Best Dig Poems
From the deep dark corners of my brain I strain to bring to the surface
the answers I've locked deep, so deep within...Like the matter inside lava in a volcano..my brain, OH !..It hurts, it hurts to dig deep.
I can't seem to reach deep enough for this stuff called wisdom to answer these tough questions I've faced, interlaced in the place where my brain is in this head that sits upon my shoulders.
There it sits like it serves the sole purpose of housing this delicate machine they call brain. Mine is filled with wisdom, but like a deserted kingdom that seems so desolate until it's needed. Then it comes to life like the city lights on a friday night. Flashing, flickering...what does it all mean, my eyes are burning the cogs are turning in this machine, questions are firing from the canons of life, the sounds are threatening my very wellbeing ! These questions need to be answered, to leave ignored is just not an option...they need to be sorted, sorted in order, there's too many questions awaiting an answer.. So I dig deep to search for that wisdom, don't let me down right now I need you, don't let me drown or I have to ask what is your purpose..Why do you sit there laying dormant while I am in torment !
I can't take anymore questions so I dig deep to awaken that wisdom, I need you right now to take care of these questions, that line up for answering - line up for battle. Ready to fight, they don't like wisdom- Wisdoms too dominant, like a warrior ready for war...A war in my brain, the hurt the strain.. I pay the price heavily for each one of these battles, when questions are resilient and don't want to be answered, combined with wisdom that won't take no for an answer. The battle is fierce, questions are running for cover, hiding in every corner and crevice- an annoying menace, that needs to be dealt with and brought tumbling down.. Wisdoms too staunch and won't back down.
The battle is bloody and takes a heavy toll, the rebellious questions heads begin to roll..out ooze the answers they've been guarding so tightly , not giving up lightly..but there they lay exposed and ready to be absorbed into the recesses of my brain...Wisdom wins out again !
Dig in Deep, Poet
9/7/2023
Life is for living, don't wait for the Grim Reaper?
Take your shower, have breakfast, dress, take a walk.
Breathe God's air in and out.
So much so that.....
With joy, you almost want to shout!
Have a chat with a good neighbor,
Tell another how very nice they look.
Get out of your head, stop pondering
That only you, are the outstanding best
Do say kind thar words soothe and elevate others.
See your smiling neighbor coming to you?
In his shiny electric wheelchair?
He lost both legs in a war.
Smiling so brightly and proudly,walking his dog.
Yes, you have a delightful, cordial chat?
And you realize that now, you have what it takes.
And you finally, a lovely poem do pen.
What's so dang hard about that?
Your if I can pen a poem, transformed like magic,,,
Into..not how, but the joy for …when!!
when he spoke
words broke like glass between his teeth
14 minutes past 8PM 7 weeks after the red river
in his brain ran almost dry
he the acidic and sullen shadow of his youth
turned to me
(one side of his face a landslide of flesh
frozen into freefall
thus i won't mimic the inarticulate sound of it)
look after your mother
and my ten year old self nodding
wishing i were not there
then she who had married this man to protect her
plus one boychild from a condemning Catholic family
and a rabid priesthood
having thus become a widow at 37
being only 5 feet high in her pumps
also as slim as a whippet
turned to drink dying quickly of a gastric ulcer
never mind her failing liver
no wonder
i turned out more angular then an open razor
biting every hand that fed body and mind
thinking that same hand would one day turn against me
as it usually did
but i unable to stop my breakneck race to personal destruction
until poetry found me wandering a bitter earth
it entering my soul one turbulent night wailing like
a hungry infant which i fed and carried for years
not knowing i needed it much more than it needed me
and so
we ate broken glass together until
words bled into red flowers floating upon a river
that flowed through my brain
Broken,beaten,blind and lost
All but a spark of hope left to keep warm
But dig and claw on bruised muscles, on broken limbs
Until the light day fills your sight
Left blinded no more
Dig
Until the soft fresh air blows the spark to a flame and ignites your will
Dig
Until the ground beneath is solid enough to stand
Walk,until the pain is mastered and stumbling ceases.
And you can say:
This will not be my grave.
Bring it!
Oooh yeah baby,
Kick and swing it!
swirl, sway,
just admit it
Sing it!
Let it go loudly
Dance and wing it!
move, groove,
just feel it
Dig it!
Tap your dance
Stamp and hit it!
Flic-flac
Just slam it
Throw it!
High as you can
Toss and flip it!
Tip-top
Just do it
One more time,
Encore it
Dance and play
For it's a big hit
Feel it
Love it
Share it
Live it!
***
Augustus 3, 2017
Copyright © Chris Green and Darren White
Burying dead bodies usually takes place
In fancy holes dug on some land space.
Most people dig those holes somewhere nice
But sometimes they don’t have a choice.
Some people burn dead bodies to ashes
And this really saves on available land spaces.
Sometimes dead bodies are buried at sea
And slowly sink into muck for eternity.
Other fancy holes are dug large enough,
For the removal of some valuable stuff.
Sometimes these holes are dug somewhere nice
And most times people don’t have a choice.
When all the valuable stuff’s gone offshore
The hole is back-filled and land space restored.
Today we can dig holes in the seafloor
Right through the eternal muck and more.
Holes should be dug to bury the dead
And to remove valuable stuff instead.
desire is two minds
overly eager to combine
erasing what's been lined
distorting yours and mine
passion is two souls
feeding on one another
two vital wholes
halving one another
truth is two spirits
embraced by harmony
each part perfectly fits
although there are many
love is two hearts
sharing a rhythm
one stops, the other starts
with a perfect hymn
I know what keeps you goin’
It’s the songs inside your head
When you close your eyes it’s the melody
And the words you see instead
So don’t ever lose your music
It’s your songs we love in their refrain
Don’t ya dig the music as you listen
It’s the song you’ll want to blame.
© Paul Warren Poetry
As soon as you can launch me outta here
away from these exploiting sons of btches lookin
ride on the back of the poor.
I speak for alot of folks when I say
Fuc you, greedy basterd do it yourself
Put those fucin degrees to use!
I got all decked out
Ready to meet some foxes
So I jumped in my Deuce and a quarter
And peeled out
At the party there were lots of skirts
The first girl I met had toys in the attic
Then a stone fox came my way
And made my day
We started rapping
And everything was cool
Then we began dancing
Soon we were making out
That party was a gas
Can you dig it
I was swapping spit with the lovely lass
But right now I got to split
----
1960's slang
Yellowed moonbeams flooded slantingly through the forest,
Crisscrossingly spearing and slicing the night,
Whilst throwing the foliage alight,
As I work to finish my task, brimming with fright.
Though familiar with the sight I behold
The moon ray-lit woods looked fresh and anew,
Whilst continuing to do as I’m told
And allowing my spade to strike true.
What of this spot, this hollow
If my body tires? Becomes spent?
Wanting to defy and not follow,
Ever knowing of his intent.
No choice but to labor to the bottom, the end
To bare my last, shaky breath.
For his gun will be quick to extend,
Making me give up the ghost and take death.
Nearing the last few spades of cold, forest ground,
Wondering if I’ll ever be found
Under a large soil mound,
Whilst tears trace down my face awaiting his guns resounding sound.
boring contest rules ~ dig it
***
Most games are well-grounded,
To earthen goals they can defeat.
While few rise above the horizon,
With constant volleys they can repeat.
The game elevates to new heights,
Gracefully reaching above it all.
As angelic figures fly beyond,
Earthbound shackles that seem small.
Although clear boundaries guide play,
There's no limit from what divides.
The mortal effort to touch the heavens,
Where the ethereal collides.
Can I now burrow that deep hole?
The place I know, so near the bank
of that one river where the leaves
near touch the water flowing slow.
That is where whispers talk to wind
where earthy fragrance soothes my soul
Can I dig deep, reveal the place
that brings me sleep, that gives me peace?
Where ripples gently kiss my feet,
where flowers smile at willows sad
to give them strength, so tenderly.
If I sit here for this last night,
cover my legs with stardust light,
can I be in this bed of clay?
Can I sleep there in peace, and stay?
***
April 12, 2017,
Iambic tetrameter,
Copyright © Darren White
If you could sneak a peek into my mind,
what confounding things you might find,
for there my darkest ponderings lay awake,
silent now for society's sake,
resting whilst consciousness reigns,
making notes of my Id's complaints,
those unsatisfied urges, those murky thoughts,
those suppressed battles I haven't yet fought,
the graphic conceptions ahead of this age,
searing passion and unbridled rage,
If you saw what I can see,
without a last glance, you would turn and flee from me.