Best Adjudicator Poems


The Finest Missionary

The Rich: 
Our lunch is so tasty and luscious 
It’s like in the mission we will see 
Hmmm….the air so cold and affectionate 
I can finally use my money as well as charm 
Crap! My gadgets will indeed save me 
Branded clothing will be an impression 
That is why; I am the best missionary here 
Because I have everything the world 
Could ever desire. 

The Intellectual: 
Yes, to teach is my dearest passion 
I’m not like you bird brains 
Who are ignorant of knowledge and prestige 
I’m the only one who can feed minds 
One that thinks and reflects 
I will make them understand 
The meaning and essence, from Soc to Sartre and beyond 
That is why I’m the righteous lad 
To be an instrument of God 
  
The Humble: 
Just think of the adventures we will encounter 
I’m not that rich and smart 
But to be with the people is our real task 
Not to impress, not to be a cutie, and play with coconut husk 
All I want to do is be with God’s people 
To serve Him with all my heart 
My oblation is  everything 
This sacrifice is only for Him to offer 
Not for man but to the transcendental One 

The Adjudicator: 
That is all true of what you say 
But remember that every minute there may be danger 
Snakes, NPA’s, ancient spirits and the current as you walk along the river 
Remember,  you are all unique in different talents 
Use them well to do great things 
Be sure that before it gets dark you will find your way 
Because the best among you 
Just lies beneath the veins. 
  
How precious is the life given for mission? 
You will all now become a real servant of the Lord 
Doing the same, but in different ways 
And let us all rise and pray 
  
Evaporate! Be gone and sleep early 
For tomorrow you will get wet and dreary 
Finish your food; it may be your last 
Godspeed and in Him put all your trust!

Geometrically Placed

When ten minus nine equals eight the baked bean has a chat to a nine foot goblin in an underpass who is carrying sixty-seven bowls of custard to make a very large tart for supper. An instigator is neither an alligator nor a flea. And a dome of teabags makes a very nice living embodiment of a ten trail avenue. It id understood that a physical education is a flat out high jumping curd in a flowery top. High kicking. High School. And a delivery of a smiley happy pizza who discusses existentialism with a pie of fruit. Sat side by side is not sat upside down. And to eat from a pail is to sing about rain whilst spinning an umbrella around and around. Oh look the cats are laughing at the snake who is journeying around a ceiling arch in a garage. Hahahaha. Pickling placing playing personifying peanuts. And a jam frowning. Eradicate no moving potatoes in a steak pastry ball. Hahaha and a big voice booming out from a one kilometre beak. Calibration calling. And a canopy of circular circumstances. No ha to that. So ho up the hill and make enquiries in a tail arch brush. Physicality of an elephant is rife in a head scarf and a dressed man. Six metre beard. And a waistline akin to a moon or a planted planet. Whirl. Xxxxx adjudicator adhere after all afternoons xxxxx talismanic teeth xxxxxx geometrically z

Premium Member The Parable of the Rich Fool

There once was man of means, who owned land that yielded a great harvest.
Thus caused the tearing down of a small storage house, to building a greater storage house.
Over time, he spent much of it being merry, selling small portions to fill his treasure house, whilst still yielding a great harvest keeping the great storage house full beyond measure, equally so, his treasury.

*As scriptured.
Jesus was asked to be an arbiter (an adjudicator, one who settles disputes) by a young man in the midst who wanted a fair portion belonging to his brother, whom 'twas given by virtue of birthright being the first born/eldest, according to the Laws of Israel. The younger brother wanted a fair portion of that that was given to his elder brother according to the birthright Laws of Israel. Therefore, the parable was a foreboding of covetousness, that what Heaven hast blest, thou shouldn't hoard as thine own, but to the furtherance of the teachings of Heaven. For what does it purposeth, when no one knoweth the hour when their life becomes forfeit and whatever has been gained, will go to those who had not earned it by labour, nor to those who have no need of it, nor to those who will sell off all your once prized possessions, at less than its true worth and squander it all away. Accumulation of wealth, is necessary but do not imprison thine heart to it and enrich self, but instead, enrich others, both physically and spiritually.

Date: 06/22/2019
© Hilo Poet  Create an image from this poem.


Wrong

A lap dancing molecule is dressed in a monocle. Such dainty prowess but naked no dress. No suit could taste an acrylic sheet as sheer fabric is often moving unseen across oceans,beams, and many window ledges. Who would then argue that a tempered sword could beckon in this era as most people have taken off wool and now the flock stands bare. A show of a shower. An increased discolouration of tyranny and a mounting view of hue. Mist not a moat. And take no orphaned lonely goat to a show. An AK47 is looking at a tent. And although rusted is trusted and thrown around in the air with great gusts of emblematic soul thrusts. Dupe not a diamond headed cobra. For ancestral wisdoms flourish if harm is perceived. Placing of the cloth should be attempted only when the stream is full. And the stench from a rhododendron printed garden is abominable yet can it be abolished? "yes" cried the 893 serpents, 500 belligerent buffalo, an earwig, and a giant sea turtle. Carve that then. Ha ha. It is to be the dutiful honour of the maiden of the eleventh ocean to place chorographical lines on necklaces. It is neither a weave nor a wand. And placing ones hands behind ones back is a sign not of cohesion it is detrimental to a bloodline. Once sold. A soldier fed is a soldier dead. And a field of archaically driven radio beams is a quagmire of hidden ancestry. Gone. But not gone. It is not the place for a nine foot leopard print jacket to state wisdoms at a ball or a garden party. It is the place of the feet. The dust. The trust. The formation of the ground. The true leaders denied but not denied. And all chaotically clam style ship faces  and all Jacobean worshipping masonry brick heads placed the many many peas in a boiling pan then laughed. Sold manuscripts for money. Then drank blood in oceanic temples. Worldy wholly wantons. And a sack of germinating potatoes pollinated. Discuss not a wonder. Pulling pleasing playing partying patties pastries pasteurised. Slip slap slop then. Great. Fantastic isn't it? Feel not akin to a tired dilapidated drinks fountain? Xxxxx passing Paddington people xxxxx adjudicator adhere. Xxxxx vaporisations p y q Zr

Premium Member These Rules Aren'T For Fools Fable

Two dragonflies and two huffle-winks lined up to compete in a race
Lady dragon was the adjudicator, a ring of flames encircled her face 
Haughty huffle-winks were egotists and didn’t listen to her rules
declaring, ‘Your rules are really silly. They only apply to stupid fools 
We'll beat those flitting dragonflies and be first to cross the line
then claim the prize of sozzle beer that tastes scrumptiously divine’
 
Lady dragon fired the starting gun in the air, and the race had begun
Both dragonflies and huffle-winks were off towards the setting sun 
The huffle-winks dashed to the sky and took the lead at great speed
saying ‘We're bound to be the winners’. Winking, they both agreed
 
But the dragonflies had heard all the rules and were not in such a hurry
They saw the huffle-winks zoom away, and it gave no cause for worry 
The huffle-winks crossed the finish line first at such a blistering pace
then fluttered down to the ground, a cocksure grin upon each face 
Huffle-winks' friends were waiting,  but not with whoop and cheer
Two horrified huffle-winks learned they’d not won the sozzle beer!
 
If only they had intently listened to the last rule on Lady Dragon's list
 "Winners are last over the line," their undies wouldn't be in a twist 
Happy dragonflies crossed the finish line, wings still filled with power
They'd flown leisurely, and the huffle-winks had been back for an hour!
 
Poor huffle-winks were dibblestruck not to receive the sozzle beer prize
but the dragonflies shared it with everyone; the keg was an enormous size  
Old Lady dragon used her fiery flames and created a bright golden light
and enough sozzle beer to last past midnight... to everyone’s delight! 
"So the moral of this fantasy tale is to take everything at a steady pace
remembering that the first across the line doesn’t always win the race!"

Entered into Fabled Musings Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May

Dragon dragonflies and huffle-winks Contest
Sponsored by Caren  Krutsinger 

5/12/18

Look Out

Head on swivel...

Circumference free...

...take in all mannerism...

In silence all word...
In silence all gesture...

...All actions flee...

...The adjudicator within...

...Principle of mind dilate...

... Conformity of the masses...

...Stands in great debate...

...Principle of mind dilate...

...Caution in the wind...

...breeze tapped out message...

...Conformity of the masses...

...Stands in great debate...

...The adjudicator within...

...Caution in the wind...

...Head on swivel...

Circumference free...


Death Becomes Me

You’re within  me
Talking, stalking
In the guise of a false memory

Arbiter of what is and is not
A cloaked and shadowed form
Whom I had hoped to forget

Feebly I had prayed that I could live in peace
But your ghostly spectre is haunting
Taunting with no surcease

Virulently cawing ‘why?’
and ‘how could this be?’

I can’t answer

And then - again - I see you die
die, inside of me 

Like a fire lit too soon
In an inhospitable domain
Fate, it seems, had already declared your doom. 

Fate.
As though I were vindicated of agency
As though I were not driven by others’ fear and hate

Fear.
Of what could be
Of the relief if you were to just disappear

Alone.
I, the adjudicator 
Fear to leave my home 

False dawn
For home offers no such sanctuary from your
Memory I so privately mourn

Virulently cawing ‘why?’
and ‘how could this be’

You can’t answer

I can’t answer

And then -again - I see you die,
Die, inside of me. 

Rebecca .A. Huxley

Judge Me Not

"Order, Order, All rise"
The voice echoes like an aftermath;
Bringing a chill to the Atmosphere.

As the highest in authority infiltrates the inhabited chambers.
to the commoner, I am known simply as Magistrate or Judge;
To the elite, Adjudicator, Expert Connoisseur.

All walks of life situate themselves before me with one thing customary ILLEGALITY!!!
With the aid of my two abettor solicitors, whom have rehearsed their part in this cavort.
One to vindicate the appellant,
The other to arraign arbitration without plausible dilemmas.

listening to the monotonous rigmarole, on and on and on,
Mutter, mutter, mutter:
The thrill of just banging the hammer, interrupting the nattering and shouting:
" LIFE IN BONDAGE, OR TO THE GALLOWS OR HANG HIM TILL HIS DEAD!"
Appeals to my better nature.

For I see it, who so ever stands before me should suffer maximum punishment;
Be he innocent or guilty, he should not have got caught.
But, alas, the cat has to give the mouse a sporting chance,

Then I will make my judgement swift and quick.......

For the Attention of Joanne Regarding Bankruptcy Ref - Bkt5055794

Dear Joanne. If there is a problem, there are human beings.
We have all made mistakes but people like me are not needed.

Dear Joanne. I have received a letter from the office of the adjudicator concerning my income and expenditure. It is requesting that on my present earnings, that my disposable income is £744.00 per month. However, my current circumstances have changed, and I will always continue to change.

I must move out of my current property and have nothing but books.? I have lost things and made memories and lost things. I have investigated private accommodation, but they are asking for a deposit, two months in advance which is likely to be more than two thousand pounds just to rent not including bills. I have approached the local hostel; I do not meet the criteria as I am employed.
?
Dear Joanne. I am starting to think I’m crazy. I have not yet found any options but staying at the library and to write. This month I’m paying for my MOT, renewed car insurance and service. I can’t get more ambition as my greatest moment in life, is waking up at 6 am and returning endlessly, incomplete. Every day is the same, but I don’t feel the same. To maintain my job, I am doing more than 18 hours per day.

Dear Joanne. I am living in a car park. I am currently concentrating on accommodation; my mind continues to be problematic. I would call but I don’t have a phone. In established solitude I neglect myself.

Dear Joanne. I can’t afford food. I have observed peppers that trigger regret, mushrooms in various states of anxiety and courgettes produced in Morocco that make me question my minds direction. All the decorated cans of foods are at unobtainable heights, potential future achievements. The closest expiration date has more value, more worth than people like me who live in a dark room.

There is more love being alone. It was the greatest opportunity to know why I lived and offered me chances to see real life. We are just as meaningful as vegetables. In our own beds, looking up at the world. As nothing.
© David Gale  Create an image from this poem.

Ticktockticktock

the ticking is unbearable 
tick tock
the time is flying faster than a plane
my heart racing at the speed of light 

every minute it’s like a knife 
tick tock
that’s getting bigger and sharper by the minute

but instead of my own blood
tick tock 
it’s yours 
it’s yours being splattered on my hands

my brain being handcuffed
tick tock 
as the ruthless adjudicator 
takes you away from me

takes you to who knows where
tick tock
and the worst part about your terrible fate
is that your ready 

you’re so ready
tick tock 
each second your closer and closer
your heart is racing with excitement 

you’ll finally be free
tick tock
and i’m so selfish
i’m keeping you imprisoned 

but when the dark hour hits the clock
tick tock
i’ll replace you in your cage 
and it’s just me mourning 

and slowly whispering 
“tick tock”
as the knife stabs
until someone else takes my place

Singing Competetion

Animals gathered in the forest
for annual singing competition
at the table was the old big toad
presiding as  adjudicator guest
weaver bird sang so well that day
monkey sang so well, playing fiddle
snake hissed and danced zigzag
frog croaked , jumped all over
all other animals did their best
surprise in final result it was
frog with rough voice was best
animals rioted and threw mad
but guest adjudicator told them;
“I did my best to get best singer
frog beat everybody in the hall
even if he was poor, remember
blood is thicker than water”!

Battler

I am losing the war against myself 
Who I am vs who I am supposed to be against what I am 
It exhausting when your opponent is a fighter 
Its exhausting fighting the mirror 
Cuts and bruises until you can’t see any clearer
Blood flowing no drinking on the river 
The pain runs deep and the alcohol is bitter
Its painful to numb what caused the Injure 
Reality is blurry the tears salty I can’t find my healer 
F*** this f*** that f*** I am bitter
The dissonance is cognitive a dissociative persona 
The legion is fighting my spirit is bipolar
The peace is not within without is not proper
I am losing a war against myself 
I am a coward with a loud speaker 
Defendant,  jury adjudicator corrupt  prosecutor 
I am kind to Nisa but to myself a monster 
I am kind to a stranger but to myself I’d not rather 
I am losing a war against myself
Love lover lovest can’t save me any farther
Low lower lowest got me questioning my creator
No power protest there really is no one out there
Da da da da future selfs on the respirators 
La la la la sad scenes  make up my theatre 
I am so tired I need to rest  so that the bugs do prosper 
If I just give up who cries at  Gods acre? 
I am losing a war 
I am losing a war 
I am losing a war  against myself

O Holy Night

Fall is breathing its dying breaths
and a chill settles deeper into the air.
The first flakes of snow have dusted the ground
leaving the world glimmering,
starlight reflecting off each crystal
and casting a beautifully eerie glow.
Nighttime silence is unbroken 
save for the sound of my surreptitious breaths,
which cloud in front of me as they’re slowly released.
I can sense God here.
An all-encompassing presence that fills the emptiness with calm 
despite the uncertain shadows lining the ground.
For a moment, just a moment,
(I refuse to allow myself longer),
I am not alone,
and I take comfort in His grace
until I’m greeted inside by the laughter of my family
and the warm glow of the fireplace.
This I can be certain is real,
this tangible, palpable love.
This is what I’ll live with my heart set on.
Where I land in the end is known only
to the holy adjudicator.
But as my mother’s love is enduring and unconditional
(unlike His, daily damning innocents and the joyously enamored),
I choose to establish my acts within such power 
rather than living by divine ideal.

Selenophile Devotion

Under The Loom of The Majestical Full Moon In Full Bloom
I Prostate Before Your Ethereal Altar
With Offerings of  Adoration,  Words and Songs Expressed
Throughout the Ages Like a Universal Mantra
In Your Lustrous Fullness I am Consumed
Beholding Your Ghostly, Geometrical Translucent Petals 
Revered Celebrity, Shamanic Guide, Celebrated Ritual In the Sky
Rhythmic Influencer of Beast, Flora, Marine and Humanity, Expectorant of the Oceans' Tides
Oracle of Prophecy, Supernatural Orb Casting Transparency on Egocentric Mendacities
Graceful is your Enchanting Reprieve
Moon Bathing in Boons Of Abundance Her Recipients Receive
Anticipating Your Maiden Shakti Rituals, Deluging Gratitude Upon the Earth, Honorable Aqua Libations
Abolishing Facades and Self Induced Limitations, New Moon Mirror  Affirmations Daily Recitals
 Meekly  Dedicated  to Successfully Harvest The Bounty of Your Heavenly Culmination.
Goddess of the Night Sky, Silvery, Celestial Mystery of Incandescence Beauty
Sturmfrei, In Stillness I Cherish Thee, Fervent Selenophile, your Humble Devotee
Hail the Assigned Karmic Referee, Advocator of Calm, Adjudicator of Self Inflicted Battles
Discord Created by Illusions, Conflicted Engagements Between I and Me
Reverence Expressed In Your Rise and Set, Uttered Salutations Of Faith, Hope and Love
Embedded in a Moonstone Rosary, Dutiful Majestic Beauty, Hypnotic Silvery Medallion Gracing The Starry Tapestry.

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