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Best Amplification Poems

Kindness Never Hurts

It’s not because I talk to myself – 
no, that’s not why I talk to everyone else;
I talk for the human connection
that needs constant amplification.

Friends or strangers - matters not,
a little kindness helps a lot.
Humanity is all the worlds got
and, like me, all struggle with the plot.

A little kindness never hurts
and I am not an unfeeling sort.
We are all our Father’s perfect works
meant to give love our best escort.

I try to leave each moment better honed
for those I meet that feel all alone.
By putting sunshine in our tones
we can witness moods better sown.

To people I meet who are abused
I’ll use kindness to stir an improve
or listen to hurts that so confuse.
Kindhearted acts can love transfuse.

For the struggles of the poor,
I give to help them endure.
We must never turn away
from all kindness can procure.

When we meet someone disabled,
we must not give them a label.
I am part of Special Olympics
that all keep self-value stable.

I need help when I sit with broken bits,
a fall, or sad’s call, but I know I’m part of all.
I can’t keep my heart shy when by and by, 
there but for the Grace of God …  go I.


... CayCay Jennings
December 7, 2018

blessingcaregivinggivinghopehumanityrhyme

Theater of Utter Charm - Part 30

in the language of personal amplification
you'd think it was all a scam
to make you drop your guard
and play patty cakes with Evil
job 3 was to rearrange your molecules
into an actual you
capable of withstanding
the outcomes you generate
from a lack of detail
where science is not to be found
there is no other description that fits
praise the panoramic vista
just around the corner
it's all about the pivot points
so fat chance
among the exploding galaxies
minus the swashbuckling pistoleros and
armchair Romeos and
prisoners of doom and
fairytale living sacrifices
victory is not always a given
you have known this for years
when the paparazzi scribblers
were the Freedom Brigade
where your body parts
take on a life of their own
and deductions don't necessarily
insure your survival
and the mystery remains
job 4 is to better organize thoughts
the game of influence
is the game of influence of judgment
and in sum job 5 is to look at our expectations
and their reliance upon
the letters of the alphabet
separate inputs perceived as one
is an angel
allow me to present you
with the keys to the code
two eyeball pictures perceived as one
within the freedom to inquire
the fanatics want to stop time
that is all there is to it
in which case
a mild dose of persistence never hurts
vision is numbers is evidence
we suffer the memory of past volitions
many of them not our own
we have been engineered to be throttled
yah I took the long way home
much to the disgust
of every entity in the Universe
the list of culprits is long
you have been reading it
no surprise relief on the horizon
police could show up on my doorstep
at any suspecting instant
but the obvious comes easily to me
when I am uninhabited
that's what you get when
you stop trying to be appetizing
for those who cannot tolerate self mockery
there is a train load of pity
to add to the weight on your arms
when in doubt go for the learning
do for the learning
be for the learning
rampant imagination may be
a low grade ore
but the nuggets will blow your head to atoms
enjoy your nodule of security then
keep in mind it can quickly vaporize
in a new modality of immediacy
a traveling mosaic of instants
the next one looking back on the last
(to be continued)


From "Theater of Utter Charm"
Available on Amazon

how i feelpersonafree verse

A template swap is a switch over to a swimming sword. Swordfish are very pleased at this and dunk their noses into goblets in a godlike fashion. Such etiquette in a swim. Formational framework finds format. And even a small pinnacle of cake icing could dance down the highways. So ignoring the wraths and word of woe it is wise to take out a pretty smiling biscuit. Place it carefully on a plate. Then climb up the hill and over the rope bridge. Very high altitude causes biscuits to be afraid so they must be calmed with soothing words and beats of breath. When the other side of the mountain is reached the biscuit must be harnessed securely using over twenty ropes. Then and only then can the abseiling begin. Wow aren't they travelling with speed, courage and optimism but optimism is neither an original orifice nor an octagonal oversized overspill objective. It is really then the sway of a ninety thousand foot toothbrush that can announce the time with no need of amplification via a microphone or a tannoy system. Wow. How intriguing is the belligerent hard yard of a semi dressed riddled jester? And how time consuming is the ongoing rashers of tinned and sliced ham? How delegated are the powers that are worn around and around and adjudicate the environment? Thus thwarting life in its structural natural weave. And a giant beehive hairdo must be re worn as a signal to a hive. Hide then. Hideous hags having heaping heads. And legs like little tables spin and rotate via remote control. Similar to a plate of writhing meal worms and a workshop of controlled chapel chaos. Big birthday balloons bring balls banging. Circumference of circulating capital charms. And a diameter of a diagram is a dare in the deeds. Castle that then fortify but do not attempt to fry for to fry is to form fiendish frolics. And to frolic is just not a fashionable way of wearing a peel is it? Hahaha the sausages are listening to their cousins today. Hahaha I want a cup of tea and a toast too said the little bluey green lamp. Xxxxxx parasympathetic parody xxxx xxxx etymologies z z z z z at twenty one full meals of porridge in a bread pan to twenty sequences of serving cereals to a six inch bowl. Z.

baseballi do not know?

Marooned On An Island of Nihilism

After a lifetime
(pronounced like millennium),
where tenacity futilely braced
psyche deeply purpled,
hellishly, and lethally
traced resulting scars -
jackknifed, emasculated
cruelly chaste

sexuality expired, lapsed,
and petered out testosterone
begone to waste,
and how this abased
bereft of eroded optimism,
nee faith no more - erased,
solitary carbon based animal
coalesced into countless

foreborn generations
(glommed *****sapiens
salient survival skills)
mortified, putrefied, and
stagnated toxic brew
quaffing poisonous 
score peon - composite gin,
barley distilled, exiled,

and fragmented
human encased
faculties doggedly
catapulted, with haste
squandered genetic inheritance
kamikaze potential
apathetically plundered, akin
how Hindenburg plummeted

like led zeppelin,
(scare way to craven)
his foghorn emitting distinctive
Semitic bulbous 
shofar shaped schnozzle traced
analogous to decrepit son -
dialed helpline to late
promising lad once vaunted

lauded, and 
deemed hereditarily, -
he busted great expectations
quintessentially, psycho
socially, and opportunistically
lineage noble storied
standing déclassé debased
forced to take stock at aging

non-thrilled man
in the mirror
haggard heavily creased
doughy paste poker face
(born that way)
blankly stare ring back, spaced
out, no longer boyish,
but gray bearly grizzled, 

flecked, and etched stubble,
scraggly unkempt whiskers
discombobulated
straggly matted hair
limply drape stupefied noggin
utterly disc graced
countenance eye spy
crows feet laced

blotchy complexion re: placed
once smooth skin
donned dawning senescence 
amplification trumped
"NON FAKE" crudely
aping scrim age lost 
fight of his life.

absenceabuseallusionangstanimalblank verse

46 Per Cent of Japan's Population Hide When Someone Rings the Doorbell

i guess it depends on the resonance the amplification
when i sang in the bedroom my father shrieked
put a sock in it and i remember reaching for
the pants drawer to find a pair, but i once did
turn away carol singers, but only after they'd
finished their warbling did i thank them and
slam it in their faces, i once called my 
mother's friend, feigning to be the fire
brigade, and was aghast when she answered
i told her we were probing into fire alarms
the selling of them, if she was interested
at the school gates, she enumerated the 
anecdote to my mother, who glared down 
at me as i felt my face go ruby, but no matter
because i didn't succeed in selling a fire alarm
or selling anything, but my mother looked
perturbed when i waved and addressed the
postman, as he actually wasn't our postman
but his route took him to an aligned location
and it stopped just at our street, but no matter
because it would be the socialist workers party
at our door next, asking for subs and my dad
hit the roof, but amends was made when i 
returned home without my mother's knowledge
surprised her as she began to weep behind the glass
our parents, all paths lead back to them

humorhumorousfree verse

Circulation

the isolated 
spiraling in a whirl of cabin fever
buried in the forest, in the hills, 
out of sight & out of 
what is said to be the mind of the
culturally present---
in hiding, 
finding one’s way in the dark
seeing without neon light
hearing without amplification &
speaking 
face to face 
without smartphones or 
ipads or
skype---
what is said to be the
“old fashioned way.”

so out into the open come the once
locked up &
with this new unlimited ability to 
express themselves 
comes the overflowing 
possibilities &
the circulation
of new personalities at the
convention.

with each newly added person
with each newly spoken voice
comes a betterment for all of us
a new light shed on a darkening whole &
a new way of seeing 
that was unheard of before---

with more voices comes progress &
with progress comes solutions &
with solutions comes health &
with health comes happiness &
with happiness comes 
the lack of a need to kill each other &
with that,
our planet & species might not disappear so
quickly---
all begins with circulation.

lifehealthplanetpersonafree verse

Garbage

Garbage Contest
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen


Life is so darn demanding day in and day out,
All the days of wanting to leave and scream and shout,
The vile garbage in my head is completely revered,
As my daily departing procrastination is always feared.

I’ve walked miles in his shoes and can’t understand,
Why the garbage in his head is used by his abrasive hands,
Bruises and scratchy wounds on my face, back and my arm,
He was supposed to be the one to protect me from harm.

As days turn into strenuous weeks I still can’t comprehend,
Why the stinking garbage in my head can’t rely on a friend,
No matter how I hurt I am scared deep down inside,
But he’s always there catching me when I try to hide.

The garbage in his head seems so foul-smelling and dirty,
To think I thought I’d be settled by the time I turned thirty,
Thoughts fading into devastation that it may be my fault,
If only there was a way to bring this abuse to a halt.

I was born to feel freedom and live with amplification,
Now the garbage in my head fills me with feared anticipation,
Obliterated and torn apart I’ve been captured and ill-treated,
I used to be one with my soul, full of wholeness and completed.

Please save me from this harm that damages me relentlessly,
I can’t handle the pain of his strength he uses tremendously,
I wish I had a different life with love and laughter instead,
But unfortunately I’m stuck with the nasty garbage in his head.


Date Written: July 1, 2016

abusefearcouplet

Best Amplification Poems

Diagram Semiotics

Human Description

Bad Breeding

Self Actualization

Kindness Never Hurts

Amplification

Alien Aims

An Amplifier

Life In Perpetual

Theater of Utter Charm - Part 30

Well Now Then

Marooned On An Island of Nihilism

46 Per Cent of Japan's Population Hide When Someone Rings the Doorbell

Circulation

Garbage

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