Best Blacklisted Poems
The poet Marshall Mathers
whilst "Cleaning Out My Closet"
blasted with inquiry-
"Have you ever been hated on or discriminated against?
I have...''
Interesting enough
in these crooked times
it is impossible to make a man like you,
or your art,
especially with unbounding determination.
Nevertheless,
It sure is mighty easy to attain their hatred,
through no fault of your own.
When they protest or demonstrate against you...
finally you have arrived!
That's powerful!
Common sense says,
"Never drive in the rear view mirror!"
Though, it sure is helpful to take a quick glance back
periodically
to check out Jealousy,
back there
doubting and shouting and eating your dust!
Take a whiff...
Listen...
AHHHH....
The band begins to play ferociously!
Off-key.
Off-color.
Slander Slogans pasted upon your face.
Furthermore,
Suddenly,
Systematically...
like roaches with lights bright,
they disappear into the night,
back to the slums;
begging for crumbs.
Once you've been Blacklisted;
Swallow.
Digest the miracle.
Pure, glowing gold
the alchemy of their anger,
visibly discernable from the glossy pyrite
appearing with fake praise.
Heed the old adage:
---------------Keep yir' friends close, and enemies closer.
Their futile harm repels from the Teflon donning your heart.
Envy
burns bold, boils,
melts and cools, then cold,
forging the sword.
Adding to your arsenal.
Stumble not
upon bone fragments,
brittle blacklist bandits...
the Catacombs of those
who aimed to defame your name,
staking claim for their
shameless sea of debris
and Rotten Forgottens
which only bolster your begotten flame.
Remain steadfast, undaunted
TROUNCE THOSE TREACHEROUS TROUBLES;
________________________ TO ________________________
MARCH THROUGH THE RIGOROUS RUBBLE!
*Heads High,
Let me see those eloquent eyes!~JsL
~Inspired by written words of Marshall Mathers, Cleaning Out My Closet,
Shady Records~
Through the course of my life I've rode many strange things,
like the time on old Chainsaw out near Alice Springs
and that camel at Boulia called Topupmebeer,
but my craziest ride was November last year.
Neil McArthur had purchased Thong Classic, you see,
and he gave me the ride. I was proud as can be.
It was true that my weight was a flamin' disgrace,
but with Jenny Craig's help I'd be right for the race.
When the big day arrived I was on a great high,
till they gave me pink silks and a purple bow tie.
Still I swallowed my pride with a green and blue pill,
just to help me erase how I looked like a dill.
Then I strode on outside to the mounting yard there
and controlled my emotions by saying a prayer,
but it's hard to control the adrenalin flow
when your mongrel bred mount goes and stands on your toe.
Still my focus returned at the barrier gates
and despite the cat calls from my smart jockey mates;
When the starter cried “Racing!” what went through my mind,
was when Thong Classic jumped, would he leave me behind?
Midst the thunder of hooves and the riders’ wild screams
I was jammed in the pack, but was wise to their schemes,
so I dropped back a little and let the mob pass,
but I'd prove in the straight they were up against class.
CONTINUED
FBI
Allah
Iraq
cocaine
Bomb Bomb Bomb
Gun
die die die
smuftee
hash
Bush
bullet bullet
knife
marijuana
kill or be killed
death
drugs
heroine
New world Order
KKK
white power
snuff
crack crack crack
kuwait
UFO
Satan
Sham democratic elections are organized,
The victorious plan to rule for ever,
Opposition is baptized “night-dances, enemies”,
Local people cry, rulers laugh!
So it happens only in the land blacklisted by God.
Natural resources are exploited by foreigners,
Rulers sit, arms folded and venerate Judas Iscariot’s tomb
International bodies praise and honor the rulers,
Local people cry, rulers laugh!
So it happens only in the land blacklisted by God.
Virus and bacteria hold workshops,
And plan strategies of colonizing the population,
Rulers buy military hardware and invoke the Spirit of Brutus
Local people cry, rulers laugh!
So it happens only in the land blacklisted by God.
Ignorance builds nests in the mind of citizens,
And drive the land to the baseline of civilization;
Rulers trade education in super markets,
Local people cry, rulers laugh!
So it happens only in the land blacklisted by God.
I moved up on the outside to pass Bold Eclipse
when this poncy young jockey bloke puckered his lips.
Well I kicked well away and I picked up the pace
and a divot of turf hit him smack in the face.
With the straight just ahead it was now time to move
and Thong Classic sensed too he had something to prove.
When I went for the whip the horse lengthened his stride
and I knew I was in for one hell of a ride.
From the stands the crowd screamed and were going berserk
while McArthur cried, "Ride, pinkie ride you great berk."
Then I stood in the stirrups, applying the whip,
but a length from the finish ... I felt my foot slip.
As I crashed to the ground I lay writhing in pain
when a voice from the dark cried, "You're flamin' insane!"
To my horror I saw from my back on the floor
my poor wife on the bed looking terribly sore.
She'd a cord in her mouth from my old dressing gown
and was bowed in the back lying tummy side down.
She had marks on her thigh from the welts from my belt
while the screams I had heard were from pain she had felt.
It took months to live down what took place on that night
and to stave off divorce proved a flamin’ tough fight.
I'm blacklisted from races and all TABs
and I sleep with darn hobbles strapped round both me knees.
Conversing with Neil McArthur at Bobby Millers Wake, we all realized we were there to
celebrate Bobby's life, so one could not help but indulge in the larrikin spirit he was
so famous for. Know for his comical verses, Neil has a thing about thongs and many
titles in his books and albums contain a thong theme. He also loves the horses and he
has shares in one. We were rather amused to find one of the starters in the Melbourne
Cup was Thong Classic. The rest is poetic licence.