Best Backtracking Poems
Malignant gangrenous political cancer
corrupts, festers, and poisons United States,
thus opposition cannot wait,
especially since Gospel in accordance
with feeble minded Donald Trump
implemented wrought ugly trait,
particularly obliteration, sans progressive
human rights legislation
more or less pronounced positive
in every L ionized Nittany or cotton bowl state
and ratiocination inherent within
mine Democrat oriented mind doth rate
this forty fifth president (defect)
with sawdust packing
his noodle oven egotistical pate
trophy wife (spouse number three),
a Slovenia mate
donning "I don't care anymore"
t-shirt rousing media firestorm of late
essentially silently corroborating,
fostering, and illuminating hate
mutely bolstering the Trump anthem,
viz make America great
again, which pathless,
pithless, and pointless aim
roars like an earsplitting runaway freight
train oblivious of wailing soul asylum,
that no era meets said criteria
backtracking time machine before
rightful indigenous occupants of this land
got decimated as one after another
exploiter did inundate
(comprising a multitude
of indigenous variety of village people
indignantly subjected to Genocide,
when first "discoverer"
of new land didst promulgate
activation wrought deliberate sealed fate
vis a vis capitulation, demolition,
and extirpation, cuz
a scathing rebuke aye attest,
those murderers didst equate
worthlessness of
so called "Indians" on 1492 date,
and still remnants of storied tribes,
now attempt to create
historical documentation operate
ting with limited resources to adjudicate.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Food methinks doth buzzfeed drumbeat agog
at pyrotechnics July 4th, 2018 shared as blog
posts, a falsehood prevails which dog
gone “FAKE” brewed watered down grog
posits that the majority of Colonialists stay hog
tied to strict task masters, and mainly the scant
upperclass experienced autonomy,
no matter the under class didst futilely rant
and rave with the occasional
uprisings over time did grant
minimal appeasement to stifle violent kant!
somehow i lost myself
right now i have no feeling
in this moment i lose myself in the façade that includes her
my one true love is waiting for me
i am too much of a coward to tell her that i will not be coming back
our son has had quite the battle with spinal meningitis
last night he called and said his chills were at that level again
i never returned his message for i was too busy indulging on cake with immoral icing
i am only thinking of me and the reflection i see in the mirror
i only think my son will hate me when he is older when i am dreaming
i want to pay my son a visit and surprise him with my cinnamon rolls with the sweet cream stripes that he likes
however guilt is kicking my butt right now, and i am so weak that i cannot even fight back
i find myself backtracking without even knowing it and end up at the she devil's house again
as she straddles me for another ride to self made regret, i blind myself in the temporary ecstasy to get my conscience high and oblivious to a truth that is so obvious
i lose again
Discrediting plausibility
by shredding their humility
to a place of vulnerability
devoured by inabilities
cowardice incompetence
showered into consciousness
empowered causing confidence
validation found in compliments
a false sense of accomplishment
resort to intense punishment
to knock down their competitors
who speak of truth not metaphors
that could reverse their actual course
see them falling through floorboards
far from craved credited applause
a status low as though blackballed
on salaries always needing more
survival gifting no rewards
a personality to be ignored
social skills which leave them bored
testing humans to their core
needing a win but cannot score
electrical without a cord
no plug socket or power source
as management you were assured
entitlement had power stored
defensive walls they reinforced
the canon fire rains then pours
constant drainage of resource
when liars reign without remorse
demonstrate through acts of war
axing allies no friends of yours
switching sides ending support
backtracking and invasions fall
forward thinking backward thoughts
two faced fronts fights are fought
defend positions within the fort
saving supply routes to the port
lowered standards poor results
lose respect face the onslaught
enclosing can’t escape assaults
laced with disgrace of dense insults
unsatisfactory falling short
the cost of power steeply soars
run out of bullets fight with swords
sticks and stones not canon balls
back to basics of infant schools
learning how the mighty fall
turns out you might be a fool
from the authority you adore
to unemployed and lost it all
from big and powerful to small
once important not anymore
once arrogant above the law
apparently now unloveable
a tyrant silenced by rivals
the outlaw downfall locked indoors
freedom within the prison walls
abusing boundaries horribly
so far beyond authority
explicitly and vicously
fully of inefficiency
faults and inability
soulless animosity
dethroned without the sovereignty
lost lonely in unpopularity.
Booking assumptions and travelling
Be aware that when changing flights you may not get your checked luggage and it may just travel on without you when stopping over. Australia to Dubai, to Africa, the stop over kept our luggage and we were stranded in Dubai with only our carry on. It was unclear where our luggage was being stored or whether it had abandoned its handlers for its own adventure - jet setting off to Africa for a 24 hour carousel ride by itself. Like stray animals escaping the ringmasters and navigating the globe alone. Mostly my friends were put out. Yet I always travel with a spare pair of undies, toothbrush and personal items just in case and this trip was no different. Hygiene habits of the weekend camper who lives on the road and by the guise of 'ya just never know', paid off well. Luggage was not sent on, just stored for our flight the next day. But I had fun giggling about random suitcases, the world of terrorists and lone bag drops and other peoples fear of stray luggage while we sat by the pool.
Paid off again as I left my bag behind in Nairobi, as we travelled 6 hours to our next destination. Realisation, and a bit embarrassed, but Sisto offered to share clothes - best driver ever. But luggage was organised to be picked up and delivered to some random midway, backtracking location the next day. So all was good. Not really used to people picking up after me, carrying bags and loading the car, so I didn't think to check when I pointed out where my bag was. Lesson learned and all supplies returned without too much of a hitch or personal inconvenience for the man.
Flip Lady Flip Lady she had that sweet
To even approach the Flip Lady you need that cream.
Flip Lady had that treat that had fiends
Backtracking the streets for a sack of oohwee!!!
Flip Lady was a hussla, she had blueberry yum
Plus large amounts of sticky green, not talking 'bout gum.
Flip Lady had flavors to savor for days
They say she's paid major from 3 different states.
Flip Lady distributes to kids with acute cash
Two bags'll last two days hash'll blaze fast.
Flip Lady Flip Lady she had that sweet
To even approach the Flip Lady you need that cream.
Minuette flew over cobblestones much faster than herself, moving swifter than her thoughts could carry her, to reach their obvious conclusions up ahead. Metal cleated tap shoes made an awful racket racing through the labyrinthine of alleyways. Sidewalks drew too much attention to themselves with the noise and did not add to the solution she was looking for.
No one must see her at this hour as she travels down the streets. Her dark green dress lifted in the wind, just above her ankles, like a mask on open oceans as she sailed in it. A hint of pure white skirt was barely visible in the dim light. It was night. No. It was day. No. It must be afternoon. No. There is too much dark. It was daytime. I'm sure of that. The sun is simply hidden by the clouds as fog rolls in.
Was it the library or the café that made her frantic? Longberry is illusive, an easy place to get lost in, along with memories which plays odd tricks that come back to her in circles.
She was heading in the wrong direction. Minuette must pivot on the moment to rectify that and so desired to run faster than her feet could take her, backtracking from her origins. Time was running up behind her. There remained significant ground to cover and to master in mere seconds.
Archeologists must also eat. She was famished. The café will have to wait. Her mind is dead set on the library, which had by coincidence just opened up before her sleepy eyes. It is more important to feed her head. New books on rocks had just arrived. She was happy and dove right in to read each one, each savory line.
A crusty old man sat next to her for conversation. He will remain anonymous for the time being. There are many reasons why but moving right along and not to place such a fine point on the matter; she caught her breath somewhere between his bad breath and a smile and the color red, which welled up inside of her like fire.
An angry index finger came up to touch her cherry lips which parted with a simple "Shh." "We are in the library." She signaled to him to gaze upon the SILENCE sign, prominently on display, Pointed at it confidently to add to his enlightenment. Such evidence was hoped to change his behavior and his manners. Enlightenment was not his claim to fame. Not much could be done to change his odor either.
JM
Does not want to believe he is invincible
Because he knows he is not invincible.
Because no one is invincible.
Gives himself a vision,
Deadline to complete his mission
Forces him to shine
Achieving goals.
Alternatively he may be not saying the truth
and turn into the greatest despot in Maltese history,
or a Pumpkin even !
But so far, of course
he is a winning horse.
SB is a
political pauper;
petty and petulant,
believable ? barely !
Patronising from his protected pulpit
a pathetic politician
morally banckrupt
but not corrupt
a Janus
a weak wimp
Loser,
backtracking and left behind.
Shoreing up a sinking ship
Will be forgotten and forlorn.
Apart from that
h`s no black rat
a great guy.
In the wrong place
At the wrong time
Preparing the way for
the great Messiah
UNEXPECTED
AS IF NOT SAID
BUT THE WORDS
HOW THEY WERE SAID
SO LOUD AND CLEAR
STILL, A REPEAT HAD TO BE HEARD
ONCE AGAIN
JUST TO ENSURE THAT THE WORDS WERE BOTH HEARD
AND UNDERSTOOD CORRECTLY….
BACKTRACKING,
TURNING THE CORNERGOING BACK TO THE VOICE OF THESE WORDS
LOOKING EYE TO EYE
THEN RESPONDING SIMPLY BY SAYING..
“HOW COULD HE NOT”!
Isolation, confined, suffocating,
Life's unbearable silence constricting,
You scream but not a sound escapes,
The struggle is real but no one relates,
Not progressing, but not backtracking,
The stillness violating, movement lacking,
Life's burdens weigh heavy on ones heart,
So much so you beg for yours to depart,
The sunshine dances across the sky,
It's something that always passes me by,
Then the moon rises ablaze in the dark,
It's beauty soon ended by the singing lark,
The brakes of dawn marks a new day,
You pray its less grey than yesterday,
Disappointment lingers in the the air as a foul stench,
I thirst for happiness that I'm unable to quench,
Depression, anxiety, heart ache its all pain,
Dark thoughts lurk inside my insane brain,
Only cold blood pumps through each vein,
Is it to late, am i dead inside, from such pain.
Poetry is good for the soul.
Disrespectful in so many ways, times where I almost wished that they knew, so I could
prove that I was just that good. Some guy friends I would let know and we would laugh,
talking that mess, but still on guard, cause my back I felt like they would stab. “Why”,
it was probably their girl I nabbed, old nasty, low down brother, facial glare just like a
glass. Transparent to the naked eye, being so clever, being so sly, corruption of the
easiest minds, almost like leaves blowing in a trail of wind that was flowing like a vine.
All connected in some way, if they all stopped and talked I probably would of been caught,
but man at that time it was a lot of fun at least I thought. Which ends the second stage
of being misguiding.
So destructive in my mentality, using and abusing everything I could get my hands on,
from the bottom of the jar, to the top of the jar. Most nights, were blurred vision,
slurred speech, new freaks, old freaks, dumb freaks, smart freaks, maybe caught an
occasional geek freak. Selfish, overpowering, but not in the sense of taking, persuasive,
so convincing, “hell“, sometimes I believed it myself. A fresh cut mold for everyone,
liven life just having fun, unknown to anyone. Then comes along someone that knows,
immediately throwing salt in the game and letting everyone know. Backtracking and
fabricating, seeming like the easiest why out, I was open like a book, that couldn’t be
closed, extremely exposed by the lies I had told. Defensive in nature is what I turned to,
quick to blame, but sure to lose but what an opportunity for them to prove what I had
really been up to. Naturally proud and confident in swag, I tried to stand strong, but
other players stood and laughed, cause they knew I was about to crash. And crash I did,
as hard as I could fall, face first, just like belly flopping in a pool, when your not in
control, I’ve been pushed. Starting to question myself, “Am I being true”, probably not to
myself or anyone else. I’ve been crumbling inside, far from being right, I might need a
moment in time to collect my thoughts. Convinced this is the end of my misguided thoughts
and the selfish ways, in which I used to walk and talk. Just the end of another bad chapter.
Written by: thegoldenpython aka. Wilfordjy
People always wish to see the future
In order to see if they will be
A loser
A begger
A chooser
So will we
Get to be what they want to see?
I don't see that fate for you, them, or me
We are confused as a society, history is a circle
Politicians and terrorists
Are the disciples
Of villains, bandits and the penniless
Why do we not try to break the trend,
Instead of advancing in sophistication and start over again?
It is unfortunate when even the smart are simple
When being backwoods is as common as a pimple
Or a dimple
Or a star in the sky
When the sons of current people are the sequel
And we share the similarity of forever proceeding to die
Without change in the circle
Without change in our ways
Without jumping the hurdles
Without altering our fates
If you get a crystal ball from that gypsy that is true
Here is what that ball will show to you
You will see either a backtracking of your life
With your child in it
Or darkness will overtake the light
And our world will stop spinning with it
Because our future is devoid of change
Everything will always basically be the same
Until all life has been exploded into the stars
Then there will be no reason to pursue your fame
But on this universe, our world will no longer be a painful scar.
Like antiwords, the absent
truth, walks with you.
It had indented the push.
Profanities are on rise.
Marginal dare has a
bracing truism.
I am working on a thesis.
The candles are out.
Light will come from burning
doors. Smashed windows will harbor
the grudge.
Satish Verma
Leave something for me to imagine.
A skeleton in a pond
leaps to the moon.
In an air bubble
lies the history of a suspended
name, wasted away on water.
A war is declared on the
family of words, not spoken
to anguish of man.
I thought of my sun
averting a disaster. The sprouts
will not come out of the earth.
An enquiry into the nature of
immanence, leads to starvation.
The body of truth turns into a snake.
The revolution within, shows
a false victory. You start again
from the ugly fingers.
Satish Verma
Florid banshees recoiled, neck and hankering sneer.
A succinctly exuberant suggestion when selective.
Came on, fell flat with laconic ornamentation.
A miniature jaunt, interment; glove comparted.
Pin-striped foxtails attuned tune maddening clairvoyants.
Precisely predisposed, wine-flavored latten tobaccos.
A wooden-tipped juxtaposition, stilling waisted.
Bygone midge nonguarded, slunk olive drabbing on bayou.
Thicken handkerchief lightly dabbing brow.
Darkness entrapment, fiat practice gymnastics.
Money management, coinage magnet, honored in mathematics.
Backflipping,
Backtracking,
Backpacking.
Super-Soaker moisture, quickie; quickly, socks on prickly.
Sloped incline, inside Mount Saint Helens' Slip 'n Slide.
We are O F The Pente C O S T
50 days since ... we had Easter
We are O F The Pente C O S T
50 days have ... all but past
We are O F The Pente C O S T
50 days since ... Christ arose
We are O F The Pente C O S T
50 days come ... Holy Ghost
We are O F The Pente C O S T
50 days birth ... Christian churches
We are O F The Pente C O S T
50 days Bold ... Catholics as one
We are O F The Pente C O S T
50 days of ... canonical laws
We are O F The Pente C O S T
50 days of ... measuring rods
We are O FThe Pente C O S T
50 days of ... this and that
We are O F The Pente C O S T
50 days of ... rhetorics
[~~~some future hence~~~]
We are O F The Pente C O S T
50 days birth ... Protestantism
We are O F The Pente C O S T
50 days birth ... Catholicism
Literary Cannons for Renowned Quills
Like J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings
Austen's Prose to Whitman's Free Verse
Don't forget Shakespeare, and William Wordsworth,
"Who'll be the better, the student or the teacher?"
"One digs a hole now, while the other digs later!"
The Word of God was written by those who were inspired by Him.
The laws of the people were written by the people to govern o'er the people.
The names above are well-established in the field of writing, however, none of them had the bible up for bat:
Shakespeare had confidantes/collaborators
Austen had daddy-dearest, title, and awe
Tolkien was a philologist/one who loved backtracking
Witman was a transcendentalist
Wordsworth was a romanticist
[batting practice is over]
Cannonism did inspire.
It set the world on a spiritual fire.
The Holy Ghost came back down.
As fifty days have expired.
We countdown from the day of Easter,
Fifty days have now gone past,
Fifty days since the resurrection,
Fifty days with Christ at last,
Fifty days since Christ arose,
Fifty days with the Holy Ghost,
Dove of the Sun
Dove from above
Dove of God's love.