Best Degradation Poems
homeless man on the edge of the park
devours his gifted pizza
crumbs stick to his dirt streaked face like layers
of public disdain
people about regard him a walking virus
homeless man scents the air with squalor
his torn clothes proclaim the cheapness of rags
an untidy emptiness
a life throttled by dysfunction
as dark as a closed coffin
What is the measure of degradation?
What happens when direction goes missing?
this man, stooped, ungainly like tall weeds,
pinches bits of pizza crust thrown to birds
that gather about his wounded wildness
a salvage gesture to feed the birds
a clarity to nourish what's unprotected
to stow away grief
to worry about his next meal
implanted,
like a field under seeded
Poem Composed October 7, 2021
Contest: This or That Volume 7
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
DEGRADATION
Degradation in life or character
can never be allowed,
but is to be followed
uplift in each step: That’s the prime factor.
Progress in human civilization
to continue onward
never to push backward.
That is the perfect realization.
On journey, work hard with full devotion.
Must have self- confidence.
Depend on competence
to avoid any defamation.
Evolution in Nature to certify
always for betterment.
Process not to ferment
but on ceaseless trial to rectify.
Upgrade own life on dedication.
Have faith on basic Morals:
Those are Universal.
You must elevate next Generation.
09/30/21
Title chosen 'Degradation'
Fourth Place
'This or That Vol 7.
Contest by Edward Ibeh
She loved a man who, in their early days,
romanced her and was quick with lofty praise.
Due to his love, life bore a rosy hue.
Does this sound too near-perfect to be true?
Was it a dream? Soon Paradise was lost.
His heart grew cold, and hers would pay the cost.
Her efforts drowned in his indifference;
each day became progressively more tense.
He used degrading words that broke her heart
and spirit. Once he’d torn her world apart,
he left, concluding her long stint in hell.
Will she recover? Only time will tell.
October 5, 2021
Contest: This or That, vol 7--Degradation Placed 4th
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
In the beginning was a great paradise
perfectly created* by God for mankind
wondrous gift to tend with grace He does suffice.
Paradise indeed, yet now badly maligned
as inhabitants caused her to be oppressed
hurt by their negligence and folly entwined.
With technology soaring to progress’ crest
men’s exploits afflicted so much Mother Earth
making her grieve in pain, not anymore blest.
Oh, sighing in disgust at arrogance-mirth
Mother Nature with stern warning never fails
tolerating not abuse turning to dearth.
Let’s heed to our planet’s degradation ails
Lest we despair, yet too late, with regret wails.
*Genesis 1:1 In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.
September 16, 2021
3rd place, "This or That, Vol 7" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh; judged on 10/9/2021.
My mom is a rosebush
lovely and red
but if you are careless
you’ll wind up quite dead.
My dad is a slide rule
useful and endearing
whose entire career
has been engineering.
My bro is a penguin
laid-back and cool
who hangs out with buddies
his size up at school.
I am a journal
tucked out of sight
listening, watching
more chapters to write.
We are four
corners of a square
connected by thin lines
inside the same lair.
The crumbling of humanity is developing.
Burglary, deception, and hubris are ubiquitous.
Money is being earned by cheating.
These areas are known to be perilous.
The vast majority of the cash is made in the wild.
It's time to settle in the matured and infirm.
Ravenous experts age their vigor after a while.
Laborers are escaping devout neediness squirm.
Frantic individuals have weakened.
Fellowship has no kin, just sex bind unify.
Keeping guardians is an idea antiquated.
Notwithstanding savagery, humankind decay.
The mutilation and murder of living persons,
Assaulting, beating captives till they die or be deaf.
They induce their casualties lives blackens.
The cruelest rulers of the hells they bereft.
Psyche attacking compassion and adoring.
Time talks just nibble and severity.
Wild evil presences masked as a sacred being.
Blamelessness in the midst of a corrupt divinity.
Virtue blurs to a deadly chase in the wind.
No one realizes who prowls crimson vine.
Is this acculturated? a pooled grind.
Alert, my friends, inquire into thine.
Written: September 9, 2021
This or That, Vol 7 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
It started out so nice. He wined and dined her
and brought her flowers when they had a date,
so gladly she agreed to marry him.
In fact, to be his wife she could not wait!
But with the ring securely on her finger,
he wasn’t the same man he used to be.
The house he also made secure, and when
he left, he locked her in without a key.
The windows were shut tight. He took her phone.
She could not call a relative or friend.
No internet; she only had TV.
She lived inside a nightmare with no end.
She was his slave, and when she cooked for him,
he’d better like whatever he was fed,
for if he was dissatisfied with dinner,
he’d break a dish or hit her in the head.
Rape was his idea of love-making,
but pregnancies at least gave her relief.
The pregnant female form he found repulsive,
and she felt glad that he had that belief.
He’d pick up other women then. His wife
delivered seven children in ten years
because he would not let her use protection.
In ten years’ time, she’d cried a million tears.
Each child was born at home, and the seven
were all the world to her. The children too
lived locked up with their mother, so her love
and things she taught them were all that they knew.
They had no clue of what a father was
except for what they noticed on TV.
But children get rebellious. Two of them
would one day help the family to flee.
This is a tale of total degradation.
The psychopath who wielded such control
at last got put away, and then each child
was able to move on and heal their soul.
Sept. 30, 2021
For Edward Ibeh's This Or That, Vol 7 Poetry Contest
title chosen: Degradation
By a slender thread hangs my sanity.
I am dangling just above an abyss.
At any moment, I can fall freely
Into the clutches of a nemesis.
Short moments seem like an eternity.
I have never been in a place like this.
I will fall into deep degradation.
Please let it be my imagination.
“A trail of human misery and degradation”
Derives from a mid-16th century text from Old French
Illustrated best by the Inquisition and the Holocaust
But it conjures up a long history of human stench
While the odor lingers in slavery and segregation,
Reappearing, as I write, in modern gender deprivation.
See “The Last Days,” which does so clearly reveal
The merciless Nazi death camps as recent as 1945
With horror scenes of Auschwitz and Bergen-Belsen
Where thousands of abused prisoners were barely alive
When Russians and Allied troops liberated them
Showing depravity’s ability to sustain mayhem.
Degradation, man’s inhumanity to man, must be stated
As young girls and women are sold into sexual slavery
With no regard for the soul residing in their bodies
Forced to participate in the most unholy and unsavory
I believe the appetite for debauchery is never sated
Degradation of human beings continues unabated.
I weep, thinking about our blighted history of barbarism,
In America elderly Puritan woman were hanged as witches
In Africa where slaves were stolen away from their tribes
In Germany where little children were thrown into ditches
At times the world has slithered into abject bestialism
Degradation toward our fellowman is a bulging aneurism.
SECOND PLACE WINNER
written September 9, 2021
especially for "This or That, Vol 7" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Life revolts against
the fundamental law of Nature
for all things to inevitably degrade
to maximum disorder, entropy
with minimum free energy.
Life builds structure and order
against the trend
and needs to capture
and burn energy continually
to maintain its form and existence
against the ravages
of entropy and decay.
To survive living things must
conserve themselves,
transmit their seed
to new generations
and develop more successful
forms in a continuum.
Once the chain of transmission
is broken, the life form
degrades to dust,
and ceases to exist,
a dangling, fleeting species gone forever.
Life is an enigma, a peculiar chemistry,
a rebel against the laws of nature
fighting for the survival of its disparity
to avoid its inevitable degradation,
for now.
Try to imagine being owned;
purchased and sold as property.
Ravaged by dogs for amusement;
and denied all your human rights.
Before banning racial protests,
try to imagine being owned.
And the added degradation
of rape and appalling beatings.
It's hard to forgive slavery
when you believe you're still enslaved.
Try to imagine being owned;
and your children sold at auction.
Black-Lives-Matter marchers tend to
be in your face and demanding.
But before you admonish them;
try to imagine being owned.
THE SUNSHINE STRUGGLES
The morning dew makes the brightness dim
The morning sunshine struggles to permeate the clouded atmosphere
Dews clumps visibility and the fog demands fog light for vehicular commuters
Yes! On top of the highest man exhibited location
In Ghana, Abetifi; the topmost of a palm tree
Swinging man through the cold that the old folks dare
This is to inspire rather than dismantle solutions to
The difficulties, challenges and the undesirables we made ourselves
Like the syringe of the nurse to the patient.
Though the vision is not clear, its attainment is much needed.
Work’s got to be done, though the cold weather requires adequate cozy bed’s comfort
Discipline eroded by the spare of the cane
Baffled as to how to change the chain of morale degeneration
The culture thrown away to put the unfamiliar in its place
Replacing instant correction with future rapture
Where judgment will be passed in favor of the righteous
How do one trim the young to be righteous?
In the mist of the agitation of child’s rights?
Forgiveness is the wish of the Holy one
There is no ‘buts’ in this,
But the forgiven has got to change
And how?
The sun will definitely permeate the fog, dew and drizzles
To open up the scene of bright breezing Kwahu ridge
And the Akuapem hills
Where immorality and the right to sin will be no more
And discipline will put on her best cloth
To dine happily with all on the dinner table set by the Holy one.
Kensington
Children of frustration
when dreams rose from the heap
the darkest of locations
tell white lies as they speak
open to persuasion
when abilities are weak
waves of degradation
disturbs all those asleep
awake the dispensation
to turn the other cheek
the house that they were raised in
and company they keep
a blur of segregation
when summers burn with heat
sit back for meditation
and sow all that is reaped
peer deep into what’s stationed
the lost or stolen sheep
a core that rocks a nation
only on occasion weeps
passed down from generations
too scared to take a peak
the truth is out there somewhere
you can find it in the street.
If humans make smarter phones, we are Slaves to whom?
Let none say that I did not try;
A tragic bundle here I lie;
Through half-closed eyes I recognize:
Slim shadowy forms flow by.
My scraggy mate lies by my side;
Loyal to a comfort I provide;
A fremdship that in times reminds;
Of yearnings satisfied.
Numb to a putrid, stale estate;
Numb to my mouldy, urined state;
I claim and occupy this space;
To compliment my fate.
The scrumbled note laid at my feet;
Is not to beg for sympathy;
Nor do I seek your empathy;
It is a fix I need.