Best Discharges Poems
The heat of today,
Shall vanish, as the day ends;
Coolness shall return.
·
Coolness shall return,
On shoulders of tomorrow:
While night exhales dawn.
·
While night exhales dawn,
Breath on invisible wings;
Discharges fresh air.
·
Discharges fresh air,
The lungs of the forest breathes;
Scorching regions praise.
·
Scorching regions praise,
The arrival of coolness,
Their faith awaits dawn.
You know a cellphone discharges
Electric cars swamp like barges!
You can't make a case
For drivers who face
Assault a battery charges!
As retiring physician, allow me to give
Some suggestions on how to both doctor and live.
You have finally finished the studies required.
You're a doctor at last, but in debt deeply mired.
With degree on display, your career can begin.
After years of no income, it's time to cash in.
You will millions more make if you're not an MD,
Even if you must then a proctologist be.
Special privileges, perks, and attention demand.
And invest every cent of your savings in land.
Keep your patients in waiting rooms cooling their heels
Then insist you're so busy you're skipping your meals.
Its decor should be drab and its magazines old,
And consulting rooms bare and depressing and cold.
Give complainants placebos to run up the bill,
And then schedule more visits although they're not ill.
Tell them exercise, diet, don't smoke, and no booze.
Then ignore that yourself; do whatever you choose.
Order unneeded tests to help pay off your loan,
And when golfing or sailing, don't answer your phone.
Always scribble prescriptions to druggists confuse.
Soak the rich and the medicare system abuse.
At the hospital, patient discharges delay
So insurers must pay for additional day.
Stick your head in the doors to consulting fees earn,
And treat nurses like dummies who never will learn.
Drive a Rolls or a Bentley to yokels impress.
And to ward off malpractice suits, never confess
That your sure diagnosis or treatment was wrong.
And you must to Republican party belong.
Be a country club member to join the elite.
Have disdain for inferior people you meet.
Don't give in to temptation to patients caress.
Keep a mistress instead at a secret address.
As a doctor endeavor to give all you've got,
Then retire at age fifty and live on your yacht.
Ensure you allude to all that has been recorded.
Every creature that has lived inside the rocks.
A long-forgotten former planet has appeared.
Awareness arises as we break the padlocks.
Electric fan blades are humming in a hot place.
When you're alone, and there's no oxygen.
Loneliness looms overall aped a pitiful prince.
Bedlam rises when commotion inside deepens.
Reveal if that's innocuous, or it may injure people.
Are words yet another excavation experience?
Is it feasible to resurrect a moribund principle?
Did you find it bothersome or maybe mysterious?
There is a hole where the hamster once paddled.
Since the snake hissed at it but didn't even eat it
As the animal lays on the floor, its insides splayed.
Earth has morphed into the fabric under the seat.
Besides birds, giant excavators lay on their palms.
Underneath, you may view mind-boggling and tangled traffic.
Yet, excavating a gigantic hole in the center of homes.
Let Earth deal with melting lakes or roving nomadic.
From the tenth balcony, the building site is visible.
A goliath, dead pit discharges light, fire, and vitality.
Quietness loaded up with facts yelled in din risible.
Coated with glass, gaze at a flying towel on a gallery.
Written: June 19, 2021
This or That, Vol 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
You must go on!
Our present is dark and full of sorrow
And fog is blocking our view of tomorrow
But your fate and mine are intertwined
Thus, you must go on, don't look behind.
With your hand in mine, we will reach the moon
And defeat the storms and the heat of June!
Our sinister ambience we shall allude.
And paint the world with a joyful mood.
The caliber of darkness is hard to defeat
Yet, if you stay with me, we will be complete
Our unison discharges a piercing light;
obscurity shall dissolve and we will be alright!
The dispiriting whispers are like asphyxiating weeds
That smother your courage and uproot its seeds
The tumbling fortress of your soul,
Will be restored if you pursue your goal.
Yesterday, when the ships of the world
betrayed us and overboard we got hurled
Remember, how you and I, boarded our dreams
as vessels until we reached those translucent streams.
The promising portrait of the coming dawn
Across our horizons will soon be drawn
Just one more step, don't look away
Witness the birth of a new day!
He runs
Shoes barely touch gravel.
His breath
shallow and fast gasps
in mouthful gulps of speed and need.
And when he leaps,
his calves long and graceful,
but he doesn't acknowledge.
For when he runs
he discharges his mind;
sends out his thoughts;
discards his logic;
bans his feelings.
When he runs
all that matters doesn't matter
anymore.
He runs
And doesn't even notice
That tears run little rivulets,
Streamlets of oblivion,
Carrying with them
remnants of painful nights,
or gazing at stars
that just didn't want to
form themselves into
dreams to last nights long.
But his feet kick out
those last lost memories
rags and tatters of thoughts.
He runs
for today and tomorrow,
for a life long of knowing
that waking up means
seeing those trainers
stand in a corner,
with ballet shoes,
loved but neglected,
decayed and discarded,
so he runs with that knowledge,
an awareness still painful,
accepts recognition,
and slows down,
and finally
nods.
An ice cold firework
Discharges in my heart
Detonating out shards of ice
To pierce the mind
Pricking my fingers
As the heat
Drains from me and
Like a welcoming fireplace
Warms the souls of the
Dead hearts I've dug up
From the graves of fireflies
That never saw it
Past summer
rain comes rain
rain wets my pain,
wets my dust of gain,
cleans my walking lane,
find I inside a path of sane
rain comes on empty green fields
cows, calves, goats run away dancing
rain comes and wets nature
dogs, cocks, hens move on my doorway
sparrow, tailor birds soaked in the grove
flapping wings and feathers seek warm
rain comes and wets coconuts and betel-nuts trees
raindrops fall as trees tears
rain comes on the poorly pond
fishes are playing hide and seek around
kingfisher waits to make a dish of fish
in food natures allow- no bond
rain comes on paths, quay, field
a passerby walks with an umbrella
ship discharges goods
soaking child play mirthfully
rain comes on little boys and girls of the village
they use banana leaves on the head like an umbrella
rain comes on the desert
quenches its thirsty heart
rain comes around us
venomous, non-venomous snake crawls on frog liberally
earthworms cultivate soft field gamely
rain comes, water plays its rule over all
urban drains are full of naughty- garbage water
urbane street and footpath flooding
skyscraper building floating on immobile stinky water
rain comes unsurprisingly
cholera, diarrhea touches neighbor slum child
rain comes, roaring flood attacks terribly
dead crows, cows, dogs, mice in the urban dustbin
rain comes, soggy feelings on my sight
I do not find my pet cat and tame dog
rain comes, flooding, around my flooding
the street tong tea stall flooded away
supplying daily foods-goods are short
the tariff rate is high
rain comes with a price hike
rain comes but the doctor does not come
water cause patient increases day by day
rain comes with snow coolness
cough harasses beloved voice
I'm not hearing a welcome song of rain
rain comes and I come-
by the right eye, I see elated life of around nature
by the left eye, I see gloomy death is nature’s feature
-August 13, 2018 Chattogram
Oh mother nature! Why is the sun’s wage overpaid?
Considering its strict principle of full execution
being its major peculiarity, especially when handling a task.
It discharges dominance which makes weather’s thought go blank
to thrill climate in rejecting any form of negotiations.
Exhibiting such zeal and dedication
without an iota of sympathy
gives comfort no certainty of operation
but with the advancement in human intelligence,
freedom has been served from such anger and energy.
I was born married to the master of subservience,
fell in love with the master of somnolence.
I dissolved Reality, divorced carnal calamites,
and the raw ache of captivated chaos.
I commanded a tactical tilling of damning emotions
and made a bed among the poppies,
so I could forever seduce Sleep at the edge of Oblivion.
I sold my soul and barely chafed chastity
for a phenomenal phantasm of passionless pleasures
beyond Gates of Ivory.
Wafting winds cradled creativity and I was a starving minion,
a zealous zephyr, questing after the deep highs
to capture luscious laughter and opium kisses
from Slumber’s linen wings.
My psyche reveled in these unrestrained orgies
climaxing far above ashen alleys
where life corroded the living.
A patron of illusions,
always hunting for more fruitful fascinations,
avoiding natural navigations through wicked whining
and the sight of probing pairs of crescent craters
searching for substance in battered faiths.
Deliberately oblivious to the sadistic salutes
of Godforsaken souls;
sleep inoculated against plagues of Pathos
that dawned with prehistoric procreation.
Amethyst apparitions fiercely feigning blindness
replaced callous captions with textile thoughts;
such beautiful deceptions, flawlessly manufactured
to be reality resistant.
Yet, I was sleep abandoned,
blistered by drops of winged darkness,
deceived by twisted twins.
Euphoria arrested, phantom limbs flailed,
swatting swarms of bleak sobriety
but Death was already aroused,
masturbating memories I thought I’d purged.
Retribution for a life lived at the edge of death?
Pollyanna caught loitering, rotting in sweet dreams
and living in the mirrored mirage of a Glad Book illustration.
My disturbed somniloquies became railroaded ramblings,
paranoid confessions of a Happy Addict,
torn from forgotten scenes, stripped of sunny sided semantics.
Death swaddled my crippled soul
mummified in the bunting guts
of my patchwork playground.
Each time I blink a resentful, halcyon curtain cries
yearning for my cuckolded Life.
This restless, sentient existence is eternally mine,
dictating discharges of cruel insomnia.
Pinched, folded, and squeezed
in the fiddling fingers of inescapable reality.
Sun spots blotting out the clouds lazy lakes pass the day
us four buccaneers smoking through reeds swimming
Melancholia of past raves disappear heat drenched haze
footwear absent psychedelic conversations to shift a score
Musky wisp’s fade into hop laced carbonated green bottles
as Dragonfly’s complete their long transformed ascent to reveal
Armed Tension all time low work stress fluctuations evaporated
calm before storm always this way lost in heady multicolour days
Violent displays rugged refined to deliver vibrant tribal dancing
posing no threat languid smiles lost degenerates forgotten youth
Discordant echoes thrum Volkswagen petroleum discharges
duck tailed passing sharing is caring for the doe-eyed lost and weary
Lord im tired..
Can u hear my cries
Trying to make it
Every step im getting aggravated
Tired of being tired
Keeping me here
Living i fear
Love me for me
Lets keep it clear
Stoner intelligent
No mannequin
Once i pop im damaging
Close casket
Powdered up
Just because you took kristin
Doesn't mean nicole wasn't present
Toe tags and body bags i imaged
Although i never reacted
Flash lights mentally
Never passed
Shattered mirrors
And opened wounds
Self agony
Sweets they craved and water they needed
Selling soul
Like i didn't no my worth Being a female was a curse
My screams was verses
The grunts and the names was my beat
Met a slick friend
Nobody seen
Trouble times that's when she creeps
Mamas she turned
daddies she burned
Kids she trained
After she mandicates
She discharges
Toe tags, incarceration women violated youth ignorant no hands
Just AKs and ARs
Knowledge i gained
Found out streets was her name
No matter the subject, poetry,
somehow, is all about love --
Love, a poet's bread and butter.
Staple stapled to the writing
tip of his forever pen, and the backside
of his often used pencil. Falling in and out of.
Were it not for Love's addictive nature,
a poet's heart's habitual affliction...there would be no poetry.
No poet. Period.
Hallmark rhymes are far from my
heart's loses and finds, no paper beaters
in said repertoire -- torrid bliss, or totally disappointed,
pissed!~ has always been my hotly repeated refrain! --
Poetry oscillates, lively. A charged, bare wire!
Makes for hyper passionality (made that word up).
Rises, a Sky-rocket -- bottoms~ a clogged bowel!
Too much overeating of non-tenderized fowl
reflects and epitomizes, self induced, masochistic
relationships, that lead to, autogenous, butchered,
my own mental scalpel, seeming lobotomies. A medical wonder I can yet write.
The poet consumes drama~ discharges incessantly!
Both sustenance and waste, same confounded paste
he spreads on toast and his own body roast --
Adds and subtracts vociferously, voluminously, deeply,
depth-fully~ each work, in some way, an extension
of presupposed, paramount, though egoistic, core matters. His many
Pointillism, mixed with mere, random, ill conceived
uninspiring hackneyed splatters.
Feels so deeply,
that what he cannot create for himself, from emotional
others he will beg, steal and borrow -- absence of
love, for the poet~ there is no
yesterday! Nor today...nor future desire though potentially a richly composite
tomorrow.
Wild exploits of hunting food
Other indications of self-survival
Light moves the wolf on the terrain
Few observations as the vultures fly
Inner thoughts of hunger and survival
Nnumerous observation still as vultures snack their beaks
Solid rushes the wolf ponders running
Hostilely he moves towards his prey
Earliest observations vultures circling praying hurry-up
External evidences seems to favor the wolf looks like a dog
Physiological drives still the birds of prey wild, when you going to kill
Critical reflections birds of prey yet still circling
Latter rushes the dog, barking and sniffing…ruff-ruff-bark
Observed visage views wolf still looks like a German Shepard
Total reception now sounds of barking and sniffing…ruff-ruff-bark
Hardly visible now as the cat, the mountain lion leaps into the air
Innermost thoughts from bow-wow, to roar and a meow…
Nervous discharges wolf-dog no longer barks at…
Gloomy thoughts you see for the Vultures were wolfs in Sheep clothing?
8/6/19
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Blustery sky I have read your blotted scroll
Your balmy reams with angry portents roll
A bleary tempest o'er your tranquil plains doth roil
Blackened tenants perch on your billowy shoal
With shutters as dark as night as black as coal
Shading your gilded beams; with menacing shadows troll
From foaming mouths their brackish discharges dole
Stirring your seething pot; bleaching your blithe soul
O'er burnished strand their angry tides stroll
Spewing drops of misery; their boisterous nature to extoll
In thunderous chorus they sound their deafening drumroll
They sear your azure canvas and scorch every silky atoll
Stoke breezes with haunting whispers droll
Oh, blustery sky enfilading torrents seep through every porous hole