Best Delegation Poems
Now is the summer of our discontent
Made glorious opportunity for change
And all the clouds that lower on our land
In the bosom of the media rearranged
While I who have no mind for fair concord
Determine to conspire and prove the fiend
And hate the idle pleasures life affords
Ensure conflict is harvested and gleaned
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
To instigate a man against a brother
Black history I will exploit to thrust
In deadly hate one race upon the other
Soft hearted folks I will manipulate
And play upon their heartstrings for my schemes
Their sympathy emotions shall dictate
Virtue signalling conformant to woke memes
To activate my hidden plan I’ll move
Self righteous useful pawns - give delegation
With peaceful protests (who could not approve?)
Though they shall lead to ruinous conflagration
The people will rise, call for a redeemer
When old regime has made a full contrition
To save the nation, be a chaos healer
I’ll, with reluctance, undertake the mission
Then my control shall be with iron fist
Surveillance of the people I’ll refine
And cohorts of young zealots I’ll enlist
The name: ‘Beloved Leader’ shall be mine
18 June 2020
Categories:
delegation, political,
Form:
Rhyme
The Illuminati are a con,
It is how they have won,
From the formation of the nation that they sit upon
While we are stuck taking our medication
And dealing with the manipulation,
We are avoiding the confrontation
To stand up and show some dedication.
They’ve created a world full of discrimination
That only causes more and more separation,
But this generation will stand by its reputation
To lead our civilization through an innovation
And create a restoration, not from imagination
But from the motivation and a transformation
So that we may eliminate this radiation.
We all must make a declaration.
Let us make it our obligation
To no longer feel this isolation.
Enough with the fake and the misinterpretation.
It all begins with our education and our communication
To set forth a new foundation made from the right information,
And have the consideration to give an explanation
To those who continue their observation.
We cannot have any hesitation,
Because that is what has created this starvation and the humiliation.
This deceleration from a dictation.
An obliteration of an abomination.
The desperation for annihilation.
A devastation from the extermination.
The contemplation of a suicidal fascination.
Why must we go through an evaluation of association?
Or an examination just for participation?
So this is my preparation to the administration.
My determination to the legislation.
To end this classification and begin a new implementation.
To allow the immigration of those stuck in a migration,
And give them the compensation for their triumphant demonstration,
Of their exploration and their adaptation,
And give others the rehabilitation and justification,
Instead of always leading with incarceration and a limitation.
We must rebuild our democratic federation
With a new team for the delegation,
Derived not from the propagation and defamation,
But from the navigation and confirmation of a proper nation.
Categories:
delegation, america, immigration, poems, political,
Form:
Political Verse
Smith and Wesson’s cool steel kisses my right temple. I cock the hammer. The slow clicking of the cylinder’s turn is amplified through the barrel into my ear. Finger resting on the trigger; and I reminisce.
Striking that young maiden and the bright red trickle from her cheek, giving my flesh the appearance of eternal youth. How lovely it was to immerse in the warm blood of so many young virgins sacrificed for my vanity. And being left to die alone in my castle. What a waste.
In my lust for recognition I relished in terrorizing the streets of London. What a rush it was to baffle the authorities, putting my handy work on display; artistically arranging the bodies for my twisted desire. They say it was around twenty women strangled and mutilated, if they only knew the real number. But that passion weaned quickly. In my urge for a grandeur macabre I overdosed on heroine in hopes being able top that in my next incarnation.
As Feuer of an entire nation the delegation of wholesale slaughter didn't quite measure up to the ecstasy of someone else’s existence being extinguished through my own hands.
The era of free love lent to an easy spree of killings in northern California. In my need for some recognition, I teased the authorities with cryptic messages; to this day and my great disappointment they have not been able to decipher. The most that came out of it was a marriage of Clint Eastwood and Hollywood in the name of Dirty Harry.
Hugging my finger to the trigger giving it a strong, swift pull I can’t help but wonder, how do I achieve a higher satisfaction than when I delivered the Kiss of Death, sacrificing the Son of God for just a few shillings?
"Everything Halloween Contest"
Categories:
delegation, evil,
Form:
Prose
Quote from Hugh Prather: "Most of the conversations I hear
are carried on as if there really were such a thing as an answer
and as if the people present were actually in possession of it."
Shouldn't we all adopt
some sort of "busy" pretext,
display fake fronts intended
to suggest determined aims
are being seriously pursued?
Wouldn't everyone believe
that we are "busy" people --
intent upon accomplishment
important to ourselves and others?
Isn't there some conflict between concepts
of "empowerment" and of "involvement" --
of "delegation" and of "taking ownership"
(directing, guiding -- dictating, really)?
Consider whether these are not
confusing opposites -- messages
easily regurgitated: mere facile
managerial sloganeering....
(Uncertainty, easily detected,
is usually condemned.)
Doesn't everyone read Dilbert?
And who remembers
"Ready....fire....aim!"
Categories:
delegation, business, career, confusion,
Form:
Free verse
He is a sad man, badly flawed, but hardworking
He believes he is beyond reproach, just like many proud men do
That face does not crack a smile; a sign of 'weakness' it is to him
His poor children starve for the affection of a busy and distant Father
But by now, they've learned to keep warm hugs only for Mother
With the mindset that he was the spindle of his fine home and firm
Delegation of tasks came easy, and was delivered with shouts and expleties
Like a dark cloud he'd hover over his staff as they worked
And with no qualms, he'd claim credit for successes
And no one would stand up to him; no one ever dared
Most important in his life was work; he had no genuine friend
His warped mind assured him that no one was his equal in anyway
At home, he planned the weekly meals and dictated where they'd shop
And when a drink at dinner was accidentally spilled
Unforgiveness ruled the home for days
Toys seized as punishment were never to be seen again
Whether a favorite doll or game, it mattered not; sobs wouldn't break his heart
Clueless was he that in the hours he was away
His submissive family and servants come alive
And during times when he was at home, it had the feel of a tomb
One Friday night he delayed the staff by working extra late
Then when he called down for his car only to find the driver asleep
His rage overtook his senses and he threw the driver out!
In that instant he sat in the driver's seat hurling insults out loud
In blinding rain, and fuming with anger, he took the exit ramp at high speed
He never saw the old, blown-out tire coming at him just ahead
Fate that night made a devastating decision... it was taking back control
In his bedroom today, he lies motionles and sadly, visitors never sit for very long
Though unable to speak, he's gracious to see, the frolicking birds through his tears
At times he stares at the lonely hour glass upon the shelf below the window sill
~*~
2/20/13
For Jeremy's "Objectify Me Free Verse" Contest
Categories:
delegation, imagination, life, work, night,
Form:
Free verse
A Dog’s best friend (a Cat)
A Cat’s worst foe (a Rat)
A flying mammal that shows its presence at nights (a Bat)
A deaconess soul-mate her church (Hat)
What a girl cannot do without her (phone)
The muscular structure of your body (bone)
What do kids use to kill birds (stone)
A sound that rings on your cell phone (ringtone)
A feeling that a man and woman share together (love)
A material use by race car driver (glove)
In order to eat, human being cooks on a (stove)
What’s the meaning of this poem, just look at the title stated (above)
In mathematics one plus two equal (three)
Bunches of leaves on a (tree)
An insect that makes honey a (bee)
An angry mob chases after a thief, what should he do? (Flee)
An auditor moves up within the social hierarchy, what is this? (delegation)
The lower class, Middle class and Upper class separate themselves from each other what is this? (segregation)
Buddhism, Hinduism, Rastafarianism, Judaism, Christianity are all (Religion)
Africa , Asia, North America, South America, Europe, Oceania are Continent (Division)
A tradesman never left is (tool)
A educational institution for students to learn (school)
Apart from the beaches, sea or river where else one can swim (pool)
Do you believe writing this poem makes sense, then why waste time reading it
This means you are quite the (fool).
Demeter Edwards
Categories:
delegation, funny, class, class, ,
Form:
Light Verse
I've given the plight of kids crossing our border thoughtful consideration.
I would like to propose a panacea that might ease this critical situation.
I recommend that pilots flying kids to the USA make a flight deviation,
And drop kids off at airports in DC while the Obamas' are on vacation!
I know they'd be delighted to share the White House food and recreation.
After all, the grounds are fenced so kids could be kept under observation.
Unload kids at the Capitol for distribution to each Congressional delegation.
I bet they'd take speedy action to secure the border as well as deportation!
I sent my idea to Washington but as yet have received no firm confirmation.
I can only assume they'll set Congressional hearings for serious evaluation.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Written with considerable tongue in jowls!
Categories:
delegation, humorous, political,
Form:
Couplet
Dusk lingers over the broken hill
Night creeps slowly beneath gloomy skies
Tired souls scramble to their weary beds
While I kneel down on the old dusty carpet and pray.
My spirit groans but I could not utter a single word
Overshadowed by an unusual burden
I forced out a few words and hum a spiritual tune.
The night spread quickly over my bed
And I drifted in a deep slumber instead.
I found myself waiting in a room,
I was waiting for someone but I didn’t know who
A bare shelf attached to a plain wall
With a phone box sitting on top caught my attention.
Someone suddenly came out of nowhere into the unlit room
With a delegation and greeted me heartily.
He shook my hand and gave me the box.
We sat around a table positioned in the center of the room
His chair powerfully arranged to right side
He sat close to the door and I sat next to him
enchanted by his charismatic power
I waited for that ecstatic hour.
His delegation sat around the table at
the darker end of the room clapping
and cheering as he started to speak.
With a big grin and a wide smile
He spoke with confidence, boldness and authority
Suddenly the door cracked opened and a radiant glow of light
straight from the sky radiates upon him
The beaming light rest upon him and covers him as he spoke.
God bless the President
These words woke me up
in the wee hours of the morning.
Categories:
delegation, anti bullying, bible, boyfriend,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Travels with the largest delegation
Ever to leave these shores
Globe-trotting is his passion
Yet itching are the taxpayers’ sores!
Categories:
delegation, political,
Form:
Rhyme
In hell I inhale the hate you dispel,
My breath is to my word, exhale is to speak
I, Never weak but sleek and cheek like leather, and never will you weather
How I, the better man will flip your compensation
In delegation to the revolution, now I Malcolm…
I become in daylight, broad
The X I relish on your façade, so set aside desire and aspire to my level
If not peril under lucid elixir of rhyme pressure
Categories:
delegation, hip hop, words, writing,
Form:
Free verse
The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Twenty-Eight
Other media meanwhile busy with who’s sleeping with whom
Relying on New-Sweep and Thyme to make loud front-page zoom
Mainly of those who leapfrog into top power palaces
On whether de Beauvoirs or transvestites be given more room
Dohr took dire toll on the High Prelate’s laboured vocal chords
And just as the Chief pow-wowed with advisors and legal boards
So did His Holiness with a delegation come from afar
The results as well as can be expected turned out: Discord!
The wily Franquist woman counselor slammed the Chief’s car door
And bee-lined the barred gates of the trysting hotel’s portico
The Chief sent Commandant in hot pursuit of bent-backed woman
Scarf drawn over pockmarked scalp limpet-mouthed suction sore
As the dohr throngful of the Faithful streamed out queues formed for asr
The Commandant waylaid the Imam come out for some air:
“…ad subjiciendum… Omar…Tent Maker’s prodigal heir…”
“Means thou Umar ibn Al-KHattap…Exalted Caliph Sire?”
Non-plussed the Commandant looked hard at Writ in his thick hands:
“Your Holiness! Be it thy pleasure to peruse these commands!”
One yea-sayer read aloud: “Oooo..maaaar ibn al-Khaaayyaaaamm…”
“Who? Must be that drunken half-Turk by rich widows favour finds!”
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Categories:
delegation, allegory,
Form:
Rubaiyat
Friends and foes of flesh and bone from me they have flown
A different company I keep in reveries of twilight sleep
When night’s dark blanket does fall, I begin to hear their call
Carriage wheels creak, horses shriek, I look, but dare not speak
Some appear restrained; others seem in good manners untrained
Pale complexions, faces unshaven, countenances dark and graven
Friendly words are not uttered, heavy hearts remain un-fluttered
After a brief admiration I join this motley delegation sans hesitation
Through sleepy streets we ride, through dark alleys we arrive
To our place of gathering - in silence, without any chattering
Far from city lights, under a moonlit sky an owl hoots thrice
As if to wonder, “Are these nocturnal creatures of virtue or vice?”
These ghastly preachers with ominous features invade his lightless
Kingdom with a mysterious mission - in search of freedom,
Perhaps driven by some demon, or for some other unknown reason
The owl has seen enough, so it swiftly flies away with a huff
In a ruinous castle by moonlight lit, at a round table we quietly sit
The ghostly figures each reveal packets from under dusty jackets
On the table they are placed, then with their burning eyes I am faced
This is to be a feast, my hosts are many, but guests there aren`t any
The packets are unwrapped, their curious contents are unmatched:
Flavors of love and hate, horror, and beauty, to devour all is my duty
Some taste sweet, fruits of exotic flavor, I eat; everything I savor
Others brought blood to the table; to swallow this too I must be able
I eat, swallow, devour, my hosts are pleased; suddenly I am seized
By a feeling of heavy heart and head, I enter a dark sleep of the dead
When I wake, in my mouth there’s a strange taste, in my body I ache
But the ghosts` sustenance must be treasured, their feast remembered
Or else I`ll be dismembered, the dark treasures in the woods gathered
Will be retrieved and given to a more worthy soul, for their goal
Is to bring their bitter, bloody honey to feed the mind not the body -
The essence of life distilled by the dead in images and words I was fed
Categories:
delegation, visionary, words, dark, body,
Form:
Narrative
The cool breeze sends ripples
upon water as smooth as glass
upon skin, cooled, radiant sun
they are all assembled at this pond
a few humans, mostly birds
Attar would be pleased to see this
Meeting
Delegation of birds
the ducks sit on the west stone wall
Most grooming, digging, for buried treasure
others, one foot, balanced, sleep still
heads safely tucked tight against feather
Beds
many swim and some float
the Swans dance in the center
a gang on long-necks, dominate kings
in this realm
a far cry from above
a return from the Pond
with that come new Swans to join in
the Feast, the Pool Party
they now stand divided, some on
the North end, some on the South
they were united at first, but no more
very much like humanity
except
they can still share the Pond
Categories:
delegation, allegory
Form:
Free verse
When I was younger, I have often wondered
Why is the eighth month not called October?
Was geometry wrong
When it named the octagon,
Or was this a mistake wrought by the calendar?
'Augustus' seemed such an ugly name too
It sounded like someone who has the flu
Plus, I've always had this pet
From a childish pang of regret
That my birthstone's colour wasn't blue
Oh, would it be that I was born a month late
To be a ‘child of autumn’ seemed so great
Instead, it's been quite a bummer
To have birthdays in hot summer
Though I suppose Mom and Dad just couldn't wait!
But, in recent years, I've changed my tune
About being born on the eighth moon
For there is so much fame
Behind this august name
My date of birth is now to me a welcome boon
For while the man whose name this month honours
Might not possess July's fame and splendour
He satisfied the Romans' wish
To implement an age of peace
And so the legacy of his reign is forever revered
The strength he lacked he made up in understanding:
Roman men saw repugnant the title of "king"
So he knew to bide his time
And rose the ranks in slow inclines
To not repeat his predecessor's death by stabbing!
He knew too well that he could not climb alone
Delegation was key for his path towards the throne
Dealing right to win the race
A mastermind masked with modest grace
Always walking with one foot set upon the gravestone
I do not believe that stars dictate our destiny
But there is much to learn from their history
By giving August a retrospect
I have grown profound respect
For this bleak yet beautiful, immutable part of me
Categories:
delegation, august, birthday, celebration, god,
Form:
Limerick
Little Santa Helpers
Santa has outsourced his services to child labourers from Bangladesh they
fit zero-sized through chimneys much easier and the leaner they are the
better they share full of joy in the globalised feast of winter communion
Detached they are from ‘wrongful’ beliefs and so much happier for their distant
faithful relation to Christmas plus they are used to half naked toil with
loin cloths draped in native design and fig-leafed in the wider scheme of migrant
extortion minimum wage wasted on them but they might get some
tips from little children on other sides of divides if those can catch them in glee
But then there are milk ‘Ho Ho Beer’ and biscuits by the fireplace laced with
incense and Prozac not licensed for young ones maybe but the booze as willing
sign of cross-culturalization is surely inclusive and a Peace offering sponsored by
‘Alcohol Without Borders’ while the odd trace of Ritalin keeps ordered control
Santa is not really burnt out but neo-liberal delegation is the vogue of the month
and post traumatic stress drones and hoovers on his sick note nevertheless
as his bonuses and shares float on Panamanian waters and now he needs a lungi
as well instead of the red coat extra large without doubt as he burps in the sand
The Bangladeshis meanwhile chirp in silent frost bitten nights but at least there
are soot and ashes no sunburn sometimes carrots with broom sticks thereafter
almost a year of ‘social’ benefits homely rest recuperation free time for Mohamed
They scrub brush and sand their dehydrated skins by the Ganges until they come
to accept the ‘Terms of their Trade’ bow to diversity’s splendour and discern what
is dirt and what their skin colour and it’s the latter that keeps them employed
28th November 2016
Categories:
delegation, abuse,
Form:
Free verse