Best Century Poems
A future world rule by Trillionaires and Billionaires
Each country with segments of puppet regime governments,
With exceptions of course,
The drug lords the cartel those with the power
And the glory to hold what they consider theirs,
They will be the enemy, and will be a constant
Thorn in the side of the establishment.
A world where every citizen registered
At birth and death, as always, the way,
Now a blink in the cell of a hand device,
Where to veer off, constitutes a written warning
Threatening one’s employment a system
Of points and reviews. Twenty years of age,
One is introduced to a multitude of choice,
Law enforcement, United Nations, battle hard platoon,
Ablutions cleaners, Spies and Reapers, alas,
Those over educated with self-righteousness
Seen as a threat, with re-education, to aid
Choose the right path. The system will know
And will have its way, even woke, on a long chain
Will have its day, when only one-sided opinions
Are set in law, therefore, easy to dictate the terms
Of one’s life. Yet if to conform, there will be no
Slippery slopes, humans, like colonies of ants, their purpose
Granted from the throne of insatiable grandeur,
Childhood once a foundation, where one found happiness,
Education now the way to the day of recognition.
If by chance, to live with one’s flexible opinions,
Those that somehow bypass, the system, will become
The hunted until ridiculed, outlawed, then to wither
As autumn leaves, windblown proud foliage will decay,
When minds forced to cast out truthful innuendoes,
Those, embedded in hearts and minds of fallible man, his ideal’s
Firmly fixed, of earthly struggles. Once weaken,
A blend within the unwelcoming stigma of standard deviation,
Those making policy from man’s inconsequential plight,
To decompose, the humus of society to clutter the gutter,
Until the arrival of the Street Cleaners!
© Harry J Horsman 2023
Eddie currents confused the conduits in this mind
How can the transformers in the brain go not blind
Confusing is the light, direct me as it's straight shined
Hundreds of emotions imprisoned and confined
Thoughts going back to teenage years deeply pined
Worrying about the love effects totally enshrined
Consider this cancer, your thoughts are far too kind
This melon has been carved deep, right to the rind
Missing all that I've lost, forever rightly defined
Penned for the world to read like riding bare on equine
A century, now I've given the soup all I have mined
Mentored by Sotto, DT, Mo, Anaya, and P. Hind
Mused by Constance, Brandy, Sunshine, Anna, I've refined
Influenced by Gershon, Paula, and Dilly, like whine
Holding fast to FJ, Charles, Eve & Deb my heart relined
My love for you all wide openly is to remind
It's ok that I'm Native American:
If I am attractive and half naked,
If I am uneducated,
If I speak in broken English,
And sing Christian songs.
It's ok that I'm Native American:
If I am passive and subdued,
If I smile all the time,
If I fit the stereotype,
And am not opinionated.
It's ok that I'm Native American:
If I suffer memory loss,
Don't want to know my peoples' history,
Remain idle and submissive,
And can forgive genocide.
It's ok that I'm Native American:
The kind that was in old movies,
Who said how and heap big time,
Make a mockery of tradition,
Sell out to avoid confrontation.
It's ok that I'm Native American:
If I accept my lot in life,
Stay where I'm told to stay,
Sit down and shut my mouth,
And allow others to think I am inferior.
That is what they tell me,
Before they turn and walk away.
When my existence is their shame,
They refuse to listen and then they say:
"It's ok that you're an Indian".
Humpty Dumpty fell off the top of the wall
He got on the phone and gave his lawyer a call
With help from the lawyer and litigation men
Humpty is rich and won’t have to work again!
09~30~16
Inspired by Three blind mice poem by Ilene Bauer
An anomaly in furnishings, I was;
so avant-garde, I triggered smiles and buzz.
Not like baroque, ornate styles of the past,
my bona fide remake was made to last.
A cacophony of patterns- deja vu,
brought slow ennui; now time for something new.
With full carte blanche, my sharper look emerged.
Sparked by elan, my modern era surged.
Some called my offbeat stylists dilettante-
but, retro styles are still on lists of wants.
January 16, 2018
Contest No 1167 Poetry Contest,
Sponsored by Brian Strand
No longer submerged in seduction of a lover's tongue
left hanging out where no word is sung
defunct of function or fancy form
lost are the layers gradually getting you warm
Here and now before thoughts do pass
free flowing spewing out too fast
rhythm and rhyme left to chance
sterile simplicity caught in a trance
In a world caught up in instant gratification
what is the satisfaction
if feelings don't play a part
in your poetic art
A 21st century poet I heard him say
unrefined rhetoric put on display
Romanticize a scene
it falls in endless dreams
begin and then you see
that what it is is all it will ever be
crimson petals in a vase
lace curtains rise, open windows
open eyes
kisses soft
whispers cannot compete
of how delicate a moment is with you
leaves drop onto the ground
cold cobblestones
dusk drops upon us
melting on our tongues such is Autumn
until the second we must part
I'll hold you tight here in the dark
Show down.
Eye to eye,
Tears sweat from it's cheek.
Little bit of a shake in the bodily wise.
"You can't do this to me! Speak in that tone of voice!"
"Look around. They'll think you're insane!"
"Get back in line!"
Cirlcing my lens sight about,
Seeing the expression of anguish hysteria in the norm,
The air is now poisoned with agony emotions.
Who can escape?
High noon like never seen before.
"Don't come any closer!"
"Do you know who I am? 21 St. Century."
"You live in me."
"Play by the rules, be quiet, and take it like a man!"
Smiling infinity within me.
"No! Do not walk away like that!"
"You need me!"
Turn with final words of free,
"Who needs who?"
"Time. A lonely place without man. Better thank the One who keeps you in His
Hands."
"As for me. Better things to do. Live on Earth in her humbleness."
"By the way, shut off the light before you leave. Too late! The roundabout living are
your witnesses that it was done long ago."
(Thank you Jill Martin for your comments on "Blank Screen". Your comments
fired me up to write this one.)
This wise old bulk twined and furled self mended throughout
She shows me her bark churning scars inside out
Sage sentry her silver green cascade caressing the blue
I plop on her half felled limb to pick gum from my shoe
Broken some storm ago during her long century stance
Her arm does make a most perfect perch to romance and glance
The old city hall by the falls where our two rivers meet
She whispers to me it's her insurance this seat
Long since the violent heave thrust back into earth I see
She has curled again skyward to emerge gold a new tree
17.09.17
Composed for Kim Rodrigues
"Personification Of Plant" Contest
Flanders: Summer 1920
The summer zephyr softly grooms
The golden ripening barley field
Makes gentle waves of feathered plumes
And earth by nature’s hand is healed
Mere two years since these fields were torn
The bland mild landscape ripped and stained
Dark gashes scarred the growing corn
And blood splashed red the fertile plain
Now scarlet poppies dash the sward
And sway as in bucolic hay
Thus all is peace in sweet accord
The lesson learned, we’ll not replay
The war to end all wars has schooled
The nations hence by peace be ruled
Enthusiasm, the planet occupied.
As Sapiens lives in rage
Strives to come after
But all in sleeveless
Hence, in the land of the living,
Arouse a living Queen,
Waved by nature,
Tormented by hindrances,
And tempted by viles.
She stays through the storm,
Fight for her triumph,
And not easily bothered,
By countless thought of others.
Hmm! What a courageous Xena.
A pretty creature,
Creature, loved by the creator,
Endowed with courage,
Bestowed with beauty,
And blessed philosophically.
Every problem has it's own time and expiry date,
For, fear kills faster than the problem itself.
Putting *****Sapiens at Tjunction.
But, she never does. Moremi of our century.
You are a blessing in disguise,
And motivation to others.
Engrossing lady of the 21st century.
Let your courage shine through,
As your eyes speaks of your true beauty.
Fear recalled; the taste of sweat in retreat, when
one can never seem to run far enough or fast enough.
Remembering the Christian children’s chants of
devil worshiper, atheist; the taunting hell they saw
for those not blessed to be themselves.
The jeer of the crowd for those apart, the mob
mentality of the Christian heart, the damn you if
you’re not me to a girl of eight, defies any amount
of time to heal. Memories are not obliterated.
Breathless behind a hollow-core door, gasping
tears, a heart pounding to the beat of fists on panel;
fear recalled as bile rose; hate thrown, the Jew bated.
This was only an inkling of what Tanta felt.
Nineteen fifty-six, eleven years after the end of WWII,
I saw the numbers burned into my families’ skin,
the ones still alive to show them to a child of eight.
-broken glass nights, crowded trains, death camps
New England was still gripped in a Christian hell,
at eight, at twelve, at eighteen—and every Christmas
in between—don’t speak, don’t tell, don’t let them
know you’re different—different, hated, taunted,
chased, and if possible erased.
Prejudice knows no boundary of time or place, the
fear, the mob, the gang, the chanting group, alive
still in the 21st century. When you kneel, and pray,
even when you say Amen.
First Published by Synchronized Chaos Spring 2015
Century's are long one hundred years they last
so long in fact it's hard to remember the past
What did I do that hundred years ago
was it sunny, raining, or even any snow
Now that I think about it does it really even matter
one hundred years from now a century is the past, present and after
The future is bliss and time I don't want to lose
one hundred years from now a century will be in the news
Remember that day that time that year
it was only one hundred years from now
So lets start a new century at the end of my year.
The origins of young love is going way back to the early 16th century and it'll stop at
the 1930s, even the Great Depression. This type of young love had been around since the
16th century in England and after the first radio was invented. It seems that when two
young lovebirds (a teen boy-turned elderly man and a teen girl-turned elderly woman) met
while they were in middle school and/or high school, it was love at first sight. And when
two people met before, during, and after the 1700s until the 1930s, it was a life-changing
moment for the then teen lovebirds. All young relationships were way before these people
were born, even me. Everybody knows what their lives were like when they were teenagers
and before they had passed on. Not only is young love an amazing thing, but what all of us
will have learned about serious relationships among all of the then-teenagers back in the
1700s, the 1800, the 1900s, and the 1930s is that they didn't take each other for granted
and stuff. But back in the day, when these people were teenagers, there were no movie
theaters, no malls, or any of that stuff. It looks like that even if they had gone to see
the full moon at night or a functioning or whatever, at least they had a great time. But
now that they're not teenagers anymore, then they'll have to tell their grandchildren,
their great-grandchildren, and their great-great-grandchildren about the day they met and
fell in love. And with that being said, young love is about to bring all would-be couples
together in the future.
a decade is yesterday’s century
things change that fast
tomorrow a day