flowing pen of jargon and the added appendages and the endless rhyme and
schemeing thing. A busy mind is a happy thing and nothing wrong with that all of
the ewe stay busy doing that.
Not wanting to carry my own chair
Yet, for sure somewhere out there
Someone, behind the scene, likes my poetry
Not by its message, nor by its poetic artistry
Perhaps, they just simply like it
Some may not, or, even disagrees a little bit
Others may post comment……..bad or good
Still, I can accept, even if it’s rude
For without them, how can I learn?
To succeed, one needs others’ concern
This is what I’m trying to imply--
Myself, to fear, I must not comply
The arts of writing is not my cup of tea
It just happened that I discovered its beauty
Though, my skill, limited to basic conjugation
A barrier that I dare to tackle with emotion
So, aging brain is now addicted to write
Not because it senses the waiting termite
But, for the sake of recording my identity
To be wrapped in words, for others to see
For when the whispering wind blows its last
At least, I’ve no regret, for someone will cast
The priceless treasure, I left, from the mind
From blood to blood, it‘ll always be mine
And for the meantime, I’ll keep on writing
…love, hate, friendship and all sorts of things
That’s burning inside me…..
Great or not, how does poet’s mind works?
When a person was delivering,
Leaflets door to door,
When a person was calling them,
For a demonstration,
When a person was on strike,
He was never supported by them,
When a person stands for them,
And asks them for a voice,
When a person was delivering a lecture,
They never care for him,
They were always busy,
Domestic matters were only their need.
They never care for candidates
They never care to vote them,
They never care for campaigns,
Always They remark, politics is n’t good.
When a flood made them homeless,
They opened their eyes and watched others,
They were waiting for their president,
They were asking what will he do for them?
Yes, I heard them when they said,
Politics and equal rights is our need,
A choice for a candidate is our need,
Society can’t develop without service.
If academic degree is sufficient,
To mobilise or to activate,
To improve a vision of someone’s nature,
To learn skills and to provide,
Best opportunity to deliver,
A better service for the welfare,
And for a high standard for living,
I also succeed to get a higher degree.
When I found myself,
Degree develops only sources for living,
Not sufficient to establish,
Justice, Equality, Liberty and fraternity,
I had lost a balance of my life.
I stop to read only books on a subject,
I chose all the basics that I need,
To become a human: a civil person.
The society is facing injustice,
Inequality, bonded labour, racism,
Prejudicism, what is behind them?
Only degree holders,
If they were human and civil person.
Nobody cries on Earth for help,
Poverty, injustice, racism,
Inequality and racism,
Is a provision of these intellects?
If they are educated,
Their standard should be based on education,
As they have belief,
And service, it seems,
There academic education is bluff.
Who does prepare children for suicides?
Who does care soldiers to kill innocents?
Who is greedy and not selfish?
Was Lord Jesus academic?
Was Lord Mohamed academic?
Was Lord Rama academic?
Was Lord Krishna academic?
Why these academic people still have belief,
Heaven is better place for living,
They are dishonest and corrupt,
They deliver cruelity and exploitation,
Because they are son of Devil.
Willy, don't be silly...
As for Fred, check your head,
Once again, you got things
I wasn't writting poetry,
nor out to steal a song...
I do get the feeling,
Your disdain for me is strong,
I gotta say,
No loss in disbelief,
But don't question me,
Cause you don't know
If I were a lyrical thief,
What if I did write those
And held the copyright too,
And let others record them,
You think other, I might do?
So check out the copyright credits,
And wake me when you're through,
Cause as for your snide comments,
I've heard enough from you.
I do not know?
You have accurately answered your own question at the end of your message;
"But keep on tryin'
"Cause I ain't lyin'
When I say you're the best
Solving this sort of test,
No need for cryin'
Or even sighin'
'Cause you are vyin'
For the undenyin'
Master of the Quiz,...
I asked the spirit why it was blue
And it smiled and replied “Blue holds the truth”
I asked the dove why it was so white
And it replied, “So that all may see the light”
I asked the moon why it was so cool
And it continued to spin…
I asked the Saint Bernard to walk the dog
And it began to dance
I asked the horse to whinny
And it did, as the pony pranced…
I asked the family; why do you love me
And they replied, “Because you’re you”
I asked myself: "How came I to be so blessed”
And the answer came --you have followed
The path pursuing
The Truth shining
And so I kept quiet
Because every thing was perfect
So glad I asked…
Head first for the computer...
To see what might be new....
Not in world news,
Though I will soon get to that....
But first to check the Soup,
To see who has stirred the vat,
The cauldron of words we cook,
The wisdom that we serve....
The heights of love we expose,
Ths soaring joy of verve...
A reason for getting up,
Even when the body aches...
A reason to feel steady...
Even when our body shakes...
No medicine competes,
With the magic of the Soup,
Like the classic Jewish chicken broth,
A medical wonder if one exists,
How it heals us so thoroughly,
Is so far one that science surely does miss.
Gentle hum of the traffic in the background..
For what is poetry but the sound?
Sensitive ears I have found.
Mother nature's creatures hearing's amplified.
Birds can hear a mate kilometers away.
Dogs can hear sounds human beings cannot.
Sounds,hearing,listening to the right message.
Comprehending what was intended to be portrayed.
The comedy + sometimes tragedy of misinterpreting.
Sound is poetry. Poetry is Sound of the spoken word.
Poetry words are words are written to be heard.
Listen to the sounds of words.
Somehow, I don't know how,
I wound up at the Soup...
The minds I have exchanged thoughts with,
I could find nowhere else...
The Sharons, the Christys, the Hecks...
These are jewels of humanity
Whose eyes see so much deeper
Than the most educated fool,
And there are so many of you!!...
I doubt the reality of my life...
I've never been this lucky....
I've never found minds that match mine in rambling thought,
Now I have found them all over the world,
So many who I will learn so much from...
Best of all, these are people who take
an interest in my life,
And even worry about me...
When I disappear into the medical
The satisfaction of knowing,
and that my words are out there...
Maybe they will make sense to some,
Maybe a smile,
Maybe a revelation...
But, in any event....
My words are posted...
My thoughts, my dreams,
My life...open to all for review...
And it feels good....
For I am assured these readers...
What most would not...
You are my valued friends...
You have made me walk all the taller,
You have made me think thoughts
I might have missed...
And you have provided me...
With the "Safe Harbour" of Sharon...
My favorite poem...
Although you are all gems,
All I can say is thanks, buddies...
Keep those words flowing...
You ARE helping people."
society seems to have lost certain aspects of courtesy
today it's the norm to speak in the language of profanity
n's, b's and h's are the words that people use today
they don't comprehend the negativity in the words that they say
to be polite and mannerly is now a thing of the past
the rap culture mentality has taken over everyday language at last
i understand the need for those artists to express their thoughts
but i can't comprehend why they can't do it
in the proper language that they've been taught
what's in a word?
it's the language that man uses to communicate
it's not what you say but how you say it,
the way that people do relate
if you talk in words that are regarded as being low class
many will perceive
that you have never gotten
the education that others have received
they look at you with contempt
and then become condescending
they look at you as being inferior,
for that is the message you are sending
so be careful of the words that you choose
and the manner in which you speak
for what's in a word and how you use it
determines the level of respect that you seek
Lots'a stuff happening,
some a bit scary....
Places I seem soon destined to go,
I grow a little wary
But every posted fear,
Every second thought I mused,
Shar was there....
She rebuilt my confidence,
So I'm on the road again,
Sure I had a scare,
But Shar was there...
Other times I'd get sad,,
Wanna give up,
Sit stock still in a chair,
Point it at the wall,
Devoid of every care...
Contemplating if I dare....
From such thoughts away she'd tear,
Cause Shar was there...
When I needed Safe Harbour,
To reconstitute my thought',
I'd read this one poem of hers,
There was the relief I sought..
Incorporate, fifty word or less, must rhyme, and make some distorted Bell-ish
Neutron star in a can of tuna
Feathered boa on my poodle
Cooking Black Flag noodles
sweet candy of concrete and caramel
Oop, I fell in my Fruit Loops!
There is a voice within us all
Some don’t hear, some do
But if you listen very hard
Then they will speak to you
They speak the wisdom of the world
They help along the way
They offer words when times are tough
Upon those darkened days
Some speak sweet, some are strong
Some can be quite mean
Though, try to listen when they speak
They’re a lot more than they seem
Do not suppress them, for they’ll die
To never again return
Keep them going, listen long
They teach a lot, so learn
When first the cold wind,
Blew to them, they flew away,
To dance under the sky,
To welcoming the clouds.
They sat on the air waves,
And made tops as peak of mountains,
Tired rose up with its joy,
Up and down to cuddle birds.
Sea, Bird and Air convey massage,
To the plants and trees,
All shared their happiness,
To kiss rain drops.
Animals bathed their bodies,
Burning earth smiled once again,
New leaves and grass touched rays,
Nature delivered fruit and flowers in joy.
Unblocked and unbreakable affords,
Hide new dreams of love,
To touch un-awakened mind,
To keep this life for living.
Not my best,
Though I easily passed any test,
I joined the chem lab,
To assist a bird brained woman,
She was rarely in the lab,
And we were rarely performing,
what we were supposed to be do'ing,
We'd mix different chemicals,
Until we got, the explosion we were brewing,
And poison gas feared us not,
We had a whole lab classroom ,
As refuge from our evil doing...
And in that lab class I'd proudly write,
On all the blackboards there,
"The "Gors" rule, we'll cream the "Cams"
And other childish drivel...
The birdbrained lab tech could
not figure out...who might be so uncivil...
Our bigggest joy was creating explosions,
For the lab tech was always gone...
The bigger, the better...
Our success measured by how many
Chem teachers ran in, to see what's up.
A challenge we always met,
We never got punished,
And thank God we killed no one,
Cause a lab full of chemicals,
And two fools with no knowledge or concerns,
Was the same as two madmen each with a gun.