Best Behooves Poems
i sit lonely.
the crowded restaurant is thick with sound
i pick away at it
moving back into the stagnant silence
of my own comfort
the air is nasty here
it telepathically abuses my thought patterns
still
a far cry better
the loud hum of food
marching to the vacant crowd
suffocates me
a decorated plate joins my table
strikes a conversation with the cutlery
there is no call from the governor
as i attack my food
fork knife teeth
bites later
a paper plane flies in
a swipe of my plastic
makes quick work of the bill
i exit
seemingly quicker
than human eyes can catch
i hate this part
i parley my way through
too many bodies
all the while staring
at a concrete maze
never making eye contact
with a single soul
i do that
i always do that
keep the entrances of my being
away from those who would stare me down
attempt to engage me in conversation
with a desire to lock eyes
if they looked in they would burn
i’d be held responsible
FINALLY
home
the only environment i feel safe in
my therapist will be proud
almost an hour today
assuming i see her again
i am covered in my own dew
my breathing sporadic
i line up an array of pills like good soldiers
as i continue my attempt
survive another day
it will take hours to regain my sanity
all the while questioning the purpose
why must i assimilate
back into the dungeons
they call society
it behooves me
find one reason
join the rank and file
plug back into a horrendous grid
i had escaped
i
grow
weary
of
my
own
thoughts
ignore my voice
slowly regain my footing
plant roots
hope they’ll take hold
attempt to return
into the vacuum of my existence
i sit lonely.
The Life Savor (my favored title!)
Life
is to
be enjoyed.
Yes, we must work,
but we can strive for
jobs that will fulfill us.
We have obligations, but
sacrifice should not consume us.
We must find balance in all we do.
Give of yourself but pamper yourself too!
They say it’s good to dream big, but be real.
Develop your God-given talents,
but let go of too lofty dreams
if they only bring you stress.
It behooves not just you,
but your loved ones too
when you feel good,
so learn to
savor
life!
Written Oct. 29, 2015
Last thoughts come before our final breath unexpected
Expressions of regret, sometimes heartfelt goodbyes,
A sincere apology on the lips of the dying detected
More likely words uttered in pain, as horrifying cries.
Sudden thoughts upon which one has long reflected
Others, not giving a second thought, most intentional lies,
Truth be known, we cannot know another’s final thoughts--
The last hopefully sensible thing they say before one dies.
It certainly behooves us to watch every word we say
For the last thought we speak is sending us away.
Ranked #55 on Best New Poems on Poetry Soup
May 23, 2021
Written April 24, 2021
For "Our Last Thoughts" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Unseeking Seeker
When you hurt someone
and care to apologize,
When you vow to shun
and redeem your lies.
When you look
beyond your creed
and help those
who are in need,
In the midst of your troubles
When you hold your faith stable,
Of heaven and hell
I cannot censure or exalt
Neither validate nor fault
But you’ll live your life
free of stress and strife.
When it becomes easy
to give than receive,
When it becomes easy
to assist than deceive,
When it becomes easy
to lend than borrow,
You live your life
free of pain and sorrow.
It behooves us to live for today
to trust in God come what may.
~"Be Didactic" contest by John Anderson
Marmoset directs traffic better than monkeys or sloths.
He stands in the highway and walks his feet off.
We have hired other species. but they do not hold a candle.
To Marmoset who can do it at every single damned angle.
He is demanding a raise, sixteen more meals a week.
For he has plenty of mouths to feed, and his offspring squeak.
It behooves us to give them to him, and I will tell you why.
If he trains all his children, we have a replacement if he doth die.
The way he stands in the middle of the highway each day.
Is the absolute craziest mess, and I doubt that marmosets pray.
So let's cough up those extra meals, while he is still alive
Before he demands a ridiculous amount like thirty or forty five.
So swift behooves...
in challenging quest...
competitive hearts...
race their best...
A treasure to win...
one measurable test...
for equine ones..
Churchills best.
That’s how she saw me
A lying jerk
Filled with mal-intent
And inebriated twist of the devil’s tongue
She removed my smile
My patience
My need for her
She was a professor
with a Masters Degree in Investigative Drama
Drinking shots of animosity and scorn
From half-empty glass
Layered in a syllable abused tint
Sucking accountability, dry
She removed my smile
My patience
My want for her
Vials of sadness
Broken over mattress
Where I entered her
Into innocence realm
She begged for more
She begged me to stay
But, I was already marked from argument’s first revelation
Because even when I held her hand
Even when I welcomed her into my arms
After being beaten for being her diamond ring’s shadow
Even when I brought her closer to peace
It wouldn’t ever be enough
My smallest mistakes would become Armageddon’s cry
My apologies
The tissue
She removed my smile
My patience
My trust for her
Because I
Was a piece of crap
An irregular painting titled: “The Bad Guy”
Messages of sangre coated angst
Going to wrong number
Her errors
Still made me see her as a precious woman
Waiting to regain her peace
Her identity
But I
Was a liar
A screw up
Our finish line had no ribbons
For she had already cut my c(h)ord
Silence
Cold shoulder
My only way to hold this peace
She thought she could leave me
But I
Was already gone
Her tears’ contempt made me let go
Fears’ discontent helped me confirm my Western sunsets
To
Fly
Fly
High
Fly
HIGH
For serenity’s wing behooves me to sway
Towards these winds of change
Solace will hold me on palm
As I wish with final prayer
That Karma
Goes easy on her
© Drake J. Eszes
What's a sweeter gift than love?
What's the greatest wealth than hope?
What's a richer state than faith?
It behooves you to live by your faith,
And keep aflame the spirit of love,
Woe befalls him who derides hope:
Nothing is drearier than a life bereft of hope,
And he's a lost soul who's without faith,
But unfortunate is he of all who's without love.
All is lost when one loses love, hope and faith!
In the setting sun the Sioux Tepees look like vandalized pyramids,
the Tetons themselves appear as though angels raped
by the savagery of centuries yet noble in barbaric beauty and warrior ethos,
a Scalp Dance is begun, torches up high on the outside
a bonfire big and heavy be the center spirit,
the drums awaken from the caves of ancestral courage
and the voices of a thousand Mothers plead for the pride of their sons,
drumbeats raise the heartbeats into the heat of glory
as the rattles rake the mind with the cost of blood,
warriors enter the pit with bravery to prove and fate to appease
feet pound the earth and scalps shake on power rods
the currency of victories swing wide and thunder smacks the stars,
Afterwards, Chief Partisan presents us with squaws
pretty in young passion and fertile to the touch,
there is a custom of strength transfer through intercourse
they desire the seed of our spirit,
indulging in their spells of native kiss could leave us vulnerable
to capture or even assassination
we can't afford to be reckless in pleasure or mindless of morals,
I am unwilling to father a hybrid pioneer amongst a probable enemy,
embracing these temptresses gowned in scanty furs
could even politically bind us to the Teton against their traditional adversaries,
we must avoid inciting intertribal conflict at this juncture,
Morning has arrived with a think fast attitude
the messages between our nations is unequivocal
the Teton are intractable in their belief of invincible independence,
they have their arsenal, warriors, and horses,
feeling that they own the thunder and the fear of their neighbors,
the Chinese and New York fur markets
along with taxing river passage have to date guaranteed them wealth
and the British have armed them for profit,
however, the arrowheads of the United States are aimed to strike their arteries
and we won't stop until they bleed out into oblivion,
the Sioux shenanigans have resumed as we gather up and get ready to push off,
exasperated, we convince Black Buffalo that it behooves him
to persuade his people to let us leave without hostilities
and they do as we toss them some tobacco sticks,
once on Destiny, anchor up,
the southerly winds lift our vessels towards autumn's genesis,
J.A.B.
It's only a paper-mache
moon, they say, too cool,
too full of interstellar space
to sympathize or stress about
lovers, kings and fools.
Or is it? According to Deutsch
the so-called final ignition
into outer space
is a product of man's meditations
moving, as if via gravitation
the magician to the other end
of the expanding universe. Sure,
in yr computer. Meanwhile, nursed
in a nursing home, mewling and peeing
as accurately predicted by Shakespeare
my old Marine, an ex-sailor, bitter
at life's ending, waited
too long to dispatch with dignity.
All alone, as in Corbiere's poem,
old soldiers are fated
to fight unnecessary wars
as we all are. Except for the fact that
every helium and hydrogen atom
ever born or made (whatever you believe)
has taken positions, passionate
and predetermined as republicans and dobermans
over eons and epochs. Thus
I don't think it behooves us much to care
if we're getting too little clean air or
bacteria are better adapted than us. This
obsession with identity, survival
a name and a leg of lamb is lame
even uninspired. The entire universe
including the professional baseball season
is canceled when yr dead. No blame.
They say the devil has power
They say that God loves blood
Each moment sweet or sour
Bids us to yield to God.
One pool in which we thrive or stray
One pool of invisible wealth
It behooves us to seek and obey
To buffer the better of us instead.
I see red, white, and blue in light of
Islands of blood, hope, or serenity; and
Pure pick of choice the Source does offer
We know who holds us strong.
Day dawned and found me hoping
They'd savor slice of peace like sweet peach
I prayed the devil was betrayed and fleeing
And sure enough, a miracle within our reach.
*
That guy
The one you called phantom
Then fled from
A gentle giant meek and strong
His convictions -
Voluntary surrender to get better
He oozes love
Like muscular Mandiba
Listen with your inner ear
He's your brother.
Not a ghost of a chance
No weight weighs him down
His love behooves, sans avaunt.
*
As swift behooves,
In challenging quest,
Competitive hearts,
Race their best,
A treasure to win,
One measurable test,
For equine ones,
The World's Best.
new renditions to have compared later. This is with As starting out on first line.
A smile, a wave and goodbyes were exchanged
She said she would try to remember the good times
After the misery they had endured
He replied he would seek the silence of the night
It had been an amicable parting
They had loved each other deeply
He thought they were a good match
She felt in her heart this was the real thing
But as luck would have it
Up jumped the devil when they began living together
Their personalities clashed fiercely
Soon, they realized it would come to no good
She was intransigent in her views
And his ego could not stand her arrogance
Of course, his ego was no child that could be tamed
Nor his brusque manner tolerated
They said that if their union was made in heaven
It could very well have been forged in hell too
They didn’t yell too much at each other
But the animosity was there
It had reached the point of no return
After a short while they stopped touching
Separation was the only solution
A sweet apple turned sour, an expectation rancid
Love comes seldom
Hatreds become frequent
After a while, affection became difficult
Love needs affection not discord
It behooves the lovelorn to think maturely
Is there is compatibility, sincerity, honesty
and understanding of each others' feelings?
Are you ready to let it all die
in one giant scream of silence?
Love consists of many intrinsic small things
Like comprehending that obstinacy unnerves even the sacred,
Tolerance is next to saintliness
And true love is not so easy to achieve
i sit lonely. the crowded restaurant is thick with sound. i pick away at it moving back into the stagnant silence of my own comfort. the air is nasty here telepathically abusing my thought patterns. still a far cry better then the loud hum of food making its way to the vacant crowd surrounds me. a decorated plate joins me at my table. immediately striking a conversation with the cutlery who had waited too long for her arrival. there is no call from the governor much to the dismay of various ethnic leaves now being executed. many bites later at my request a paper plane flies in ahead of schedule. a swipe of my plastic card makes quick work of bills demands and i exit seemingly too quick for the human eye to catch. i hate this part. i parley my journey to a few twists and turns all the while staring done at a concrete maze never making eye contact with a single soul. i do that. i always do that -keep the entrance of my being away from those who would stare me down and attempt to engage me in conversation with a desire to lock eyes. if they looked in they would burn and i would be held responsible. finally i reach my own personal mecca the only environment i feel safe in. my therapist will be proud almost an hour today. my progress will be staggering to her assuming i see her again. i am covered in my own dew. my breathing is sporadic. i line up an array of pills like good soldiers as i commence my attempt to survive another day. it will take hours to regain my sanity all the while questioning the purpose of assimilating back into the dungeon with the general public. it behooves me to find one positive reason i would want to join the rank and file again. to plug back in to that horrendous grid i escaped oh so long ago. i grow weary of my own thoughts. ignoring those voices slowly i regain my footing. having resumed my pleasant demeanour i plant roots hoping they’ll take hold. i attempt to return back into the vacuum of my existence. i fail and much to my displeasure exist as i always have. i sit lonely.
Written by
Armand Hamouth
aka Maurice Yvonne