Best Brigand Poems
Truth burns at the center of all occurrance,
it is a heat that motivates appettites to enlarge,
truth is a multiplier of quests,
satisfaction always arrives at the porch of a new path,
truth does not reveal endings, only beginings that behave
like currents pushing towards a shore,
truth demands stamina from the finder as well from the seeker,
it dashes in delight from the tired,
indolence receives no invitation from truth because laziness is a debtor,
a fish with no gills,
credit walks not from the bank steps of truth,
one must exchange, transact with it, as wanting is to worth,
Truth holds strength in one hand and suffering in the other,
He gives quarter and meal to surviving artificers who are organizing
their talents for future enterprise,
to the brigand and beggar He puts on a pewter plate
bland beans representing distance,
disillusionment preceeds the knowledge of utility because
new truth means fallacy is an ancestor,
an anthropologist is truth, observing your traits,
orbiting the ability of your judgement,
some of Truth's revelations are more expensive than others,
sometimes He will take your Past and grin like a haughty antique dealer,
truth will invest in your Future as a gambler revisits old glory
speaking fresh fortunes in cold ears,
He is an opportunist incessantly offering information for spirit,
without the ignorant truth becomes a vagabond in a vineyard of sweet rust,
the secret of truth is that it is ours
if we wish to be honest with ourselves,
truth is the inheritence of the strong who know how to make it,
oppossed to those waiting for it -
J.A.B.
Categories:
brigand, sports, future, truth,
Form:
Didactic
Thoughts on Citizenship day.
Frank Halliwell
Can you hear the trumpet fanfare?
And the crowd shouting "hooray"?
Cause they're making me a citizen
Down at the hall today!
Who will make the presentation?
Will it really be the ones
Who have the greatest claim on it,
Or those who had the guns...
To wrest it from those peaceful blacks
Who owned this ancient land
To make a place for criminals,
...The thief and the brigand!
But I'll front up for the paper
And attend the little bash
While the pollies in Canberra
Dip their fingers in the cash...
...And fly around the country
Visiting ficticious joints
While the Australian taxpayer
Funds their "frequent flyer" points!
"Matilda" always stirs my soul
A song without compare!
But I have reservations on
"Advance Australia where?"
But I love this land of blue skies
And I have for decades past,
And when the dealer calls my hand
It's here I'll breathe my last...
Where sparkling diamonds fill the night
And nothing dulls the gloss,
Of paradise in southern seas
Beneath the southern cross!
****
Categories:
brigand, world,
Form:
Rhyme
A game of musical chairs has just begun in earnest. A pot and kettle band arrives
through the dining rooms’ French doors following the Valentine Queen. A putrid pink
flamingo with a croquet ball stuck in its beak settles it’s derrière onto a fine caramel
leather seat. His humor is short lived. A snort echoes from each of the six bullhorns
forming his head. “Got him that time, you really did, Matilda!” laughed Lucky, the
horn-backed chair. A single, rose-pink, button pops off Matilda’s back and lands in
the hatless brigands’ teapot, just as he is placing a silver tea ball inside. “Ou a le
petite fille?” Matilda groans. Around the far end of the table chasing a set of
disembodied eyes with a cat tail, a girl child runs screeching. “She looks familiar,
don’t she?” Windy whistles beneath the lacy tablecloth, tickling Mattie’s fancy. “Her
name ain’t Louise,” as with a plop, a brigand crushes Laddie’s rushes. The windsor
replies. “Geeeeeeeeez Louise!” the ladder-back mutters, between its back straps. A
top hat flies through the air and landed on the top knob of the lanky ladder backed
chair. The child righted herself, wiping her nose on the errant apron string. She lisps
through the spider web pattern of her seat. “Awww now what a shame,” Mary
whispers to Tex. The loose tails of her apron caught beneath Mary’s rocker and the
child tumbled face forward into a full cup of Assam tea. A girl child resplendent in
golden locks and white pinafore tore into the room planting herself on the caned
ladies rocker Mary. “Mon Dieu” She moans. “Ya’ll see that nasty monster splatter
chocolate icing on my skirt?” A knob kneed, potbellied prig, holding a cupcake,
shoves his way onto Matilda, the little ladies slipper chair. Tex the horned back chair
at the tables girdle chortles. “Do you know who’s been invited to this soiree?” The
rabbit topples over backward, his watch bashing his delicate pink nose. Windy
sneezes.“Aahhh chhhooo!” Tufts of fanny fur tickled between his spokes.
“Good golly Miss Molly,” shrieks Windy the windsor chair at the far end of the table,
as a wild-eyed, white rabbit with a gold watch plunked into his well-worn seat.
*Refer to "The Chairs Have it"
This poem can be read from the backwards too ;)
Categories:
brigand, childhood, fantasy, childrenchild, child,
Form:
Narrative
My ancient Arabs know exactly how to tell a tale,
Of hardship, kinsman, outcasts, how to be so strong,
Withstanding weather, find your way, what it does entail
To fight a world alone, with nowhere to belong.
I like to think it is a metaphor, not an exact rendition.
A simile of sorts, no different from Bible or Qur’an.
A handbook, of how life can cast you out as clansman.
If preprogrammed molds don’t fit woman or man,
Shanfara found his way by choosing a direction,
Completely opposite of where his brothers rode.
He found his new kin amongst beings, all not human.
To him man does ascribe this still illustrious ode.
For you, my brigand poet, I write this loving poem,
You mean so much to me, like you I do not fit so well,
And am forever searching, But I am not seen as scum.
My su’luk, my traveler, I stay and have your tale to tell.
***
January 17, 2016
© Darren White
Categories:
brigand, adventure, appreciation, poetry, tribute,
Form:
Quatrain
From an inception lofty,
high and above,
We were sent all,
not a single one excepted,
low.
We were never on earth,
we knew then how to love,
Harmony and serenity,
where are you?
When to sow?
Harmony and serenity,
where are you?
Where to sow?
Down is the show,
the law,
the structure
and road.
Down is the coward,
the knave,
the brigand,
and the bad.
Down to earth,
downtodate,
slfish,
all of them
and no less;
The way is descending,
descending.
Where then to go?
We want ours to be ascending,
ascending as a lark's.
Harmony and serenity,
where are you?
Where are you?
Our eyes are searching for you,
filled with tears;
Our hearts are devoid of warmth,
fraught with layers.
Roses,
where are they?
Flowers,
making prayers;
But when winter comes,
when winter comes,
no fears.
Harmony and serenity,
where are you?
Where are you?
Harmony and serenity,
we are reaping the harvest;
Is it ripe?
Rich?
Is it fine?
Fruitful?
This harvest?
From now on,
nothing would ever be the same.
Rise.
From now on,
everything is truthful.
Not a body of lies.
Harmony and serenity,
where are you?
Where are you?
"And if the past is passed,
why moralize upon it?"
No one returned,
no one ascended.
Where is Jesus?
The Giants are gone.
But justice,
has it been done?
No need to weep.
No need to sigh deep.
Bright is the sun?
Harmony and serenity,
where are you?
Where are you?
From now on,
nothing would ever be the same.
Rise.
Nowhere are you to be found
Harmony and serenity.
Unless you are not within,
you are then pity?
Being your slave,
no other way but to pray and rise.
Chokri Omri
Categories:
brigand, nostalgia, winter, winter,
Form:
Ode
In bridled hovel on denuded strand
Tanned damsel loiters on barter stand
Waiting for purloined fealty her title to brand
Festooned in ritual garb, decked with lavish garland
As noble peacock, her fecund colors are fanned
Waiting eligible suitors her utility, virility to scan
Her father a lofty price doth rightly command
To root out pilfering charlatan, worthless brigand
A reputable family with aspirations noble, grand
Bids for the honor of reticent, sheltered hand
Her elder for propriety doth initial offers withstand
Until the esteemed value of his ward family doth understand
A suitable piece of fertile lowland he indignantly demands
In order his tribal status and perpetuity to expand
With gratuitous stipend in token parlance panned
In customary deference, contrite bride accepts husband
Categories:
brigand, daughter, family, family,
Form:
Rhyme
The Other Side of Work
When from afar you look
The door of a big office
Tiny hole, an obscure it is
A little square of an orifice.
Draw near; knock to enter
Inside Big Guy you’ll find
Commanding heaps of books
To obfuscate others’ mind.
Wings of Authority spread
Like Eagle on safe pinnacle
Directing some dire Subjects
Feet laced on taut manacle.
“A blue chip Firm, this is
“Trade Cowards make way,
“Shall ye fear being a brigand
“You’ll not eat yor hay!!”
Big Guys in black robes
Studied minds to bend
Slaves are flashed by brains
If they laze or pretend.
Shiny Tables tell tales:
Souls here meet their Fate
Planned; non-existent Objects
Toil, Coffers to inflate.
To the fiscus they submit
Economy to make grow
Sound wealth is sound workers
Not bleeding them to straw!
A few work for their future
Some are toiled and broken
Others have a broken Future;
To retire with just a token!
A few are worked alright
Others; minors in their prime
Trapped by naivety of age
Bleed for an empty dime!
On and on they rant and rave
The heartbroken to goad
And toil them to near death
Not to listen to their load.
They then rise up the ranks
For their loyalty to enslave
Power to deal or despatch
Of those who “misbehave.”
Who cares for their ambition
These miserable chaps
Who have unfulfilled need
To fill up their empty gaps?
To work is good, we all say,
To be killed at work is bad.
As we relate Boss and Slave
Stop making another sad.
Man must work to eat, yes
Why would one savour
Another who works to eat
With appetite and flavour?
This is the other side of work
We all must start to work!
JM
13th Nov’ 2013
Categories:
brigand,
Form:
Ballad
Somali Pirates prowl the Gulf of Aden
For merchant vessels with cargo laden
From the tenement rows of Puntland
Poor fishermen, ex-militia turned brigand
Now pledge fealty to the lucrative capitalist brand
Which polluted their waters and denuded their coast land
Fitted mercenaries scout the narrow strand
Booty and hostages from itinerant ships to remand
From mother ship, crafty navigators plot vessels' course
In speedy skiffs, armed with guile and every pliable resource
Stealthily stalk their prey gratuitous demands to enforce
Their mantra greed; ransom and loot their tour de force
Battering ram of rocket, grenade; calm hands from cargo to divorce
With hooks, ladder springing aboard, subduing crew with little discourse
Pilfering their bounty; enslaving the crew without remorse
Categories:
brigand, adventure,
Form:
Rhyme
He makes a cradle with his arms
for the pup to sprawl in
and languidly lets his swarthy body
sag in the rocking chair.
Something about him smacks
of black magic; maybe his eyes.
Sometimes, like an impenetrable
wall of darkness, they could almost
physically force you to step back
in retreat, or else, they may be smoldering
under the heavy lids and you find
yourself orbiting in their magnetic field.
There’s also a look about him
of a mountain brigand
maybe in the small suggestion of a welt
on his cheek, or is it his mahogany toes
that are protruding shamelessly
from his torn disreputable sandals?
A sharp bite from Sidney on the chin
jerks him back to full consciousness
and a tender, unnamable rush
of understanding fills his face
as his fingers gracefully
move over the hungry pup.
He smiles, and the smile spreads
through him like warm wine.
Categories:
brigand, friendship,
Form:
Free verse
Nature's, raw fury can no man withstand,
nor deeds of malcontent brothers understand
Natural calamities from: wind, water, divine command;
Man-made disasters by: leader, follower, brigand
Nature's untamed, mystical hand;
Man's marauding, sentient brand
Unseen forces generating chaos in each, hurricane
band ;
Contrasted with marksman's contrived, murderous stand
Without warning, listless gales shiver each, balmy strand;
Foreordained. work strikes with targeted violence planned
Mysterious, random tornadoes o'er storm trough spanned;
Calculating armies o'er demarcated lines fanned
Perilous, isolated earthquakes no instrument had scanned;
Callous looters colluding when supply does not meet demand
Spontaneous, volcanic emissions scar the land;
Gangs marked by sign; through attrition sculpting an urban island
Unforeseen floods lawful lives, endeavors do remand
Dictator coffers overflow; with taxes, kickbacks panned
Categories:
brigand, abuse, angst,
Form:
Rhyme
Nestled deep in the tawny, drab woodland
Sedate cottage neither haughty nor grand
Sparse hovel of unassuming, itinerant brigand
Martial decor of detached highwayman starkly bland
The etched path sculpted by intemperate hand
No manicured garden on the scrubby strand
Briers and brambles errant straggler must withstand
Thatched clapboards stable his stallion firebrand
Unruly swine garnish acorns from scraggly wasteland
Buried deep in his cellar pilfered contraband
Per chance drifter did the terrain assay
And chose that toilsome, forsaken way
A spartan welcome hauteur did convey
No lodgings, accoutrements could sway
If for grace, mercy they did pray
Only a cold shoulder he did relay
If they tested his temperance and sued for trite parley
He reconnoitered their belongings through wordplay
If no net value they were beguiled to betray
Their worthless lives he did indignantly slay
Categories:
brigand, adventure, courage, dark,
Form:
Rhyme
This long time doodling Yankee
(who calls Southeastern Montgomery, Pennsylvania LV
plus III four seasons visited
upon swath of topography to see
and hear flora and fauna over run
via industrialization he doth experience pity
sympathy, humanity deafening cacophony undermining
once abundant bounty, which mutiny
upon bounty outwits mother nature in this REAL LIFE “GAME” of jeopardy
where survival of the fattest dominates avast geography
thence a tempest in a global teapot doth brew
which phenomena Gaia foments, inducing meteorologists due
tee fully issuing catastrophic fallout asper category 5 carved foo
tang clan along Gulf Coast
reserving special vengeance (alas domino effect)
for oil derricks hue mans insatiably drill into
ever more difficult to access reservoirs sans fossil fuels, but Jew
blintz echoes across watery expanse when excavator loo
king for liquid gold hit a mother lode (or off shoot) exciting new
man hick pumps furiously fracking gnome hatter
watching grim faced absent magic spells such as phew
fi foe...aghast at the rapacious, pernicious, malicious....rue
th less ness heaped upon Planet Earth,
where tipping point
re: specifically *****Sapiens over population will true
lee interrogate meteorological altercations, conflagrations, and
exterminations of multitudinous botanical & animal genus or species
as wrath of monster storms akin to a oceanic brigand
wreaking loss of life and limb, additionally bringing destruction
as megadeath metal lick ha - monstrous maelstrom
mercilessly muscles itself when making land
fall, where record rainfall submerges once smug Texans man
dated to evacuate far from the pan
demon harum-scarum as retribution for incessant lambasting wan
ton ness exploiting terrestrial resources selfishly will eventually ban
hush the dominant primate requisitioned to become extinct – anon.
Categories:
brigand, america, courage, environment, loss,
Form:
Imagism
Hauteur brigand bound for gratuitous strand
Knows not he is country's chattel, enemy's contraband
As gallant marauders o'er ages spanned
His quest for glory fate will countermand
Gleeful lad starting out on quick, definitive errand
Becoming grizzled veteran in war that will opportunistically expand
Raw recruit ready to fight for: family, honor, land
Feted for trivial pursuits, political ends; on mission clandestined
Tailored uniform, coiffed hat, shiny ordinand
Destined to be sullied by the designs of ruthless marksman
In ritual parade of arms on regal, stately stand
Unaware of his wistful foe's unremitting hand
With loyal comrades bivouacked in tidy
band
Soon to be in raucous tumult marked with a beastly brand
Dutiful, diligent soldier always firing on demand
In the heat of battle, only self preservation will command
Pre-war sprawling tenements; deprivations can withstand
Later, in squalid camp morphing into looting, pillaging firebrand
Vital piece in war game carefully mapped, planned
Innocuous pawn anonymously falling in unmarked, lowland.
Categories:
brigand, adventure, confusion, war, war,
Form:
Rhyme
Dear Diary,
You are my only friend
The only one to bear with my stand
So, do lend me your ears, why even your hand
I wish to confess, of how, in love, I am a total brigand!
Dear Diary,
I do not know what floats all over my body
If it is insanity
Or if it is simply an object of amorality
For I am filled with thrills; and they spark up my feminity!
Dear Diary,
He is a man I see only in my dreams
I am pretty sure, he knows not of my silent screams
He is powerful, respected, strong and bold
Faced with him, bland seems to be the whole world!
Dear Diary,
I keep my hope burning
Maybe, hopefully, someday, we shall have a meeting
Someday, he shall show me romance
Even if we have, in age, a huge difference
It matters not, for the heart remains always young in essence!
Dear Diary,
Am I basking in sin?
Has my head gone on a spin?
His name turns me into a butterfly
A new born one, having just discovered the expanse of the sky!
Categories:
brigand, absence, dream, emotions, lonely,
Form:
Quintain (English)
Muscle-bound goons. The kind that rape the world. Self-satisfied, in no hurry to devote their remarkable faculties to understanding another’s mind. Such wise men. Stares as blank as summer nights, red and black, tricolored, golden star-stung steel: twisted features, leaden, pale, inflamed; hoarse guffaws. A grim onslaught of pretense. To hear what these kids would say about Cherubino in their rough voices and violent ways. They’re heading to town to get it from behind, all decked out in sickening luxury.
A violent Paradise of runaway sneers! But no match for your Fakirs and hackneyed theatrics. In costumes sewn together with all the taste of a nightmare, they strut through assorted laments, tragedies filled with all every brigand and demigod missing from religion and history. Chinese, Hottentots, bohemians, fools, hyenas, Molochs, ancient lunacies, sinister demons—they slip savage slaps and tickles into your mother’s old chestnuts. A little avant-garde here, some three-hankie stuff there. Master jugglers who use riveting comedy to transform players and scenes. Eyes ignite, blood sings, bones stretch, tears and red rivulets run. Their clowning can last minutes, or months.
Only I have the key to this savage sideshow.
:: 07.31.2022 ::
Categories:
brigand, poems,
Form:
Free verse