Best Disabuse Poems
"Happy Easter To You!", is the greeting I hear them shout!
Alas, I just lamely roost here, brood, ponder and pout!
I've worked for weeks making eggs and I'm all tuckered out!
All this hoopla about rabbits, I can really do without!
Me, my mom, aunts, nieces and innumerable distant cousins,
Have been producing eggs by the gross and by the dozens.
Every Easter 'tis those wily bunnies earning the gratitude,
Leaving me and my kin with a very fractious attitude!
Moms send their kids to rob the eggs from 'neath our breast,
Telling them the rabbits made them - this I vehemently protest!
I'm thinking of a sitdown strike come Lent next year,
To frustrate those crafty varmints with a message loud and clear!
The kids make appalling designs on the beauties we produce,
And even tint our chicks in lurid hues, adding to the abuse!
The rabbits get all the glory and stir up all this commotion!
They don't lay eggs! I'll disabuse folks of that silly notion!
If I sound somewhat frustrated, well I reckon I am,
As those cunning scoundrels perpetuate their mythical scam!
Us chickens will just have to press on with our usual grace.
The truth will out, then we'll "cluckle" at the egg on their face!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Placed No. 3 in A Chicken Poem In Memory of Armano Aurocano Rock Star
ON LOOKING AT SCHILLER’S SKULL
by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Here in this charnel-house full of bleaching bones,
like yesteryear’s
fading souvenirs,
I see the skulls arranged in strange ordered rows.
Who knows whose owners might have beheaded peers,
packed tightly here
despite once repellent hate?
Here weaponless, they stand, in this gentled state.
These arms and hands, they once were so delicate!
How articulately
they moved! Ah me!
What athletes once paced about on these padded feet?
Still there’s no hope of rest for you, lost souls!
Deprived of graves,
forced here like slaves
to occupy this overworld, unlamented ghouls!
Now who’s to know who loved one orb here detained?
Except for me;
reader, hear my plea:
I know the grandeur of the mind it contained!
Yes, and I know the impulse true love would stir
here, where I stand
in this alien land
surrounded by these husks, like a treasurer!
Even in this cold,
in this dust and mould
I am startled by an a strange, ancient reverie, …
as if this shrine to death could quicken me!
One shape out of the past keeps calling me
with its mystery!
Still retaining its former angelic grace!
And at that ecstatic sight, I am back at sea ...
Swept by that current to where immortals race.
O secret vessel, you
gave Life its truth.
It falls on me now to recall your expressive face.
I turn away, abashed here by what I see:
this mould was worth
more than all the earth.
Let me breathe fresh air and let my wild thoughts run free!
What is there better in this dark Life than he
who gives us a sense of man’s divinity,
of his place in the universe?
A man who’s both flesh and spirit—living verse!
To The Muse
by Friedrich Schiller
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I do not know what I would be,
without you, gentle Muse!,
but I’m sick at heart to see
those who disabuse.
Keywords/Tags: Goethe, Schiller, German, Germany, translation, skull, bones, body, charnel, house, grave, best friend, friendship love, funeral, souls, soulmate, ghosts, spirit, flesh, dead, death, shrine, divinity, universe
Inner child, forever confused?
Puzzled by alcohol misused.
His angry dad when so infused,
Did with hand, belt and bat abused.
Inner child, cruelly accused,
With arms and hips then deeply bruised.
His ‘self’ reduced and made diffused,
Mental pain left talents unused.
Inner child, who was once enthused,
Broken by violence, excused.
Mind distorted by truth refused,
Shrouded by lies mum circumfused.
Inner child is with hope transfused
And, by sound help, self-love infused.
Where visceral doubt, once oozed,
This inner child now disabused.
(Disabuse: To persuade someone that a belief is mistaken)
Dedicated to the Rev. Antony Barraclough, whose spiritual guidance and humanity, enabled me to find hope and peace among the living.
Those that belong to God go to a much better place
For such as these - there’s always plenty of space.
Those that depart from us do not have regret
For such as these are blessed - lest we forget.
Those that are heaven-bound shall rest in peace
For such as these shall never truly decease.
Let not the tears confuse nor the fears disabuse
For such as these are the obtuse - with denial profuse.
Let not your dirge disturb the peace of the Divine sojourn
For such as these are in Christ reborn…you vainly mourn.
Let not your hearts dispute the souls that The Lord revives
For such as these journey to find the ‘rest’ of their lives.
Those that grieve must have faith and believe
For such as these; the key to Paradise will receive.
Those left behind must trust in the Lord - the One Great
For such as these will find that their dear departed await.
Those that remain strong, will surely see things through
For such are the children of God - just like me and you!
Today, when I'm in search of news, seems no honest place to choose
No matter where my surfing lands, my wits are placed in biased hands
Facts and lies chewed in a blender, served up smooth for their agenda
Left or right, it makes no matter, what's dispensed is poisoned chatter
Truth that's twisted, then opined, meant to sway the sheepish mind
Oblique perspectives rife with flaws, varnished clean by righteous cause
Intent to impart the forthright soul, with their false brand of vitriol
They all cede news is "compromised", but entirely by the OTHER guys
So where can I seek news for me - outspoken and propaganda-free?
That's the sad, disheartening twist - trustworthy news does NOT exist
Thus, my New Year's pledge will be to waste that wasted time on ME
Consider last year's news a curse, and pray it won't get any worse
You see, with all that garbage hurled, WATCHING it won't change the world
But trading time spent on the news for kind pursuits and daily truths,
Might turn that hatefulness to mirth, (in my little corner of the Earth)
For bringing worldly changes nearer, starts with that guy in the mirror
So my resolution's to disabuse, and not waste '18 ... on the "news".
* Re-worked and submitted on January 3, 2018, for the "New Year" Poetry Contest, Janice Canerdy, Sponsor. *
My inner monster lurks around.
Amid my anxieties, it can be found.
What I believed is hard to face,
Is where trauma finds a hiding place.
It could evade, disguise, and get loose.
This is the time to confront; disabuse.
Only I can set me free,
Transcending this horrific grasp on me.
I sneak a look from behind my screen,
Allowing this part of me, feared, to be seen---
This monster I created; as both strong and mean.
Carved out by a child, routinely chastised
Finally, its power and soul to be demised.
I am powerless,
The drug I can't disabuse ...
Addicted ... to YOU.
Mike and his father went grocery shopping.
Mike, age 4, chooses a tuna meal fish can.
Since his hands were full as he was swapping.
Mike opts to put the tuna in his pocket as a man.
A while later, once Dad has paid for the goods.
While they depart the store, an alarm alludes.
Mike looks surprised and reaches for his wallet.
"The tuna fish!" "I forgot about this!" in my pocket.
The dad intends to pay for and buy the tuna fish.
But Mike, who is sincere, insists on fulfilling his wish.
Maturely, Mike declares, "I had it with me."
I'm sorry, Dad, but this is my responsibility.
Daddy bows down and gazes at his son in awe.
Startled at how fast his son is learning the law.
Mike grins at Dad and gives him a hug and kiss.
Don't you and Mom show me and my brother this?
Dad gives his son $3 for tuna fish promptly.
Mike hits the shop as a guard calls the cops calmly.
At check-out, I missed giving my dad the tuna fish.
I forgot it in my pocket while carrying a lot of my wishes.
The alarm then reminded me as we were leaving.
My apologies for taking it; I hope I'm not deceiving.
In no way did I intend for it to happen.
I'm back to pay for it; my trust isn't as misshapen.
The safety officer and cashier accept his excuse.
He was able to pay as there was no disabuse.
They tell him that real intent results in sincere action.
Boy, you stood up and appreciated the reaction.
Written: May 3rd, 2023
and when she saw that vagrant man
the gears all clicked; she had a plan
to share his footsteps for a span
and then as was her style
thinking this life was his to choose
not being one to disabuse
I watched her buy some brand new shoes
to go the extra mile
she walked beside, but what’s a shame
she didn’t even get his name
close she was, yes, close she came
yet missed it all the while
The first few years of life
is little different
than death or dreamless sleep
There is nothing we can recall
as if we didn’t exist at all
events failing to stick
like an omelet sliding perfectly
from a Teflon pan onto a plate
or sand slipping
through splayed fingers
Then for a time there are
fleeting flashes of cognizance
captured like faded photographs
pasted on the fragile pages
of an old scrapbook
sans captions to provide context
Next we simply ‘are’
with no fanfare
as if we’ve always been
no light bulb of realization
no line of demarcation
believing that we matter
in the scheme of things
which is when our sorrow begins
the world proceeding as it spins
as it did before our birth
and will continue to do after our end
to disabuse us of that naïve notion
The phrases lurch unkempt and trite.
The meter’s wrong, iambs lack grace.
One rarely ever gets it right,
and just like that, it falls in place.
The meter’s wrong, iambs lack grace
like two left feet’s unhappy dance;
success seems purely happenstance.
One rarely ever gets it right,
consuming vast amounts of time.
The process lacks both reason, rhyme.
And just like that, it falls in place.
Of brilliance, I must disabuse;
I simply want to slap the muse.
Is it ‘friendship’ you proffer (to strangers who ask)
If you’re ‘sap for sad stories,’ deny other’s truth,
If you’ve something to barter, a ‘twit’ for ‘****’ thought, (1)
Good advice you call ‘currency,’ aids in some plot
In which you stand to prosper, a carnival booth
Where a kiss costs a dollar (though courage needs flask?) (2)
Does your friendship have ‘value’ that isn’t a gift?
Might a balance sheet’s ledger suggest the dream’s lost
Of a meaningful friendship, all effort’s in vain?
Was the fault first on their side, did you cause the pain?
Expectations burn friendships; hope withers with frost,
CO2 kills man’s dreams (yes, earth’s continents drift!) (3)
Can you ‘benefit’ others and not be their friend?
Might the fool you forgive with Christ’s love, save your soul?
You are nobody’s friend when you call ‘facts’ fake news, (4)
When the truths you would dictate are just your foul views.
A friend welcomes dissent if persuasion’s its goal
When your vote screws another, you vote the world’s end!
It is not my world view that your vote should not count,
I would not be your King, much less have you be mine!
But I’ll not be coerced; Your ‘truth’ carries more weight?
Are you’re sure that it’s right? You find honor in hate
As you threaten my life? Disabuse me, that’s fine!
Is a friend whore, your slave? Want to live? Sir, dismount! (5)
Brian Johnston
9th of December in 2019
Poet’s Notes:
(1) A reimagining of the older phrase ‘tit for tat’ (a ‘quid pro quo’
if you are a Trump worshiper!), i.e., “I’ll be an idiot for sex!”
(2) It is hard for even a pervert to kiss a pig! But alcohol helps!
(3) It seems that all science looks suspicious and magical,
to the uninformed!
(4) Trump Quote on ‘Fake News!”: “You know why I do it? I do it
to discredit you all and demean you all so that when you write
negative stories about me, no one will believe you.” Spoken off-
camera during a 60 Minute interview with Lesley Stahl! I believe
Lesley Stahl to be a woman of unswerving integrity. Can any
Republican say that (with a straight face) about Donald Trump?
(5) Please do not rape others just because you are in a position
that you dream enables you to do so with impunity!
Go on, redouble, and write a great Rondeau;
Get out your best pen and call on your muse.
Let your light shine like Deliverance banjo;
The Lord gave you gifts He wants you to use.
Sure it’s a challenge, but that’s no excuse.
Stop thinking it’s hard or put off till tomorrow;
That’s an old devil you must disabuse.
Go on, redouble, and write a great Rondeau.
It’s best if you have a great topic, although
Silly works sometimes; you’ve nothing to lose.
Pick what you know, and then let all else go;
Get out your best pen and call on your muse.
It’s nothing to dread; get fired up, enthused!
Mull word selection like a fine Bordeaux.
Pull out the stops; let the spirit infuse.
Let your light shine like Deliverance banjo.
That opening phrase sets the stage for the show.
Selection’s important for rhyme pairs you choose;
Picking the wrong ones: Redouble’s deathblow.
The Lord gave you gifts He wants you to use.
A firework’s lifeless till you light the fuse;
Sparks start to fly and the world’s all aglow.
Write with a flair using bold, vibrant hues.
The muse won’t desert you; now paint a Van Gogh.
Go on, redouble!
The redamancy flowed from within,
jumping down the line,
the nacarat sun;
blinding the ones alive,
listen to the canorous sounds;
blowing in the wind,
even though they are flagitious,
their nature seems forced,
how vociferous they can be;
lacking intrinsic will,
dripping with such disabuse,
we are fairly full of commination;
thus, we must sashay in the other direction,
the dreadful dream of flying free,
receiving nothing, yet staying fain;
their misery is effable at best,
dropping left, flipping right,
their beginning was left behind;
deep within the past of time,
any and all forgetting their Elysian minds.
If I have to leave you, it won't be my choice,
But a desperate move by a man with no voice
In the judgments 'you' make on 'dark' friends I hold dear,
Don't just fear they're around, but demand disappear
From my world. In my life, what's most precious, are friends
Of my choosing though riddled with fault! No amends
(My dear friend) would I proffer you, bribe serve to them
Should they fear you. NO 'LOVE' means 'my' world's a friend's whim!
I stand for what I understand Love to be
And if Love has its reason's, Love's gift still is free!
You want friends more like you! That's your problem, most are,
To think 'Love' comes from friends 'more like you' is bizarre!
You're a blind man who's sure that an elephant's snake
At first touch of its trunk! Friends in mirrors? Mistake!
Choose friends better than you are and hope that you grow
Far beyond what you've dreamed of and all that you know!
If you need to leave me, I'll honor your quest
To find Love that you recognize. All should divest
Of what does not, what cannot fit into their space,
But you won't disabuse me; 'my place' is your place!
Love must push from its nest, what Love dreams, hopes see fly
To its place in the world in some sweet by and by!
If you leave (oh! the sadness!) I'll count it my loss,
But may 'LOVE' be the heart of my heart and my boss!
Brian Johnston
28th of July in 2019