Best Attrition Poems
Written: December 13, 2023
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If the ocean's water
were used as writing ink for pens
to write down our words of praise
the ocean would eventually dry up
before it might be put in writing.
evil will triumph
if the righteous remain silent
Inner defect causes blindness
success depends on action
stand up and do what
you realize is right
raise exertion level
a smidgeon suffices
to allow notions of impetus
you can then sleep well
your pick is akin to lacerations
requires precise timing
curious but uncertain.
blind attrition is pointless.
reach for stars
obtain an aerial view of the world
wave farewell to the land
live easily a prospective granted by
you are misusing beauty
greet the passing clouds.
forsake worries and avert your gaze
fear is a foe you must overcome
soar high and be wise.
Come with me my Brother,
to a secret place where Light and Shadow line the face with fear and grace,
leave sophmoric style, wry smile and sly bile on the road of your forgotten mile,
sick sarcasm is the symptom of envy, a pet to your heart destroyer,
such artifice and malice have no language in this room of roasted dreams,
Enter through the damaged door, touch the destruction of vandals,
you have never been here before, where gold blood cuts the floor,
do you see how the walls move like squalls at our approach,
feel how they tell stories with the sensations of defeat, anxiety, impropriety,
in here we witness a collection of seperate yet synthesized segments of Self,
childhood torment, shallow manhood, virility limp as stolen victory,
underachievement, the underbelly of your arrogance, flacid like placid passion,
We journey further into this gallery of emotional gallows
smelt by the hurt of innumerable adavances
repelled by the demands of Quality,
you will writhe wildly
from the harrowing healing leeching into your concepts of self control,
graceful in absorbtion of Truth's attrition,
fruitless ambition shall now cling as cleaving contrition,
your face Brother, look long into the shimmer of sorrow become the old,
tattooed you are like a snake's skin checkered and beautiful
with scaled episodes of submission and aggression, dying to be Divine,
I want you to know that there is no exit of ease from this place Brother,
we trek within your very Soul,
this is the home and harbor of everything you've decided to be,
there are other rooms here, some of joy and some of strife,
but you leave not the Truth Room of your anger
until the Light finds no fault in your intention -
J.A.B.
Suspended improbably on shoulders
Hunched by years of glacial attrition
And threaded through a forest of boulders:
The path that holds the key to my mission
I speak allegorically, because
This tortured path has ne’er been seen before
And every rock is a problem that was
And every chasm is an open sore
Each footstep will demand its pound of pain
The raven keeps score of the promises
But I will endure until I unchain
The bright drops from the dark cloud’s surfaces
And refract the light from the Sun, to send
To the Heart of Gold at the Rainbow’s end ~
There are women who feel a strong need
To nag men until their ears bleed
In a war of attrition
With relentless petition
Is a cruel way to make men concede
Men wish for a life of peace
But get nagged by a tongue that won't cease
Men will just say
It's the female DNA
That must out in it's need for release
We can’t help it; we just HAVE to nag
Guess some folks would call us 'an old hag'
Men get on our nerves
When you paw at our curves
You should give up and wave the white flag
We can suffer from bad PMT,
Become ogres that men want to flee
We Scream and we Shout
Say We’ll throw you out
But for some reason you wont let us be
Better by far, we should try this next time
It's effective and will prove sublime
By wearing Earplugs
In each of our Lugs
We'll be laughing, whilst nagging - in Mime
Laughing together will lighten our day
It's a tonic to chase all our problems away
For a really Big Smile
Can last a long while
And we'll both get on better that way
Tim had all the necessary ingredients right next to his ancient burner
Shark teeth dangling from a sunken necklace at the cutting edge but
The amulet had turned into chains and shackles grinding the chef’s mind
A lost recipe for happiness but and he had no appetite for nourishment
Attrition boiled over when nutrition resembled a poisonous chalice
Too tired to take stock he dwelled on his primordial soup turning back
Primitive and involuntary he turned on the gas and smelled his demise
Rotten onions had depleted his tears thinly sliced and disguised
Fetid leeks leaked misery a trickle or two at full stagnant pace
Spoilt thyme oozed malodorous rosaries into beads of corrosion
Squashed tomatoes splashed foul decomposition into his eyes
Fennel funneled his vision into a bubbling hell of indigestion
Olive oil splashed straight into his heart with no glimmer of peace
Cantankerous garlic would not fend off his festering demons
While a bay leaf could not keep mortally morose sadness at bay
Great white oblivion but slowly Tim made friends with predation
Resolved he was allergic to fishy feelings and toxic distaste
He did not remember at first how to simmer emotions and passion
But onions started to sprinkle tears of joy and the shark pointed the way
Soon leeks from a Welsh legend delineated friend from mal-aligned foes
Thyme soothed his splattering cough and he found his true inner voice
Tomatoes seeded bright red orange chakras from base to the top while
Fennel fought of bloating depression and conquered agony’s cramps
Previously oblivious oils from virginal growth re-birthed him into life
He licked his wounds and wild garlic from an ocean of wonderment
And chose the berries from a long forgotten and noble laurel tree
Tim had barked up the wrong perspective and had muted the roar
Eventually he conjoined ingredients recipe and fortunate blessings
Left the sharks out of the chowder and slurped smooth soup into his shell
I. Perdition.
The truth of the evil exposed
Shame not readily received
Truth, now attrition to break the spirit
More painful than the rod
That breaks the skin.
II. Penance.
Torturous the truth
Speak of your own transgression
Repentance, in time, engage
The lesser pain at our command
Wicked man now confess.
III. Purgatory.
By your own hand
Hammer at the stone of our souls
Broken the jagged edges
Chisel and stone to the stone
Shape what I might yet be.
IV. Preparation.
No slave for the master
No whip for the back of the slave
Wit made sharp on The Empirical Stone
Peace, rest, wisdom to grow
By our own toil we may heal.
V. Paradise.
How could it ever be ?
1st April 2019
Stream gushes on
The rocky terrain
My boat plunges
In the whirlpools’
Spiralling anguish
Attrition perpetuates, time to get onto the sail
The saviors winsome winds of uplifting solace
Sanctum of stratified darkness freezes within
Time to paint patina of joy on petals of hope
The sky crumbles
On sands of time
Hues of rainbow
Rapture dissolve
I drown in the sea
Of boundless bliss
Enlightened I find
In the cross-current
The oneness divine
Illumined between
The supreme & me
A review of all my poems there is
sometimes reference to the toilet
I make no apologies
I'm not a shrinking violet
'Cause here's the way I see it
the world is full of sheet
Here is an example
it's to do with what i eat
At night what I consume
is a large bowl of green salad
Yesterday no exception fresh from garden
much variety I can add
There's perennial greens
sweet leaf korean ginseng and more
There's a tree moringa
it's leaves add to the score
In India Morigna it's regarded as a miracle
full of much nutrition
But here now in Australia
it's subject to attrition
Sales of moringa powder and also the tree
now commercially banned
Lack of long term research
they say that is why it has been canned
Apply this crazy principle to so much crap
freely sold within the business market
Example these toxic covid vaccinations lacked research
caused many to give up and finally cark it
There's many other products
that could be added to the list
Products consumed for centuries
no research how did we exist
These governments will never suffer
any symptoms of dimentia
No brains exist
in a state of permanent absentia
The opposite word of vaccuum
it's called a plenum
How to turn this madness round
we need a new addendum
These thoughts that I've now penned
are really rather fleet
I hope I have convinced you
that this world is full of sheet
The Big Race
I qualified for the big race in May; my odds to win were long,
They knew I couldn’t win, but I had to run strong.
By lap fifty, I’ve moved up to position ten,
It’s a very long race, but I still felt I could win.
I’m about out of gas, so it’s time to stop,
Quickly down pit row, to get every last drop.
A sip of water, only thirteen seconds in the pit,
I came back on the track, knowing I could win it.
I’m at lap 200 and have a good position,
This race has become a war of attrition.
Next up is number 88; I’ll take him in the turn,
Getting pass Jr. is something I’ll have to earn.
He throttles down, now we’re nose to nose,
I fly by on the inside as this battle really grows.
Into third place at the half way point,
I was so excited, I could feel it in every joint.
We all have to make a stop, so I head back to pit row,
A tremendous five car pile up has made the going slow.
We are under a caution flag as we circle this oval track,
This is an excellent time for me to get water and a little snack.
Gordon in the 24 car is next in line,
I must take him and Edwards in his 99.
At the 550 lap, I pass Gordon at last,
Then I got word from my crew, “You’re low on gas.”
At the 560 lap, Edwards is still the car to beat,
I told my crew “I can win this race, hang on to your seat.”
I came up behind Edwards and went high on the right,
When I came out the other side; I was number one, what a sight.
I drove like a madman the rest of the race,
The crew was calling me their number one ace.
Then I woke up and I really wondered,
Did I just win the Coca Cola 600?
©2008 Lynn B Glover
How frantic my antics when I'm in a panic-
my thoughts alone could sink the Titanic!
Hassled, frazzled- razz-madazzled
when I feel so well and Manic!
Taken for granted, a Life enchanted,
and gifts of Art, by God implanted.
Confuses the Muses with makeshift excuses-
my trembling Mind, thus reprimanded!
For sloth, for laze, for lost ambition;
for languid lax, these poor conditions!
I feel punctured at this juncture-
Overwhelmed by such attrition...
Discerning my yearning, but also learning
that life affords but one audition.
Africa the continent…of incredible wealth …?
Through exploitation, corruption…and stealth…attrition felt…?
Called the mother land…are you a fan…?
The significance of tribes…the subject of their lives…
The stark of their marks…to the ranges in their talks…
From the spears that some bear…to the people who cares…
Reflections of hate…significance of faith…
The origin of slavery…where is your bravery…?
Colonization in nations…for western distributions…
With forced migrations…the development of other nations…
Transported in ships…landed on the tips…
Areas like North America…to Jamaica…and the Caribbean…
With barrels and cans…how to explain the master plan…?
A nation in fusion…an education in illusion…?
The mining of gold…many stories untold…
The illegal extraction of diamonds…is there any lies man…?
Large deposits of oil…is this a spoil...?
Several dictators…who are the creators…?
The mind of the people…limited in steeple…?
The statistics on crime…no nursery rhyme...
Scars of many civil wars…like tumors…no rumors…
The bases…to the places…and the faces…
Some children…god's help them…
Spawned in the games…where is the shame…?
With rifles…their freedom stifles…
From Angola…to Nigeria…to Zimbabwe…international reports say…
From time immemorial…is this a constant ritual…?
Take stack…majority blacks…what are the lacks…?
How many states…do we have to wait till late…?
What is my date…is this what culture creates…?
United States of Africa…?
America…the Mecca…
How can you copy…the era of the floppy…?
Is it not gone…how to eliminate the scorn…?
Let bygones be bygones…move to the lushness of lawns…
Look beyond the dirt…search for your true worth…
Try to look within…and live without…
The violence…so intense…does it make sense…?
Africa…to whom will we call…
Mamma…?
Eleven, Eleven, Eleven
Eleven, eleven, eleven, again
Tormented souls up in heaven
1918 - How time’s rolled on
With a whole generation gone.
The eleventh hour of the eleventh day
Of the eleventh month each year people stay
2 minutes stopped from activity
Stand still and silent for all to see
Respect given to the long-dead, missing, fallen
In needless wars of attrition
Yet worldwide wars still rage on
Today our troops and civvies fall upon
Foreign soil and foreign lands
Killed and maimed by foreign hands
Their unselfish acts never cease
In helping bring this world to peace
Some youth look on with empty eyes
Cannot understand people’s sighs
Don’t want to know what they can’t see
At things that happened in history
The years roll on – but things don’t change
Respect for these heroes is not strange
These people battle universal strife
Willingly lay down their life
We hear Kipling’s words “Lest we Forget”
But do we understand our eternal debt?
No greater love is more than this
They give their lives for our own bliss
Rest well you battle weary souls
Whose souls and lives will ne’er grow old
Rejoice each year again and again
That your sacrifice was not in vain
Society tends to identify you only by your condition
Never by your name just by attrition
Unwed mother, crack addict, HIV carrier or whore
Never calling you by your name just labels evermore
Now there was a woman who was bent over
And in pain for eighteen years
As the devil had taken control of her body
And given her the spirit of tears
But comprehend that everything bad doesn't
Come from the devil's due
Sometimes your condition stems from issues
That are caused by you
Women of God arise stand up and be strong
Stop allowing the devil to keep steering you wrong
There's work to be done in God's kingdom
And we need to do our part
And not allow the enemy to keep tearing us apart
We need to be delivered from our conditions, issues
And strains
By allowing God to come in and take away our pain
We need to be delivered from our own bad behavior
To be made whole and healed by Jesus the Christ
Our Savior
Women of God arise with intentionality
Now to stand tall with a spiritual mentality
No longer to be crippled by things from your past
To let go and let God lift you up at last
No longer to let your mother's indifference
Continue to make you trip
No longer to let your sexual abuse
Color your relationships
It's time to move forward towards the heavenly throne
Women of God arise walking with God now never alone
To be healed from the hell that has swallowed you whole
To arise out of the abyss of despair that dank, dark hole
Letting a supernatural release
Lead to a supernatural increase
Moving in the right direction that woman
Gravitated towards Jesus the Christ
She faithfully responded to the Savior
And He forever changed her life
Jesus destroyed the enemy's power
That had taken control
Jesus laid hands on her
And lifted her crippled soul
Women of God arise stand bold and correct
Walking with intentionality now spiritually erect
There are women who feel a strong need
To nag men until their ears bleed
In a war of attrition
With relentless petition
Is a cruel way to make men concede
Men wish for a life of peace
But get nagged by a tongue that won't cease
Men will just say
It's the female DNA
That must out in its need for release
We can’t help it; we just HAVE to nag
Guess some folks would call us 'an old hag'
But men get on our nerves
When you paw at our curves
Men should give up and wave the white flag
We can suffer from bad PMT,
Become ogres that men want to flee
We scream and we shout
Say we’ll throw you out
But for some reason you wont let us be
Better by far, we should try this next time
It's effective and will prove sublime
By wearing earplugs
In each of our lugs
We'll be laughing whilst nagging - in mime
Laughing together will lighten our day
It's a tonic to chase our problems away
For a really big smile
Can last a long while
And we'll both get along better that way
24th January 2016-01-24
Collaboration by Jan Allison and Rob Bettridge
The roaring twenties prohibition.
Left violent crime to seize the day.
An act of folly, no forward vision
Of curbing crime, and their ambition
To supply hard liquor, and disobey.
The roaring twenties prohibition.
Failed to prevent, what was tradition.
A paradox says that,'crime does pay'.
An act of folly no forward vision.
Corruption is blind no opposition.
The 'cotton clubs' were there to stay.
The roaring twenties prohibition
Was needful then for more attrition
And fighting crime, without delay
An act of folly, no forward vision.
Until the lawmen gained submission.
Who was to blame? Society will say,
The roaring twenties prohibition.
An act of folly, no forward vision
3/ 2/ 2015.