Home » Poems » Best » John Wilowski » Best John Wilowski Poems

Best Poems Written by John Wilowski

Below are the all-time best John Wilowski poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | John Wilowski Poem

The Universe of You

I have never seen a flower blush when I took it's hue
and held it there a prisoner captive to my view.

I have always heard the song that's in the autumn breeze
playing taps in harmony with the forest leaves.

I love the smell of rain that brings the springtime into bud
and swells my love of nature into a teeming flood.

I celebrate the cycle of the daytime into night
and find an equal blessing in the shadow and the light.

I've always felt affinity for all created things
and surrender to the pleasure that their beauty brings.

And though I could spent a lifetime sailing drops of dew
I've never seen a universe as beautiful as you.


I've often sat myself by gentle mountain streams
and overflowed the dams that were holding back my dreams.

I've breathed the scented forest on the mountainside
and washed away my sorrows in an evening ocean tide.

I've laid down in a meadow and debated with the moon
and spent some quiet moments on the surface of Neptune.

I got married to a zodiac with one of Saturn's rings
then spied a super nova and went on a cosmic fling.

I've run away to nebulae in galaxy brochures
and bathed in scenes of wonders on distant planet shores.

Every cosmos in creation could parade before my view
but I've never seen a universe as beautiful as you.


I've never seen a tree once withdraw it's shade
and deny a creature the comfort of its aid.

I've never seen any anger in the sun at noon
when it burns relentlessly on the desert dune.

At sunrise I take an oath to live with all my might
and reinforce my gratitude each and every night.

I could spend some hours riding on a crystal flake
drifting wildly in a gale mindless of my fate.

Many times I've been through trials of wind and rain and snow
then sentenced to the splendors that the seasons show.

And though I've searched throughout creation, I must say this is true
I've never seen a universe as beautiful as you.

Details | John Wilowski Poem

Act Iii, Final Scene

Act III, final scene, psychodrama script-
the world is ushered off into history's crypt.
All the super heroes lie slaughtered on the floor
while apocalyptic addicts are screaming out for more.

A handful of patriots ride the airwaves into night
broadcasting dire warnings to bring the truth to light.
General population is glued to the TV set
watching situation comedies, smoking cigarettes.

The program's interrupted by a special news update
"World War III declared" more details at eight.
General population pumps his fist hard into the air
grabs himself a six-pack and settles back into his chair.

Less then twenty cases later he is morgue decor
from the radiation resulting from the war.
The tube becomes his headstone, body decomposing on the floor
beneath blue light TV flickering...1984.

Details | John Wilowski Poem

Ignorant Time

IGNORANT TIME

I went up before a judge because it is a crime
to be at all ignorant in this place and time.
I was living evidence and the judge he saw this too
so I awaited his decision as to what he planned to do.
He said "This is my verdict" with a very solemn look
"I hereby sentence you to a year of reading books"
I said "Judge we've got a problem, though it's guilty that I plead
in no way can I do the time because I cannot read."
'then it's back to school with you' he said 'and I don't care
if you have to spend the rest of life in there.'
I said 'Judge I will do anything that this court deems fit
but it was in that very place I became illiterate!'

Details | John Wilowski Poem

Judas Is a Friend of Mine

There's a story in the bible that should be clarified-
it's true that Jesus Christ was crucified and died
but Judas never hung himself I know he's still alive.
I was doing shots with him down at a local dive,
he was dirinking bourbon and I was drinking rye.

He was getting wasted as I listened analytically
to a story of betrayal he was pouring over me.
He wore a smile upon his face and talked congenially
but under that exterior it was obvious that he
was a raging fusion of covert hostility.

I sat there and listened through several shots of rye
until the conversation faded and then it finally died.
He paid his tab in silver and as he staggered off outside
I sat there on that barstool completely mystified
as to when he'd finally kiss this relationship good-bye.

Judas is a friend of mine but I want all of you to know
I get very nervous when he stops by to say hello.

Details | John Wilowski Poem

Jake the Rake

JAKE THE RAKE

                        Jake the rake was a stud among the local crowd 
                        and very much enamored with what he was endowed.
                        He would strut he stuff around and play the macho role
                        boasting of the many pelts hung on his lodging pole.

                        All the lesser Romeo's could only shake their heads
                        and marvel as Jake whisked another woman off to bed.
                        Some would look at him with total envy in their eyes
                        as Jake walked out the door with his nightly prize.

                        One time Jake was at a party, with Cat his steady squeeze
                        and left with another bird who fired up his bees.
                        When Cat returned the favor it took him down so hard
                        he turned into a sobbing wretch with his emotions charred.

                        In the nature of these two was the cruel intent
                        to utilize sex as a means of punishment.
                        Pleasure's a sensation that can cause a lot of pain
                        if it's wantonly abused and not morally restrained.

                        In time the two got married and that made sense to me
                        they took each other prisoner to vows of endless misery.
                        The crowd finally broke up, we went our separate ways
                        but I chanced to wind in the old stomping grounds one day.

                        I walked into a party and both of them were there
                        she had him on a leash and was scowling in a chair.
                        He was laying at her feet with a frightened stare
                        rolled over on his back with his leg up in the air

Details | John Wilowski Poem

Politically Correct

POLITICALLY CORRECT

                                  Now psycho politics subtly suggests
                                  that you follow this rule of polite etiquette-
                                  before you say something please pause and reflect
                                  is what you are thinking politically correct?

                                  There is a conspiracy of a powerful few
                                  to control whatever you think, say and do.
                                  It is this effect that they wish to cause-
                                  for you to think your thinking has flaws-
                                  before you say something please pause and reflect
                                  Is what you are thinking politically correct?

                                  It's a suble intrusion so slyly designed
                                  the thought of deception never enters your mind
                                  but it's someone else choosing the words
                                  you use to describe what you've seen and you've heard.
                                  When anothers words become your voice
                                  your thoughts have become anothers choice-
                                  before you say something please pause and reflect
                                  is what you are thinking politically correct?

                                  If silence is golden then gold has no use
                                  you can spend all you want and not stop the abuse.
                                  The structure is crumbling, the framework is bent
                                  and society is in downward descent-
                                  before you say something please pause and reflect
                                  is what you are thinking politically correct?

                                  Here is an epitaph as silent as death
                                  chiseled in tombstone where you're laid to rest.
                                  Please pause for a moment and pay your respects
                                  here lies a man who is politicallly correct.

Details | John Wilowski Poem

Hey Monsanto

HEY MONSANTO  

     Hey Monsanto how much did you pay
     mother nature to look the other way?
     Did you stuff her purse full of dough
     to lobby God for GMO's?

     By splicing pesticides into grains
     you're poisioning the food chain.
     What harms insects harms humans too
     people are just like bugs to you.

     You program future seeds to die
     to control the food supply.
     There's famine in the seed you sow
     and hunger in the crops you grow.

     We can see the mutant strains 
     invading through the fruited plains.
     You're the plague upon the crops
     and the blight that must be stopped.

     Your lawyers say farmers steal
     when winds blow your seeds on their fields.
     You'd sue the wind, sun and sky
     to control the food supply.

     Hey Monsanto don't you know
     you will reap just what you sow.
     Evil minds can only yield
     bitter fruits and barren fields.

     The winds of change are everywhere
     and storms of protest in the air.
     There will come a harvest time
     when you must pay for all your crimes.

Details | John Wilowski Poem

Love, Lilies, Birds

LOVE

Love will conquer all
those who fight it...surrender
to lose is to win

LILIES

The lilies called me
I sheltered in their flowers
a casket loomed close

BIRDS

Sirens scream at dawn
helicopters in pursuit
birds keep on singing

Details | John Wilowski Poem

The Three R's

The three R’s of education begin
with reading ‘riting and Ritalin.
Children are labeled mentally ill 
because they fidget and won’t sit still.

Normal actions diagnosed to be
the symptoms of ADHD,
so psycho pharmacy can push a pill
to cure psychiatry’s invented ill.

You’re targeted from your infancy
to develop drug dependencies. 
And spend your life consuming pills
medicating invented ills.

Drugs are poisons with side effects 
that alter mechanisms of intellect
with substances that are known to be 
toxic to your brain chemistry.         

Minds cannot withstand the strain
of mans assault upon the brain,
and those minds can explode
into psychotic episodes.

You may find yourself in killer mode
from a demon circuit overload,
in a classroom full of dead
and a gun held up to your head.
 
The machineries of a nation run
on the intellect of its population.
Drug a populations intellect
and it will become derelict.

A population of addicts
living day to day, fix to fix,
dwindling down pill by pill
until that nation’s pulse is still.

Details | John Wilowski Poem

Foul, Filthy, Phallic Rap and Roll

A child hears a song on the radio
and the music sets his mind aglow...
at his age he’s too young to know
he’s being sucked in the black, black hole
of foul, filthy, phallic rap and roll.

Tuned to the beat that fills his ears
he merges with the sounds he hears,
he doesn’t know just how severe 
the words that pulse play a role	
in foul, filthy, phallic rap and roll.

Sex and surrender are entwined  
in lyric beats of metered time
and as all decency is undermined...
verse by verse the words take their toll
through foul, filthy, phallic rap and roll. 

As he is swept by carnal tides  
religious values wash aside, 
all moral binds become untied...
a beast within then gets paroled
by foul, filthy, phallic rap and roll.

So, entranced by the tunes he plays 
song by song he gets dragged away
into the beat of world decay...
he’s in lockstep on a fatal stroll
with foul, filthy, phallic rap and roll.

The handlers laugh at all of those
who think that they have smelled a rose...
but it’s just the thorns shoved up your nose
by agents into mind control
with foul, filthy, phallic rap and roll.