Best Chop Off Poems
Nothing savored Nothing cherished
Chewing wood, spitting silk
Hating every creeping moment
till darkness lowers and laps at my toes
Blessed darkness gives me a cave
where I may retreat from all hateful, glossy life -
oblivion with eyes wide open
Monumental sorrow grinds my guts to dust
Hopelessness, a perversion that licks my ear
and whispers obscene melodies.
An ache to take out the tools
used to mark my hatred on myself
Hope is a lie believed by fools and sinners
That baked desert called my mind spits dust on dreams.
Trapped by iron bars bleeding despair
my face is a pale moon of desolation
peering out on savage scenes of normalcy.
Fingers tremble on the keyboard
longing to smash its plastic against my head.
Some say how sweet and gentle I am
I can’t wait to escape and laugh at their gullibility. . .
had I an ax I would chop off my haunting countenance
and hide the pieces in brown paper bags
flung into back yards around the town
Am I sweet and gentle as they say
but refuse the treacle of the words
Or have I acted upon the stage so well
I have become what I loathe to be
Men and women in blue,
I write this in honor of you.
How you can even leave your
husband or wife?
When a bullet from organized
madmen might take your life?
I have no such courage!
Don't Americans understand?
You are there for their safety!
All of you would aid us right
away, you are not Johnny-
come-latelys.
The anarchists destroying each
wonderful city.
Children die early, a huge crime
and a shameful pity.
Not one professional sports star
ever mentions the innocents' names?
But oh, my, they refuse to play when
a criminal dies, a humungous shame.
The message is very clear to me.
Anarchists, sports stars, take the
knee joyfully to criminal brutality.
My life really does matter to me.
Wake up, Social workers cannot
protect me nor you from cruelty!
America becoming Venezuela,eh,
or worse, Cuba Two?
The blame is in the hands of
those throwing rocks and I loudly
shout " Shame on each of you."
I am no fool,this nation a tapestry
of many nationalities and colors.
You want no peace nor justice!
Just laws your way, total anarchy
And disorder, my brothers!
Martin Luther King, a mensch,
In his grave must be turning!
When watching you loot,burn
and steal....
It has me more than worried,
with my stomach churning!
How dare you burn the Flag of
this country so grand?
As in the Middle East, they
should chop off your hands!
Perhaps both feet, too.
As all decent laws in the USA,
and people's you so ignorantly
eschew!
I have no answers, save this!
Get people out of office who do
support these thugs.
They need far more than a slap
on the wrist.
Arrest them, jail time for sure.
Behind bars they belong, all
these rabid, hate America thugs!
September 4, 2020
2:15pm PST
A true Nigerian is brave like the Lion,
He is courageous, hospitable and kind.
He never shies away from responsibilities;
In his hearts of heart he controls all within him.
Through faith, he moves without stopping;
Even when there are many road blocks, he conquers.
A true Nigerian is patriotic and loyal,
He is not a gambler nor a fraudester.
He walks to achieve a common goal; unity.
He sees black as black and white as white.
He is the eyes that the country boast of home and abroad when he brings home the glory of love.
A true Nigerian never discriminates among his people.
A true Nigeria is a good leader in his home and country, he sees beyond looting of money and
Embazzlement of public fund in his trust.
A true Nigeria is perfectly perfect in perfection,
He is not dubious as you may think and have in your
Wrongly wronedg mind of mind towards him.
A True Nigerian is never lazy and idle like they say,
He is hardworking, goal driven, dreamer and doer.
He knows his rights and obligations in his society.
A true Nigerian is a true African decorated with an
Unfading black blood in his strongly strong vein.
He is honest, gentle, courageous and easy-going man.
A true Nigerian is a poet because he sees beyond you.
A true Nigerian is holy not fanatic fool in the church.
A true Nigerian believes and hope in the land of his forebears that goodness shall spring out from it.
He is educated, intelligent, world class citizen and
A thunder that strikes to destroy evil among his people.
He looks right into your eyes and tell you tomorrow.
A true Nigerian is a reader not a watcher of event,
He is a researcher, world class entrepreneur.
A true Nigerian obeys the laws of the land,
He is a goal getter among all in the World.
Show me a million succeessful men around the world and; I will show you thousand of Nigerians among them.
We are blessed in many ways, nurished with a talent of gifts; Nigerians are blessed and uplifted.
We believe that If something that was going to chop off your head only knocked off your cap, you should be grateful and when a girl has beauty without Brains, the Private parts suffer the most.
We are Nigerians, we are proudly Nigerians.
(C) John Chizoba Vincent
Gluttony
October 8, 2014 at 3:15am
GLUTTONY
(Halloween poem)
Greed is the glutton
that impales the mind,
heart,stomach and soul.
it consumes the eyes.
shuts down the mind
The stomach swells-
The heart is numb.
It be then,empathy fails.
No mercy for self
take more than you need
The bulging eyes react.
With grimy hands,
Evil penetrates
The gluttonous soul of man..
To counteract
We must react
It will be a mistake if we wait,
We must stuff you with garlic,
Pierce your heart with a stake;
Chop off your head.-
Oh but we must.
Right before dusk..
No longer will you lust
I beg,I beg,give gluttony
Over to the miserable
land of the Un-dead.
If you gonna hurt me
dont hurt me like this
paralyze me a hug
kill me with a kiss
Burn me with passion and
and drown me with with love
without you in my life im just a vegetable cant move
and if i cant have you might as well pull the plug
Just leave me hanging high and dry from the tree of misery and despair
sentence me to 25 to life on death row with you, at the end put me in the electric chair
Kidnap me put me in the basement of your heart
tie me up in ropes and chains
im your prisoner of love, make me your slave
Im dedicated to you so no i wont run
muzzle me and chop off my hands if i try to call 911
With you forever is where i want to be
so with you forever and all eternity is where i'll R.I.P.
religious police
arrest Muslim fast breakers -
no faith, no excuse
drink sharia tea?
"faith not works lest man should boast"
Jonestown Kool-Aid bro!
tea party leadership -
black man likes it, we hate it,
no thinking required
knee jerk politics
chop off nose to spite your face
mostly just jerks though
right to life, my right?
right to ignore other's pain?
my right always right?
Easter is surpassed
only one question matters
what would Donald do?
fascist sharks smell fear
have big hat but own no plans
all killing machine
frozen ground at last -
shared hatred showing promise
we could be good friends
poop thrown on love's porch
burning cross on love's green lawn
hate is man's judgment
Hitler's final gasp -
"rigid thought gasses all art
thank God for fascists!"
mind control falls chill
you reading Bible risky
why should we trust you?
Brian Johnston
June 15, 2016
She could smell the scent of the other woman on him. A sickening musty, sweet smell.
She wanted to lunge at him and snatch out his cheating heart.
She wanted to scratch out his light brown roaming eyes.
She wanted to castrate him and put his member in a box and let it rot.
She wanted to chop off his hands that fumble over that hussy's
body.
She wanted to saw off both of his feet that carried him to the place where they meet.
She wanted to put a hot iron to his luscious thick black lips.
Instead, she excepted his offensive lies.
She urges him to lie next to her.
She kissed his light brown eyes that looked at her longingly for
forgiveness.
She kissed his warm luscious thick lips.
She anxiously welcomed his caresses.
She could feel his throbbing manhood nudge at her feverish body.
She was in flight.
Julia, the thought police heard every word we’ve said.
There is a chopper near the window to chop off our head.
I believe we are just as good as dead.
There was a television screen hidden behind the picture on the wall.
Big brother was watching and listening to it all.
I can hear their heavy boots as they are coming up the stairs.
What about our inevitable fate? I don’t think any of them cares.
I should never have trusted O’Brien. We have been betrayed.
Yes, they caught us and will take us away, I’m afraid.
Based on the novel "1984" by the late George Orwell
Step forward step forward you peasant you.
Time to chop off your head and lay you to bed, six feet under is where you will be
all because you dropped my Danish on me!
When I am broke
I write a poem
I make myself the hero
In my poem, nobody can stop me
Out, I hop from my S-Class Benz
Into my waiting Lamborgini to my private airstrip
That car is sleek and comfy, one in a million
My chopper I enter and chop off to Brazil
To breathe the Amazon forest
Lunch I take in Dubai, at the Burj Al Arab
Get my favorite classique and Nouvelle Cuisine
Then float on the sea with petals of belly dancers
Then I fly to France for Dessert. Park Hyatt is the Place
Where light is tuned to my eye, the spoon is customized
To match the length of my fingers
I Meet Paul Bocuse, the father of culinary Art
And eat his delicious hand
When I swallow I hear the chime in sync
Then my order in Lilac Geneva. Le Richmond is rich
I ask for Chateau Cheval Blanc. That wine is fine
I take a nap at the Palms. In Las Vegas
Where the massage is complete
Each broke nerve is touched
Silently restored
In my poem
I summon the president, the chancellor
The Prime Minister and the Speaker of Parliament
The Chief Justice, the Queen and King, the General
The Emperor, Field Marshal and Archbishop
They run and bow and panic and look away
I ask them to sing me lullaby and ensure my security is tight
someone salutes
someone smiles
someone trembles
someone nods
someone freezes
But they all understand
They consult as I slumber in my epic bed
Where I am the hero
Today
Down the street a merchant to Church
Who worked all day
Has given me a note, the part of his tithe
God bless him
A packet of milk, it can buy a cookie
Oh how rich I am
Today
No time for poetry, I am rich again
When I am broke I write a poem
Like this!
When I see grass that’s green I wish was pink,
Soft to the touch in cotton-candy land;
Where eyes are never afraid if they blink,
Snow will steal summer and chop off its hand,
So that when I stumble warmth picks me up,
And wraps shame in satin cushioned just right;
Where tears become wine poured serenity’s cup,
Blushing cheeks rosy kept safe wintry night;
Then I wave a wand held tightly by me,
Grateful to wander through lost poetry.
10/24/2016
For: What Poetry Means to Me
They said I'm a chip off the old block, but I'd never budge an inch
For it is of nature to bear the semblance of the one from whom you proceed
For it is blood to blood, nothing escaping
For that's nature's will
All we can do is to chop off the externals that does not augur well with the times we are
And that's if that semblance is an Ogre to modernity
~ semblance
LAURELS TO GREEN.
Mum has prepared an avacado jam,
green tints in chroma highlight the campus,
a stoll dyed in artichoke green is on my shoulder,
gala time with friends in green,we hang around in green,
Myrtle plants rejoice..Yeah! festive time,St Patricks Day,
Spring ,my guest has arrived,
glad tidings it has brought,lets rejuvenate,
start afresh,green a prime shade,
from which loveliness springs,
buoyancy seeps in and offers us wings,
dense green is the lung of our land,
purifies air,facilitates growth,
replenishes,calms mind,body and soul,
Green is a community that feeds,
flies,birds,animals,humans....
Lets not be greedy,cherish its right hand
and chop off the left,
let us get eco friendly like green,
Mother Nature deserves the attention,
care,and respect,lets not wound
the amour propre of Green.
LATEST
Lets celebrate St Patricks day,green is everywhere,
Green tints,myrtle plants are in company there,
All roam around in green in the campus,
Fresh artichoke shaded scarf waves like that of a cactus,
Glad tidings have come,lets have fun,
Spring chirps with loveliness and spins,
Its buoyancy enables us to go ahead,
Air is more pure, calms mind instead,
Thick green soothens our lungs,
Replenishes mind,body,soul and comes,
The community of green provides,
Food to birds,animals,humans tied,
Eco friendly green needs care in return,
Forever green should have its sojourn,
We shouldnt be mean in needs,
Preserve in its wholeness with seeds,
Don't give a scar to lovely green,
Its beauty to us is evergreen.
CONTEST:Least viewed.
SPONSOR:Marugo Mo.
27/10/2016.
P.S. Artichoke is raw uncooked green pulp.
Contest:Get your green on.
Sponsor:Poet Destroyer A.
19 March 2016.
When I see grass that’s green I wish was pink,
Soft to the touch in cotton-candy land;
Where eyes are never afraid if they blink,
Snow will steal summer and chop off its hand,
So that when I stumble warmth picks me up,
And wraps shame in satin cushioned just right;
Where tears become wine poured serenity’s cup,
Blushing cheeks rosy kept safe wintry night;
When I hear foreign-made songs drifting through dreams,
But seek Chevrolet music ‘n superstars,
Sharing a beer swimming Hollywood streams
Before making love in the backseat of cars;
Then I wave a wand held tightly by me,
Recovering scenes with my poetry.
Dear Son!
The little opportunity given to a monkey to wear cloths, does not guarantee it to join the dinning table,
You must honour whosoever that comes on your way.
Dear Son!
Girls are like mangoes, while you are waiting for them to be ripe, others are eating them with salt.
So becareful the way you see girls, they are evil.
Dear Son!
Whoever presents his own head to break coconut would not be able to partake in the eating of it.
The story of the morning roses murders our lives.
Dear Son!
A man who hangs around a beautiful girl without saying a word ends up fetching water for guests at her wedding, you must be honest to yourself always.
Dear Son!
A man who counts his money after withdrawing from the ATM has trust issues, learn to trust all but not all.
If something that was going to chop off your head only knocked off your cap, you should be grateful.
Dear Son!
When a girl has beauty without brains, the Private parts suffer the most in the hands of men of the world And Having them as a best friend is like having Chicken for a pet, You will eat it some day.
Dear Son!
The wolf on the hill is not as hungry as the wolf climbing the hill, becareful with the kind of friend you keep within and those you keep far off.
Dear Son!
Never let negative and toxic people rent space in your head, raise the rent and kick them out.
I think distance makes the heart fonder and happy.
Dear Son!
Life goes on, even if you don't want it to;
Drinking garri doesn't mean you're poor but allowing it to swell before drinking is poverty in the highest.
Dear Son!
The buttocks are like a married couple though there is constant friction between them, they will still love and live together, know you that my words are alive
And they are words that will create your future, tend to them.
(C) john chizoba Vincent