Best Apologist Poems
Tina-Louise dashed into a tattoo parlor
And asked for some ink in the shape of a flower.
Much below the knees so my mom doesn’t holler;
Would you hurry-up please, I’ve only one hour.
Seeing as that flower was never discovered,
Tina-Louise went back in for another.
And this time she preferred it higher to cover
A birth mark she wanted to hide from a lover
Since it turned winter, others were oblivious,
So each new tattoo became insidious.
As her pants concealed the vividly obvious,
This fact let Tina to be more devious.
Then before spring, Tina-Louise met a good man
Who was employed at emptying garbage cans.
In no time she had a diamond ring on her hands,
And a tattoo of “Stu” high up on her gams.
Tina-Louise’s belly started projecting
Because of the baby she was expecting.
And it mattered not that her Stu was objecting
To the art of ink that she wasn’t neglecting.
Even Tina-Louise’s gynecologist
Chattered on like a wannabe psychologist.
Saying stop with the inking, you need to desist,
And carried on like a show off apologist.
Well, TL’s final tattoo went high on her neck
Of some odd creature from the series, Star Trek.
And poor Stu could barely keep his temper in check
With that mouthful of Clingon he got with a peck.
Tina-Louise’s water finally did break
During delivery, Doc said for goodness sake.
It’s bizarre days like today that take the cake,
For there’s a glitch with your baby that’s a mistake.
The parents were concerned; well wouldn’t you be too?
They thought maybe their baby came out cold blue.
Nope, the shaken Doc said, this is completely new;
Your sweet little baby has a rose bud tattoo!
With one look, Stu fainted onto the sterile floor,
Since this wasn’t the newborn he bargained for.
Then Tina-Louise gave out one last birthing roar
That started and finished with curses galore.
Afterword Tina-Louise sat alone and bawled
Lamenting the curse to her new baby doll.
Why didn’t I listen to my mom at all?
And to all the others who made the right call?
TL and Stu’s baby now has beautiful skin
Thanks to the marvels of modern medicine.
Though Tina-Louise never performed a real sin;
She wished all her tattoos stayed below her shin.
For Juli- Michelle's Rhyme Battle contest 9/29/13
there was a proud resident
who gave her neighbours
a torrid time because she
was well-connected and big
an apologist and a menace
she was a law unto herself
none could tell her to reduce
the noise her hi-fi produced
from her children to her pets
--all did as they pleased –
her licentious dogs caused havoc
even her chicks were untouchable
when the empire of those who had been
fortifying and sugarcoating her nonsense
imploded--she also crushed on her chest
all the sense of immunity just fizzled out
it was a bitter harvest as her own dogs ran riot
--did the unthinkable: biting her like a stranger
while her own children stood aloof as if gloating
the stunned neighbours watched the fracas from afar
Jerry Packard was an entomologist
for which he was far from an apologist.
He's glad he faced down
his professor's frown
for refusing to become a proctologist
Children of Xenophobia
Children eating bullets and firecrackers
Beggars of smile and laughter
Silent corpses sleeping away fertile dreams
Povo* chanting new nude wretched slogans
Overstayed exiles eating beetroot and African potato
Abortions and condoms batteries charging the lives of nannies and maids
Children of barefoot afternoons and uncondomized nights
Sweat chiselling the rock of your endurance
The heart of Soweto, Harare, Darfur, Bamako still beating like drums
Violence fumigating peace from this earth.
Kinder der Xenophobie
Kinder, die Kugeln und Feuerwerkskörper essen
Bettler von Lächeln und Lachen
Stille Körper die fruchtbare Träume wegschlafen
Povo* die neue nackte elende Slogans singen
Zu lang wegbleibende Exilierte die Rote Beete essen und Afrikanische Kartoffeln
Abtreibungen & Kondome Batterien die die Leben von Kinder- und Dienstmädchen aufladen
Kinder barfüßiger Nachmittage und kondomloser Nächte
Schweiß der den Fels deiner Ausdauer meißelt
Das Herz von Soweto, Harare, Darfur, Bamako schlägt noch wie Trommeln
Gewalt die Frieden wegräuchert von dieser Erde.
Translator's note:
* “the povo (the 'people' - referring to the low-income majority)” – This definition was offered in 1994. Cf. “[...] it has been frequently asserted that the access of the povo (the 'people'. - referring to the low-income majority) to the University of Zimbabwe has improved .” (Paul Bennell and Mkhululi Ncube, “A University for the Povo? The Socio-Economic Background of African University Students in Zimbabwe Since Independence”, in: Journal of Southern African Studies, Vol. 20, No. 4, Dec. 1994, pp. 587-601. – A skeptical asssessment of povo is offered by an apologist of the West who asserts that “the Povo masses are not attuned to the western format of democracy.” (Charles W. Duke, Zimbabwe: The Land That Weeps. Yeadon, Leeds, West Yorkshire : Best Books Online/ Mediaworld PR Ltd., 2003, p.83.)
Social uselessness is a virtue of its own,
Those we cast aside, glance at and then away from quickly,
Lest they notice, and smell our guilt,
Are free to live immodestly,
There being no need for posturing
When one's invisible.
Trees that grow lumpen or misshapen
Are left to live long and go unfelled,
Never to be transformed into pencils and park benches.
They carry on, in love with the sun,
Spreading their arms to embrace the sky
Season upon season;
The children skip over their roots
And lovers loll beneath their boughs,
Their shade relieves the weary,
Their age comforts the old.
No carpenter's ambition
Will ever reach their wondrous hearts,
Then, perforce, transform them.
When they kick you, unwanted
Out of the hospital psych ward,
Your illness not important because you've done
Nothing to make the newspapers,
You can wander like a prophet, complete in yourself
Living your truths without needing an apologist.
So it is with those we look away from,
The odd shapes among us who don't fit our spaces.
There's more to be seen by looking between things
Than can be found by looking straight at them;
The unshaped space around us speaks with an incessant tongue
Interpretable only by the spirit.
So if you really want to slip the blindfold for a change
To see the ones hovering around the fringes,
Start by studying their shadows;
If they should deign to speak,
Listen with your eyes,
If you want to feel them,
Reach deep inside yourself and rub the sore spots
You spend the day denying.
Reflection sustains reality
Like dewdrops on a leaf.
Try to understand this like a lesson and you'll fail,
But accept it without judgement;
It will come to you.
No man finds more truth than he who looks for nothing;
This is writ upon the bark of twisted trees.
Read it, then know what wisdom is.
I'm not even sure how I should start this
This is a lot different than writing about my own hardships
I'm not writing about relationship breakups or being in love with a girl
I'm writing about the pain and tragedies we're seeing in the world
I know some will laugh and tell me I'm nothing to do with politics
If you get offended, that's your issue, I've never been an apologist
You can disregard it, but I choose to acknowledge it
No parent should have to see their child die first
Why do so many people Need to die first?
Why do so many attacks need to happen for security to be on high alert?
For a month or so, then they'll be normal again until the next attack
Security should be on high alert all the time, how hard is this to grasp?
This will mean nothing, the government won't listen to my words
We want world peace, but honestly pigs will fly first
I want to be positive, but it's difficult to see love ahead
When everyday I turn on the news and see blood shed
Terror attacks, bombs popping more than Champagne bottles
Politicians lie to us, more campaigns bottled
I'n writing this and trying to be Respectable
But I'm sick of people trying to make these tragic events Measurable
None are worse than another, they're all Equally tragic
People disappearing so often but sadly it's not a trick to do with magic
From Paris, To Germany, Turkey, Orlando, Manchester, Palestine to Syria
They're all tragic events, but the news will make you think some countries and events are superior
To the media it's just a job, so they don't have any sympathy for an event or the family
They'll ask you questions 5 minutes after the event, and question your sanity
This was a hard write
Rest in peace to everyone who lost their lives
I hope those who need it, can use my words as hugs
This world needs less hate and a little more love
I apologize for any country or event that I missed
But I have a lot more to say, I'll have to write a part 2 to this
Died in Baghdad, April 17, 2005
Nothing can stop her!
Not a rocket
or an improvised
explosive devise
in spite
of her untimely
death.
Just 28
and amongst
the Greats.
Unyeilding campaigner
with unwavering faith
in something greater
than all the grenades
in the U.S. arsenal.
The greatness of love
of truth
eloquently spoken
by this petite woman.
Yet, a Goliath
in humans.
Her work
the simple act
of counting victims.
and compansate.
Marla dared
to ask
who were
the 100,000 plus
innocent civilians
that have died
in Iraq.
The sisters, brothers
fathers, mothers
babies
caught in the crossfire.
They had names
faces and dreams.
We sing to you
dear Marla.
There is nothing higher
than the acknowledgment
of life
and the strife
the grieving
the loss
the pain.
Marla sweet angel
your work
remains
the most dignified
the most humane
of endeavors
in this
seemingly
overwhelming
insane world.
And no one
not the president
and his mongers
not the apologist of war
can ever
take that away.
Dean Walker
Marla was the young founder of the nonprofit organization Campaign for innocent Victims in Conflict. To learn more about Marla or show your support visit her website at www.civicworldwide.org
*Image of People of the Dawn by Pixabay.
Instruments of Mercy
Amidst the wailing whiplashed 'neath a moonlit plight,
Against the cowered beast of demons gnashing white,
Angst men in their temporary shanties walled bubbles,
Atheist fated them to wile their skill with steel shovels,
Apologist to the bitter end proves it's never supported,
Absolutist self-denial raw display ne'er to be thwarted,
Awarest who'd weathered the conviction of strong will,
Awkwardest fretted near sunk rocks, lost eyes wet still,
Aptest met their latest neighbor, old-timers now closer,
Antichrist organized bits of their faith sitting as a poser.
2022 January 22
Efficiency, anxiety
Result, vanity
Success, burnout
Alienation, disguise
Unconscious, relapse
Control, coact
Apologist: own merit!
Arbitrary, reclusive
Circus, bread
Conscious, blurred
Acceptance.
Commotion, trivialization
Affection, weakness
Love, liquid
Affliction, medication
People can no longer
Human beings.
- Bruna Beatrice.
See the lashing of the Singer,
I think he's angry at the sindlinger.
He finds it hard to see the awful,
Overshadowed by the gloomy belgian waffle.
Who is that wavering near the horrible?
I think she'd like to eat the orabelle.
She is but a terrible Motherland,
Admired as she sits upon a reprimand.
Her lifeless car is just a dreadful,
It needs no gas, it runs on headful.
She's not alone she brings a battered,
a pet dog, and lots of attard.
The dog likes to chase a scary,
Especially one that's in the arie.
The Singer shudders at the cute apologist
He want to leave but she wants the physiologist.
This table is for eagles only
where the tough- dirty-necessary decisions are made.
Every now and again an asp raises its rage
it has to be engaged with one way or another.
You haven't the stomach for it,
that's what the small table is for
for little owls to perch.
Hooting excuses to explain the poison away
wide-eyed petrified of facts.
ideologues-all
not understanding that you can't reason with stupid
it is unwise to stroke a fang.
I'M where I belong, at the big table
an invader writhing in my talons.
It didn't listen to logic it had to go-
You're where you belong
at the small table
sniffing rainbows
dreaming in unicorn
Little poison asps going unchecked.
Swirling around your heads.
You've grown fat and soft
without any answers
apologist supreme
only wishful thinking
dead end dreaming-
Dismantling the asp happens at the big table
chanting time is over-talons must come out.
The tough-dirty-necessary work
happens here at the big table.
If you can't stomach it, get the F out of the way
-stay in your safe lane
just be the little toot owl
that you were born to be.