Best Breeders Poems
~the Fear of Never~ A DRINK TO REMEMBER!
And the fire catches every time, my heart needs a sip
I bear no shame pouring, poisoned pabulum whisky down
Lost in a place with hungry whores, ink paying gigolos
This night a respected gentleman put's on his evening gown
He sits in front of a mic playing the same old sad song
Fitted out in drag, his wife has no clue
Holy breeders trying to change my shoes
Lingering from the Cute Chinaman, running his tab sky high
Bluebirds of jealousy, set round the vintage Barstool like fools
Minds overpowered and threaten to the very nub
I am drunk-- in his eye,
He receives a macabre confession of possessiveness
I am drunk-- in her eye,
She has a sick confession of subconsciousness
Broken loose from a negative, regressive state of mind
Sit and enjoy this broken bottle of champagne
Unspoken rage in every empty can left behind
A shot glass drops from my unstable hands longing to hold a pen
I look into a mirror and embrace every meaning of stability
Blotting out the madness behind a metal cage of reality
At times, I feel the need to bring down this masquerade
A drink so hostile, I can't even remember my image and name
Too many scars, from the foster of paper and pen
My dependents are drunken demons from a traumatized childhood
Tonight I will legislate a special thanks
Holding up my cup, until death finds my note
I will smile, at every Judge and Jury, during karaoke night
Shutting down my eyes, fantasizing everything's gonna be alright
I will not jilt knowing, writers block haunted my days away
Insecure hoarding monsters enjoying spoil forgotten words
Tonight I thirst like never before, my tongue inscribes around a tin cup
I am not eating up by it, no matter how long I've drowned in it
This is my kind of whisky, my thoughts, my days of ammo
To tell you the truth, I possess no desire to drink
It's all about the love of poetry and how sober, I become (WITHOUT)
The monsters that reside inside, have one thing to say
"Give me Poetry, or give me Death!"
by: PD
Politics is a dirty game,
So indeed is religion –
One screws with your mind,
The other with your soul;
One promises heaven on earth,
The other, heaven after death.
Trust not these savvy advocates –
Politicians, priests, mullahs, imams,
These breeders of
the ghosts and the goblins,
These keepers of
the deities and the demons,
These self-styled ‘well-wishers’
of your body and soul.
Like leeches they’ll
latch onto your fears
and to your gullibility,
Until they have sucked
you dry of your free will,
Your aspirations,
Your wealth.
Oh, what not they’ll do
to restrain your free spirit,
Bogging you down with
fears, guilt and penance.
Seen openly are
their murky minds,
Seen openly are
their shallow ideals,
Seen openly are
their cheating hearts;
They tout love, freedom, peace
wherever they go,
Yet spawn nothing but
hatred, violence, misery.
One is politically religious,
The other, religiously political!
The world's ugliest dog contest
has picked a monstrosity.
And it assumes its fiendish place,
as a gross curiosity.
It looks like a Chupacabra,
a vampire alien creature.
One look and people shy away,
beauty is not its best feature.
Guilt-free inter-breeders sponsor
a biological freak show.
And this dog’s crowned the ugliest,
in some sordid doggy sideshow.
On the outside, it's hideous,
resembling a weird out monster.
And yet, inside, it's still a dog,
wagging its tail when it greets you.
Forget its repugnant looks,
it only wants to lick your hand.
And from that soft spot in your heart,
please, let him know you understand.
(Quatrain)
April 27, 2018
Before it all began.....
Before our country in fear of opposition ran...
To the world's beginning of the end...
Was when foe became as enemy & no longer friend.
A fight broke out between the world's lands & people
Sending many to prayer within religion of their chosen steeple.
Against...and ready for a fight
Many soldiers thought they'd put the world right.
Bur more wrong doing was to come of the battle
In foreign wars soldiers rode in like herded cattle.
Rounded up like sheep to a pen
Fighting for reasons unknown truly to ourselves & them.
Greed & lusting was overall the jest to our world leaders
Creating havoc, it was them the 1st of the beginning hatred breeders.
Fed their men a mere dance by the lies they to them told
Then sat back in safety to watch the wars of their world unfold.
A dangerous game to play withour the truth of world insight
And may to their God be judged when in their deaths day plight.
And before the Lord whom created all & beyond the heavenly earth & sky
May the fall bow & pray then explain their cruel reasons why.
For each sin on earth in life by lives committed
Fall prey to their own demise when in their deaths committed.
Then they'll see the truth of what the worlds & lives upon it be
Through the difference between the birth & death in all eternity.
By Anna s tate March 2017
BEFORE IT BEGAN
Before it all began.....
Before our country in fear of opposition ran...
To the world's beginning of the end...
Was when foe became as enemy & no longer friend.
A fight broke out between the world's lands & people
Sending many to prayer within religion of their chosen steeple.
Against...and ready for a fight
Many soldiers thought they'd put the world right.
Bur more wrong doing was to come of the battle
In foreign wars soldiers rode in like herded cattle.
Rounded up like sheep to a pen
Fighting for reasons unknown truly to ourselves & them.
Greed & lusting was overall the jest to our world leaders
Creating havoc, it was them the 1st of the beginning hatred breeders.
Fed their men a mere dance by the lies they to them told
Then sat back in safety to watch the wars of their world unfold.
A dangerous game to play withour the truth of world insight
And may to their God be judged when in their deaths day plight.
And before the Lord whom created all & beyond the heavenly earth & sky
May the fall bow & pray then explain their cruel reasons why.
For each sin on earth in life by lives committed
Fall prey to their own demise when in their deaths committed.
Then they'll see the truth of what the worlds & lives upon it be
Through the difference between the birth & death in all eternity.
By Anna s tate March 2017
Sunlit water frolics
over a stone-strewn base.
Chattering waters,
playfully tumbling children
on a high hill, rolling down.
Both translucent and opaque
blues and greens magnified
by reflection, slice-cut by refraction,
laved with a satin-wetness; stones color,
beginning where, ending where;
I am not to know.
High mountain waters
strained of impurities by crystalline sand
gilded purveyors of bountiful imaginings:
leaf boats with twig masts, brilliant red-purple
chiton-backed beetles float, lost sailors.
Sunlit waters dance, smile-seekers,
laughter-breeders; water falls
ever
on.
First Published in Pyrokinections Spring 2013
Swingers of drenching waters
Drifters of fini coasters
Skating on lines of lakes and rivers
Dancing as spiral rafters
Bowing down before the sunny skies
Elongating wings of frozen cries
Beaks of clamored pleas
Speaks with enamored gees
Lake of praying feathers
Wake of snowy, silent breeders
Flakes of glowing winter chills
Ice plates dining on easter bills
Swan lake of fondest quest
Prancing eyes of widest dress
Seven swans spanning the hidden cove
Species of the blessed world
You fixin' to get CLIPPED (clueless beast!)
Or dismembered for a mutton feast
Make a break from your breeders
Don't follow lyin' leaders!
Or you gonna' get FLEECED (at the least!)
***For Carolyn's Contest
“You stiff-necked people, with uncircumcised hearts and ears! You are just like your fathers: You always resist the Holy Spirit! Was there ever a prophet your fathers did not persecute? They even killed those who predicted the coming of the Righteous One. And now you have betrayed and murdered him— you who have received the law that was put into effect through angels but have not obeyed it.”
Acts 7:51-53
All who were sitting in the Sanhedrin looked intently at Stephen, and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel.
Acts 6:15
THE STONING OF STEPHEN
Before Stephen fell asleep, he gave a sermon.
It culminated into a bold accusation t’wards the leaders.
The Sanhedrin, with the high priest, would determine
The fate of this angel-face. They were breeders
Of contempt, accusing God’s man of blasphemy.
They were teeth-gnashers, stuffing their ears with glue,
indignant, jealous, furious. They would rob Stephen’s vitality.
This follower of Jesus is never alone, heaven’s in view:
“Look,” he said, “I see heaven open
and the Son of Man standing
at the right hand of God.”*
Clasping their ears, they rushed at him,
Yelling in full view of the glory of God, not
Seeing nor hearing, choosing their dim
View of life. It was evil they sought.
They snatched him, dragged him out of the city.
Were those chosen stones unearthed from hell?
Upon a saint of God, they took no pity.
They were underneath Satan’s spell.
This favored of God, they could not ignore.
A Sanhedrin bull in full vent with dust and smoke.
Truth will shake powerful men to the core.
Arms and legs like chariot spokes,
The high-horse pretenders lambast
the great orator with great force.
Stephen would soon meet the holy cast
Of forefathers…most importantly life’s source.
Another man is enthralled, also blind
To the goads he’s kicking at. He’s in his heyday,
a young man giving approval to death, the kind
of man Stephen prayed for in this way:
“Lord, do not hold this sin against them.”*
8/8/2021
*Acts (from the Bible)
Breeders' Cannon Ball plays for days and decades even onto eras
Feeders on the bottom plus top down voodoo economics, no trickle
De-weeders? Why? Lawns are hype realistic so fake AF and anti-kith
Xeroscape like rape by statute not as consent is all we had and glad
as if LOVE LOVE like that is not welded onto the iron of our blood
our ICHOR revealed by the metal of my worth so all stop [fragment decay]
WE_SHE_BE and been found in the lost items bin or your heart box
Where few claim what they lost except employees that skim on whims
And random kids pretending to collect those sacred scatterings adding
Us all into the folk flying all stars from three to seven points and more
Up up to eleven and 127 plus 1 and another tenner and we are TEE H EX
Kate Bush ends spell of chant sans rhyme or beat and only written tell
By me that if your analyses searches for perfect supra-asymmetry balanced
By three points like MOEBIUS STRIPS or the landscape and felons well met
By the grads and all the Parises of Helen not Troy or Sparta or Hades subjects
Troy how you fell and flowed onto us oh Troy built but no Dear John JUDY Green
WE ALL LOVE YOU THEAFANIA MI MAYOR HERMANA o ONEE CHAN WO AI NI
all ways and four eve her all believe her and such is lillith plus you LADY^4
Humans are like sheep, bound to comply
One says, “jump,” others say, “how high?”
Some are born leaders
Some are born breeders
Prefer the latter coz I'm a stud, I can't lie
© Jack Ellison 2015
Make a noise!
What?
Something, anything that's going to get them movin'.
What?
The mouths.
Mouthe's huh?
The story is told with the mouth.
So is the ******.
Not really, well anything can tell you anything more than that! But this is starting in a tiny village next to Wimbly's Cafe where they serve Italian food Ala carte.
They didn't want to be fancy, these where in-breeders.
No such thing...
They didn't like action unless it was uncensored and back wood.
So?
It was all a dream man!
So.
So be outspoken and move on! Those are baddies! They are bridgeable gaps! Something from an invisible makeshift mah!
It was love at first sight seeing your furry faces.
To scoop you up and take you to various places.
Me and Ash are so happy to be your mom and dad.
Your shenanigans made us both glad and mad.
First our oldest Robbie, thinking you’re a big kitten.
Reminding me of a decade ago when first we were smitten.
Your belly always seems to never be full enough.
And disappointed when I stop brushing your scruff.
When Chloe, Max & Gabby went to fur heaven.
It was time for 2 babies after birthday eleven.
So with Zoey now turning one,
The house was ready for fun.
Our girl filled a void, being sweet and playful.
With wet food she always wanted a mouthful.
When getting Olivia as a tiny white fluff ball.
Zoey became surrogate mom of a baby small.
They would chase, wrestle and groom.
So fast, as a white and grey zoom.
Becoming instant soul mates.
It was totally worth the waits.
Browsing exotic pets we discovered Highlands.
With their amazing six and seven finger hands.
Having the look of a lynx deep in the wild.
Ashley’s research on the breed compiled.
The unique physical traits grabbed our eyes.
These affordable purebreds are great buys.
We spoke with some breeders and were sold.
One of these guys would surely love our fold.
So when a lil dude was born a few hours away.
We knew he would become our kid today.
Ash worked it out with them in every detail.
It was clear there was no way this could fail.
So I sit glowing with him resting behind me.
Laying in Ryder’s lap on his furry heinie.
Now Ry has a buddy loving PJ Masks like him.
Ready to relax and play at his random whim.
Seeing his massive paws and fluffy stubby tail.
His macho features couldn’t look more male.
At first he’s moving around quiet and slow.
So I wonder how his excitement will show.
Will he mimic behaviors of our prior felines?
Or uniquely ask for his leash with whines?
He’ll meet his new siblings in just a few hours.
Making himself at home on our catified towers.
My Tucker, it’s now official you’re our furry son.
With those big mitts I can’t wait to see you run!
Observing the appearance of the Hale-Bopp Comet
in March 1997, the Heaven’s Gate Cult of San Diego,
California, chose to commit mass suicide.
We eunuchs run a starship enterprise.
These breeders are a cul-de-sac, life-wise –
it’s fatal, this fertility. Our sign
in silent eloquence beckons us, benign,
and distant safety looms. These perfumed petals
warn of replication. Bonny nettles,
acid sacs insistent, brilliantly
express us. The existing tyranny
of sexual torture, stifling status quo,
is not for us. Our star is here. Let’s go.
Our quest? The fattened calf, Finality,
the fertile farrow offered by Fatality.
This tyranny, Existence, has to end –
so says, with brilliantest insistence, our bright friend –
“Leave tortured sexuality behind,
enjoy the eloquent silence of Pure Mind.”
This lethel phiall of phenobarbitone
will free us from the fetid fleshbound zone,
the only way to stay alive and grow.
Let’s shed the skin that's dead. It’s time to go.
Safe distance from the urges that benight us,
a chance to live within this life’s detritus
like hermit crabs, is all we ever wanted,
abandoning the rigid shells we haunted
until our moment came. And now we’re leaving.
We’re shedding, shucking, shifting, shunning, shrieving.
No more of nitro-clover-copulation,
or aimless, shameless, overpopulation,
where carbon concentration camps are rife.
We’re going home. We’re dying into life.
*Image of Child Sad Suffering provided by Pixabay.
Not Of This Earth
Poetic Form: Narrative
Asymmetric mistrals warp speckled vaporous pallidness toward rhythmless voids. Obviates an evacuating azure as a midday star pivots to a twilight qualm. Numinous absent souls of supine prying pupils, yon ethers sinister obscurities, caught in stained oblique ocular whites. Drunken sanguineous veins to gluttony as impish tinkers sporadic doubts riveting telltale images. Metallic aerials ousted the clouds to unperceived iniquity.
Exhausting times since the alien armada infested Earth in a furrow of carnage. Abominable hordes disembarked, eviscerated whole metropolises. Hideous beings, an abysmal sight, smothered the remote vestiges of our civilized world. Cities ere their decimation had numbers reduced in fleeing desperation. The annihilation of life on Earth engrossed thoughts upon the scraps of humanity left. Ravenous creatures generating utter rampage to and abroad, slighting none to decay. Be they mortals or breathing existences of our lesser kingdom, perished in the bloodletting. Some kept as breeders for the succession of consuming time.
A cohort strung of plain folks, thrust as one in a nameless realm, sought ephemeral refuge in a subterranean hollow expanse. Bestill for the scarcity of fragile credence as the intrepid one, espy a grotesque glistening of crimson blood, secreting from the sheathed hoariness of fangs. Sentient rouses heedful footfalls per monstrosity exposed jawbone, that swapped shrill for snorts, neath laden eyes that had shrewdly scowling luminous orbs. Creepy anvils pierced hairline, afeared incus, sensitively measures close octaves, spurs the labyrinth's nerves. Alas, its vulgar pelt of bulky fur stretch hither and fro, bars clamors reach.
Cavernous chambered partitions mimic as trepidation ebbs nevertheless. Unceasing progress to that bemused destiny, as anonymous atrocities, plague each within their shells, e'er crucifying the last semblance of their true selves. Ardent impulses seeping via their lithe ruby channels, crossing neath the bits of their betraying skins, as they escape the nebulous sepulchral. Beasts at 6 o'clock, tho' what unknown lurks yon pits facade, save a future yet to be titled.
2021 May 12