Best Counterparts Poems
~STRIP TEASE~ Featuring:) SKAT
Silver Skimpy Ink, String, A POET DESTROYER's bling, bling
Think of me as a human ditty delicious decoration,
Something along the line of a sweet tooth temptation
Cherry tastes, between the slit of tender toast
Fine jumble jam slams down the tongueless throat
Dance like a diamond on The tight South Pacific Rim
I'll feed you with a slithering seductive sound
My hair soaking, -wet and wild, tonight I trim
A dulcet apple acrostic bottom, to squeeze the greed
Feathers, on top, poetic diction describing to please
At times, I'm in deep dire need of something sweet, and sour
Endless epic words, and ode to the naked poetic world
We The Women and Men of poetry,
Reveals far more than any nudity found in a bar
It does not matter how you do it or who you are.
I'm an entertainer, of Poetry,
The good, the bad, the freaking awesome
Don't worry, I keep my clothe On :)
---
Symbol of the spiritual Sexy SKAT Slang
--Provocative-- A slippery succulent, scrumptious kiss
Counterparts working the tension, another arrant appetite
I am the Illuminati illusion, laminating luscious illustrated letters
Indulging in the, satire of one stilt spoken sunset
Like a child's spiking temperature, I often throw tantrums,
Teasing attentions, by incorporating a pole, paper and pen,
If someone is uncomfortable with facing the fact,
When I reveal everything, without removing my high heels
Then you must not be worldly or women and man enough
I love to spoil and slur my scenery, using my best assets
My strength and power parallel, any unique universe
That's how confident the audience makes me feel
We The Women and Men of poetry,
Reveals far more than any nudity found in a bar
It does not matter how you do it or who you are.
I'm an entertainer, of Poetry,
The good, the bad, fantastic and fabulous
Don't worry, I keep my clothe On :)
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
Scarlett thought she was promised permanent security.
Satchels of resilience bound her fragile wrists.
Woodland deities hailed her.
Underworld demons feared her.
The curious townsfolk simply stood in contemplation -
Inviting epee's gleamed in their eyes
as the garden shears, in their hands, smiled.
Scarlett oft pretended she was Joan of Arc.
Threads of meshed titanium webbed her sheltered heart.
Sour Grimm moppets heralded her.
Skeptical fairy godmothers chastised her.
The relentless wheel of innocence spun without interruption.
Persnickety rogues sashayed in dumbed silence -
permitting their sordid counterparts unwelcomed invitations
into a void where reverend satchels are tragically punctured.
Scarlett donned spiked eye patches in her latter years.
Protective velour swatches masking mass and the masses.
Myths and urban legends empathized with her.
Gods and martyrs appropriately buried her.
The dumbfounded spirits circle Scarlett's broken window with raised eyebrows.
Quizzically staring at rotting barrels littered with skeins if shredded satchels -
yards if tainted fibers being hopelessly spun into yet another
dark, forgotten midnight.
Three score and five and I am still alive
It's been a rocky road from there to here
For years my only goal was to survive
When each tomorrow was a new frontier
Of friends and foes that came into my sphere
The beauties and the beasts, my counterparts
Some saw me stumble, others saw me cheer
Those who were with me from the very start
And though I can not name them all by heart
Nor deeds nor misdeeds, that which came to be
The choices that I made, they had no part
If one should point a finger, point at me
Responsibility is mine alone
Someday it will be I, who must atone.
Daniel Turner
Spenserian sonnet
ABAB BCBC CDCD EE
Not all poets are kindred souls
That theory is full of holes
For a few, poetry extols
Different goals Different goals
Words guided by what's in our hearts
Wanderlusts or humorous thoughts
I value artful counterparts
I don't hurl darts I don't hurl darts
Don't point fingers of shame at me
I treat no one with treachery
and I don't act like a queen bee
Hypocrisy Hypocrisy
Don't harm poets with pen or knife
If you're unhappy with your life
Why are you filled with angst and strife
Like Barney Fife Like Barney Fife
Sadness is a depressing trait
A mood that might simply abate
If you stop whining... mitigate
No need for hate No need for hate
I'm not part of a gang or pack
My friends and I do not attack
We have not stabbed you in the back
Disgruntled flack Disgruntled flack
Take screenshots like a bombardier
We've no need to tremble in fear
You've no reason to shed a tear
Now is that clear? Now is that clear?
With poisoned seeds of malice sown
Repeated complaints you bemoan
A cawing crow you now are known
Contentious prone Contentious prone
Broken fences will never mend
With a mindset that will not bend
Into those depths I'll not descend
I will transcend I will transcend
I'll write no more and waste my time
On one who thinks her views sublime
I will choose a healthier clime
To write in rhyme To write in rhyme
PARTS AND COUNTERPARTS
scrawled on the blackboard jungle, a mural
of profanity – pronouncing women’s names,
their parts and counterparts. reality creeps
from the verminous city streets. the mundanity of
laying out private jewels as a juxtaposition,
where silk and careful hands of morality are much kinder
and richer. but humanity takes hold of a fair lady’s dress,
tearing it off, shredding the human form to pieces,
leaving it drowning, cut off, creating the volcanity of a whore.
of this insanity is born the fatality of our newborn, with
no need for formality. the brutality of drug dealers and
youth molesters pulls the innocents down into the sewers.
they sense, they know, something is not right, but their fingers
slip, their feet cannot grip the slimy pit that drags them down
down
down
no one hears their cries for help. smoke like fog swirls around
their sacrificial heads. their eyes bleed with blue breaths.
the inanity and anonymity of their broken lives unbearable.
the mentality of cobblestone above their shattered roof, flowing
with the vitality of gold, silver and diamond luxury. a boy, a girl
can hear the click of red heels, the laughter of freedom, just out of reach.
he screams, “no, come back!”
she screams, “someone hear my cries, before i die!”
urbanity, so at ease. no one sneeze. no address of poor kindling tied
to the monster’s altar, where malicious eyes and tongues squeeze out laughter.
1/23/2017
Silent One’s Word Challenge Contest
A sliver of light appears in the distance
calling me like a songbird in the morn
a silent beam dotted without askance
it was long ago that my Lord was born
every room is silent here, except mine
soaring on tinseled dreams of yesterday
the others sleep, while I keep vigilant time
I want to be prepared for Christmas Day
A slip of truth slides inside my heart
I am content to be right where I am
waiting for a new day aside my counterparts
living out the season best that I can
Merry Christmas Jesus, I whisper softly,
and to the whispering wind, I have Faith in thee.
He sat on the bench
Watching the snow fall.
His snow white hair blending
Together with the snowflakes.
Wings stretched from his back.
They were the shape of a bird’s and had white feathers.
He closed his eyes, letting the snow fall on his face.
Enchanting, though no one could see.
Not the old lady who walked her small dog
Or the children who played in the snow drift.
But one boy did notice him.
This boy locked onto him with ruby red eyes.
His hair was black as night and bat wings stretched from his back.
He walked over to the other boy and sat next to him on the bench.
Peace.
Darkness.
They represent each other as their hands find each other.
Their fingers entwine, linking them.
Both close their eyes.
Their wings seem to cover each other.
The boy with white hair reached up and stroke the other’s wing.
Blue eyes shining, despite the sadness.
He wanted this moment to last for eternity.
Longing.
Aching.
But it would do no good.
They both knew at the end of the day
They would have to leave each other.
One would return to darkness
While the other returned to light.
Light
And
Dark.
Counterparts forever.
“I will miss you when I leave”, the white haired boy said.
Tears flooding down his cheeks.
The other boy smiled sadly and wiped his tears.
“Despite the darkness around me, I will look to you as my light.”
Demon.
Angel.
World’s apart and yet still so in love.
The morning sun hovers coyly
behind broad shoulders of the John Crow Mountain
before unwrapping petals of fever plant and Venice.
Mama’s countenance was far contrast to one so radiant,
so when the old Leyland bus went shuddering along gravel road
the first beams break through pinewood forest.
The old New Hampshire Red was up last night,
bamboozled by the plump moon,
but all was still in the petite hours ‘fore daybreak.
His first boast was far too late;
Banties have already blown their tops,
and warm rays long ago penetrated rabbit fence.
Leghorns proudly announced fresh eggs.
Beds were unoccupied and unmade.
Voices came, children in euphoria;
oppressors were off to nine to five.
Nightingale sang an encore
before morning forage,
and gaiety commences.
Brown skinned pickneys,
like the color of the Balaclava clay,
with reflections of innards on innocuous visages.
The hoopla lived until the Leyland snaked along treacherous drop
and the sun hastened to avoid mama’s air.
Chores rushed,
and mama voice ruined our names.
Tomorrow, at first light, we will be children again.
Most of us have heard of lands where dogs licked their humans’ faces
and are driven about in carriages in nappies,
while we loathe our predicament
some counterparts wrestle in grown-ups’ arenas;
innocence lost to palm wine and brown-brown,
and blood moves consciences far less than September’s rain.
Will tomorrow’s shoots be allowed to be children,
delightful progenies?
Let the bright sun shine on Columbia, Cambodia, Guatemala, and Sierra Leone.
Dangling in between my legs was my stoned tail
Making every effort to peep out of the zip
Just appreciate the the glory of God displaying wonders right in its presence in our solitude.
Salivating was my mouth
As my lips and tongues will not stop hitting each other, all calling for a taste of their tantalizing counterparts
And just like magic
God of make way intervened,
Like a dream come true
The tantalizing object came closer right there in our solitude
Without no further argument, we both were in our birthday suit
Revealing unto each other the hidden treasures of the most high
The sight of her curves and edges gave a tremendous satisfaction to my tail
While it stood straight in its massiveness and hugeness honouring the presence of its doom
On her knees she went
Like a chorister holding microphone
She held my thirsty tail
In no minute, a remix of Hallelujah Chorus was being sang
This time, with no clear notes but sounds
With my vocal cord adding violin effect to the sound
In a blink of an eye,
We were both drenched in her soft saliva
Running down like an erosion.
With no further hesitation, her curves were in my palms
Causing a friction between her succulence and softness and my long standing hardness
In and out it moved
With every entrance appeared different effect
With some came high pitch
While some, low pitch
And suddenly I was woken up by my cold warm underwear
Then it became obvious I have been dreaming!
Oh what a fantasy!
©ABSOL
There are “functional psychopaths” among us,
different from their murderous counterparts
who use their detached, unflinching and charismatic personalities
to succeed in mainstream society,
and in some fields of work most shockingly
the more psychopathic individuals are more likely to succeed.
We all possess psychopathic tendencies.
It's a scale along which we all sit within varying degrees.
The brilliant neurosurgeon who lacks empathy
has more in common with a Ted Bundy than we'd like to believe,
and that mugger in the parking lot lit very dimly
may well in fact have the same nerveless poise as a titan of industry.
Society as a whole is more psychopathic than it could ever be.
Fearless, confident, charming, ruthless, and focused are all qualities
that are tailor-made for success in the twenty-first century,
and all of the above mentioned qualities
are very dominant in every psychopath's personality.
It is our much maligned dark side that often reveals
the trump cards of success functional psychopaths conceal.
She had a gothic heart,
predictability and tamming tranquility were her counterparts,
she felt pain as gain,
peace was nettlesome and purposeless,
an abomination that careless civilization is undeserving of,
life is best consumed in confrontation,
within her magnificent mind God's value gravitated toward the power of volatility,
instability as instinct,
truth is permenance in transition,
Victoria believed that divinity as a mystery unsolved is more exhilerating
than explication or epiphany leading to the extinction
of curiosity's reign,
Victoria knew that law and politics are nothing more than an imposition
by the few heaved upon the many,a yoke of oppressive genius,
Victoria, a child of love betrayed,a woman of courage displayed
thought toughly & tenderly about the potential of mercy,
an enviable Empress,
compassion and kindness were complimentary components
to her dangerous disposition as hawkish talons
may be employed for feeding of fighting,
she developed into a clandestine warrior of natural necessity,
this world would either waste her
or she would wound the witnessed wickedness,
there was no harmony to be hankered for,life is a war of wills & wits,
espionage,diplomacy,truces,tributes and trounces always in the making,
Victoria loved God like a woman loves the anguish of pregnancy,
Victoria had a passion and a pity
for the Creator responsible for her awakening -
J.A.B.
We all look the same sitting on the toilet
We all look the same sitting in traffic
Nevertheless is nevertheless does
Just because you are on a diet doesn't mean you can't look at the Menu
100% of anything is junk
I am impatient with stupidity
Counter intuitive is counter productive
No one can make u feel inferior without your consent
There are too many people in the world
Wisdom is the practical application of knowledge
Evolution through revolution negating convolution
Some are mine, some are not,
but a cerebral cord, oh yes, they should rought
that full cranial awareness is still upward thinking,
but cranial farts of the masses are snot.
Get with the program get out of your head
and see life's counterparts not measured in dread.
Do something different, skip a life automatic
get off your ass u me and live life pragmatic.
Forego social domestication that has shaped our existenance
and reach beyond to a place of resistance
be who you want to be what you are to be,
and don't settle for less F, the powers at Be.
"Yes"
One is aware while one is asleep,
One is a ruler another a sheep.
One is so ruthless while one is so kind,
One is all-seeing while another is blind.
One is a guru while another a clown,
One wears a smile another a frown.
One experiences paradise while one lives in hell,
One is risen while another has fell.
One is a scholar and one needs taught,
One is a savior another needs fought.
One is colossal while one is minute,
One is peaceful while another a brute.
One is so spotless and another a stain,
One is so humble another is vain,
One is courageous and one has cold feet,
One is integral while another deceit.
One lives in the future and one in the past,
One lives in the now another thinks fast.
One is soul bearing the other hides dirt,
One has been healed and one has been hurt.
One sees the light while one lives in dark,
One is a minnow another a shark.
But all of these i describe lie inside me,
These appear to be opposites but they're on the same tree.
The order in life has shown me both sides,
Slipping around thankful for all of these rides.
Its just experiencing that duality thing,
I am the ying while i am the yang.
Just complimentary counterparts that dance around me,
Accepting both sides is the happiness key.
borders drawn and refused entry
my thoughts limit themselves to their flawed counterparts
seeking answers from those who never question authority
hiding behind those who know the truth that they were merely told
wishing to be held one last time closely by someone they thought they loved
ink spills onto parchment and produces an image of long forgotten angst
smiles of hollow-headed individuals who speak in groups that never translate
portions of a broken mirror still reflect what we have yet to see
bloody fingers fumble through the mess that is organized at our ends
alliances with enemies to progress to a place that we find surreal
holding our hands out for payment and receiving just advice on how to live
smelling the acid that pours from our lips and poisons our process
holding our flag high while reciting an anthem to those below
promising that we are equal while explaining our differences
the blind will hear and the deaf will see
motors make noise and move the people forward
while all they wish to do is look back upon what they left behind
pay no attention to those who hate what you create for they do not understand original thoughts
hate has been around much too long and we must advance towards a better life
the stanzas end with a response that you never thought could be comprehended
broken down to your knees, you stand in the ruins of your collapsed dream
you smile at the skies with clouds that promise to bring relief in due time
though nothing can come close to the pain that you felt when you realized she was gone
take a star from the expanse and cast it behind your shoulder
follow the sun and lead yourself by the moon
smile no more and frown no less
we will all be together eventually
pieces of us will be reflected in broken mirrors
but we will be together
again
Two Minutes to Midnight
What are your intentions Sir, its important that I know?
The World is close to Midnight, only two minutes to go.
Remember empty promises to keep us safe and free,
Words of retaliation, serve no one, wouldn’t you agree.
It’s no good building bridges, just to knock them down,
Capitalists will also perish, when seeds of war are sown.
Be the greater Man, leave out your pompous rhetoric,
World’s present isn’t dead, but it may be a little sick.
A Trojan Horse is not the way, a strategy doomed to fail,
Talk with counterparts; alone you’re anaemic and pale.
Be a great ambassador, don’t leave us on the outside,
Say no to war, be the bigger man, stand tall with pride.
The future is in your hands, if only for four short years,
Consider the fate of Man, don’t leave us dead or in tears.
For Roberts 8 word challenge contest
Poem written in Sonnet form 8/3/18