Best Concessions Poems
How can one man find
More faith in a crevasse of Siula Grande,
Than most will ever know,
Sitting beneath a pulpit on Sunday?
Dulling the truth to grow the census,
Merchants and cowards comfort the carnal ear.
Marketing Christ’s love without his conviction,
Left willful in sin with nothing to fear.
In half doctrines and custom alter calls,
Prostituting the truth with all forms of prosperity.
Akin to seeding hookers in the chambers of Heaven.
Deceived to death twice by hand and blasphemy.
Feeding wolves from among your own flocks.
In the banquets of ancient mystics and bride Blavatsky,
Word of Faith gorging on their mammon,
Left choking in an insatiable eternity.
A culture’s blue concessions are gone,
Giving more choices leaving Paul’s letters unread.
No church discipline or discernment left,
Testaments of burning flesh that once bled.
Refusing to submit to be broken.
Fading old blessings from past obedience.
Confusing favor with common grace,
Hypocrisy’s retribution birthed decadence.
Millions claiming the found life of the few,
In every eulogy and requiem,
Lukewarm afterthoughts of the Son,
Losing everything by never knowing him.
Despising the light of the living truth,
Lobotomizing guilt with the scalpel of ignorance.
Finding solace in the darkness of mystery.
Death marches infectious rainbows of tolerance.
Redefining roles and covenants in hemorrhaging lies
Under the pretense of the modern states,
Illusions of enlightenment killing somatic slaves.
Relativism’s heart courting the things he hates.
Enticed by the delusions of utopias,
Bound in the fables of autonomy.
Throats upon The two-edged sword,
In this American tragedy
-------------------------------------------------------
12.04.14
This poem attempts to capture the Fundamentalist view on certain issues with other movements within Christianity. Also, the man in the crevasse, chose a different kind of faith than you may have assumed.
Categories:
concessions, bible, christian, dark, death,
Form:
Didactic
Wading through flooded streets as hurricane rain poured
A man fell into the flow when sharp thunder roared
As a journalist reporting live from the scene
I saw lightning crack through the sky, heard the man scream
“Is he homeless?” I asked the emergency crew
The director shook his head; the answer he knew
“He lives in our park now, but served in Vietnam
He saved his entire unit from the Viet Cong.”
The team pulled him from the gutter to the shelter
I brought him tea, forgot I was a reporter
I asked why he’d screamed, his memory seemed hazy
“Did you hear the bombs drop?” asked Captain Bob Mazy
The emergency director took me aside
“We call him Crazy Mazy,” he did confide
He suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder
Can’t live with the lives he took following orders.”
When Hurricane Kate passed o’er the Gulf Coast
I’d seen much destruction, but remembered Mazy most
His story I broadcasted and vets contacted me
The donations poured in; so many gave freely
Soon we’d accumulated twenty-five grand
Just enough to buy Mazy an acre of land
Then people from his home state gathered one weekend
To build him a home, much effort they expended
Several social workers set up counseling services
To meet all his needs, everyone made concessions
Local stores gave him clothing, food, even a job
No longer “Crazy Mazy,” he was now just Bob
A gentle man who soon overcame all his fears
On Memorial Day, he was greeted by cheers
Accolades he’d never heard when he returned from Nam
But attitudes had changed and people’s hearts had warmed
Categories:
concessions, inspirational, people, war, ,
Form:
Narrative
Fear Of The Unknown
That sudden unknown, so unrevealing,
it's the tell-tale trademark of the one in question
as it sets off nerves in every-which-way,
plainly creeping aimlessly neath our epidermis.
Shock-waves traipse, recruiting ghostly minions to crawl hither,
steeping the fleshy folds with squirming eels marinade,
forever slithering downward and chilling our brittle bones,
while simultaneously causing us to gnash our pearly whites.
Until we came upon the realization,
that what had truly manifested itself,
was a self-induced fear that was so absorbing,
it had overwhelmed the mind in consuming anxiety,
losing control of our mental faculties,
proffering it free-will to buildup theoretical obsessions,
and alternate concessions.
2019 November 25
*1st Place*
Goosebumps
~~Delilah Ventura
Categories:
concessions, fear, feelings,
Form:
Narrative
Smiling recollections,
summer evening reflections, now
almost gone for new generations
while my venues of childhood musings
and adolescent anticipations
...near extinction.
I must concede my willingness to share
what they will never recall
- the exhilaration
when Dad would pronounce,
"We're going to the drive-in tonight".
A creature double feature,
"The Blob" and "I Was a Teenage Werewolf",
both Feep worthy presentations,
fantasmically speaking.
The impatience for dusk was matched
with the rush of a 10 minute intermission
and, while spotlights played on the
darkened screen, cardboard pizza,
Buttercup popcorn, hockey puck hamburgers,
soggy steamed dogs, and french fries,
were greedily consumed for more
than the price of admission.
Hood ice cream cups with flat wood spoons
for dessert, then back with only
one minute 'til SHOWTIME to the
mosquito safe car where "Pic" coils
repelled the infestation while smoldering
on the glove box door - mesothelioma be damned!
Then, if we didn't escape with an
early exit dash, were caught
in the dust and chaos of the only
late night traffic jam in town.
And...years later, those teenage
trysts, without permission - I'll never tell
what movie?
But, always remember "Gourmet Confessions"!
Categories:
concessions, memory,
Form:
Narrative
This evening hurts
I've grown rusty
quick wits groan
as curtains hide footlight
that makes its way
to stage
That voice - is it mine? -
grumpy, in need of... what....
and the audience standing around
stares confused...
fake popcorn smiles
in hot buttered nervousness
Wish they would give me one
to ease into fog
make them all go away
Wish I could play my violin
so no one would hear my
smoky rasp in the microphone
I burn up concessions
create wistful sunsets
at the very break of day
Fix me a strong one
for tonight and
one stronger for the morning
Categories:
concessions, drink, music,
Form:
Free verse
Leaving behind the city grime
and angry crowded streets of crime.
The chimneys belching smoke and ash
clinging to the window’s sash.
Filling wagons with prized possessions,
facing our westward journey, like hessians.
“Westward Ho” was the call of the day;
we began our journey without delay.
A caravan of hopeful dreams
driving cattle herds in teams,
facing the harshness of rough terrain
wind, sand storms, and pouring rain.
The journey hard ~ without remorse,
losing lives throughout our course.
Crossing rivers and narrow mountain passes,
where rocky paths where thick with brush and grasses.
Fighting Indians and thieves we managed to survive
through cholera and wounds ~ the lucky stayed alive.
We buried souls in shallow graves ~ as we travelled on our way,
marking stones and crude crosses, we knelt down to pray.
To lessen our burden we made concessions
left behind ~ our family possessions
to arrive where the mountains meet the sky
and nights illuminated with stars up high,
where fertile valleys wave and roll
filling our dreams, filling our souls.
The Oregon Trail brought us here,
building a life, in a new frontier.
Categories:
concessions, courage, history, journey, life,
Form:
Rhyme
June, a month that brings the special flower
Urging urgent concessions to its power
Nurtured me against the bleak days prophecy
Eternal memories on petals of intimacy.
Categories:
concessions, introspection
Form:
Acrostic
Washing spinning suds
Watching. Thinking on spring things
Carnations in strict
Formation and blue roses
Poses on balconies.
With BLINDING beauty
All are blooming and smell of
Fruity confessions
With their beauty fragrant
Fruity concessions they are
Doing their duty making
Life a lovelier WORLD
Categories:
concessions, blue, color, rose,
Form:
Lyric
"First of May"
When I was a child I ran away
To live with the circus in Bombay,
Where all things were new
And possible, too!
So, for this they called me "First of May"!
I started out selling concessions:
Hot! Popcorn! Hot! Peanuts! Confections!
But in my spare time,
I'd secretly climb
Into the Great Cannon--for missions!
My costume and cape were blue and grey,
Spark'ling like stars with each flight--Away!
By day selling fare--
Nights--Fly Through The Air!
Dreams do come true when you're "First of May"!*
deborah burch©
4/28/2012
*Note: "First of May" is a circus term used to describe 'newbies' who come to the circus...it means that everything is new,exciting, fresh, and anything/everything is possible! :)
Categories:
concessions, adventure, childhood, fantasy, hope,
Form:
Limerick
the birds in the trees
and the ball hitting the glove
seems all the noise in the world
hunched like a scythe
in a hot concessions shack
the player's faces seem blurred
a sweltering day
seems more so as the hours pass,
making bags of candy floss
it gets everywhere;
my nails, clothes - even my head
wishes to wear a pink wig
to make matters worse
the lake of sunblock comes next
'long with the sugar and sweat
then I face the crowd
and all the stadium steps,
the weight of a thousand eyes
all at once they stand,
hands over their hearts, heads high,
for the National Anthem
a sudden silence
as the young voice bellows out,
I place my pole to the side
and then the song ends
inviting such hearty cheers
let's play ball! let's sell it all!
business catches fire,
hot like the metal railing
then I see those sticky smiles
and it's all worth it
awake and oh so alive
all this sweat makes me feel like
summer at it's peak
NOTE: Last year I had a job working at a baseball stadium. I had two jobs: the first was to make the cotton candy, the second was to walk up and down the stadium sets selling it. I made really good money off of it and I could wear all sorts of crazy outfits. I'm gonna do it again this year (baseball seasons starts up in just a week). I unfortunately won't be having a whole lot of time for the Soup being that I will have two jobs that take up a lot of my time.
P.S. If you're wondering why there's no capitalization in this poem the reason for it is simply because it's a Japanese form of poetry. I feel compelled to not capitalize, (perhaps because in their language capitalization isn't even a thing?)...
Categories:
concessions, happiness, jobs, memory, summer,
Form:
Choka
ALL OF SANTAS
REINDEER WENT ON STRIKE
NEEDING MORE THAN JUST HAY
& KIBBLES, NO MATTER
IF THEY BE BUCK OR DOE THEY CAN
not fly too far on Just nibbles.
Rudolph of course is the spokesdeer, he so much, wants to
right this disgrace, with special concessions for himself since
he gets the most snow in his face! Rudolph shouted, "Who is
with me now?" Even backup deer,
Jane and Matt excitedly raised, their
hooves having to get on their backs for
that! Charles, the deer, that cleans up
the joint raised three, for he's mis-
sing a hoof. Taking the place of
Donner one night, He slipped
and fell off a high roof!
Santa admitted it was
about time. He said,
"I'm doubling kibbles
and hay!" they all
clapped their
hooves in
Delight, for the reindeer it was a great day! Santa said, "If you want overtime, you can work in my garden for dough", One deer in the back asked, " Doing What?" Well, of course he said, "HOE, HOE, HOE!"
Categories:
concessions, animal, celebration, christmas, funny,
Form:
Concrete
Guilty of life once lived in sections,
drastically making changes.
Concessions to new obsessions,
suffering identity exchanges.
Revision life's only pattern,
inborn self considered a sin.
Wherever did the facade end,
and my actual truth begin?
Mercurial soul.
Gale force wind on fire.
Searching recklessly.
Banishing true desire.
Stunted by fear.
Cut low by local society.
Angrily relating ashamed.
Depression continually haunting me.
Loving heart protected by rage.
Angel morphed to succubus.
Ignorant of a different way.
Residual burden of distrust.
No compass showing the way.
Pilgrim of self identity.
Fractured mind's weathervane,
self destruction my proclivity.
I failed in my search.
Experienced life vainly, physically.
Blind to evolutionary growth.
Recently found enrichment, mentally.
Mistakes made youthfully, forgiven.
I look forward filled with hope.
Fortune smiled upon me.
Enlightened at the end of my rope.
If you believe in second chances,
first gift yourself one.
Explore your own depth, just once,
and you'll find life has just begun.
Presently, daily, I show for practice
on life's uncertain field.
I want the ball, as a champion should.
Sprinting forward, I'll prove what life can yield.
When mortality knocks on my crypt,
I plan on being prepared.
Living life by my own script.
Lessons learned by decisions erred.
I'll take my place amongst the stars,
having shirked mortal coil.
Ready for what is next.
To my nature, proven loyal.
Come with me on this journey.
Banish need for acceptance.
Live your life entirely.
You'll only get one chance.
-Angel Fatale-
Categories:
concessions, emotions, encouraging, forgiveness, inspiration,
Form:
Rhyme
I'm on a learning curve and learned today
a straight line means exponential growth, and
the steeper the line, the faster the death toll.
You saw the number of death this morning?
The tiresome business is all over again.
The stock of coffins dwindling
dazed with grief, I leaf the morning paper, swallowed up
by virus's treachery, racing like a wildfire.
Will it die a natural death?
Its insatiable appetite for death solicits
more concessions from humans who no longer
have individual destinies, only collective destinies.
We either find a rift in its wall of fire
or succumb to our bereavement and anxiety.
I'm on holiday without pay
auto-isolating long before the decree, calculating the
mathematics of defeat, asking
how will it be in three or six months?
and how close to virus's guillotine?
Through aeons of cold thoughts
frost in sheer chasm
no sun moon or star
earth empty bizarre
hell's grim phantasm
dust into dust blown
where ghosts jug on the sidewalks
each one six feet apart, alone
in retreat like ghouls of
lonely cemeteries
wraiths of uneasy covenant
too afraid to surmise the
brave salutation of a
passerby.
Categories:
concessions, angst,
Form:
Lay
Americans For Fair Elections
Who is it now that pays the way,
Of politicians gone astray,
And who now will pave the way,
For that which they were paid,
We are Americans who stand true and proud,
Witnessing incredible devastations,
So we shout our mantra strong and proud,
We are 'Americans For Fair Elections'!
One contribution from those who vote you in,
Is all a candidate should be able to get.
To fund a political race to represent,
America for the people within their District,
People who no longer have a voice,
People now easily disregarded,
Who now find they have less of a choice,
Than when this democracy started,
No more party or government matching fund,
No special interest groups or big business,
All lobbying our district reps one by one,
And deciding who will lead our districts
These contributions have stolen our choices,
And all that we Americans hold most sacred,
These powers have now stolen our voices,
And our democracy now sits degraded,
We 'Americans For True Representation',
Now must take action and take back the reins,
We 'Americans For Fair Elections'
Must now rid ourselves of these stains,
And with the help of our fellow Americans,
We shall return the power to the people,
With every one of us taking a stance,
For together we are indeed powerful,
Through calls, letters, and petitions,
Once again we will make our voices heard,
Offering no retreat and no concessions,
We remain staunch and true to our word,
So be warned you who stand in our way,
For we will remember those with questions,
And those who will stand with us this day,
As 'Americans For Fair Elections'
Please visit 'Americans For Fair Elections' dot com,
And help us to pass the word of this movement on,
Or forward this poem penned by My Gull Wheels On,
a.k.a. Michael Wilson, Your fellow American!
Categories:
concessions, education, inspirational, political, social,
Form:
Ballad
To start with, I desire, I were a dictator
If destiny were to decide at its leisure
Choose to crown me as a probationer
I would become a benevolent dictator.
I would in the first place announce to all
That there is no scope for nonsense at all
Those who obstruct the nation’s revival
At no cost be worthy of any mercy at all.
That serving the army by every one able
Shall be made mandatory for a year full
To inculcate discipline among the people
That helps the nation to remain watchful.
Health and hygiene of all the citizens
With special program for the old ones
And the disabled as well as the orphans
The basic aim to build a healthy nation.
With force would stop wasteful spending
On such things that affect nation building
Enforce through out the country a canon
Apply law of plain living and more action.
Literacy and education are basic for growth
None availing the help would attract wrath
Impose a firm ban on concessions forthwith
Make merit the standard, to build up strength.
No pampering of any community or section
Put down with firm footing all vivisection
Religious liberty granted to all and sundry
Severely deal with fanaticism and bigotry.
Implement free market economy and trade
Licenses and permits at a stroke removed
Every subsidy instantaneously abandoned
And tell the public to walk without a bend.
contd-part-2
Categories:
concessions, imagination, wisdom,
Form:
Free verse