Best Chapman Poems
Cain killed Abel on a Monday night
Abel didn’t get a chance to put up much of a fight
Cain said, “am I my brother’s keeper?” God said, “yeah,” but Cain said, “nah”
Adam just shook his head and rubbed his jaw
And Adam said,
"Good grief, my oh my
We’ve got a Tom o’ Bedlam, get a load of this guy
Well this is not ideal, but what ya gonna do?
It’s the world we’re living in," well Abel lived in it too
Orestes killed his mama on a Friday night,
‘Cause his mama killed his daddy, not the world’s best wife
Orestes pleaded his case that what he did was really good
The Fates said, “what the heck is wrong with this dude?”
But Athena said,
"Good grief, my oh my
We’ve got a Tom o’ Bedlam, get a load of this guy
Well this is not ideal, but what ya gonna do?
It’s the world we’re living in," his mama lived in it too
Genghis Khan burned a village on a Wednesday night
The villagers begged him to put out that light
But Genghis was busy fighting and conquering the land
He had a vision for the world that they just couldn't understand
And his army said,
"Good grief, my oh my
We’ve got a Tom o’ Bedlam, get a load of this guy
Well this is not ideal, but what ya gonna do?
It’s the world we’re living in," those people lived in it too
Jack the Ripper killed some women on a Saturday night
With a couple of slashes from his handy knife
The world got around through the city of London
But everyone said, “didn’t those women kinda, have it coming?”
And the people said,
"Good grief, my oh my
We’ve got a Tom o’ Bedlam, get a load of this guy
Well this is not ideal, but what ya gonna do?
It’s the world we’re living in," well those women lived in it too
Mark David Chapman killed John Lennon on a Sunday night
After reading the book Catcher in the Rye
He saw what was wrong with the world, too many phonies parading around
And someone oughta put 'em all into the ground
And the papers said,
"Good grief, my oh my
We’ve got a Tom o’ Bedlam, get a load of this guy
Well this is not ideal, but what ya gonna do?
It’s the world we’re living in," well John Lennon lived in it too
Our old friend Johnny Appleseed
Was a bit of a kook all agreed
Always wore a tin pot on his head
Kept himself dry and also well fed
Johnny Appleseed was really John Chapman...he became the stuff of legends after his death.
He wandered the northeast planting appleseeds. The apples were used for apple cider or "spirits",
not for eating.
It was a cold morning, but stubborn sunlight shone through dusty blinds on condensated windows. Their crystallised effect shimmered on decaying leaves of a dehydrated indoor plant. By chance, I caught his reflection in the mirror. His pale face was a palette of charcoal circles and pigments of black mixed with beige. I had never seen his eyes so lost, but I recognised his smile peering over an untidy 'George Clooney' stubble. He was staring at two doves sitting on mossy branches of an Autumn tree. Maybe he related to its vulnerability or the empty nests, left behind by departing birds.
dewdrops on moss stains -
damp feathers softly floating
away from bare branch
I was always too afraid to ask questions, so I turned on the radio to break the silence and 'Purple Rain' began to play with 'I never meant to cause you any sorrow, never meant to cause you any pain.' The lyrics of the song seemed to connect, as he mumbled the chorus, "Purple Rain.... Purple Rain," but then paused, as the lyrics became complicated. His voice was like an eerie echo in a misty valley. He exhaled a deep sigh, like he was relating to the song and with a heavy heart sat down staring at the grey walls of his room. 'Fast Car' by Tracy Chapman began to play to his distaste. He started to switch through the channels, until he heard 'November Rain.' In a tired tone he repeated the line, " Everybody needs some time alone...." A tear slowly rolled down his cheek, he wiped it away quickly, so that no one would notice. I sang the next lines, "I know it's hard to keep an open heart, when even friends seem out to harm you, but if you could heal a broken heart, wouldn't time be out to charm you? There was no response. I was always good at reaching out to people, but struggled with him. As the song came to an end, I could hear several monotonous sighs, until he got up, turned off the radio and walked out of the room... Dragging me with him, as he put on his smile.
emotions like stars
fade from black to red to blue -
changing like the sky
Regarding fashion,Punk set out to gauge
The style of hair and clothes which would outrage.
John Lennon's voice was silenced at this time;
Mark Chapman was convicted for the crime.
A technical development unfurled
Which launched the first PC into the world.
And Cable television could diffuse
A twenty-four hour coverage of news.
Professor Rubik came from Budapest
And introduced a spatial IQ test.
To scramble combinations was the aim;
A 3D coloured cube preserved his name.
So many budding actors came and went,
But only one became a President.
And Reagan gave the greatest speech of all
When he said ’Gorbachev – tear down this wall!’
And thus it was in nineteen eighty-nine
That East and West Berlin would intertwine.
And in that year I too knew boundless joy;
The blessing of my first born baby boy.
07/11/18
'Remembering the 1980s contest' : Sponsored by: Michelle Faulkner
The Sodom and Gomorrah, vault,
the legends so long past,
Lots wife looked back, got turned to salt,
Atomic was it asked?
The Indus valley, vitrified ,
it even melted clay,
a rod of iron, Atlantean kind,
birds all turned white they say,
green of sand in Pakistan,
from the atomic blasts before,
nuclear winter, radioactive rain,
skeletons no gore,
Geiger counter lays the blame,
and Death he oversaw,
twenty thousand years ago,
and maybe bloody more,
pea brain man's end game!
The ancient boulder map is round
with map it's shown theron ,
shows Atlantis nearby found,
from south America, underground,
20,000 year or so old,
with artifacts so bold,
the ancient race did make,
don't listen, don't be told.
Don Johnson
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Constance La France, Robert Taylor and Faith Hope Charity Chapman like this.
Don Johnson see Atlantis to the right of America, and the Valixi aircraft routes in straight lines...only 20,000 years or so old...
.http://www.human-resonance.org/mana.html THE MAP IS IN THIS WEBSTE
.
Kindheartedness
Ellen had a lot of experience in washing nappies, six bairns in less than eight years. William
Chapman had a lot to answer for. Everyone knew, or thought they knew, what poor Ellen had
to put up with. His drinking, his womanizing, and, some said, his violent behaviour towards his
uncomplaining wife.
The other women in the village tried to lighten her load without appearing to pity her. That
would never do.
Grace, Isobel, and even Nancy left bits of worn soap and washing soda by the scrubbing
board, and with Ellen being fourth in line, very often there was a good full boiler already
warmed with her neighbour’s coal. Most miners’ wives had plenty coal, but Chappie was not
above selling his allowance for beer money.
The van men from the local co-op store were also heroes in this respect. Davie the butcher
always made sure that the soup bones Ellen bought had more than the required amount of
meat still clinging to them. Her half pound of mince got another dollop after it had been
weighed and the odd sausage found its way into her meagre purchases. Then there was
Jimmy the baker who... accidentally... squashed some bread so it was not fit to sell. Ellen’s
brood did not mind squashed bread, it went well with the very slightly overripe bananas from
Ben McCabe the fruit man.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Not sure if this will qualify as a poem on kindheartedness but kindheartedness is what it was
in the 1940s
Within pain’s marrow are the tears that bloom tomorrow’s dreams
Sand and Water – Beth Nielsen Chapman
~13 Dec 2015~
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k-kvYYPYWFg
Dedicated to the grandma I never met - Irene Chapman
Breast cancer stole you away from mum
She was just eight years old when you died
Mum knew you were ill
She must have had a premonition
The day before you died she wrote you a letter
The next day….
She was told Mummy’s gone to live with Jesus
Four children without a mother
The youngest just five years old
Breast cancer you are evil
You don’t care who you invade
Women are encouraged to have regular mammograms
Imagine having your boobies clamped in a vice
It’s uncomfortable but five minutes of pain can save your life
But what about men - yes men can be affected
One in a thousand men get breast cancer
Women are encouraged to check their breasts every month
So get your fella to check your boobs
At the same time check out his moobs
Early detection is the key
Breast cancer can be cured
My mum missed out on having a mum
Not a day passes when she doesn’t talk about her
Breast cancer you are not going to beat me
I check my breasts regularly
Yes I’ve found lumps and had them checked out
I don’t want MY son to be a victim and lose his mum to breast cancer
October is breast cancer awareness month
Think pink – together we can win the fight
Pinktober # 2 Contest Sponsored by PD
Jan Allison
3rd September 2015
Now, ol’ Twister Tom he was quite a cowboy find—
A real rock hard cowpoke, though the question begged—
Some say that he was a legend in his own mind,
He’d a been six foot six if he weren’t so bow-legged!
But standin’ five foot two he was a dryin’ breed,
So he took up wordin’ and became a poet!
At eighty-two years all the big world he had seed,
So he was a master bard before he knowed it!
So Tom the bronc twister he done went on a tour
And he read his poems at cowboy gatherin’s—
They liked his gravel voice and his odd looks for sure
And they loved all his colorful palatherin’s!
But there got to be so many versifiers,
That it started to seem lots of folks didn’t care—
So they all turned into cowboy verse deniers—
It was so dern crowded that nobody went there!
Tom joined the ranks of Barker, Kiskaddon and Clark,
Chapman, Morant, Fletcher and his great Knibbs—
“It shore beats singin’ ta all them cows in the dark,
And I don’t like wearin’ those overalls with bibs!”
And rarely in recitin’ did Tom make a flub,
But there was a lot he lacked in propriety—
They said he was so dern good he should join a club,
Like the famed Dead Cowboy Poet’s Society!
But with Twister Tom that just didn’t set too right—
Said, “I don’t want ta be in no society,
What takes in any ol’ buzzard just on his sight
And would accept as a member that likes of me!”
But they swore that he’d be a perfect candidate,
Yet he then said, “It seems there’s somethin’ you ferget—
Before I is one of you cowboy poet’s, mate—
They’s just one thang you overlooked – I ain’t dead yet!”
So ol’ Twister Tom he kept makin’ him a name,
He read his verse smooth and with no anxiety—
And when he was dead wound up in the hall of fame
And in the Dead Cowboy Poet’s Society!
*And then, I am finally free from house arrest
- Which is better news for me than it is for you and your family*
...I am bloodletting
All of my frustration
With a wee-bit
Of Danbert Nobacon...
...This is what usually happens:
Whenever someone listens
To the "Unfairy Tale" LP
Backwards
While sensually drunk
On homemade LSD...
?...This is also how
I mistakenly met
George Harrison
And Graham Chapman
While undertaking
My most recently failed suicide attempt....
...And both they, and Lenny Bruce agreed:
I probably should have aimed to succeed
If I really wanted anybody
To ever take my career in comedy
Any more seriously
Than my 'highly-underrated'
Criminal record...
"...Whatever..." I calmly stated
Before soundly adding
For all intents and purposes:
"Everyone always neglects to mention:
My criminal record
Has already gone
Triple platinum
In Japan and Sudan"
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
John Lennon, tragically shot dead 1980, 8th of December
If you were a fan of his I`m sure you would REMEMBER
Was Mark Chapman playing MIND GAMES, is that why?
Or perhaps plain and simply he was just A JEALOUS GUY
John hated war and wanted us all to GIVE PEACE A CHANCE
Was that murdering bastard on drugs or perhaps in a trance
IMAGINE If the whole world held hands, you would have to agree
Thats all he ever wanted, he asked us all, PLEASE STAND BY ME
His friendship with the Beatles was just STARTING OVER again
A HAPPY XMAS coz to George, Paul and Ringo he was a fri
But his face certainly became famous, the boy from Liverpool
Do you think that John Lennon lived on BORROWED TIME
Was his time up when Chapman committed that terrible crime?
HOW DO YOU SLEEP Mr Chapman, does it come to you easily?
How does his family feel after he said "GROW OLD WITH ME"
The world moves on I guess as we are WATCHING THE WHEELS
Tell me Mr Chapman are you happy, please tell me how it feels
If it were POWER TO THE PEOPLE, then most of the population
Would have had you strung up, not locked up safe in ISOLATION
How could you do it? all the world was unfortunately denied
Like me, lots of others felt as if they were CRIPPLED INSIDE
NOW AND THEN I still REMEMBER his music and verse
I think about his murder, to me there is nothing worse
John may have found peace at last, you mark my word
I believe he is up there somewhere as FREE AS A BIRD
We commemorate the death of our love ones
We don't celebrate the death of our love ones
Today is not a great day
Today is a very sad day
We don't care about wealth, avarice, money and cupidity
We abhor hate, greed, hatred, racism, and police brutality
Today, we don't care about the economy
Today, we want to eradicate greed, bigotry
Racism, division, lies, deceit and hypocrisy
We care tremendously about our health
Not about wealth. We care about over 100,000 deaths
We commemorate the death of George Floyd, Tamir Rice, Jamar Clark
Jeremy McDole, Breonna Taylor, Sean Bell, David MacAtee, Stephon Clark
Adam Atraore, William Josma, Steve Biko, Kalief Browder, William Chapman
Sean Reed, Sean Monterrosa, Antwon Rose Alton Sterling, Michael Ferguson
Philando Castile, Amadou Diallo, De'von Bailey, Samuel DuBose, Redel Jones
Mike Brown, Eric Garner, Michelle Shirley, Tony McDade, Deb Danner, Ken Watkins
Laquan McDonald, Ahmaud Arbery, Terence Crutcher, Manuel Ellis, Korryn Gaines
Many Native Americans and many other brothers and sisters. We are out of breath
We have been suffering, hurting, in pain and crying too much. Enough is enough
We can't breathe. Get off our necks. Black lives matter. No justice, no peace
We celebrate life and love. Black lives matter. We want to live a long life
We commemorate death. We can't breathe. No justice, no peace.
Copyright © June 2020, Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
I got it from watching my 60-year-old abuelo come home every night chingotiado from picking cilantro till his hands turned green and purple So that his children’s children could go to school in Tejas. It was sitting on the couch with me as we counted monedas for the bus while we only worried about getting an education at Chapman across town, instead, of worrying about quitting elementary school and help work in the fields by age 10 because my father, and his father already made that sacrifice for me. We got it by watching Mami crying “no entiendo lo que dicen!” every time she stepped foot into the racist JCPenny down the street, because that is where Americanos buy their fancy clothes. And it came to us in the form of cheap insults for being more brown than white, which forced our eyes to see things without the rose-colored glasses offered to white people like free samples at a Costco. We got it by watching Trump plaster the TV about us being the problem when nuestra gente have never shot up a school because of mental health issues stemming from white-privledge, because we don’t do those pendejadas, because we were taught to respect everyone or face the chancla to our backside till our nalgas turned bright red from the embarrassment to our people.
And now, here I am in my JCPenny jeans and blouse, that was bought with the fear of being white-washed over the blood and sweat de mis padres, proudly holding my College degree en la misma mano that I used to sign my name with when I finally bought a house. Con orgullo, I watch my child give a speech to thousands of people who look to him as a pillar of hope for Latinos about changing the world starting here In California, speaking in my Grandfather’s native tongue, saying, “Si se puede” because he understands the one thing you can’t buy in any store; the one thing that is served in every latino household from dusk till dawn because it feels like a hot bowl of menudo on a rainy day to us. The only thing the first generation made sure to bring with them as they crossed the border in fear. It is the same thing that was given to their children, and their children, and their children and their children… and is now engrained into our very fiber of who we are.
In the morning, innocent lamb left the farm
Behind his master, moved to the meadow
A treacherous chapman loomed him
In his purity, he listened to chap’s distorted words
As sweet as honey, they lead him astray his master
Naively, guiltless lamb was led into a deep hole.
Up and down, lamb looked; this is life as well.
He sat in the fleapit all day long like a mole
But never thought of a dump but another dwell
Mother sheep baabed to lamb’s deaf ear in hell.
Lamb’s meekness has been exploited to death
And in the deep hole, safe he believes he is
As time comes, he’ll be on knees to look up
For God to unbolt his mind and unclutter his ears
To remember many hearts, he has snubbed.
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
Steady rustling of stacked-high newspapers,
On the vendors stand US skyscrapers;
A long face further parting with brightness:
The type that treated not things with lightness
It’s a man heading for a child’s mistake;
From last medical check-up much at stake!
Started it had with a rumored broadcast,
Which listening through made Chapman downcast.
Now, he’s at Lukman’s vendor stand for more
Of a hitting news that few minds could store:
“All banks shan’t be working for two weeks,
Their once-cheerful customers goddamned freaks!”
Yes, some bank manager did cook alive,
For home they’d sought to cashless point drive.
Chapman looked like he would die in a week,
Who had seemed throughout January sleek!