Best Dignitary Poems
There’s no decorum or respect
Within the White House walls
And cameras let us witness
Some behavior that appalls.
Invite a foreign dignitary
Then berate, insult, accuse –
That’s the playbook for a bully
Desperate to be in the news.
Why would any other country,
After seeing that display,
Send a leader, knowing he or she’d
Be treated in that way?
Every day brings more examples
Of outrageousness and shock
Which, at one time, simply seemed like
Acts of bluster we would mock.
But the stakes have gotten higher
And if all the guardrails fail,
Someday writing such a poem just might
Have me end up in jail.
Is scamming an issue of morals or an issue of gullabilities, your emotions and kindness can be vulnerabilities. Beware of the four one nine, the code for scams, black money, virtual love, the psychology telegram. People have been taken out for their anonymous cohorts, the lure of money, underground fame is being played like a sport. Some economies thrive on internet fraud, it shows how humans and psychology are actually flawed. This simple brilliancy will prey on the unwary, signed contracts, fake contacts, some will even trick you to marry. Lottery scams, free kittens, a dignitary is in jail, but you can make triple whatever they’re asking you for bail. Money laundering, missing assets, is this a moral issue, or a deeper societal virus where malignant virtues are the brand new. Technological literate children in a perceived corrupt world, the future scammers, innovators, and investigators of this world.
Cold, abbreviated February,
host to nobel, famous politicians.
Day commemorating dignitary,
valentines addressed on loving missions;
Cupid's bow delivers executions.
Leap year makes your stay a little longer,
winter's freeze and ice a wee bit stronger.
Cynosure
Umm..cynosure... what does that mean?
Oh yes, I see...something supreme.
Like dignitary, celeb, sight;
a focal point, or nucleus.
A stunner, prodigy, limelight,
a treasure, magnate, omphalos.
A hero, luminary, ace,
centrality, big gun, big name.
A famous person, worthy place,
or major leaguer of some fame.
A star, a personality;
a spotlight, center of it all.
Exemplar and epitome;
an archetype, original.
Top brass, top dog, a spectacle,
a wonderment or quintessence.
An act of God, a miracle;
immortal, beauty, eminence.
Umm...cynosure...now understood.
To me, it means...superbly good.
Sandra M. Haight
~3rd Place~
Premiere Contest: Cynosure
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Judged: 07/01/2016
A dignitary, a friend, a father, a king
The only king that was born in a manger
And ended up as a manager
And now sits in the heavens
Making the earth his footstool
As the overall manager
That after now, anyone who still sees him as a stranger
Is already in danger
As a manager, he doesn’t have a P.A
Yet can never make mistakes
He is the only manager who does not need a coach
Before he can feature his mercy in your life’s tournament
In the league of champions or champions league
He is always at the top of the table
He is the only manager whose love for his fans is more concentrated than acid
Do you want to feel high?
Take him like your drink
Smoke him like your grass
Because he is the most high
In fact, that makes me call him my royal highness
I call him the faithful pastor
The first and last prophet
The origin and insertion of creation
The magistrate of our efficiency
Our burden bearer
Some call him the beginning and the end
But I call him
God at the beginning,
God at the end
And God in between
Cause he is the one who began the beginning
Yet did not begin in the beginning
Because the beginning couldn’t have begun
If the beginner just began in the beginning
With him, you can be sure that life is good
Because he is more reliable than LG
With him, you don’t need either Glo or MTN networks
To rule your world everywhere you go
You don’t need a face book page to like him
You don’t need a twitter account to follow him
You don’t need a Google map to search for him
You don’t need a blackberry pin to ping him
All you need to do is to subscribe to heavenly free BIS now
And enjoy free life’s unlimited data
His name is JESUS
Jesus is the key
And if Jesus is the key,
Then any life without him is titled “off key”.
I woke up this morning a little after four
with the Holy Spirit knocking loudly on my door
I hesitate to heed to the spiritual call
even though I was not sleepy at all
I rolled over on my tired side just to avoided going outside
But I couldn't neglect the Holy voice because of my selfish pride
I ventured outside at quarter to five to have my devotional hour
and I was captivated by a strong power
The street was bare and empty and the cold air quickly disappeared
I walked along the well lit street with the Holy Spirit embracing me
Something more powerful than me was guiding and leading me to my destiny
I prayed from the depth of my heart and tears that have been welled up for days
began flowing on the messy street clearing the way for a brand new day
I reached the end of the road and found a comfortable spot to unveil my heavy load
I stood behind a giant tree and allow it to cover me
then I pour out my whole heart to thee
I addressed the things that I hold so dear
and the challenges that I have faced over the years
All of a sudden cars sprang up everywhere beaming lights far and near
They drove up and down the road in a harmonious way
as if they where chaperoning a dignitary around the town
It was quite usual for the traffic to be so heavy
in a small community so early in the morning
The dispatchers hid quietly not far from me directing traffic from a tiny house
I moved closer into the bushes and camouflage myself among the trees
I blocked out the distraction and clinged to the trees around me
I became one with the tree and I felt a strong power descending upon me
I prayed for a while until a car start circling around looking for me
I emerged from the bushes and walked quietly on the bank and there it was
I stood over the drainage with light all over me
and the woman at the well emerged
I poured out my heart to the Almighty
And He finally restored my dignity.
Educated fools make rules that tell you and I what we should or should not do
Rules needed to continue to burry you under the edification of demons
To resurrect menus of abuse from a time of misuse
Just like Stalin and his socialistic science
A super human I mean ape is behind this
The majority wants to blind us letting us use our own binders
Manufacturing an army of one kinders
They say we are weak so they play finders keepers
Leaving man kind to turn into sheepish weepers
Destined to be believers
Enlightenment is no longer enticing us
Instead we just role the dice and cuss
Cause we are man made erected in a cave
Just born yesterday
An ancestral clock ticking no body feels the licking they are getting from there master
No more disaster no more devastation the majority stands on the sidelines awaiting
Blackened lips shoot out spit and all ears perk up to hear
Clear illumination shown in high definition
Wasting a generation still not raping but taking yes taking the tasty suckle youth
Not asking to write this new dictionary of hope
Im not a dignitary but I hold up my post
Not to boast shout outs closed
Putting on my cloak of quotes for awhile
If we off then we off lets go off in style
IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY - LXXXI - 81
IF ever I had a country, a country without even a single Shredding Machine
And if ever I were elected/nominated/appointed by the powers that be SPEAKER of the Lower House of Parliament whose power to shine however were to be curtailed by the Upper House’s sheen
A country where all laws were enacted without much heed to the rhyme nor reason of the Bard’s Stratford-upon-Avon’s mellifluous flow of theme
Where every legal analyst: Professor of law Attorney-at-Law entertained his or her own opinion as to what the Laws of the State: relating to the Chief Executive, Rules and Regulations of Proceedings in or out of officialdom: libels, torts, crimes, misdemeanours or even what the Constitution may mean
And if ever any elected official or foreign dignitary were to be invited or chose to invite himself whether by rights or not to address the House and read from a
« tele-prompter » or printed text that was obviously Ghost-written, I’d shred the Speech with my front-teeth and unkempt nails and jump up and down with glee as though I were dancing the polka on the printed pages as they most certainly blatantly comport ideas, words and expressions of some heinous GHOST come to tease, torture, detract, confound, contradict and condemn all that is decent in the human being which is not mean
And all this, so be it, I swear before the populace I can never be GUILTY of breaking the LAW should I shred the words of some GHOST who lies, distorts, turns on head some or all the TRUTHS held to be sacred in my Nation’s History since no ghost may rightfully sue me (Sleep tight, Peach of a Teach !) for having even stolen a measly red, yellow or green pea, pod or bean
And this, even if I were to be put through the piranha jaws of the Republic’s Shredding-Immigration-Machine
Even if I never ever had no country worthy of being shredded and pulverized in the Wall of Black Holes’s grinding-machine
(c) T. Wignesan, Paris, February 8, 2020
I'm Arun Joy
For discomfort you shall see
Sombre, but I am ploy
Never but I am 'we'
Deem me arrogant for thine dreams I purview
Gleaming relevant in sorrow streams I eschew
In the class of chemistry a girl shimmers in awe
She pass all so splendidly like a pearl dimmers in sprawl
A sensitive heart of tears
For the bearer you seclude
Presence set apart of fears
As the stranger you include
Lest I forget the quaint Professor Anup Nair
An ode beset for being, never, doctrinaire
I love to be loved
But for a momentary gleam
A dove from above sparkles
In a dignitary stream
I'm Arun Joy
But seriously, you want me to do what?
These words erupted out of a startled mouth
As with as much dignitary I could muster
I looked at him as though he was uncouth
The words that caused all this kafuffle
….. he wanted to holiday in the jungle of Peru
Travelling native, expected me to agree
without a murmur, well would you!!!!
DISCOVER THE AMAZON JUNGLE BY FOOT, BOAT AND FROM THE TREE TOPS
This advert has caused the storm,
from a dry cosy room looks a pleasant idea
when dunking a biscuit in his coffee he slops
pictures look lovely and genuinely sincere
doesn’t show the rain that makes this jungle so
doesn’t show the wildlife, reptiles and giant spiders
cant run from these, nowhere to go
I read on the internet of its beauty and fauna
let me think about it was my reply
When my temper had cooled I said
Maybe we should give it a try
That’s good he said cos it’s all booked for and paid.
Penned 1st February 2017
Santa arrived on our street yesterday
spewing considerable exhaust
while riding atop a parade of firetrucks and vans,
floodlit like a nativity display at night,
full sirens and blaring Christmas carols
competing for my Fetal Alcohol daughter's rapt attention.
Santa rolls at stately parade pace,
while ever more impatiently
my troubled daughter jumps and eagerly awaits to pounce.
For me,
much too soon
Santa spots her leaning out our screen door,
disembarks with great royal dignitary pace
to walk the long quest for prey
on our front porch.
As I feared,
after an unconvincing HoHoHo?,
without waiting for introductions,
Santa goes straight to his task at hand:
What do you want for Christmas, little girl?
I don't know
Haven't thought about it.
I'm sure it's not a stinky and loud Santa parade.
Anyway, I'm still working on what I'm giving for Christmas.
That's awesome.
I don't hear a lot of that.
It's not awesome!
It's complicated!
My dad said I should only give gifts that by giving them
I will also receive gifts.
I'm not sure I have any gifts like that.
Last year you asked for an American Girl doll.
Yes, but this year I'm working on giving American Princess me,
instead of settling for your plastic dolls.
Won't you need costuming and make-up
to become the All American princess?
You would think so,
but my dad says they don't meet his gift-it-forward rule
to recycle and receive back.
So what do you think you're going to get,
or give,
or both, I guess?
although diesel-fueled Santa's feeling red
about green co-redemptive gifts,
and I do still have far to go.
And you left your truck idling.
I'm leaning toward kindness,
'cause princesses are always kind,
but my dad is asking for greater wisdom,
which is something he actually does need.
And I know you don't have any to offer
or you wouldn't begin and end Christmas
by asking people what they want,
instead of asking us what we have to give
that might make life feel a little less snarky
come New Year's Day,
while your truck continues to stink up the neighborhood.
Santa returned to his royal red firetruck
somewhat faster than he had arrived
on my wise American princess daughter's
green front porch.
To the pale green light of a new dignitary overhead....
To the hypothetical dawn....
To the fae mercurial sand....
To the violet beat of the gift of the drum....
To the falcon of stone....
To the when, the where, the why, and the which....
To the thirteenth day....
My deepest regards.
when the “dignitary,”
the president or the lesser puppet
stands down from their post
to “write” their book &
blab on the lecture circuit,
those who remember the bloodshed
of which their administrations
were responsible
make their way to the front
to grab the mic & point the finger
at the figurehead of
atrocity,
the button pushing, torturous
unfeeling robots,
who continue to lead our world
into
catastrophe---
these war criminals will not be
exemplified at another
Nuremberg,
for there will never be another---
s/he gains immunity from the
world’s ability to imprison them &
keep them from profiting after
they leave their post,
by the shaking of the bloody & dirty
hands
of their crony counterparts,
those co-conspirators
in the quest to keep elite order
as the rest of us fester---
but when one sees them in public,
when one speaks up against them,
the words flowing from your mouth
will be caught on all the phone video
cameras
in the audience &
their slimy reactions will also be seen,
then being broadcasted on the net---
so keep up the good work!
your finger pointed in disgust inspires
the rest of us!
It seems to me,
declared the preacher
to the distracted music Teacher,
that sacred MonoTheism
smugly explains
and exalts AnthroOwner Privilege
to ordain,
buy and sell
Earth's health-care rights.
It may sound to we,
sang the woke musician
refraining
and training Her preacher,
that rabid AnthroSupremacy
explains
and expects a cooperative
bipartisan resolution
to colonizing historical problems
of Straight
as patriotic nails
Monotheistic
monocultural
monopolistic
White privileged
WealthCarelessness
about Trust
and Integrity
and Compassion
across social Top
and cultural Bottom
eco-political divides
As if our Original Prime Relationship
were Win/Lose traumatized,
punishing solar experiences
anticipating vengeful lunar justice
Divinely jealous
and autocratic intent
of a tyrant society
terrorist military
dogmatic dignitary
fascist ecocidal obituary.
And,
going in the opposite direction,
compassionate
win/win co-invested
ecopolitical co-********
Passionate election
sounds more pleasant
and health resilient,
green wealth
peak and deep sacred experience
co-arising dipolar emergent
win/win selection,
co-resurrecting redemption.
Which is why,
revised the preacher
with the music Teacher,
a universally individual CreatorMuse
we remake in the imaginative images
of divine unitarian AnthroSupremacy
LeftBrain verbal dominant
baritone-bass resonant
sacred segregated Privilege
to pursue economic monopolies
and political patriarchal rightwing
societies
and sensual/sexual binary religious
cultures
and soulless monotheistic
monopolistic autocracies
Hierarchies of power
empires made of golden ManStrong
Might is bright
and not so much light
Resilience,
like transparency,
gone somewhat flat
of integrity's best health wealth
less dour
and sour
and sore
Green/blue sacred fresh
neurosensual
Wholistically Open
Sacred BlackFull/WhiteEmpty
Integrity's healthiest co-arising wealth
win/win natural/spiritual
ego/eco-systemic potential
universal EarthTribe
inside/outside
co-gravitating grace.
Meandering digression as you ran to your man cave.
Full of contempt, with no one to save.
Learning to differentiate your burdensome emotional baggage.
While I sit by the stove top cooking some cabbage.
A tattered room full of mold and mildew.
No perfume, to dignify your smell.
Of bellowing hate while your false dignitary acted like a tall tale.
As, I stood all alone opening the mail.
Development detachment of devoid
While I played my loud music to drown out the noise.