Best Burdon Poems
What do I say?
On this cherry day
At my own funeral
Where I execute and burry
The Burdon I once carried
Where I let go
Of the life, I’ve faithfully married
Rest in peace woman of excuses
Who endured others abuses
That never demanded an apology
Or handed a lifeline to rescue me
I put you to rest
Ashes to ashes
I bury the lashes
From the wombs of untruth
Sayonara
Beautiful Liar
Femininity…Of the enemy
I bid you goodbye
Au-revoir
You coward
The regret, guilt, and remorse
Has run its course
Bon voyage
Weakened frailties
That reigned champion in the lifelong fight of
Me VS Me
Grim Reaper
you can keeper
She was a stronghold
I never needed her
The sorrow of my soul
I am let you go
So that I can fly
© 2018
.
Where will the circus fall,
leaving giraffes homeless,
as pitched tents get pitched
and sideshow freaks
become the norm,
guessing someone’s weight
who doesn’t care
When the sun sets
tablecloth desires
on a silverware runway
with dishes made of gold
and wine glasses half full
are spilled in sad regrets
Will I walk alone
on a cobblestone road,
counting windows without shades
laced with flat screen televisions
tuned to the wrong channel,
reruns in Technicolor
Broadcasting seeded visions
in open fields of tall grass
when Eric Burdon sang
and cherry trees once stood
producing the fruit
of a past I no longer
want to see
Where will the circus fall,
where will I fall
True Happiness.
.
True happiness
Doesn’t belong to the rich
Who are often blind
For true happiness
Is much more than just a feeling
But a state of well-being and a state of mind
That often can not be defined
.
The release from Burdon
With a clear road ahead of you
You’ve reached the finishing line
Moments to savor
A brake on the hands of time
.
A feeling of accomplishment
And transpired desires
Good news that sparks a fire
A feeling of elation
An emotion awakened
Fill of heartfelt joy
That only true happiness
Can deploy
.
It’s the freedom to fly through clear blue skies
The moment your first child is born
The look of love in your sweetheart's eyes
It’s seeing the beauty in the smallest things
As listening to a blackbird
As it sings
.
It’s the feeling of the warm sun again
After winter
And playing like a child
A feeling of contentment
Warm affection
An idle daydream
Cherished moments on reflection
Being at one and at peace with everything and the world
I love you uttered by someone you love
Be it a boy or a girl
.
A slow walk in a forest
Getting soaked in the pouring
Cooling summer rain
The warm embers still aglow after making love
Wrapped in each other's arms
Both left satisfied yet again
.
It’s a fragrant aroma
Your favorite music or song
You play all day long
.
It’s an attitude
A blissful mood
The pledge ‘’I do’’
On your wedding day
Dancing under the stars and milky way
Having good friends who care
And seeing their faces when you give
A mad passionate affair
.
An overwhelming feeling of excitement
A place deep inside of us
A twist of fate
And an open gate
.
What is happiness maybe objective
And often self selected
Positivity manifests positive vibes
Being grateful for the things you have
Discriminating to see the good things
In the bad
Godly devotion
For he created us and all
He is the safety net
There to catch us when we fall#
A taste of paradise.
.
Peter Dome©2020.
Every little girl
has one thing she can count on
Her Dad
That may be true
for many of you
But me and my Dad
aren't very close together
We fight and fight
he puts me down
Like i was just some dog
He says that he hates
to lug me around
He said i was a burdon
and that made me frown
He tells me i wasn't planned
An unwanted child that showed up
Unexpected
A child that was not wanted even after it was born
My Dad and I
don't speak very often
only when forced to
do we speak or even look at one another
Hopefully one day,
the man who i call my dad
Will actually become a Dad
and say he loves his young child
Only he will remain
With or without a song in his heart
He wakes up humming the tune of treason
Bitter, like the taste of the drugs that remain from the night before,
he walks a long road only to find himself at home
Can the night life be more than just a burdon?
Living like vampires, we makeout in shadows and feed off the moonlight.
Sometimes he stares at the posters on his walls
He looks for the meaning of what he can't even imagine
(Pill 1)
The sound of his heartbeat begins to play louder
(Pill2-3)
The world as he knew it is fluttering by softly
(Pill 4-6)
The music from the radio has become a voice in his head
(Pill 7)
He's falling asleep as the sun begins to rise
hating the way he breathes and the tears in his eyes
What if this is where the ground and he sky meet?
Is there a challenge in the clouds that only birds know about?
Trees don't grow from nothing,
they have start with something...
...and he wishes he meant as much as the seed.
Form:
Just because I can
Don't mean I should
Or is any good
Is of little use
Or burdon of proof
Leading to a headline breaking top story
On the News at 10
But then again
So aren't the indulgences
Of what passes for news
On the day to day
All consuming want for gossip
That prepositions truth is boring
And the only thing worthy of reporting
Is if another anonymous insignificant reality star
Is planning a fake marriage
Or pregnancy number 5 with spouse number 6
And the Facebook's clicks
Or Twitter followers
With lives so empty
They read while driving
Because nothing is more important
Than sharing senselessness tat
That if we readed back in the cold light of day
Would make anyone have a good long rethink
About the direction life has taken
If this is how one is to spend time
Rather join a convent or a cult
At least they have a point
Because to be both frank and blunt
Wasting time being a sheepish runt
On Social Media
Is about as fulfilling
As salad on an carnivorous diet
Don't buy it
Don't try it
And just maybe it will go away
And reality will forgive us and come back
French Fry Etiquette
She left me sitting alone in McDonalds
Didn't take a bite of her Big Mac
Or touch a single one of her French Fries
She grabbed her Coke then walked away
And never even looked back
I thought about eating the fries
Although I had lost my appetite
It wasn't because I was hurt by the drama
She spreads ketchup on top of all of them
Instead of dipping each fry
I'm sure you know
the type
When it comes to eating French fries
Her method doesn't follow proper etiquette
Even though it bothered me I never said a word
Because she gets pissed off so quickly
And becomes
belligerent
I didn't understand what just happened
It left me totally confused
Why did she Super Size her order
If she wasn't going to eat the food
We had a date to go for dinner
I couldn't figure out why she got upset
I told her she looked gorgeous
But maybe a little overdressed
She looked surprised when we arrived
And said McDonalds you've got to be kidding
How insensitive of me to take her to McDonalds for dinner
Knowing her favorite hamburger joint is Burger King
JSB
Judge Santiago Burdon
Stray Dogs and Deuces Wild, Not Real Poetry, Quicksand Highway, Fingers in the Fan, Tequilas Bad Advice, Lords of the Afterglow, Overdose of Destiny
MY SIBLINGS' FATHER
JUDGE BURDON
other children feared monsters under their bed
i feared the one living under our roof.
his hair was nimbus black
with a storm's thunder in his voice.
his fists were freight train brown
ball bearing knuckles
frostbite blue was his touch
with empty icebox eyes
his smile untrusted
growling words spoken like tangled spaghetti
he was my mother's husband
my siblings' father
a childhood of baseballs never thrown
bruises and shattered bones medicated with lies
happiness diluted with tears
in a house with screams undetected
when asked what i wanted to be
i testified "far from here"
now, fiber optic home front news
faceless words
cancer eating away at your life
with the fury of a piranha
your disease now my champion
fighting with the courage i was unable to muster
your epitaph written in my adolescence
while plotting your midnight homicide
again you leave
unaccountable for your actions
i'm left to wrestle with the demons
not the strenght to forgive
my memory too scarred to forget
i'll keep the battle lines drawn
your monument
let the puzzle piece fall where it may
good bye old man
you'll be missed like a pit vipers bite
your pain can no longer touch me
from the grave.
In that winter evening, I dread what I saw..;
The pain as the little child cried..!!
Left on the huge pile of straw..;
Shivering and crying the child look tired..!!
No one at sight, to answer the poor angel’s plight..;
Not a piece of cloth to shield her from the chilly breeze..;
Though the face now pale, eyes are still so bright..!!
Child is crying as she suffers in the natures might..!!
What wrong could she have done..??
Is being a girl is such a Burdon..??
Such a beauty but still left to die..;
I can see she is hurt as she has a bruised black eye..!!
I just can’t see her cry..;
I can’t help her, as she is not in the same world as I..!!
Slowly the loud cry turned low..!!
I knew she would die and that too slow..!!
How is this fair I wondered..??
The poor soul is dying ..;
As this world is no longer the place I loved..!!
The one I loved the most,
Has become worst than the wild..!!
Now even I pray for the angel to die..!!
Come back angel, come back to me..!!
I can’t even be forgiven..;
For the one who created this jungle is no one but me..!!
But never did I thought, my presence would be forgotten..!!
Love would be forgotten while hatred will prevail..!!
This world is to end sooner than I thought..;
As in that winter evening, I saw what I always dreaded..!!
Form:
A mirror shows reflection
Yet can also be distorted
The sun shines light
Yet can also cast a shadow
A river flows and air gives life
Yet can also be polluted
Love fills the heart with kindness and joy
Yet that can be diluted
I try to think of something
That will put a smile on my face
I get off to a good start
But then my smile dissipates
For some reason
All good things bring misery
All the love I've ever known
Always ends terribly
All the efforts I have shown
Prove to work ineffectively
All the years that I have grown
This happens repeatedly
Now because of this
It's hard for me to start
A new relationship
And open up my heart
Once I realize I am beautiful
on the inside and out
A grey cloud comes
And confuses me with doubt
It's not like I'm asking for a fairy tale story
I just want some glory
And to lose my despair
I am so distraught
It's like I sold my soul to the devil
But I was never told
Can I buy it back?
I just found out that it was sold.
I hold the burdon of every bodies pain
To ease their tears
Their pain is what I gain
Because of this I ask for just one thing
And that one thing could only be
Something called a happy ending
Form:
The Lost Art Of Composition
too often my thoughts and the ability to express them
are taken hostage without a clue to the cause
this is an affliction familiar to many a writer
as if madness wasn't enough
it proves to be immune to every method I've used
to relieve my minds constipation
it enslaves your ideas and duct tapes the mouth of your soul
binds your fingers and hands so you are unable to write
I Whiskeyed and Scotched it self medicated with drugs
the addiction that resulted I thought could be bribed
held a knife at its throat threatened, bullied and beat it
poked and scratched at the eyes
Kicked it in the balls
pleaded and begged even got on my knees and prayed
all my efforts were ineffective
it only pissed it off more and tightened the grip
around my Muse's neck
I had exhausted my resolve to this disease that consumed me
there was no other option but to surrender
I decided to give up , knuckle under call it quits
not answer the bell for the next round
I disconnected my computer and turned off my cellphone
the typewriter on my desk just for show
I've had since college every once in a while I have at it
so I stashed in the closet with books by Sexton, Wolfe and Burroughs
Cisneros, Bukowski and Gonzo
I turned down the lights and lit some candles
sat at my desk to prepare my suicide note
what happened when the ballpoint touched the papers surface
was the key opening the front door lock to home
an energy manifested that I had known long ago
before Technology had deadened it's nerves
it sparked the transfer of thought into a word
forming the shape of a sentence
this cosmic electricity flowed into my hand holding the pen
then designed a paragraph the child of chapter
I touched every noun felt each verb envisioned the adjectives description
heard every "ly" in the adverbs reply and ignored the rules of punctuation
I had discovered the remedy to restore my inspiration
the cure I possessed all along
The lost art of composition was my salvation
my own prescription is what I wrote
the poet is an artist that paints in the darkness
a poems words the colors that create light
a writer is blessed with all of the answers
cursed in the search for what questions to ask
Judge Burdon
Legend of Fosse Way
Riding hard under a moonlight high
not a leaf rustling and it troubles my mind
In the distance there's music of the lyre and flute
rippling over the moors
Serenading the stars
The voice of a maiden
bleeds it's way through the thick darkness
Singing an ole Bawdy Pub Song.
My steed swift at a gallop
hooves sound their click clack
As we cross Halford Bridge
No time to be wasted
seeking comfort at the Inn
History demands I deliver this message
The dispatch I carry holds the future of England
I must make Exeter Castle by dawn.
No matter the risk or danger I encounter
It is crucial that I press on
Two Queens vying for the throne of England
Not even God can decide which be the righteous one
Protestant or Catholic not the reason for choice
A Queen must have love for Mother England
coursing through her blood
Forrest fairies ring the bells on the Fox Glove
The Oaks without expression and still
A rare breeze slaps the sleeping grasses in the glades
In the marsh toads croak complaint to night’s chill
This road is dominion of Highwaymen and thieves
Robbing those that choose this way to travel.
By the will of God and the Bishop's blessing
I will pass undetected by scoundrels and rabble
Nourished only on bread and Brambleberries
Traveling in the cover of night taking sleep by day
All that I've seen are ghosts of Roman soldiers
On this thoroughfare known as Fosse Way
If by the hand of God or the Devil
I meet with an untimely death
And I am unable to tell tale of this ride
Let not my story meet the same fate
Say my name Nigel Foster be mentioned in yarns
told in pubs and taverns .
History will decide if I am a Patriot or Traitor
As a result of my actions
When the years pass into the future
Don't let me be a lost memory of yesterday
If by chance may I live on
as one of the many legends
The many legends of Fosse Way.
Inspired by Alfred Noyes poem “The Highwayman"
And in memory of my distant relative,
Robert Devereux 2nd Earl of Essex.
Judge Santiago Burdon
©2019
Grilled Cheese Hold The Memory
By: Judge Burdon
If I only knew what you were thinking
I'd feel warmer against the cold
Than with my coat
Avoiding the words I've heard
Crying out to be spoken
Regretting the letters I never wrote.
Sure has been quite a while
since I've seen you last
How the years they've passed us by
The tears we've cried have long been dried
Things have changed they always do
We're both different now
It doesn't matter anyhow
Tell me how've you been
Still smiling I guess permanently
Hope that smile is for me
I've been living out west in Tucson
Ya know fun in the sun
Just getting by but not by much
No bad times although still don't have a dime
to my name
Chicago hasn't changed it still seems the same
You say they had a lot snow in Wisconsin
It gets oh so cold and the wind it blows
so damn hard
I'm still smoking and playing guitar
But I'm not getting far
So tell me did you find that special someone
Who you would make sure
to be nothing like me
I know l made a mess of love
Like dirt l swept it under the rug
To be forgotten
Thanks for the great grilled cheese
Oh how we survived on these
Every time I eat one it brings back fond memories
Of you know back then
Another cup of coffee then I've got to run
That's such a good line especially at this time
Don't say we'll keep in touch or how much
you've missed me
Just stopped by for your famous grilled cheese
And a broken memory that can never be.......
I have walk through the tunnel of life
burned down the kingdom of burdon and strife
seen through the eyes of GOD
and yet my heart still hurts inside
I have walk upon the river of shame
in my mine I am the only one to blame
In my life of abandonment only and angry person was born
For them to believe that all evil is gone
Is for their souls to walk with the unborn
I have glanced at the future and saw only but pain
men minds are empty so hard for them to sustain
money and gold their is no gain
fires only the smell of propane
This that I see OH GOD it's so real to me
It's harder then a knife this thing i speak of is life
time and time again life was gone again
not naturally but by men
war upon wars they seem to have no end
peace and love come back again
the people have fed the world a pain
how long do we thank it will sustain
i put my heart and soul into this
will they stop and listen to the abiss
the world is coming to and
now later and again...
Beyond the truth the lie exists
for whom you die for whom you live
you don't know but HE exists
you don't know but you believe
with immense faith from within your deep
Who, if HE is, we can not define
it is all what we call DIVINE
you don't know nor do i
but still we believe, why?
you can't see the Sun in the night
but you know that next day is going to be bright
but our night is very long
and the faith is diminishing
but still we are waiting for our night to be over
with your ultimate blessings
the morning will be a fresh one
with all our dreams to past
the day will be a precious one
don't know how long to last
but the truth will slowly rise
and be at it's apex
and eventually go down the horizon
and we will again relax
i fear to come out of this dream world
it is the fear of unknown
as the night has lengthened and the dream has deepened
the fear has also grown
a few revolutionaries are to be found
who have felt the warmth of the rising sun
who have marked the history also
Buddha, Mahavira, Jesus : few enlightened one
don't bind your mind nor burdon it with shackles
what you think or are potent to think
may be a key to mysteries of ages
and may be a miracle.
Form: