Best Deriding Poems
Both curious and wishing I could meet
this man renowned surrounded by mystique,
I'd wondered if he practiced in deceit,
so there I was to listen to him speak.
How strange the things I’d heard! What to believe?
He seemed so plain of dress and countenance!
Perhaps because the common man’s naive
they sought him for uncommon sustenance.
For many came with hungered souls to fill,
while some said he would lead them all astray.
Deriding him, they baited him, but still. . .
He would not be confounded, and that day
He touched a blind man’s lids and made him see.
Then Jesus smiled, and peace enveloped me.
For "The Faith Healer" Poetry Contest of
Kai Michael Neumann
I can’t rid of the bags under my eyes
The crowfeet despise, all were lies,
Conjured was an illusion of you
Throughout my groping confusion
evasive, flimsy
A-m-o-r-p-h-i-c, innuendos
I was subjected to your derision
dissing me relentlessly
deriding my appearance,
disparaging my intellect
as I stumbled and fell into the abyss
Mocking doesn’t suit my countenance
My lips desert dry, thirsty, parched
An amazon no longer beats its drum
My buoyant nature now laden with coarsened shroud
Leaving a cardboard moon deprived of its shine
Stars like candles blown out one by one
No use waiting for the rising Sun
The end of world does come,
stopped spinning neath heavy ebon clouds
Expectations unreal
All zeal gone, listless is my spirit
along with my illumination
Now you see me
unmasked in raw anguish
I d
r
o
o
p
jowls hang from endless
torment endured
like the drenched and cold, wounded hawk
taken flight, eagle-eyed, a warrioress
more determined and bold, traveling on
with unlimited range
and self-esteemed
This bird,
you
c
a
n
n
o
t c h a n g e
The reigning monarch's hammered earth,
my foot upon controlling girth
nature alone encircles worth
as I go on to capture hurt!
Oh stop, the chiding from the Church
the fault deriding my sake's birth
the fool abiding in the lurch
does mock it all, while I research!
Oh stop the hour, but yet occur
my soul's fate's prism, without slur
and stop those moments when you were
my truest love, without demur!
That snow that melteth down the stream
doth barter not but by degree
and shares its focus merrily
then also stop ~ the poet's fee
must focus rhyme . . . eternally!
HARMONY 69
The night of twelfth December `69
knotted together an icy storm wind
that whipped False bay`s waves
to white -frilled blankets.
Thunderclaps against primal rocks
resonated through a ghettoe of glowing tents
on a dark, rough ,bushy patch .
Rising plaintively above the din
of drums and flapping canvas,
creole strains solicited the capricious gods
for a clement Cape .
Love songs , sweet like wine
would even tittilated mermaid`s melons,
stranding them breathless, with tails scaled.
In my sixteenth tempestuous year,
I was sickened and sullied, spoiling for a fight
with that ever- prying, ever-lying police-state
denying us
dividing us
deriding us
ripping us
whipping us
in an all-pervasive racist propaganda storm
Harmony,was forced ethnic relocation right there
in a stamp-size sea-resort next to a stinking dump.
Our yearly anticipated salty baptism,
fouled for a full ten years,
dunked in fascist soil
of a false bay with a real bite….
rubbing coarse salt in our opened wounds
Rubbing it in the flayed
William, my sire, of the black turf belly
Rubbing it in the lashed
Maxie , my ma , of white-on-black graft
Rubbing it in the spurred
Dot Adams, my oracle , of the pearled-truth tongue
imprisoned to a silent ninety-day solitary confinement. .
Yes, a full two hundred scar-studded waxes
avidly saluting the wretched who rose in revolution
drowning exploiters in the oppressed`s precious blood
Algeria whilst raped,unveiling herself,
firing fear into bared French fascism
exploding the myth of a benevolent colonialism.
“Lumumba will guide the Kongo to freedom”
grandpa agitated hopefully as revolutionary Patrice,
our dark prince of peace
died on the bloodied butts
of neo-colonial carbines.
My seven-year heart burst
in anger and pain.
A companiable heart`s balance
tilted with unease at justice , unhinged.
the periodic uprisings of people in far-flung regions
against the arrogance of anglo-saxon imperialism
salted my youth with the tears of broken children,
their blood ever spattering my angry brow.
Potatoes
drink beer after beer
slouch on couches
formulating bad breath opinions
second guessing
deriding
insinuating
opinionating
whining
baby crying
except for Trump
and variable other
con artists
most
bankrupt
or poor
yet
they know what's best
do this
and don't do that
you are a fool
can you not spell they say
dyslexic millionaires
don't really care
sending poetry into space
On the day that Lord Jesus was crucified
so were two thieves on His left and His right!
One stayed unrepentant right to the very end,
the other did receive new insight!
Now Gestas,
the one placed to His left,
most defiantly railed out loud-
"If Thou Be Christ Save Thyself And Us!",
this he said before a deriding crowd!
All the while the soldiers were mocking Christ,
and vinegar they wanted Him to drink!
Dysmas was watching and taking all this in,
this view gave him much to rethink!
"Dost Thou Not Fear GOD"
he asked Gestas,
for he was having some deep second thoughts!
Obviously his life passed before his very eyes,
knowing his predicament he could change not!
All the while,
Jesus, between these two
was putting His own death on hold.
Here there was one more soul to save
and this moment would forever be told!
"Thou Art In The Same Condemnation",
Dysmas said-
his new insight had made him say so.
Jesus all the while,
I believe He did smile,
for the sound of repentance
He did know!
"For We Receive The Due Reward Of Our Deeds"-
an epiphany Dysmas did receive.
Here was a man also hanging on a cross
who realized he did now believe!
Now Jesus,
smiling, turned His head to the right
when the next thing He heard was this-
Dysmas said what was true from his changed heart,
"This Man Has Done Nothing Amiss!"
The smile in the eyes of Jesus said it all,
when the next words from the thief to His right,
were....
"Lord, Remember Me When Thou Comest Into Thy Kingdom"
and it was about the sixth hour of that night!
The love of this Man named Jesus
with no regard for His own plight did rise,
when He looked Dysmas right into his eyes
and said-
"Today Shalt Thou Be With Me In Paradise!"
Such were the last moments in time recorded
of Jesus and these two thieves!
Whatever one's done....
even if wrong in life,
"Paradise" will be attained
if one believes!
(WTA-IV)
Baking, broiling, blindingly bright, blistering sun,
Super scorching, sweltering, sizzling sand
The kabob that is my body skewered, searing
Deceptively blue skies devoid of any deliverance
No cavalry of clouds coming to convey compassion
Rising balloon-like bubbles of hot air
Causing distant objects to ripple and dance
Shimmering in the atmospheric boil
Falling to my knees, I detect in the distance
Glimmering patches of blue and green—Mirage!
A maniacal mime of molten mockery
Deriding my dreadful demise
"The Hope Thieves"
Colours change chameleon fast
The Hope Thieves
steal dreams to make up
for their own lost lives and fast-draining
upside-down hour glass pasts
In their hearts a million silent cries
In their minds a million worlds collide
Lost, cunning and sly, they drink up pure essence of Hope and Trust
like blood sucking vampires patrolling the crowded underpasses and
the jungled overgrown potent gardens of trysting rose-glassed lovers and soothsaying sage-green poets
They exist as shadow people dark and full of shallow notes
In their lives a million reasons why
In their world all doors shut inside
They exist on the outside
Looking for the key to open their own home doors wide
Lost husbands and brides, petulant, deriding The Others,
Ghosts of romantic scribes finding freedom in wide open Blue Skies
The Hope Thieves
steal dreams to make up
for their own lost lives
Colours change chameleon fast
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
https://youtu.be/rQiyyoLF05A
Emika/Take Me for a Ride
“Becoming a vampire means completely changing your identity.”
https://youtu.be/jG6s7W9yG_c
Emika/Mouth to Mouth
“The strength of the vampire is that people will not believe in him.”
In Defeating You, I Slay The World You Live In
Stoning you, I slay you , cut into you
with hatred in my rapid surging heart
Such is very deserved and more is due
I try to break your body all apart
As you cry for sweet mercy try to think
you that lived and wallowed in darkest sin
Gleefully you drove me into the brink
as you grew the hate that I once lived in
Beg, graven coward for any relief
as I break another bone for sweet joy
Deriding my every moral belief
claimed power over me as a mere boy
You shame me so, my dark and evil twin
I defeat you, sink the world you live in
R. J. Lindley, 1973
Poetry Form: Sonnet
Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line:
10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 111
Gratitude attitude grow
Peacock attitude away throw
Though temptations line up in a row
Pointless, heartless any soul you to hurt
Under no circumstances invective blurt
Because so doing grows you curt
Achieving trinkets, reaping limpets
As you blow trivial trumpets
Deriding, riding, restless strumpets
In your city where contempt
Fashionable in an objectional attempt
To parade low grade hair unkempt
For aeons under neon lights
Illuminating prudish, brutish fights
Meant to ignore the snore of plights
Street kids endure under the watch
You observe at close quarters to catch
Miscreants and recidivists who latch
Onto corruption
To catalyze the eruption
So blatantly witnessed in the disruption
Probity suffers as wafers
Vanish into thin air when quaffers
Poke fun at a senile souse who suffers
Ravages of loneliness
You regret in the context of silliness
Egrets and open secrets endure as holiness
Suffers its biggest reverse
To learn men of the collar deemed so averse
To child molestation in vows so diverse
Embarrass your church
Leaving doubting Thomases in the lurch
As for meaning and direction they search
Wondering if hypocrisy in this crisis
Should call and recall paralysis
To promote or demote dialysis
As a cure for the malaise
Believers suffer in the craze
That undermines set standards in a maze
In which a plethora of anguish
You bear as you strive to distinguish
Reality from fiction. Your faith don’t extinguish
Or else you throw baby together with bath water
In the church and in your quarter
To deny you opportunities for malfeasance to alter.
Step aside, Mr. Gore, as the world's people rebel
Despite your predictions, Earth is not as hot as hell
We took your global warnings seriously at first
But for your dire forecasts, we no longer thirst
UN scientists who'd backed up your warnings
Now say there's no evidence the planet is warming
Instead, a mini ice age raps on a frosty door
A whiteout winter lingers; snow still covers Earth's floor
Was it all a ruse to propel yourself to the spotlight?
As the blizzards wreak havoc, you've fallen from our sight
And worse, we are left to wonder why you paid no heed
To historical cycles that made your theories weak
Prehistoric species fell during a period of heat
And proof of past ice ages are preserved in Mammouth meat
So please do us a favor and stay, as now, in hiding
Your doom and gloom prophecies we are now deriding
With each shovel of unprecedented winter snow
Angry Americans shake their heads and want to know
If it was the speaking engagements and book sales
That led you to express your global warming wails
Or did corporate backers of your "green energy" business
Lead you to attempt to spoon feed us utter nonsense
Pollution is of great concern to all with conscience
But attributing climate cycles to it simply made no sense
The UN scientists now say they've lost all supporting data
Belief in "global warming" has been tossed back at ya
I've had enough of the usless drivel, hypersenitivity and endless snivels
We're more fulfilled I hear so often, yet the fruit on show to me seems rotten!
A girl of 9 cut down by a gun, floods of drugs; engineered and spun..'
Borderless war, we're doing well.' No father's for many; childhoods of hell.)
Mothers are sidlined, (the state is all) whatever's dictated now thats the call.'
Dress like a mummy.' Would that be safest? I'm not surprised lifes devestated.'
I'm writing now not as I would.' Joy is proscribed fewer smiles in the hood.'
It is a challenge, just holding your nerve, anti-sense; the current trend and verve.'
Why not slash your throat, and drink, to health.? Calling it, as sense by stealth?
The reason most aren't 'satisfied', no matter the volumes of goods and pride.'
The word and act, ( are of satan derived ) you feed the beast, it eats you inside
And spills it's driven reasonless; cargo, deflating human worth, from each get-go.'
It's all community and culture I hear, while unity is shattered and nations fear.'
Is fear a commodity? Despair a road? Seems so from watching the waiting goads
The social whip, the endless quips, deriding stability as a worm in wood slips'
I say culture, centuries old; should be valued, not cheapened; diluted sold.'
All the the while, bellowing loud, that cultures multi, can unite the crowds.'
It's such non-sense, as we all know.) Yet showman and women just go and go.'
The tanks half empty, it's the theme that's chosen; to chill our blood, reality frozen.'
SCORNED ELEPHANT
Squat and stuck
On the flat wetted
Skid-streaked take-off strip
Snub-nosed Jumbo sprawls about dissipated
Under the beery stares of uncouth deriding youth.
Swine scorn a pearl, greedily grubbing for acorns.
How can they know lustre outlives lust?
Their ignorant grunts are taken for granted.
Prima ballerina now she’ll dance
Gaily gaining speed she’ll start to prance
Leaping up the air will free her swift
Graceful strength not seen but felt in lift
Two wings full spread to soar in pride
Shimmering sheen of pure pearl
Diminishing sight, the freedom girl
Fast bound to America by knots untied.
...............................................................
Note.
Observng people in a foreign airport, mocking American values, I saw the Jumbo jet as the symbol of US life. First verse is unrhymed for the foreigners, second verse is rhymed with run-on lines for the American values - freedom and untied knots.
Mechanically inquisitive
Draped on neon tape
Absent mentality shadowing
Of ill-mannered wonder
Faceless stammering fallacies
Covering all in suffusion
Supposition oppressing
The veracity of facts
Bogus conclusions drawn
Upon a cracking rudimentary
Deriding night crawlers
Mocking the anguish
In hollering vestige
A feint of exuberance
Compels a nauseated anger
Griping my throat from the pit
A retaliating strike
Against this disease spreading
Mockery of life destroyed
Zipped and departing
In a blue flashing anticlimax
Mute eyes falling to asphalt
A revelation of mortality
The astonishment fading
In shoulder shrugged releasing
Disbanded heavy frustration
A barbaric yearning to behold
The dark car fades into the night
Liberating unnamed martyred
Silently dignified
Faceless retreating to window barred safety
The street again quiet and empty
Lulling the city back to sleep…
In self fabricated security
I had hoped to beat the violent storm's shooting hail,
struggling through falling branches, some broken and some whole;
my mutt with a rigid tail growled steadily and pinned his teeth to my jeans,
and I stuck in mud, vainly tried to break loose, but nobody heard my screams.
Trucks loaded with tar drove by and the burning smell made me terribly sick,
someone thought I was the farm's scarecrow and threw a beer can at me,
and he even hissed and cursed with a deriding tone for my disheveled shape;
I waved like humans do, but he thought the gusts had shaken my hands with frenzy.
Lucky me it wasn't winter, the warmest wind slapped my unconsoled face,
naughty quails flew over to pick strawberries hanging from my torn hat;
all of a sudden a few became a herd, and my body was being mouled into pieces,
and before I turned into rags and bruises, the farmer came running with his rake.
And I stuck in mud, I yelled for help, then all the birds flew away with discontent,
the middle-aged farmer introduced himself with his sourthern friendliness;
what would I have cared about his hospitality, if he hadn't pulled me out of the dirt,
and hadn't taken me straight to the shower, and given me some clean clothes?
This was my immediate need, and he saw it in my disgusted mood and slow thought,
and with his witty Tennessee accent, he addressed me as sir as if I were his officer superior;
respectable and kind, without prejudice for a yankee, he picked me up without effort,
and singing a country tune, he lied me down on the back seat without slamming the door.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci