Best Commits Poems
Enter the Everest that devastates
as he never ever rests and demonstrates
his quick wit picnic of traits that place
with lickety split flicks on the page
the tricks of a contortionist wrist that emits embers at pace
as he commits and performs on the centre stage
with the impact of a storm from the biblical age
the act of an adorned prolific rampage.
Irresistible talent abundantly apparent
you thought you'd witnessed
ability but until now you hadn't
when the rest in the business
appear to be unskilled
and transparent
as their best rhymes diminish
right here to be unfulfilled
and redundant
thus divested of finesse
while it's clear to see you're thrilled
in this moment.
For every tear you cry
A baby smiles for the first time
Someone in this world dies
Someone tells a lie
Dreams are frozen in time
Someone confesses to a crime
For every tear you cry
Someone learns how to fly
Another one falls from the sky
Innocence is killed by Pride
Someone loses his rights
A clock begins to chime
For every tear you cry
A star glows more bright
While another one loses its light
Two break out into a fight
A scream is heard in the night
Someone finds their might
For every tear you cry
Someone brings back a life
Someone is filled with fright
A fool is tricked by Sly
Someone tries to hide
Someone wins a prize
For every tear you cry
Someone commits suicide
A blind man gains back his sight
Someone’s drugged up high
Someone determined continues to try
Two cars collide
A DINNER INVESTMENT (for Eve)
My husband Chris Adams loves to wine and dine my needs
In the most expensive places, one can eat.
Arriving in LIMO style
A humble waiter greets
After I viewed the menu I replied,
"Hun I am ready to order."
A T-bone steak -- fully cook the meat.
At our table, walked a gorgeous snake-eyed women
She leaned over my husband's seat
Approaching Chris with a big wet kiss
I stomped on my husband's foot
I gave him the look, of all looks
She slithered with her tongue in Adams ear
She whispers
"Go to that hotel and relax, I need some cash"
With one stare I yelled, "Chris how dare you cheat!"
"I had enough, I want a divorce MR. ADAMS!"
I reach over to slap him,
He replies, "She is my mistress Bath-Sheba my dear EVE!"
"I do not love her."
"I understand if you want a divorce!" Mr. Adams replied.
"But, remember, no more furs, luxury suite,
Winters in Barbados,
Summers in Tuscany."
"Infinity or Lexus, and first class plane seats."
"Forget about the Yacht Club."
"Party by the swimming pool, that land a hundred feet."
"It is up to you my Kitty Skat Eve to give it all up."
"You decide if these diamonds you want to keep."
Without thinking of taking a leap.
I saw Mr. Adams business partner Cain with a Jezebel in his arms.
I ask my husband Chris in a small peep.
"Do not tell me that Cain commits Adultery too?"
"Cain's blonde looks really cheap as if she works the street."
"Well, our mistress is prettier and looks real sweet."
"Honey, our mistress Bath-Sheba is worth the keep."
"Mr. Adams tonight you can call me Steve and not Eve,
Whatever it takes to satisfy your needs plus my gold lust!"
**************************************
(The moral of the story is what some Eve's
will do to keep their investment, I mean Adam's.)
A joke and dedication to Chris D. Aechtner
For THE Eve in Eden* (Contest) *
It's an addiction.
She craves the friction.
The brush against the canvas,
The blood scented, crimson kiss.
This girl has nightmares every night,
She does sad things out of your sight.
She'll have moments where she feels okay,
But then she realizes the feeling does not stay.
This girl is chasing a never ending road.
She's holding onto love and won't let go.
And it's making her go crazy.
Her vision of what's real is getting hazy.
This girl loves theatre why you ask?
Because there she's SUPPOSED to put on a mask.
There she can be someone that she's certainly not.
There she can pretend to be anything she wants.
The girl doesn't understand a thing anymore.
She is feeling like a complete attention whore.
Isn't she that, though?
Maybe she isn't really her only foe...
But she is, really she commits a crime of hate.
How much she hates herself there is no debate.
She can't even explain it to anyone and that's okay,
Because no one would know what to say back anyway.
She thought she was lucky and she thought she was blessed.
Really her faith is just being put to the tragic test.
She thinks that possibly she's failing like always.
It is just like any other of her days.
People say she's enough but her mind is her biggest critic.
She just wishes someone would come along and get it.
Like he did the boy that went away.
The boy that's scars were starting to fade.
The best friend of this girl?
Yeah, she's in her own horrific world.
Falling apart at the seams.
While her own best friend lives in her dreams.
The artist has fallen off the edge.
She's been pushed past the ledge.
And no one is there to pull her up.
This would be just her luck.
What's the world? oh yeah, relapse.
This girl felt like she was about to collapse.
Drown under her brain's commands.
Fall down because of her demon's demands.
She's an artist with crazy dreams,
that happens to be falling apart at the seams.
She has no cause for her pain.
All she knows is what's in her brain.
Pain does not go away when one commits suicide.
Others inherit it after you die.
I fly with eagles on the one lane to Freedom
Through the desert of the lost souls of drought
Tears are dissipating from the speed of my Fate
Spirits chanting in the rhythm of the desired rain...
The sky commits suicide in my rearview mirror
The blackness of Death stabs memories with lightning
Sad drawers of my soul keep on being burglarized
By the same thief of the heart of an eternal romantic
I press time hard to the floor, put on make-up of Arizona red
The rays slap me with Hope through the sunroof of my car
Wings sprout painfully through my shrinking shoulder blades
I don't ask anyone anymore permission to fly with Eagles...
Putin said he wouldn't invade, but then he's known for his lies
So when he sent in his murdering scum, it came as no surprise
It will go down in the annals of history, as Putin's great blunder
And if anything it's united Ukraine, and not tore it asunder.
American President Joe Biden has now found a way
To make that despicable war criminal, Vlad Putin pay
To Ukraine he's sending lethal predator, and reaper drones
That will help to build stocks of dog food, of Russian bones.
Russian soldiers are not human from what we have seen
You've read and seen the evidence, so you know what I mean
They're gutless and have yellow streaks all down their backs
And scurry down to the sewers when Ukraine counter attacks.
Russians fire from a distance and let their lethal missiles fly
At hospitals, nurseries and any innocent civilians passing by
They only kill unarmed men, women and children, who pose no threat
But Russia, the civilised world is watching and we will not forget.
Red flags are what the Russians are using, to justify a crime
But the world is not stupid and it can see through the grime
A Russian town on the border was shelled so they could blame Ukraine
Then used it as an excuse to inflict, more misery and pain.
Every Despot who commits war crimes will always pay the price
Putin the war dog will be put down, Ukraine will not think twice
He'll have to surround himself with thugs and be lucky every day
But an avenger will only have to strike lucky once, to make Putin pay.
No tears were shed when he lost his flagship, in the black sea
It is one lethal weapon less to use, against that war torn country
The west thought sanctions alone would bring this war to an end
But it hasn't really worked, so more arms the west must send.
The battle for the Eastern Donbas region is well underway
And for those brave Ukrainian defenders, we must all pray
They're fighting to defend their freedom and sovereignty
But only military aid from the West will ensure their victory.
The horrific scenes we've seen on the news of towns reduced to rubble
Are because Putin knows he's not winning and that he's in trouble
At his forthcoming military parade, he's hoping to announce a victory
But if he was an honest man he'd tell his country, that he's failed miserably.
Written on 20th April 2022
Once
these corridors
echoed with life
a citadel for restoration
of body and mind
a bastion of promise
for the tormented
to the outside world
it had many names
Forest Lawn Sanitarium
was its Nome de plume
I--- simply called it--- home
In its day
it was of grand design
cathedral ceilings
hung with crystal chandeliers
finest draperies form fitted
to spacious Windows
walls brightly painted
absorbing sun lights warmth
reflected off marble floors
yes--- it was exquisite--- so beautiful
Soon after my arrival --- I realized
that beauty often commits--- the grossest treasons
For beneath
these hallowed halls
there lay a world of darkness
a wilderness of living sorrow
doctors most vile
It was here--- that I came of age.
a place
where the rooms
festered in the putrid scent
of decaying dust
where the floors
where like walking
on shattered
brittle-- shards of glass
the broken sills
of cemented widndows
entomb the fragments
of yesterdays tormented souls
if only
the towers
could reverberate
the echoing wails
which pierce the silence
so thick
not to chase away
no--- but to call
the slithering shadows of doom
a place where torture
became science--- and science
a medical break through
but to me--- it was still home
Where despair
screams of stone cold fear
of ghastly ghosts
imprisoned with clattering chains
of morbid madness
lurking in secret skeletons
where charcoal coffins
resurrect in the curtain
of lethal skies
bloodletting and chilling memories
Blasted shrapnel of
crimson smeared sins
of hollow skeletons
buried beneath
the godforsaken guillotine
where harrowing horrors
howl mournful cries
and demented demons
putrify on crosses
Persecuted in the bars
of their endless eternal torture
Hope you like my home--- cause
no one gets out alive
This is a collaboration which was written with the poetess Midnight petals on another poetry site. This piece was written about a year ago...
Line of inquiry:
“feeling not thinking, soul with love linking ~
we attained God consciousness unblinking”
There are times I'm torn between feeling and thought,
consciously aware of a dispute between mind and heart.
I become anxious when I realize there's a power struggle
and my doleful soul seeks a tranquil place to snuggle.
Somewhere deep inside of me where it's more docile
until my heart and mind call for a truce and reconcile.
Unfortunately, that's short-lived... a temporary thing.
Until again, they'll fight like pugilists in a boxing ring.
Rodin didn't sculpt The Thinker inside each human mind
but the psyche often chides the heart, "Love really is blind."
Divine, are those gifts God has so generously given to us
but they don't always come to terms, and it creates a fuss.
The heart yearns for love, the mind searches for a reason.
Scripture says the heart is treacherous and commits treason.
My mind stands guard, to prevent my heart from breaking
but despite the risk, my heart finds it worth the undertaking.
A logical mind weighs pros and cons, thinking pragmatically
Bah, cries a heart, "Life should be lived more romantically."
They grind on each other as if one a mortar, the other a pestle
And so, the mind and heart will continue to quibble and wrestle.
The soul always reappears when a modicum of peace holds fast
but the truce between heart and mind is destined never to last.
Although instrumental to a soul's well-being, they will disagree.
Mind rules a heart, or vice versa. Que sera sera. What will be will be.
Invisible feelings
The frozen river you can’t see,
It flows through your eyes,
How delicate it may be you won’t feel it,
You shan’t see the feeling it becomes,
Those noises it squeals,
That may turn through strong desires,
You can’t touch in such approach,
From the lightest touch it feels,
The atmosphere it absorbs,
Surrounds the area with great pain ambience,
You see this for a while and forget about it,
Its little touch will give full regret,
Straight to the heart it hits,
The pain it devour in a sudden time,
But still, it commits to memory,
The taste that still stays bitter on the tongue.
(Poem Invisible Feelings: By Sarah Shahzad, January 2021)
Everybody in all the world commits sin
from the fall of Adam even to now
sin reigns at the very heart of man
controlling each one no matter what they vow
One particular sin no one's immune to
it's sometimes called a little white lie
but there's also some great and terrible
for scripture says the sinner will die
Bible says the wages of sin is death
so declaring this to be fully true
as lies are included in that sentence
the believer must seek not to do
So endeavour to put all lies to death
speaking only truth and what's pure
empowered by God's spirit divine
don't fall to Satan's deadly lure
Lies are an abomination to God
who declares only He has the cure
the victory is found in Jesus alone
when we repent and promise to endure
(Key scriptures references to this subject.
Exodus 20: 16, Revelation 21: 8, John 8: 44, Proverbs 12: 22,Colossians 3: 9, Romans 6: 23)
Love, I get love is more than a game the young play,
It is life one commits, not caged bird ‘shopped’ to mine
In the hope lives are saved that don’t sleep in harm’s way!
How can chemistry alter what man can’t refine?
Love is more than a look or a flirt in a mall
And is much more than cash you can steal, spend, or earn.
More accrued by a talent that’s honed by each fall,
Than by lumens discharged when we spark, or hearts burn!
Is it love that we’ve found when acquaintances flatter?
Does sharing a hobby like tennis or eating suggest
Love might be in the offing? Is love more a matter
Of saying, “Love look! I am here (with no test or retest)!
You are inside my borders, beyond reservation,
All love’s where you find it! Can ‘Grace’ be the child of ‘Intent?’
It’s like tropical moisture, trees rain the foundation
For life that surrounds, or can ‘Grace’ be constrained by consent?
Is it people who serve me or those I best serve
Who shine light on God’s leading when ‘push comes to shove?’
Do those get more who give love away or conserve?
Is the servant or fool more ‘admirer’ of Love?
Love, I know what I want, and I want it today!
What I prize most of all? To be Grace to your dreams,
To Grace others, engaged by time’s Author’s staged play
Where poor actors have roles their mute action redeems!
Brian Johnston
4th of September in 2019
When a loved one commits suicide NO ONE wants to talk about it
Not about the person, the pain, the act,
they avoid it like the plague
Just because my son took his own life,
does not mean he was not a special person
HE was a kind, loving, giving human being
Just because he took his own life does not mean
he does not deserve to be remembered-
He does deserve for his name to be spoken
Just because he took his own life, does not
mean that I don't miss him with every fiber of
my being, I do and I wish it could have been different
Just because he took his own life, it does not mean
that I wish the situation were the same as when he was
alive, I do not, he was suffering from extreme illness and
I only want wholeness and peace for him, which I believe
he has achieved. But I will NOT avoid talking about suicide
and trying to DO SOMETHING about it, because it is a
painful terrible thing and it will not be stopped until
people talk about it and DO SOMETHING!
Our relationship is an ongoing trial
I’m growing tired of the endless accusations
Every time our eyes meet, it’s an appeal
If this is true love, where is the justice?
Let’s make this about love – I’ve had enough
True love has neither a judge nor jury
The heart commits – eternal devotion – for life
We’ve lost that trust – this is an injury
What we hide from each other is evidence
It’s far more dynamic – no need for low blows
When we deprive our love – in place of divorce
It’s a sin far greater than breaking any laws
UNDER THE FATHER LAND
We serve under the father land
In huminity we render
Selfless services in cosmopolitanism
In peace-less and troubless downtown
We inhabit as national stuccoers
With the aids of the bourgeoisies
Starvation, annihiliationists and insurrectionists
Famish the proletariats
We serve under the father land
Where the national integration is but tribal
Our forerunners neither retire nor die
As their successors grow older
Anti crime commits crime in crimeless communities
Where we smell not the throne
Yet, we're the leaders of tomorrow
When our tomorrow is afflicted with sorrow
We serve under the father land
When we die in bloody combat
In pursuit of national unity
We receive superfluous medication after death
When the copy of a copy is off the tracks
Lingering to the land of no mean city
Oh! the Cross is too heavy
But we're the leaders of tomorrow
We serve under the farther land
When we're dichotomized, massacred
With our immaculate neoclassical ideologies
In racial milieu
We hike sheepishly in an unknown land
With vigorous expectations in future
But the future features fruitless flowers
Yet, we're still the leaders of tomorrow
We serve under the father land
When we diminish our trivial capital
In selfless services
To the in impoverishers
But the father denies the children's welfare
Shall we perpetuate these?
If right we must be
Then fatherless we must be
The cross will be the crown'd
Blind eyes shall see
The pyramid
Our tomorrow is but yesterday
When the skeletonic promises will be fulfill'd
then shall the leaders the youths be
Our precious blood shall be sav'd
The national combat must be dignified
(Opurum Precious: Nigeria)
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