Best Beggarly Poems
What Of This Niggardly Miserable Earth
What of this niggardly miserable earth
this small plot awaiting a white tombstone
when she cares and asks what is it all worth
once enslaved a soul fades into bone
a place to arrive and sleep and slumber
deep under so willingly turned soil
when life gasped and then ups your number
no more the dawn's waking or daily toil
here sleep with ancient and wizened trees
O great wizard is there no remedy
is life just spasms and then some comedy
no amount of beggarly hoping please
is there not paradise thus awaiting
kind when we think of a life of pure ease.
What of this niggardly miserable earth.
When she cares and asks what is it all worth?
Robert J. Lindley, 16 verse sonnet
JULY-03-1971, age 17
Note ; Erased
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Dictionary-: NIGGARDLY
Definitions from Oxford Languages · Learn more
nig·gard·ly
adjective
ungenerous; stingy.
"serving out the rations with a niggardly hand"
Similar:
miserly
parsimonious
close-fisted
penny-pinching
cheeseparing
penurious
grasping
greedy
avaricious
Scroogelike
ungenerous
illiberal
close
mean
stingy
mingy
tight
tightfisted
money-grubbing
money-grabbing
cheap
near
View 2 vulgar slang words
Opposite:
generous
adverb ARCHAIC
in a stingy or meager manner.
In what haunt hath hope,
he who in solitude,
weeps into soiled palms;
calloused by that labor
desolate of redemption.
Leathered and wrinkled
by ever so recent a passage
of too many yesterdays.
In what haunt hath hope
those tears shed in anguish
amidst gales unrelenting
which snatch at birth
and toss into oblivion.
Unmarked is the course
across age weary cheeks
drooping under the weight
of too many yesterdays.
O miserly fates
how hollow thy prize
no less, at so great a cost.
Greatness is lonely,
my soul for a kingdom
bartered so unwisely
from dust to ash
and the shimmering
to rust by the reckoning
of too many yesterdays.
In what haunt hath hope
such beggarly ilk
adorned in finery
beyond dreamscape lux.
Hidden under lavish raiment,
decay of the forsaken
lost even to themselves
in a calmly rippled wake
of too many yesterdays.
07/03/15
Don't carry the dead back home
Leave them better left alone
Time will come to face those fears
Now your debts are in arrears
Grab the living by the hand
Tell them you still have a plan
Even beggarly and small
somehow rise above it all
Be the salt and not the dross
Claim the win and not the loss
Someone needs you to be strong
Fake it, make it right or wrong
"Till you really reach the place
where you learn to turn your face
to the only one who knows
how your inner garden grows.
I dream a kind of world;
where prevails peace and love.
I dream ...
Where nature lives own life
and the human being, own.
No way the flowers wither,
no way the creatures moan.
Springs sing all the ways,
on the trees; chirping birds.
I dream ...
The creatures live for love
no one hurts the other.
No one face the distress
and no one shades tears.
No one lives beggarly,
suffers hunger and thirst.
I dream ...
There's no war or battle,
no arms and ammunitions.
There should not be reason
to have the sort of prison.
To quench their selfish craves
no one shades the blood.
I dream ...
There we have bright days,
happy people with self respect.
Their needs are fulfilled
according to choice of taste.
Every home is filled joy,
illuminating rays of hopes.
I dream ...
Sun gives the warmth to all,
and moon, the soothing rays.
Flowers make aromatic and
shining stars embellish ways.
Everyone is blessed by God
and everyone feels cared.
I dream ...
Vanished acts of immorality,
no one commits the sin.
Everyone goes righteous,
bear the holy souls, within.
Everyone feels in the paradise
they have got their abode.
I dream ...
(C) S. D. Tiwari
Our Shame,
"PRESIDENT" & "LEADERS"
Full grown men,
old,
devoid of vision,
Lacking in wisdom,
wicked weaklings
protected by paltry paid gun men
great grandfathers,
unwilling to train Younger Leaders.
Untrained themselves in morals & reputation,
Liars,
Tired & fickle in frame,
feeble. opaque, lacking imagination,
These exalted clowns,
drawn from rickety defeated military,
All but a weak one from the creek.
Gangsters,
Elevated as Presidents,
or Governors and Leaders,
We are Trapped,
fooled by cynosure of degenerate,
immoral men, destinies robbers,
watching the drowning of a once rich Giant.
confined felon,
demented through age
rogues as Presidents, Senators, Governors,
Protected by corrupt Police
and a demystified compromised Army,
Oppressive DSS, Abusive servants of the masses,
robbing the future of unborn kids,
denying all in the midst of Plenty,
shaming us all.
We have no Leaders Yet.
None since 1960.
Profligate band of men,
overtaken by fraud & moral turpitude,
A merry-go-round by failures,
sixty Plus years after Muzungu,
Illiterates still in charge of our destinies,
Despised in Ghana
scorned in Zambia
Overtaken by Ethiopians
locked out by Botswana
Denied by Rwanda
disgraced in Libya
Mocked in South Africa
Bared in sane countries
where corruption is an indelible blot,
incarcerating the guilty away from sane men.
These crooked Old recycled Failures,
Destroyed, ruined and damaged destroying still.
unwilling to retire in their dishonour,
Killing, abusing and incarcerating Young men who dares tyranny.
A former Giant,
Now a Crawling Giant of Africa,
Beggarly borrowing amidst plenty.
Over two hundred million divided mass,
waiting for “godot” .
procrastinating liberty for fear and docility
A country of Countries Ruined by Military men
masquerading as democrats through tyranny
A Cancer in Africa.
The inevitable envy we feel
When we see our neighbour’s wealth
The eternal Ferris wheel
Up now, then down
The wheel turns
To be up
And to be down
Yet the greatest of us
Rise to the challenge
Of when being up
And seeing far
Not to look down
On those below
Not to spit
And not to drop
Popcorn snow
On those below
For who knows when
A turn – and then
Those above
Will fall from love
And become in a cycle
The bottom few
On the poor man’s pew
Hat in hand
To beggarly stand
Black women in America,
let the sterile tabulating machine
tally your vociferous views
Loud women pridefully possessing
the highest voting demographics in the amber land
Have your passions changed America’s
cruel grain racial oppression ...
Are your males still getting brutally beaten and killed?
Did your strong vocal pleas
get heard by your Egyptian queen of heaven?
Such burning Pharaohic desires
you have for your flesh-and-bone idols
Will your queen of heaven
make the earth shake up the superior attitude
the pyramid clouds have towards you and your children?
Can your queen of heaven
bosom vibrate a gushing Milky Way,
which will break the levee of hate that’s dam drowning
you and your weak, cuckold men and chalk-face erased children?
Guess your queen of heaven
is waiting on her four-year period again
To cast another bloody ballot
for your next new favorite lying politician
Black women in America,
which serpent did your queen of heaven send
to do the lip-service saving?
Whose bifurcated tongue
does she demands your freewill to knee bend
Dark spirit women,
you and your beggarly men,
go kiss the queen of heaven’s colored cloth
freshly wiped on her celestial rear end
Let your doting, voting lips reek of rejection —
demo-crapped on once more again
As your faith in man be smeared like dung
over your sun-darkened slave skin
Keep on Baal worshiping the queen of heaven,
until holy brimstone rain
melt your idol iron chain souls from existence
In Dickensian time
Upon sunset hour
Overshadowing Thames
Is London Tower
Blackened cobble streets
Shimmer in the rain
Big Ben at Westminster
Chimes an eight bells refrain
At Euston Station
A passenger alights
On Platform 3
And enters the caff
for a nice cup of tea
At the local tavern
Behind steamy windows
The opportunists sit
Gleaning local gossip
Ever watchful to ensnare
Any hapless stranger
come wandering there
Covent Garden
still well lit
As lamplighters
carry out their remit
Striding with ladders
about old London town
With a cheery wave
and a purposeful frown
Patrolling policemen
in forbidding places
Echoing footfalls
as boots make paces
A courting couple shelters
under the arches
Oblivious to passerby's
and dray cart horses
A hackney driver cracks his whip
As high stepping hooves
on cobbles clip
From Westminster
stove pipe hatted M.P.s from
parliament sitting
enter a members club
to continue their
political discourses
unremitting
Mudlark urchins ankle deep
in moonshine glow
watch chugging steam boats
along the Thames flow
Billingsgate Market's
straw boated and
stripe aproned men
are found sluicing
with brooms in hand
the blood drenched ground
Along the West End thoroughfares
Come wealthy patrons
in open carriages with lantern flares
wearing evening attire
Bejewelled ladies in fanciful frocks
And around bare shoulders
Stoles of mink and silver fox
They ascend the red carpeted stairs
And look towards the royal box
A pretty young street seller
of violets and roses
with straw basket on hip
proffers up the scented poses
A peasouper fog blankets from
Thames to chimney tops
As a trader hooks his shutters down
Outside his haberdashery shop
Across London Bridge the East End rabble
Trail homeward to Hackney, Bethnal Green
and Whitechapel
From an open pub door
streams a music hall tune
played on an accordion
in a crowded tap room
Wending amongst the walkers
in the Strand
run beggarly children
with outstretched hand.
And......
Charles Dickens
walks the streets
at night
taking note
of every sight.
In the year of a blood moon,
they assassinated a King
Triple six stamped shrunken head dolls,
with voodoo stitched mouths,
spit the hate bullets out
Brotherhood?
Universal unity?
Visions of vanilla vanity splattered
Eye and eye shot thru —
Red, white and blue glass hopes shattered
Ebony minds full of empty frames,
violently awakened by an assassinated dream
A trilling Trump now says
the false dream was an Obama-nation:
a black stain on the royal flag linen
A New American dawn,
ushered in by a reverie bugle blown little horn,
is the same as the Old Star Spangled one
Roll back the progressive tide
Maintain a no-oreo attitude;
ain’t giving no affirmative helping hand,
ain’t getting no voter free ride —
Reinstate the purest Antebellum oppression;
have the coloreds learn
a modern day triple K, neo-Nazi slave lesson
Them white-cloaked dragon wizards say,
the Civil Rights War is over, chimp boy ...
this time the swastika losers got it rebel right!
As they drunk revel in coconut milk joy
An assassinated dream
lying dead on a Memphis balcony
A hateful, Egyptian pyramid scheme:
bury the King sleeper in a pauper plot
In the Shiloh year,
a jubilee harvest was reaped
under a crimson crescent moon
Another American dead-end dream
wore a lunar smiling death mask
Nowadays, everything ain’t apple pie kosher
as it seems
Hate assassins have again murdered
this lovely dream ... and it's bulrush offspring
All Obama legacy Samson ties
are severed with mercy so Philistine —
a permanent closing of the eyes
Purposefully the enemy has exhumed and cremated
the decaying bone doctrines of the King,
and character assassinated his following
Fifty years later,
and still picking up
the shattered jubilee pieces ...
My people keep bosom clutching
a King-size misty dream
Beggarly holding onto
a rejected peace offering
The fog of war
is lingering long on
these golden amber grain shores
In the bar,
in the synagogue
Count the missing fingers
in the high school cafeteria tomb
Tally the tiny toe tags
in the elementary home room
Feel another barrel blast
of rage eject empty
When the smoke clears,
wait nervously
for the next automatic weaponry
to fire breathe
Such is life in America:
Wealthy home of the brave,
beggarly land of the free
Daily tourniquets of death
is profit united
by the paid gun lobby
The deadly fog rolls along
the bloody asphalt
Eighteen wheels of chance
be always spinning roulette wild
Six shooter spitting triple digit proof
is a tempered slag romance
Chambers of commerce
tout the tourist numbers out loud
As the government buries each
gun violence study
under a redacted ink cloud
In the open concert air,
in the closed-eye praying
cathedral pew ... lead eulogies ain’t nothing new
Register those concealed mute ears
and deaf tongues,
which don’t security speak or hear
See how caliber turned blind eyes
have their moral vision
bank deposit casualties disappear
Shell-shocked citizens fear
another magazine blast of rage
is about to eject soul empty
When the smoke clears,
we wait anxiously
for the next impotent badge response
to publicly seethe
Such is statistical life in America,
where bullet violence is purchased so easy:
Bazaar home of the hot metal slave,
wretched land of the cold trigger squeeze
SLAPPY THE APPLE TREE OF OZ - WIZ
Dorothy and I go way back, don’t you know
and by the way I’m familiar with the bale of hay,
thundering tin can and the trembling kitty show.
At first they were hesitant to let me stay.
I had to pull my roots up from the ground,
put a cafeteria net in place to hold its yield,
then follow the yellow brick crowd ‘round and ‘round
and avoid a screaming witch out in the field.
She threatened to tear me limb from limb.
I stuck out my red tongue, told her to just try.
The knees of tin clattered together - poor him,
and dear Dorothy and her little dog let out a sigh.
I fell asleep standing in the poppy garden of snow.
My apples were nearly poisoned but I shielded them
before my eyes closed. Thankful for Glinda’s glow —
awakening even the brave one with his absent brain stem.
The growling yawn of the cowardly furball freaked me out.
I shook the diamondback crystals from my leaves and trunk.
Our Kansas girl led the way to Oz with a tree-mendous shout.
For the millionth time we grab arms and sing - this time in funk.
We reach the wonderfully luscious land of oz - green as my hair.
Begging audience of the wizard, he finally sees us.
I’m patient as he listens to the beggarly needs — a lion’s share.
I won’t bring myself down to their level - make a great fuss.
The wizard listens to this wizened curmudgeon tree.
I ask him for unending sweet apples without any worms.
And as he has done with the rusty-eyed gang, he makes a decree,
for he must give a long winded speech and make us squirm.
The only drawback is I must stand guard in this breezy courtyard —
a lookout for writings on the skywall that might jeopardize our lives.
Still, I am the crowned jewel, so humble, in this emerald vanguard.
We sang and danced our way down the yellow brick and survived.
10/29/2018
Off To See The Wizard Poetry Contest
Charles Messina - Sponsor
In the Wizard of Oz, Dorothy gets slapped by an apple tree. This is where I came up with his name :)
Emi’lokan, the lyrics from a loon,
the vituperation born from the womb of greed,
the menace of recycled gangsters.
Emi’lokan, the beggarly shame of old vermin,
the intrusion of mafias and thuggish urchins,
Emi’lokan, The insanity accepted as norm,
Emi’lokan the dystopia of dementia, great grandfathers
suspending relevance of their poisoned docile Youths,
Emi’lokan, The cornucopia of fraud.
Emi’lokan the senseless Politics of bribery, of rice, tomatoes and grains.
the desperation of old thieves at the precipice of the grave.
Emi’lokan, where election is a lie,
Emi’lokan the lom of no reputation,
Emi’lokan though devoid of dignity,
Emi’lokan robbers without conscience,
Emi’lokan injustices without consequence,
Emi’lokan of diabetes and paralysis cloaked in deceptive "Babariga"
Emi’lokan where profligates bands hover over us.
Emi’lokan in the country of rogues.
This is not a country for living souls
Recoiled the heart lives under the enshades
Of vampire ridden nature and all its pards
On beggarly sums amassed by the pauper
Of bleakness and cold hunger and mort
Here existing we burrowing like moles
In drenched country in termite eaten rocks.
Here are no events images or happenings
But over the same the generations waste
Cobwebbed on a bold spot their anger
In rimless cups in pale lipped liquors
Time eaten tales aimed at amusing
Lamenting on their irrecoverable loss
A loss which was never their gain
Forward they go groping in search of substitutes
In hotel rooms where empty pouches hang
Over the pegs of wealth work and pleasure
All have accepted with harried hands
Stiffening nature humbly no measure for measure
Their guts hanging loose from under their stomachs
While vultures of low airs peck their brains
Piece by piece removing the gilded frowzy matter
Leaving the skull festooned and vainly waste.
The ancient cults of sacrifices still existing
Among jeremiad rules of the gushed brain
Each fang beak or tentacle of spidery web
The venom just dents entwines with its embrace
No grief for marshalled loss no pent up for soul remained
The old conscience just sleeps in arms of lap dogs
And each hour becomes just sanctified and sane.
It is not for charter of the world do we create
Burning our brain and the light of our eyes
Each image in our mind creates
A corresponding image in the space
And each line of the verse entombs
In eternity a sightless gong
Which the poet can hear with his subtle mind
In the span of his wretched life and can find
Some solace when everything significant is betrayed
When the weed choked fields of this world can claim
Their foremost place on the altar of the poesy.
THE DESTINY.
This is not a country for living souls
Recoiled the heart lives under the enshades
Of vampire ridden nature and all its pards
On beggarly sums amassed by the pauper
Of bleakness and cold hunger and mort
Here existing we burrowing like moles
In drenched country in termite eaten rocks.
Here are no events images or happenings
But over the same the generations waste
Cobwebbed on a bold spot their anger
In rimless cups in pale lipped liquors
Time eaten tales aimed at amusing
Lamenting on their irrecoverable loss
A loss which was never their gain
Forward they go groping in search of substitutes
In hotel rooms where empty pouches hang
Over the pegs of wealth work and pleasure
All have accepted with harried hands
Stiffening nature humbly no measure for measure
Their guts hanging loose from under their stomachs
While vultures of low airs peck their brains
Piece by piece removing the gilded frowzy matter
Leaving the skull festooned and vainly waste.
The ancient cults of sacrifices still existing
Among jeremiad rules of the gushed brain
Each fang beak or tentacle of spidery web
The venom just dents entwines with its embrace
No grief for marshalled loss no pent up for soul remained
The old conscience just sleeps in arms of lap dogs
And each hour becomes just sanctified and sane.
It is not for charter of the world do we create
Burning our brain and the light of our eyes
Each image in our mind creates
A corresponding image in the space
And each line of the verse entombs
In eternity a sightless gong
Which the poet can hear with his subtle mind
In the span of his wretched life and can find
Some solace when everything significant is betrayed
When the weed choked fields of this world can claim
Their foremost place on the altar of the poesy.
You’re a consumer pawn on the cargo chessboard,
being merchandise moved
by the mighty,
free-market bellow powers-that-be:
The Babble Tower titans of industry
And the fawning, vote hopes that you have
is advancing
conveyor belt backwards
The packaged progress that you ballot bought
is expired, retrograde liberty
It’s so commercially uncool
to be a grin shill, shiny used tool —
a patsy E-bay product sold down perdition road
Material serendipity ~ Ignorant bliss gluttony
is the narcotic, marketing mirage
of merchant debt slavery
Arise, to another automated labor dawn,
and get usury pressed on the profit iron board
Let the starch resistance in your lungs
feebly be diminished echo expunged,
on the first and third week of each month
Stop the clock grindstone ... get spend happy
Pass Go and retail sample
all your Mediterranean mall eyes can eat
Strap the credit Boardwalk bank accounts in;
enjoy the lavish buffet discount weekends,
those gorge giddy sinful getaways
Letting your pursed lips coin splurge comfortably
Tomorrow sorrows is yesterday hangover yawns,
courtesy of some loan shark upper-class spawns
giving you more underwater mortgage freedom
Atlantis dream house of plastic bondage
is a back-to-the-future, antiquity straw commodity
Buy another fetter timeshare bronze skin link,
written in New Roman font invisible ink:
An emancipation contract redacted permanently
Then pulse pawn a purchased posterity lot
of pyramid beggarly,
plantation shade retrograde liberty