Best Bastardized Poems


Premium Member Arsene Wenger: More Than Just a Coach

A simple god so slender and symbolic
having a one way onslaught in his approach
and toiling with the master-class of the game
to revolutionize an entire country away from his.
He bastardized his inheritance of stiffness and a crunch system
To transmit the pleasure of a video game to a live coverage.
A believer of his approach, a missionary in his style,
legendary in his execution, but often blind to its short comings.
Going an entire season without a fault 
and giving the possibility to travel cloud 49
makes his glory carry such schoolbag of mysteries and awe.

From the African prince of Monaco, to the great George Weah
and the Dennises, Thierrys, Vierras and Anelkas,
he converts a dusty wood into a luxurious boat.
Academy is his bedroom, ventilated by continuity
even though some megastars were short of understanding this.
Maintenance of a certain threshold even with half loaded guns
is very difficult to achieve and impossible to maintain
but not at all to this attacking minded General.
Spending a decade to shoot regions near the actual target
under the stuffiness of limitations both in finances and talents
shines the stadium light even in the darkness of his underachievement.

Prudence and a closed fist was his personality’s widget
b’cos glory on the pitch alone isn’t his mental gadget.
Placing a repercussion of a very stiff budget
and his command, downgraded so low to a midget.
All these because he’s carried the club like a personal object
placing the short sightedness of instant glories to an eject.
Stability in his empire is now a complete project
As his winning dominance was once a European subject.
He’s now back with an intimidation which will make opposition fidget.

Back to his rank, as he wears all the colours
rising in significance after all the hurdles
heart poured out to a club glorifies him beyond a mere coach,
the riches of such dedication influences the staff of his reputation,
winning and being a champion has always been his signature.
He has once again proven it, 
as the world of sports stands still in ultimate salute.
Categories: bastardized, identity, image, sports,
Form: Ode

Premium Member Bureaucracy

Bundle of rules elongating the short distance between a problem and its solution
Unnecessary layers compulsorily placed on a mounted ladder with very few steps
Road expectedly smooth and direct is created with uneven stones and many bends
Every step is an independent process making the system tiring and liable to corruption
Alternating procedures and changing routes heavily function in the handling of issues
Under these so many ambiguous limbs is the fertile ground to germinate yet more problems
Complication storms out of these processes lined up in a queue with undefined relevance
Rare is the accuracy of timing respected as it is bastardized in five to ten folds
Add-ons a very possible side effect embracing the commotion of the mercy of many hands
Cruel is this system, especially in the 21st century of advancement in data processing
Yet loved by establishments of worlds without regard to maximizing human services.
Categories: bastardized, angst, business, career, social,
Form: Acrostic

Premium Member Stock


			Stock

Lines derail trains made from stern stock
    shunting worsted words in wagons to and fro
cabins depleted by looters piled on dock
    signals distressed faces not any more  

	forefathers shape not their twisted progeny
	when foremothers shunt them out of agony

the fear that might in the grain burst bunds
    resides unformed in unwilling face
    the dark inscrutable face of race    
blood thinning through bastardized sons

	forefathers shape not their twisted progeny
	when foremothers shunt them out of agony

to guard the rhyme within the quatrain
    no end of artifice will make for sacrifice
content lets form intertwine lines in vain
    clickety-clack of the train lulls us nice

	foremothers never think of their progeny
	when forefathers shunt them out of agony

May 6, 1997

From the privately pub. coll. (rev. 2016): longhand notes (a binding of poems),1999, 115p. 
© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2016
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: bastardized, creation, grandparents, grandson, poetry,
Form: Sonnet

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Monsoon Girl

She recall her day when she sat by the window
And saw the defiled sky to brace up on with spiritual phantasm
Of some demonic begrudges – amassing and making
The flushing spirit of the late evening merriments and bichrome realism.
 
She beshrewed the iniquity rushing by, but it pelted upon
It bastardized her against the immorality of the nature
And she held up with no parole and desires…
She felt herself interred to the nature that despair.
 
The inquity that brigthened with thunderclaps and silver storm
She averted her fear and assailed against this rage
Acquainted herself with the nature she forefended
Pounded for few moments and synced with the lifelike stage.
 
She clapped, she laughed, she fantasied with the zesty consequence
She danced, she danced with the drops falling from the sky,
She sung her own rhythm catching her steps divine
The music prolonged as the clouds lightened and twittery lyrics whistled thereby.
 
Enduring the theme, she limned in her imagination
A life she yearned-for, A life she was not expecting
She painted in her heart an amorist she was looking for
Holding his hand she balled on the miry stage with pavan relieving.
 
The lust she felt over her drizzly body
Closed her eyes as she felt the touch of his lips on her belly
He took hold of her waist and she accured the fanciful time with reverence
She dangled holding the dampen trunk of a tree, and embraced her amorist 
temptingly.
 
The flushing spirit that bestowed with mightiness and relief
She glittered with love, spirit, esteem and belief
All of a sudden she roused from her phantasies 
Withal the monsoon girl lived her day, ceasing all her grief.
Categories: bastardized, depression, happiness, imagination, life,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member An Appeal To, As Yet, Undiscovered Poets

Undiscovered poets hear me, to PH draw near, 
This just might be a good chance for your views to ring clear.

An email address you need to get up and running, 
Huge monkeys it‘s said could really write something stunning.

So grab paper and pen, come as soon as you canna, 
But don't forget please sir to bring several banana.

Enough monkey typewriters might just supplant Shakespeare, 
Given enough time (and assuming plenty of beer.)    

We don't have all day but trust me. I have a good hunch, 
With banana enough friend we don't think about lunch.

So let's all hop to it just see man what we can do, 
If monkey shenanigans truly carry us though.

Show literary typos the ace in our pocket, 
By lighting the fuse to our post(English) grad rocket.

Brian Johnston
May 6, 2014
 
Poet's Notes: 
Brian's bastardized Jamaican English explained….
...'PH' - PoemHunter (you know man, the site you be on right now)  
…‘Huge' - a synonym for ‘a great many' or ‘a large number of'….
…'canna' - a synonym for ‘are able to, ' or slang for ‘smoke a joint, ' dare I say 
...............it 'cannabis! ' (Serendipitous luck I assure you. I'm not that smart.)  
…'banana' -  the plural form of banana. Hey it's my poem! 
…'supplant' -  a synonym for ‘prove to be better than' as in ‘my pot's better .................than your pot'….
….'beer' - an alcoholic beverage you always think you can drink more of….
…'shenanigans' - an Irish? word that means ‘horse play' or ‘sculduggery'….
…'typos' - a new hip word comparing Poetry snobs to a misspelled word….
…'ace in the pocket' - a way to cheat when playing the card game Poker….
…'post(English) grad rocket' - a new poetry craze that English majors can't
..........................................crack! ....
Categories: bastardized, poetry,
Form: Rhyme

Free Cee Was It What It Was

WAS IT WHAT IT WAS?

It was a time of temperance for a temper tamed
It was a time when, on beauty, was mournfulness and belligerence blamed
It was a time when a recently birthed masterpiece was smudged
It was a time for a liar to finally be judged
While a man jousted with a beast who would not be budged
A deity who held power in her hand with which that self-same deity gave the man a nudge
That nudge was to advise the man of meekness not to hold even the grain of a grudge
It was a time when torment meant meaningless embraces and unkind kisses
It was a time someone with more insight than I intentionally misses
As God and Satan are both taking pisses
While the Pope put the pious in a confessional booth bastardized by all the sacrilegiously self-possessed
Sinners all and all sinners self-confessed
As I was sent by Satan his most sordid and grievous guest
A woman who suckled at the breast of duplicity
A lady lacking a scintilla of pity
It was a time when that woman drained me of blood drop by dreary drop
It was a time when I wished time would stop
© 2012  copyright PHREEPOETREE…~free cee!~

W
Categories: bastardized, angst, woman, time, time,
Form: Monorhyme


Premium Member Through the Strom

THROUGH THE STORM...

Strange fruits no longer hang
from trees; they’re boxed and stored:
seeds left behind lie rotting in blood soaked streets.
Yet we have overcome the poverty of spirit
and still march in solidarity with a world imbued 
with the blankets of fear and bleak confusion of purpose.

Today, the circadian rhythms of time weave us together
breaking bartered bleak silence of moral purpose
eviscerated by deceit: crusades and jihads are not the lessons
of the Shamans, Gandhi, Martin and Malcolm (Imam); nor what the Dali
and Pope would wish upon the human race.  No! Let's not be victims
of the acid of despair; neither of the venom of those who say they don’t care:

Rest assured Brothers and Sister of the world, the time of martyrs
will not be bastardized; the blooded juice of strange fruits
will not be comprised; nor their seeds eradicated.

While sitting, standing, shouting and marching
along the river banks of history, there's no dam of injustice
the blood flowing waters of liberty cannot and will not overcome.
 
Though our feet be tired and our souls be weary,
let the world continue the prophet's march...marching
through the howling winds of pain---the jostling storms 
of adversity...our faith stamping out the whirlwind of despair;
our bruised hearts stirring up warm breezes of spiraling hope:
nourishing bleeding wombs of peace, love and unity.
Categories: bastardized, faith, hope, peace, visionary,
Form: Prose Poetry

Time Machine

I write in the cuneiform stylings of the Sumerian
But, somehow, this system won't allow my brand of hieroglyphics
To print out
So, sadly, I must communicate through this jumbled network of characters
And, therefore, I will speak as clearly as this form allows...

The civilizations that have lived eons before this current abomination
Were swallowed up entirely by the gods for far less than 
What is occurring in this wasteland of layered greed often disguised as
Altruism during times of crisis

The vastness within the discrepancies between how some live easily versus
How the masses struggle to exist 
Has become too great

The loss of awareness replaced with apathy and entitlement
Makes the modern condition fertile grounds for a strong
Wake-up call for the elite, the spoiled, the ignorant, and the violent
Especially as the aforementioned have typically veiled themselves with distinct notes
Of misplaced, bastardized religious philosophy
In order to continue with their agenda

Unfortunately, it is in my estimation that only the poor continue to be crushed with
The horrors of other, richer men seeking their vainglorious pursuits
Without the slightest regard for their fellow man/woman/child
And this is compounded with the torments of the earth's rumblings 
That twist the souls who have nothing into a state of deeper loss
As their hands reach towards skies that bare no offering of fruition or salvation
From their fellow man

How does it happen that people forget about one another with such a cavalier attitude?
Technological gadgets and hollywood make-believe are excellent distraction devices
Used to shield the priviledged from reality...

"As long as I am happy 
No person outside of my inner circle of liars and cheats 
Shall interfere with my self-created world"

This is not a novel situation
This is a cyclical, kinetic, spiritual energy that is bestowed 
Only upon the aware few
  
Larger movement is required to set in motion the mechanisms of the smaller
Categories: bastardized, allegory
Form: Free verse

Okay I Simply Watched As My Father Raped My Girlfriend

ERRANTLY ERRANT

There once be a pair
They met in a park
In the darkness of despair
And suddenly a spark

But an errant flame this would turn out to be
Alas, a lady’s lad and  a lovely lass to see
‘twas on a night two wouldst come to agree
Each wouldst agree to walk on hot rocks and shattered glass

Oh the sharpened shale of depth be its goal
Leaving their blood as a trail leading them nowhere
And oh the innocence and illicit  they agreed to bear
Yet neither made naked their better judgment nor fear

Each pair of eyes focused on a flickering lamp 
Two minds beset by a weakened shoulder and a "should or shouldn’t they?"
And there midst a misty eve so damnably damp
Was a nighttime which would earnestly earn its paltry pay

And so they rose to stroll somewhere both knew little of
by blindness and bastardized belittlement the two were spurred 
No, this kinship was not based on everlasting love
But rather both died of dope is the story I heard 
          © 2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
Categories: bastardized, angst,
Form: Quatrain

I Could Blame It On Scrabble Or Her Banal Babble

LET THEM CLAIM THE BLAME

I could blame it on befriending a bastardized crowd
The raucous, rambunctious, rowdy and the loud
I could invent and explain excuses exquisite in exactitude and fact    
But they may all be ones I’d be forced one day to redact

I could recite by chapter and verse why I am what I am
And from where all my vices and errors may stem
I might, for instance, instantaneously infer
That all my problems are due to him or to her

I might find people foolish enough to trust in me
And buy into the falsehoods which I doth decree
Sympathy could be a response I’d like to receive
And it wouldst be wondrous if they’d all believe

I may swear by the universe the lies I might tell
And how I came to live in a living hell
However one day I’d have to defend myself with hurdles to vault
Because if the truth be known my addiction is only my fault
                   © 2011.….Phreepoetree
Categories: bastardized, cowboy-western, day, may, universe,
Form: Cinqku

He Is a Dope She Is a Dope and I Am Not But I Do Dig Dope

LET THEM CLAIM THE BLAME

I could blame it on befriending a bastardized crowd
The raucous, rambunctious, rowdy and the loud
I could invent and explain excuses exquisite in exactitude and fact    
But they may all be ones I’d be forced one day to redact

I could recite by chapter and verse why I am what I am
And from where all my vices and errors may stem
I might, for instance, instantaneously infer
That all my problems are due to him or to her

I might find people foolish enough to trust in me
And buy into the falsehoods which I doth decree
Sympathy could be a response I’d like to receive
And it wouldst be wondrous if they’d all believe

I may swear by the universe the lies I might tell
And how I came to live in a living hell
However one day I’d have to defend myself with hurdles to vault
Because if the truth be known my dependence on dope is all my fault
                   © 2011.….free cee!
Categories: bastardized, angstday, may, universe,
Form: Quintain (English)

Errently Errent Free Cee

ERRANTLY ERRANT

There once be a pair
They met in a park
In the darkness of despair
And suddenly a spark

But an errant flame this would be
Alas, a lady’s lad and a lovely lass
‘twas on a night two wouldst agree
Each to decree and agree to walk on hot rocks and glass

Oh the sharpened shale of depth be its goal
Leaving their blood as a trail leading to nowhere
And oh the innocence illicit illustrations stole
Yet neither made naked their better judgment nor fear

Each pair of eyes focused on a flickering lamp
Yet minds beset by a "should or shouldn’t they?"
        And there midst a misty eve so damp
Was a nighttime which would earnestly earn its pay

And so they rose to stroll somewhere both knew little of
by blindness and bastardized belittlement the two were spurred 
No, this kinship was not based on everlasting love
But rather both died of dope is the story I heard 
          © 2011.….poefree
Categories: bastardized, angst, black african american,
Form: Ghazal

I Do Not Recognize the Face I See In the Mirror

ERRANTLY ERRANT

There once be a pair
They met in a park
In the darkness of despair
And suddenly a spark

But an errant flame this would be
Alas, a lady’s lad and a lovely lass
‘twas on a night two wouldst agree
Each to decree and agree to walk on hot rocks and glass

Oh the sharpened shale of depth be its goal
Leaving their blood as a trail leading to nowhere
And oh the innocence illicit illustrations stole
Yet neither made naked their better judgment nor fear

Each pair of eyes focused on a flickering lamp
Yet minds beset by a "should or shouldn’t they?"
        And there midst a misty eve so damp
Was a nighttime which would earnestly earn its pay

And so they rose to stroll somewhere both knew little of
by blindness and bastardized belittlement the two were spurred 
No, this kinship was not based on everlasting love
But rather both died of dope is the story I heard 
          © 2011.….poefree
Categories: bastardized, angst
Form: Quintain (English)

Getting There

Neuron's bounce off the inside of my head
my reality has been 'bastardized'
by my own refusal 'subconsciously'
to accept and be accountable,
for what I wrongly thought I was,
for who and what I am,
for whom I will become;
for the good 
I am capable of discerning.


Elizabeth alexander                12/2/2016
Categories: bastardized, appreciation, character,
Form: Free verse

Pornstar Pottery

She stalks the hall of graffiti red,
bare legs and platform shoes, 
and she ties her shirt in such a way
as to best accentuate her boobs

 her hair's a mess, 
smudged makeup dress,
and lipstick sticks on bottle tips,
cause she's she's she's...
 
drinking in the bathtub,
taking pictures of her body,
         glorifying vomit and drugs on the floor,
and her friends gather round 
to touch her alabaster skin,
        the bastardized salamander 
         scales of sexual abuse, 
made gold,
and highlighted by the hieroglyphic
autograph of cursive,
that's not just a tramp stamp-
but a prize for past and future lovers,
her mark, her brand, her scent
is a black hole, sucking men in,

Venus and her orbit, spins
desire, violence, jelousy;
sex and mud: a recipe for revenge
and power lust- pornstar pottery.
Categories: bastardized, passion, drug,
Form: Free verse
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