Best Bad Poems
"It was 6 or 7 years ago
Or so I'd like to think
I traveled to my eye doctor..
(I should'a seen a "shrink"!!)
My dad and I we awaited
In a filled up waiting room
Patients all a'seat
Magazines all askew
There wasn't much to say there
There wasn't much to do...
Slowly I did notice
Some odd glances made at me...
Some hand-covered conversations...
Some smirks I seemed to see
It made me feel self-conscious
They seemed fixed looking at me in my seat
When slowly I did realize...
That they were staring at my feet...
I looked down, and to my horror
And much to my surprise...
A sight I could not fathom...
I could not believe my eyes!!!
For one foot was well fitted
with tennis sneaker white...
The other a black dress shoe
It was a startling sight!!!
Now I found how hard it was
to hide one's mismatched feet
I wished to God to run out
And escape onto the street
I was red with great embarrassment
and shocked how stupid I could be!
Had I been that darn sleepy?
Or could I just not see?
Then it slowly dawned on me,
Well, darn it, here I sit....
Proves I need an eye-doctor...
and I don't give a sh__......."
Breaking Bad
Criminals
dance with slum lords
they shed fake tears
victims they shout
from Ivory towers
Mock and attack
they of dark cloth and deceit
possesses no real God
they whoreship only their prey
living by night not day
Some even screech praise untowards
sick is the mind who follows
dead morals and upended graves
they really are the bully's slaves
Yet their churches pew is full
Criminals all
singing love songs
sewing fear and anger
no wonder God got fed up
evicting them one and all
Watery eyed thoughts came,
Zap! Pow! a short circuited brain.
Inward turned burned ocular pain,
too many thoughts to restrain
I’m a cheap sheep making my mistakes again.
Smell my seared wool going down the drain.
Ba, ba, blackishly wishing I was right as rain.
Words accessed by my fingertips
help to quicken my sheepish heartbeat
Yet I bang on my keyboard, DELETE, DELETE!
Ripping out digital scores, sheet by sheet.
Never once listening to what other sheep bleat.
Instead I feel my brain draining
as my barnyard thoughts are straining
I can’t translate what they’re saying.
It sounds to much like blah blah complaining.
I’m watching you fake shepherd boy,
black sheep never sleep
into the darkness we’re destined to creep.
Sad sadistic secrets you’ve burdened us to keep
So we push our charred thoughts way down deep,
as we travel paths dangerous and steep.
Within the silence of the lambs,
you devilishly relish hearing us weep.
While I admire fleece as white as snow.
I’m not inclined to go where those sheep go.
Their path leads to your fictional rainbow.
They’re not safe just because they travel slow.
The True Shepherd wouldn’t lead them to and fro
I listen to my uneasy queazy feeling
and exit your proverbial row.
I wish I could stop them too
but, ba ba ba, to the slaughter they go.
For Wow Me Poetry Contest entered August 26, 2019.
Written August 21, 2019
Re-entered in John Hamilton’s N/A contest
When tons of doom filled nights fall on your head,
hot embers glow and fires burn unabated,
you recall her last breath and wish you were dead.
In a poem's sad lines you've been castrated.
From the heavens a voice thunders dire threats
about losses and breakfasts consumed without eggs.
Fumbling about, looking to hedge your bets,
you drink your cold coffee, down to burnt dregs.
On waking you find dawn's hard hammer fell
last night's burns are reminders of strife.
You stumble and look up from the pits of Hell,
recounting the reasons why you lost your wife.
Your clock chimes out vulgar curses at you
and your house bids you leave by peals at noon.
You think of the ancient, wicked dreams, too,
as night falls with its wretched lucent moon.
You dream of hungry tigers eating your boots.
Your house is perched atop two adjoining trees.
A hunter fires; but it's not a tiger he shoots.
Your second wife cuts off your legs at the knees.
With life's blood flowing from your severed veins
your heart bemoans that you married once more.
By morning you were free from nightmare's pains
but horrid memories linger behind closed doors.
What vast burdens you bear in fear of sleep
and hollows in your mind fill quickly with dread.
When your clock strikes twelve, I hear you weep,
" Odious anguish! I wish I were dead."
Shadows dance on your walls in candle light.
Dark images of her body pressed close to you,
waltzing in your arms on a moonlit night
but she vanishes when dawn's rays break through.
Which sort of dream scars your mind with more grief?
The ones in which you're butchered; burned by fire,
or when daylight steals her away like a furtive thief?
Will your penance release you from the leeching mire...
the terror you encounter each night as you lie abed?
Foolishly, you once thought love claimed your heart.
Therein lies the angst of what you most dread...
the vexing memories in dreams that tear you apart.
Co-Written with Robert Lindley based on the original
verses he offered in the open challenge on his blog.
"AI has stolen my words and my imagination. As a human writer, I write from my heart. AI can not steal my heart. AI is the great copier because they have No heart to write with." By Poet
With a writers human heart,
writers pen in hand to start.
AI machine that is cold,
made out of tin and not gold.
Tell me this is a bad dream,
before I let out a scream.
Muse and pen will always stay,
a human voice all the way.
If there should be a pot hole as deep as Satan’s pit
appearing as I’m driving, I’d run right over it!
My husband’s luck is worse than mine, but we’re a package deal.
So every bad thing that befalls him, I can also feel!
One day I lost my best cat ever; needing a new pet,
I looked and looked to find a cat, the best that I could get.
One person getting desperate with no new owner found
was feeling sad he’d have to take his poor cat to the pound.
His cat , though not a lap cat, was pretty, sleek and black.
The guy was leaving town; there’d be no way to give her back!
I like to look to numbers for the logic that they show.
Two negatives makes positive; that’s one true fact I know!
So if a person has bad luck, it stands to reason that
perhaps his bad luck could reverse by having a black cat!!
I got that cat! She loudly purrs, which I find comforting
It’s like my mom is right nearby with lullabies to sing.
The cat’s my charm when in my arms; my luck has turned around,
for she’s become the second best of cats I ever found!
So if with many problems you’re always getting stuck,
just get yourself a big black cat to cancel out bad luck!
For the Create an Idiom Contest of Jesse Day
(For those who don't know about this contest, the title is an idiom I made up for this poem)
l know you not, you don't know me
You gave me praise my poems, you see
We seem to click right from the start
My breaths draw in deep and races my heart
Your contact I yurn impatient I grow
You make me tingle from head to toe
I wish you were here with me just now
My bed would be warmed I'll show you how
Why do I want you so much that I hurt
To touch your firm body gentle and pert
You have so much power I cannot deny
Rhyme and reason you seem to defy
I feel your love calling my body so weak
The fact I don't know you am I a freak
Am I just dreaming my feelings seem real
Just tell me you want me your heart I can steal
Maybe I'll meet you no longer a dream
You'll milk me of love to flow like a stream
When two become one just for a while
We part like we met but with more of a smile
A once pretty, teenage girl, heavily pregnant
Stood in the rain,
Her clothes torn, her eyes red, her ankles
Swollen, she was in pain,
Her resilience worn out, she often stood on the
Corner of this busy street,
Her eyes pleading for someone to give her
Something to eat,
Some People feel no empathy towards others,
Life is hard, few seemed to care.
I Often bought her a MacDonalds meal,
Her situation inhumane, horrific unreal.
Did she ever know freedom, she was weak,
And could hardly walk, constantly in a daze,
Her hair was dirty, long, and the wind
Slapped it across her face.
I gave her a two hundred Rand note,
Placing it in her hand, Shhhhh I whispered,
As if I already knew, Don’t tell a soul,
I could see her miserable life,
Had already taken it's toll.
I drove her to the outskirts of her home,
Which was always known
To be a dubious zone.
A middle aged, man with greasy hair,
That was going grey, but was once fair,
A cigarette hanging from his mouth,
Came from some-where
Out of no-where,
Saw in her hand the money,
Darn, you don’t need this honey,
I’ll buy me my moonshine!
She heavily made her way through the
Garbage scattered on the floor,
And sank on a torn sofa, just seeking peace,
Not minding who was standing by the door,
The cruel, filthy man continued cursing,
His endless oppression evident,
From the girls bruises glaring.
Who was this pitiful, bad man beating
This unfortunate girl, a father, a brother,
If undeservedly he held one of these titles,
How did he dare to show his drunken face,
Such people do exist in our sad human race,
I began crying, as I will never know,
I saw no mother, in fact I saw no other.
Prologue:
It takes a heart free of hate
to let go of a false ownership
to step beyond your fears
provide strangers a helping hand
It should be a pre-requirement
of possessing our largest organ
that which clothes a person’s frame
everyone should earn their coat of skin
defines them as humans
than we could easily separate and remove
the demons roam Earth disguised as people
they sat paralyzed
as various notes brushed lightly against their senses
eventually accompanied by bare traces of rain
stroked their faces with naked fingers
occupied their emptiness
with the welcomed whispers of music
spread their lips
leaving a lucent mark of bliss
on the bones of their cheeks
the melody
drew them into an imaginary reality
safe from the ugliness of their truth
“another day of hell on Earth”
(a hell willingly supplied by hollow frames reciting words from their Fiery Red God while hiding behind a faith they never understood)
temporarily frozen against the symmetry
of an angels canvas
they would breath the unabridged artistry
for a brief but satisfying moment
the musicians for the time being where their Gods
and they relished in the quenching fruits
filled their empty dreams
the simple beauty of song was undeniable
Epilogue:
It takes a heart free of hate
to let go of a false ownership
to step beyond your fears
provide strangers a helping hand
It should be a pre-requirement
of possessing our largest organ
that which clothes a person’s frame
everyone should earn their coat of skin
defines them as humans
than we could easily separate and remove
the demons roam Earth disguised as people
The sun sinks slow when dreaded dark overflows
giving mere mortals moments to reflect
all that passes in the day these moments take away
and each influence intrinsically inspect
we have known of old the conflict we are told
is the battle between bad and good
what is right, what is wrong, we must make morals strong
gain empathy, love, and brotherhood
if we could just see with our eyes set free,
only hear when wind whispers silent songs
there might be a better you, maybe a kinder me
in the wisdom of these quiet sing-alongs
a mother bird feeds her babies and I hear the words
rhythmic refrains ringing peace into my heart
'His eye is on the sparrows’,and more of you He knows
comfort “every little thing is gonna be all right’ emparts
Turn down the power.. if just for an hour...
sit still and hear nature sing
One day I delivered a poem
one that seemed to be premature
so I swaddled her up
and set her aside
to grow 'til I felt reassured
How she yowled and howled for attention...
how she cried so piteously!
How she coughed and she sneezed
whimpered and wheezed
then threw up all over me!
Still I tenderly tended her bedside
and lovingly nursed her along
determined to sacrifice everything
to raise her up healthy and strong
As she grew and recovered, she wandered
and crawled over everything
and I found I had trouble containing
my rambling, unruly offspring
She became an inexcusable bounder
a wayward and bratty ingrate
who despite all my love and affection
refused to make sense or read straight
She dallied in questionable places
she idled and shiftlessly shirked
lazily lagging, ignoring my nagging
while I selflessly, endlessly worked
Firmly applied discipline to her
and structure, and meter, and rhyme
but she bucked, and rebelled, and bit me
and stayed up beyond her bedtime
We wrestled, and wrangled, and brawled,
bickered in bitter altercation
if I didn't do something quite soon
she would ruin my good reputation
At length, I decided I'd had it
we had reached the end of the road
and although she clung like a wet paper towel-
I flung her and flushed the commode!
You don't know how bad it hurts.
When you keep talking about that.
Do you really know me? Like you say you know know me?
Then if you do, don't do it.
If you know how bad it hurts then don't do it.
You love me? Then stay home don't go.
Don't do it for you may lose me.
I love you, care for you and feel for you.
But I guess you will never know if you go.
You just don't know how bad it hurts.
I guess you will never know.
Sometimes you have to make the best,
Of the bad luck thrown your way;
Get on with your life, to heck with the rest,
And just enjoy your day;
I was having me a terrible day,
Everyone grumbling at work;
No one had anything nice to say,
And my boss was being quite a jerk;
I went to my office and told myself,
I wouldn’t let it get to me;
I grabbed a book off the shelf,
And went to work, plain as can be;
I smiled at everyone that was around,
And went out of my way to be nice;
It was strange for me to be so profound,
Giving everyone advise;
I figured that was the best way,
For me to get back at them;
By wishing them a happy day,
And not being hasty to condemn;
I have never been more happy,
I’ve sure got it made;
Cause you know when life gave me
Lemons, I made the office lemonade!
~5th Place in the "Making Lemonade" Contest by Deborah Guzzi~
When the Doctors exam was through
he said I got good news and bad news its true
You've chosen the worst
to hear about first
they're gonna name this disease after you!
Her Soup name we know as PD
Her REAL name is Linda you see
And Irma as well
Trevino! I yell
From my rooftop...Can’t hear me? (Poor me)
For a very special and loyal friend...