Best Alleged Poems
TOLERANCE
I have little tolerance for tolerant people.
Those that will endure the corruption of
the truth, the erosion of meaning. While at
the same time being intolerant of your
opinions, thoughts, and level of tolerance.
There is a quote attributed to Voltaire:
“I disapprove of what you say, but I will
defend to the death your right to say it.”
How many of the “tolerant” would be willing
to fight for our right to “disapprove of what
they say”? Hush the crowd so that we might
be heard? Unblock their ears and hearts and listen?
Does the present day “tolerance”
lack tolerance, lack understanding,
lack the ability to endure a voice that
is not in tune, does not sing the same
song, does not pray the same prayer?
Or do they tolerate, put up with, the “fool”,
while denying acceptance of his opinions,
his beliefs. Perhaps the fool is more tolerant than they.
Listening to what they say, watching how they
carry themselves, interact with those “different”
than themselves.
For they think him a “fool”, because they do
not know that he thinks, what he thinks,
and most sadly, they do not care to know.
They will tolerate his presence but not allow
him to be present, listen to his voice yet hear
nothing, speak of equality while lauding their
position, education, power over him.
For they are tolerant only of themselves,
of their ideas, their thoughts, their peers,
their alleged - equals.
They disapprove of us, and what we say,
and will defend their right to keep it so.
John G. Lawless – 6/9/2014
16th April 1746
The day a country ceased to exist
British Army, Hanoverian scum
Defeated our Jacobite's
Scotland is on the run
Our Tartans banished, bagpipes no more
To lead our troops, to frighten the foe
Cumberland's men hunt us down
In every village and every town
Massacred, slaughtered
Wiped from our earth
Erased from the country of our birth
2000 men died to fight for their right
Against the British Armies might
Cameron's MacDonald's and Fraser's slain
Many other Clans, population drained
The survivors facing Hanoverian bans
Led to
The Scattering of the Clans
The Clan Chiefs lands, vast and many
Asset stripped, taken by the enemy
Alleged traitors tried, treason their crime
As Hanoverian Scum, on our riches dine
In the aftermath, many Scots left their shores
To distant lands to open new doors
Many writers on here
On their Ancestors scan
You may be here, because of
The Scattering Of The Clans
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland.php
Malevolent imploded uncontrollably,
twisting wildly maniacal posies
amid diabolically toasted brainstem,
angst uncompromisingly yanked tresses
purging stinging speech patterned rhymes
amuck iniquitous poetic verses hung
upside down to tormentingly dry,
facing other inimically knotted borders of
antagonistic galleries in deranged snapshots
razing warped poetical tapestries,
tripping on tunes of whiskey rushes' savoy truffles
and greenish tangerines whilst Led Zeppelin's
Sick Again danced upon reflective ceiling tiles,
time written sideways 'round alleged autonomy
hidden furthermost immune masked mirror images,
debauching Greek braille calligraphy's vindication
on walls of graffito scripted physicality
calling out 'tween hysterical compulsions,
naught one heeded the sounds of synapses
about ill-fated half moon's arresting arc,
synthetic doomsday's clocks aptly chimed
quarter to analytical cuckoo's nest repudiation,
still awaiting on serendipity to surrender
furthermost rabbit hole's curiouser rants,
relinquishing unwell-languaged compilations' sabotage - -
circumventing rhythmically subversive escaped detonation
You read in the papers you watch on the news
Coalition soldiers amidst as the killing accrues
In these theatres of war we lose many lives
In these wars of man only death thrives
But every so often there's a turn for the good
A life is saved they couldn't do what they could
The lives of a family murdered by cowards
Shot in cold blood bullets they showered
But from this tragedy a life was saved
It's of a little girl and a soldier who braved
A Chief Master Sergeant in the USAF
Allows mans humanity to kindly show face
This little girl who was saved was shot in the head
He stayed by her side for she should have been dead
To see pictures like this in the theatres of war
Maybe it's understandable to see what we fight for
An alleged soldier in wanton family wipe
What takes a soldier to become their type
My heart goes out to this little girl
And all the other children caught up in this war ridden world
Written on the spur of the moment after receiving a picture from Sara Kendrick
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-4.php
Sweetened dung is shoveled down
gluttonous throats with eager appetites for
alleged misdeeds skillfully spun
into a frenzy of sensationalized hype
by media-seasoned reporters.
.
Seduced by speculation and hearsay,
a jury of pseudo-intellectuals assembles
neatly with moral turpitude tied
smug and tight around rigid white collars
stained heavy with sweat and anticipation.
She stands alone as the eyes of
the court pierce through her appraising
her posture and expression while
the echo of charges being read dissipates
with the smell of type ink and old mahogany.
Fragments of truth embellished
for shock-value and dramatic effect
spill forth as vomit
from confessional mouths
reeking of rot and fermentation.
Vulturous prosecutors rise in fluid
motion squawking accusations in
expert execution of closing arguments,
pecking apart flesh, unconscionably
scattering the meaty bones of her defense.
I’m Peter the Plesiosaurus
My clan sings like whales in a chorus
My flippers and gills
Can give children thrills
So open your minds, don’t ignore us
*Japanese fishermen found an alleged plesiosaurus which was thought to have
vanished during the Jurassic period. Others believe the Loch Ness monster is a
plesiosaurus. You can see a picture of them at
http://hariscena.files.wordpress.com/2010/03/plesiosaurus_lebensbild.jpg
For turning my eyes into shallow Pacific blues,
because nobody likes Chocolate.
For transforming the freckled clusterbomb on my face,
into baby skin smoothness!
Because freckles are humanity’s alleged worst enemy
and I refuse to allow my self-confidence to stay Pro-Activ.
Thank you, Photoshop
for giving me that liposuction I ALWAYS wanted
in less than 10 minutes!
Working out is BENEATH me!
And I’m too busy dating these "5 Guys".
Thank you for bathing me in your Black & White Fountain of Youth!
60 is the used 25!
I refuse attempts in removing this fallacy
crawling under my lifted eye sockets.
My wisdom wrinkles shall stay imploded under pretentious needle.
Otherwise, I can’t continue to be fed
flirtatious appetizers by horny sheeple
and bi-curious copycats
hocking hairballs at the sight
of my airbrushed collagen lips
while they dry hump my computer generated thighs.
Their retinas grope my artificially inflated Grand Canyons
which are really only peaked valleys.
Yet, they won’t look at my defaults…
So, I thank you Photoshop
for being unable
to crop my misery.
© Drake J. Eszes
"Dedicated to those who are unable to look within themselves." -D.J.E.
(on the basis of Max Ehrmann’s Desiderata)
Be calm, because it's vanity of vanities,
reach harmony taking a truce.
Be generous, despite “in vino veritas”
all in the world forget the truth.
Remember that all have their rights –
an ignoramus here or there a fool.
And are you right with all your stereotypes?
So, take then theirs in blood cool.
For evil leave that everlasting fall,
obsequiousness and arrogance – a fuss;
As all affected will be ground at all
by millstones-years first or last.
And give yourself up to a labor of love,
depends itself on you your destiny.
In lieu of victor's wreath a head above
will be a crown of thorns eventually.
But if one day some utter fraud
floods flourishing in blossom land,
let it not devastate your soul
with all abstracted from your bank.
Remember, love is never bought,
you'd better flirt with haughty divas,
in style be good at getting old,
as all the beauty fades with years.
Enjoy the time not passing by,
this moment's not reversible.
Strengthen your spirit to be high,
your fears all alleged impossible.
At last a child you're of the universe,
as those trees, stars and our heaven.
You're given to explore your place,
though you take all for gospel ever.
Your God – it's peace within your soul,
you, cherish as the apple of your eye.
Let it be love here in a cottage small,
and be vivacious till you die.
They love creating chaos that's their plan.
Look at the wild fires out West, here we go again!
Devastating families with no end in sight.
Canceling their fire insurance, as their homes burn bright!
No water in the fire hydrants, can you imagine that?
The Controllers planned it that way, such an evil act!
Chaos they love and they love to destroy.
Starting off the New Year, Newsom's their boy.
This world is full of evil, and it will get worse!
If the people don't take a stand, there will be remorse!
(No syllable count)
PLEASE DONATE TO THE CALIFORNIA COMMUNITY
FUND. IT IS A RECOVERY FUND DEDICATED FOR
HELPING THE VICTIMS OF THE WILDFIRE.
Thank you and please pray for the victims of these
wildfires. God bless all that do.
It is sad to know these Hell bound
Satanist have planned the destruction
of California through their manipulation,
aiding in not implementing a plan to
have water in the hydrants with 7.5 Billions
put aside to do so, they did not implement.
Cutting the Firefighters budget by 17
million dollars. Creating the fires like in
Hawaii using lasers. They have targeted
California, Hawaii, and Canada. You know
this was planned because the fires were
started with 100 miles an hour winds in
place to fan the fires. What are the odds
of having no water in the hydrants, 100
miles an hour winds to fan the fires, and
the start of fires, all at once... Also months
before the insurance companies started
cancelling homeowners policies against
fires. Who tipped them off these fires were
coming to take such action. This tells you
it was planned and someone knew ahead of
time the fires were coming? This has to stop.
I hope there is an extensive investigation from
a private company not by their own
administration.
Davin Newsom has to be charged for this
planned destruction, loss of life, and suffering
caused by his alleged deliberat actions.
Important: Please go to YOUTUBE and type in
The Fires are "the plan" This is Disturbing. Off Grid
with Doug and Stacy... You will be amazed what
is in this video...
As I lie here on my death bed
Feeling the last beats of my heart
My only regret is, I didn't close
The lid on the apricot tarts
Sounds like a kind of trivial thing
But to some, it's a big faux pas
Little things are very important
To me, that's a major flaw
In the overall scheme of things in life
So they're not as fresh as alleged
I'll eat those things any way they come
Don't mind if there's fur on the edge
I think they call it **** retentive
And applies to so many things
Like how dishes are placed in the dishwasher
And how you must rinse everything
I really do feel sorry for these **** people
They need to start enjoying their life
Stop worrying 'bout all those silly things
Now you have it, my sage advice
© Jack Ellison 2014
Infinity beckons taunting
Beyond the mortal ridge
For time enough to really live
Those longings yet to bridge
I wear your symbol
Pierced in diamonds sharp
On my ears that I may always
Remember to hear you with my heart
Your curve that knows no ending dangles
On sterling chain around my throat
A reminder to fulfill
Solemn promises I have spoke
You rest upon my naval
A charm of infinities tease
As outer beauty gives way to age
Sweet time my youth appeased
Your sign never ending
Like fools upon the earth
Inked in red upon my wrist
Hiding scars when thoughts of life seemed undeserved
What is my obsession O'infinity
Our days so quickly turn to past
Within parameters of death and birth
Experiences just beyond our grasp
If I could overstep your boundaries
Place my toes just over your edge
Calculate your infinite zeros
Owning resources for dreams alleged
My learning curve a continuum
Time to get it right
A touch of love a sacrifice
Those things first missed in darkest night
The caress of your face not given
A smile unreturned
"I love you" remains in silence
In ashes lie bridges burned
Infinity... A dimension utterly unknown
I need you not to fly the sky or mountain's high to climb
This endlessness that immortals own
But to see again those souls Ive lost in time
I hold no comfort of heaven's gate or Hell
Though promises of infinity are all too common there
I just want days and nights unnumbered
For in youth we're completely unprepared
For Infinite choices without wisdom
When of passing days we have no fear
But as the end draws ever nearer
Hearts aching for that which we should have revered
Time becomes a commodity
Too sacred now to waste
Remind me always the quickness of a day
Sweet Infinity, it's why your symbol I embrace
Distort of sounds strum his bow —sawed heart rhythms,
mischievous fool impels my mind's rapt boredom.
The devil's finger warns and pivots, sedates,
adrift among alleged stolen dreamscapes.
The jester sleeps all day, perplexed I awake.
Edmond’s Alternate Ending
I am about to move
Though I’ve yet to move on…
…now that I’ve moved on
Or was it moved back
I found all the lack
In my alleged desires
A mind of loss conspires
For redemption, or revenge
My vengeance consumed me
Began to eat me whole
Til I realized I was the one chewing
And the graves that I was digging
Were nothing more than holes
So I stopped biting
And recovered the Earth
Won’t belittle myself by fighting
Or lower my self worth
Stooping to do battle with the trolls
I’ll just let them dig their own holes
HERE ONE MINUTE?
The tree it grows
The stream it flows
Each in its time
Not yours nor mine
The May bug flies
In hours it dies
Yet for each one
A full life’s run
Does time speak true?
Our lives accrue
Each minute new
To have or rue
Too short a pass
As dew on grass
Or long, as known
By rock or stone
So take each day
For work or play
I’ll write my rhyme
And make my time
4 October 2019 (it is alleged)
An Obscenity Trial
by Michael R. Burch
The defendant was a poet held in many iron restraints
against whom several critics cited numerous complaints.
They accused him of trying to reach the "common crowd,"
and they said his poems incited recitals far too loud.
The prosecutor alleged himself most stylish and best-dressed;
it seems he’d never lost a case, nor really once been pressed.
He was known far and wide for intensely hating clarity;
twelve dilettantes at once declared the defendant another fatality.
The judge was an intellectual well-known for his great mind,
though not for being merciful, honest, sane or kind.
Clerics called him the "Hanging Judge" and the critics were his kin.
Bystanders said, "They'll crucify him!" The public was not let in.
The prosecutor began his case
by spitting in the poet's face,
knowing the trial would be a farce.
"It is obscene,"
he screamed,
"to expose the naked heart!"
The recorder (bewildered Society)
greeted this statement with applause.
"This man is no poet.
Just look: his Hallmark shows it.
Why, see, he utilizes rhyme, symmetry and grammar!
He speaks without a stammer!
His sense of rhythm is too fine!
He does not use recondite words
or conjure ancient Latin verbs.
This man is an imposter!
I ask that his sentence be
the almost perceptible indignity
of removal from the Post-Modernistic roster."
The jury left in tears of joy, literally sequestered.
The defendant sighed in mild despair,
"Please, let me answer to my peers."
But how His Honor giggled then,
seeing no poets were let in.
Later, the clashing symbols of their pronouncements drove him mad
and he admitted both rhyme and reason were bad.
***
A well-known poet criticized this poem for being "journalistic." But then the poem is written from the point of view of a journalist who's covering the trial of a poet. The poem was completed by the end of my sophomore year in college.