Best Censors Poems
“A Flowers Wilt”
Witness the small existence
that abides the beauty of-----------
Freelancers all around,
Just to get a good look.
A baneful abrasion, the flower took
It captivates you -------------
Reels you, steals from you,
WAITING,
Until you pick the right flawless touch.
Dandelions swaying thin,
Here we fall like petals.
Ready to exploit, the beauty of-------
Inhale the fragrance,
Courtyard azure eyes,
Embarking in a wishful eternity,
A crush they become, when loveliness up and left.
A bully against arrogant threw feminine perfumed veils
Tulips waiting for the better auspicious sky
Asters claim the eclipse's,
-dinginess censors it from the brilliance of the sun.
~
A lonely rose
In My Helix World-
The out-and-out are born.
Cries in the dimness,
A sweet Lotus echo
Slight yelps of agony carried off by pollen breeze.
The earth revolves to fast,
Injections of herbal essence in the wind
For a split second, we feel pixie dust
Channel the essential, it fades
Earlier beauty, calmness-
A flourish smile,
Rusk of flower, a bluebird’s bread.
Like candles and dew, they stream and limber energy
Opposing others of its humanity,
Against the command of its importance,
Pierced by its own elegance,
Thriving slowly of its own will,
A short story, gone astray!
Tonight, we plant a tree,
The Flower wilts
The gardener cries
Alas, hordes of ravenous relatives from very far and even near,
Won't be celebratin' at dear old Grandma's bountiful board this year,
Since the corona virus pandemic has spread an ominous cloud of doom.
But hold on! Perhaps you can celebrate via the miracle of Zoom!
You can enjoy from afar your green bean casserole and punkin pie,
Not havin' to tolerate obnoxioius Uncle Clyde sloppin' gravy on his tie!
Clickin' a button will mute Grandpa's interminable prayer of grace,
And spinster Aunt Alice's spewin' inane babble at a furious pace!
The mute button will silence any brawls about politics and religion,
And silence cousin Cletus crowin' about his thrivin' stocks a smidgen!
It won't be the same savorin' pleasant aromas from Grandma's kitchen,
But won't the mute come in handy to silence all the bickerin' and bit..... in'!
(The censors at Soup scrubbed the last word in the last line but I think you get the point!!!)
I've never twitted on Tweeter
nor am I an Instagrammarian
I've searched on Goggle
but cannot find MyFace on the interweb
I ask "how do I find the North Star?"
and get 4,460,000,000 hits, mostly ads
for an ice cream bar called "The Big Dipper"
so I go make some toast and eat lunch
at least I can work a toaster
Kids think I was born in the Jurassic era
believing my first job was swabbing the deck
on a Byzantine sailing ship
for I speak of phones connected to the wall
and TV sets with 4 channels and cars that got 8 mpg
I don't know url's from www's, or http's from html's
my mobile phone always auttocronects my speeling
and cyber censors block my search for 'penal colonies'
I cannot find the mute button on Zoom
so my belch might make it into the meeting minutes
my internet takes regular coffee breaks
and the only tweeting is the birds outside my window
so I sit at my screen watching dots chase themselves in a circle
trying not to get toast crumbs
on my high tech keyboard
Written 16 Mar 2022
JEANIEMAC
Rub a dub dub two in a tub.
Where did the soap go?
He lay back flat
Right on his back.
While she fiddled about below.
TIM SMITH
Rub a dub dub I fell in the tub.
I swear to you Lassie it's not always a stub.
The water is cold.
I'm getting old.
Come a little closer and give it a rub.
LIM'RIK FLATS
Jeanie and Timmy alone in the tub.
Sounds like a poem which might need a scrub.
I cannot say s*x.
Not sure about pecs.
H**l, the censors might just overdub.
ARTHUR VASO
Rub a dub dub, there's three in a tub.
Sure hope one doesn't give it a rub.
The lassie is fine.
She has two to shine.
EVE ROPER
Rub a dub dub four in a swingers tub.
Girls raised their glass, boys the stilettos subs.
Full of champagne and olives.
Pond koi had other motives.
Oh la la,, that's not the knob it's my club!
Soup Censors will never weigh risks
Of publishing physical frisks
For children must know
Wherever they go
Saint Francis rode three asterisks
I've never twitted on Tweeter
nor am I an Instagrammarian
I've searched on Goggle
but cannot find MyFace
I ask it "how do I change the oil in my car?"
and get 570,000,000,000,000 hits
so I go make some toast and eat lunch
at least I can work a toaster
my kids think I was born in the Jurassic era
for I speak of phones with cords
that came out of a wall
and TV stations with 4 channels
to choose between
I feel like I'm swabbing the deck
on a Byzantine sailing ship
I don't know url's from www's,
or http's from html's
my mobile phone tries
to auttocronect my thumb typing
and cyber censors block my search
for 'penal colonies'
So I walk to my neighborhood park and
...lie on the grass
...stare at the blue sky
...pet my neighbor's schnauzer
...feed peanuts to the squirrels
...imagine shapes in the clouds
...watch the sun set and the moon rise
The cyber world is
an amazing supersonic ride
but the great outdoors is my landing strip
and I've just touched down
I hid in plain sight
Mocked the censors
Defied the preachers
Chuckled
At their ineptitude
Took refuge
In the blank page
Hiding myself
In swirling lines
Dancing
Along the borders
Of truth
Cursed them
In muted metaphor
Defied them
In metered verse
Challenged them
In rebellious rhyme
Laughed as they counted
Syllables and iambs
Punctuated
My verses freedom
For they were frozen
And I a seething cauldron
Of love and hate
Struggling youth
Battling
The lunacy of life’s
Illusions
Thus I wrote
And hid
In plain sight
On a blank page
4/3/2023
Writing Challenge – ‘R’ Words Poetry Contest
Constance LaFrance - sponsor
I Am A Book
By David J Walker
I am a book of Unread pages
I am a book
I am a book Written in stages in
A travel log On a road called Time
With the foreign stamps Of Passport Ministers
Checking my credentials along the way
I am a book
I am a book Of unread scripture
With the lectures on faith
In staggered chapters and the
Tattered chronicled collections of
Odd jobs We have asked of a Loving God
Written in a foreign language
I am A book
I am a book Of erotic poetry in
Pictograph albums Scrutinized and analyze
Then censored By holier than me censors
I am a book
I am a book With pages numbered
And then sealed Its secrets to be
Revealed in full on an unannounced
Judgment day with Disputes left in the hands of
A Divine Defender
I am a book
I am a book
To be colored Everyday
Where the lines do not matter
Only the hue and The view
In which you see me
I am a book
I am a book Not to be left On the dusty shelf of
A forgotten library Rarely opened in a
Distant history I am a book to be read
And even if misunderstood To be savored
I am a book
There’s a hole in my wall, a beautiful wall,
A hole that’s made out of stone,
It’s where I live, beyond this stone hole,
This hole that’s all that I’ve known.
This wall, it protects, it shields the world,
Buffering from the insane of my head,
It seizes all those thoughts that are flung, are spat,
It censors the ideas that are said.
And this hole allows the world to know,
It allows the world to stare
To see the small bit of my mind
While the rest of my mind’s elsewhere.
i wanna vent like Bukowski
but the censors won't let me
be heard
won't let me cock my hat
and unload my gun
won't let me
be heard
i wanna howl like Ginsberg
but the censors don't like
my words
my swagger Redd Foxx like
when allowed to write
my words
i bet i could keep you up at night
if you allowed me to
be heard
I guess I'm obsessed
With keeping my breath
I've small use for obtuse youth
And their smug, shrugging abuse
Blinding meeker minds
By the blither of twitter
Where shameless selfishness
Is seen as glitter
Where 'fake' news and 'reality' TV
Both struck by theft of identity
Our testaments and towns
Are burning to the ground
Those with nothing to lose
Are lighting the fuse
When corruption erupts
And common sense, chucked
When science is declawed
And law is outlawed
When propaganda censors flaws
We've cast the last straw
We are democracy's
One hope ~
If we vote.
9/16/20
N/A in 'Clutching at Straws' contest
Judged 10/08/20
Been writing Limericks in the last while
In my own inimitable quite naughty style
Hope I get by those censors
Nothing gained, nothing ventured
Might be singing “in a while crocodile”
© Jack Ellison 2013
I sat and read a book today,
A horror book with terror and fear.
“Don’t lie with a male as with a female” it said,
You’re an abomination if you are a *****.
Then “Dash the little ones up against a rock”,
Saying killing kids was noble and right.
And it told slaves to “Accept the terms of their master”,
Even if he just wants to fight.
Further in, it said, in clear easy print,
“No woman will have authority over man”.
She shall not be able to teach him either,
She might not have the attention span.
Then the main character had a temper tantrum,
With a barren fig tree, it was just out of season.
He killed it, turned it to dead wood there and then,
I thought this guy was meant to show reason.
This book I read hated on heaps of people,
Oodles of things we take for granted every day.
Contraception, trans-gender, evolution and science,
Especially folks who’re openly gay.
How this horror book got past the censors astounds,
It’s a tragedy where death’s glorified.
Like a Jedi that got resurrected after dying,
The main character returned after being crucified.
A raging bull
Trapped in a cell
Counting the years
To the end of his fears
Robben Island
Dealt us a thieving hand
That stole our Tata
And left us in tatters
But between mountains
Grew the heart of a lion
Between the largest boulders
His pride became bolder
His peak beaconed
Our highest aspirations
Firmly rooted to his valley
A sage of strong family values
Between his strong arms
Bursting at the seems...
From the Atlantic your Manelo Bridge
Ensured we were never out of reach
It now spreads across the city skyline
Like a rainbow after the rain
It bridges our past and future
A lasting tribute – a prominent feature
In remembrance and celebration of Mandela Day - on 18 July, 2015
Please devote 67 minutes of your time to a charitable or worthy coarse
**************************************************************
We Miss you Manelo - Chicco Twala (1989)
Back in the dark days of apartheid in South Africa, censors were ready to ban books, songs and people. In the 1980s, one of the most popular South African musicians was Sello "Chicco" Twala who is still a stalwart in the South African music industry today. In 1989, he released a pop tune called "We miss you Manelo" that was accompanied by a seemingly innocuous video that tells the story of a teenage girl Manelo. Poor Manelo gets herself knocked-up and eventually runs away from her very angry parents. Later in the song, Manelo's parents reflect on their move and are distraught over her continual absence. Hence the song's refrain is "We miss you Manelo, where are you??
If you listen to the song carefully, you will understand the genius of Chicco and other artists of the time. Here are some of the lyrics:
"It's been a long time, Manelo where are you?
We are missing you, Manelo Where are you?
Come back, come back home!"
I will stand with mighty pen in hand,
the pen like a sharp sword drawn, waiting
to pierce calloused shell, inadequate armor of the soulless...
a crimson tide washes up on snow white sands,
flowing on a blank page as normal melds with the strange,
my truth, your truth, many truths in a world of lies.
Do not despise what you do not understand.
We each have our own voice...
Rise, stand with your sword drawn!
Even when the cold breath of censorship breathes
down your neck, chilling the bone, watching,
tainting the well, stand alone!
I will stand and fight for my love.
I will kiss every word with tender lips.
I will caress the lines and spaces,
all have found a home, reaching for stars,
united, preserved for time - yours and mine.
Indifference is a malignancy, insidious and destructive.
Our mute voices may one day cry out in vain - too late...
Censors be damned!
All who slash with red pen, all who write with invisible ink,
all who destroy behind the walls of their decency -
they are the cowards who choose to condemn.
Here and now, take a stand!
Next, your words will fall prey to the thief -
skulking, stalking, attacking, stealing -
in the dead of night, taking all you cherish.
May our words live to tell.
May we never hide.
To stand or fall? Make a choice, decide!
Written for the Stand Contest on September 12, 2012