Best Disintegrated Poems
Dad had threatened for some time, to reclaim the land behind the shed,
where rubbish over many years, had stockpiled but now instead
of being easy to be shifted, blackberries, docks and thistles grow,
entwining history of ours… and you know we didn’t know.
Mum cracked the whip one Sunday, handing out the different tools
for us to shovel, fork, pick and slash; of course she made the rules.
We weren’t to stop until the rubbish, had been cleared and left to show
a barren space to be landscaped… and you know we didn’t know.
Johnny parked the truck close to where we’d easily load the tray.
First we had to slash blackberries, to open up a pathway.
Old fencing wire and bent droppers, we pulled and tugged. The work was slow.
Plus bits of motors, old oil filters… and still we didn’t know.
The ‘Old Man’ knocked a stump out I can’t remember being a tree,
it disintegrated into pieces; white ant workings I could see.
Plastic pots and old fuel drums, onto the tray we heave and throw.
Just on half the plots been cleaned up now… and still we didn’t know.
A concrete trough and a mattress spring, mesh from an old birdcage.
A kitchen sink broken in two and a pushbike at some stage.
Sardine tins, a barrow bowl, and a seized up mower that won’t mow,
now there’s just one corner left to clean… and still we didn’t know.
A stack of roofing iron near the fence; the last that had to go.
One by one we dragged the rusting sheets… and still we didn’t know.
Dad picked up the final sheet, and then he quickly threw it down again.
His face was white and ‘cripes’ he shook… we ‘bloody-well’ knew then.
Your large stuffed synthetic sack
and the aching bones and muscles
that strain against the pain
of a planet that you're sure must hate you,
are sure that you hate it too.
Your wheels are just large enough
to allow the suicidal stride
of the dire recycler's chariot
which may really be suicidal or worse,
but what, for you, is better ?
Your muscles and bones so busy
that they don't even know the pain,
your chariot wheels so quick and slow
that they don't know what will be,
assuming that anything may be.
Your last fair job was an unfair chance
and your bosses and their trucks are forgotten,
because the bitter angry man
in Tracking & Surveillance
found a reason for you to be fired.
Your last unfair job disintegrated too
and you no longer sit on the back of a pick-up
watching beautiful women and angry men
cutting the night or the morning in half
with cars that could pay a thousand funerals.
You die a thousand deaths.
13th October 2018
Year after year, young people inspire me.
The freshness of youth brings forth curiosity.
Diversity and personality scream, it seems –
Noisily, boisterously, playfully, hope knocks.
Each child has amazing talents to unlock.
Shy ones work in silence while some classmates tease.
Others squirm around on a whim and a breeze.
Did you guess? I am a substitute teacher.
I learn something new every day that I work.
I guess you might say it is a hidden perk.
I love my work and I love to learn from many.
There was one high school boy
A class leader who loved to rap –
Talking, laughing, rapping; class behavior zapped.
I saw impending disruption; So, I struck a deal.
My clever solution was a bit surreal.
When everyone finished their work, he could rap.
Work first, then fun was my motto; he took charge.
His group of "homies” got to work right away.
The classroom was silent that wonderful day.
So, just as I promised, ten minutes at the end,
He started a beat others joined from their seat.
Line upon line he rapped words with rhyme.
Then, point to a classmate who would rap in time.
It was so much fun to see faces aglow.
When he pointed to me, I used poetry.
From that day forward, when he was in my class,
He would ask me to write a class poem, alas.
They would give me a topic and a few key words.
The students worked first; then, my poem was heard.
They would listen to my poems line after line.
I can still see his face after all of these years.
The sparkle in his eyes untangled my fears.
Years later, I was bored out of my mind.
My hip disintegrated; I was confined.
What would I do? The answer, I could not find.
I remembered that boy and that he liked my work.
It was his and his classmates’ reactions –
They influenced me to take writing action.
I joined Poetry Soup; poetry became a love affair.
I met friends, studied forms and wrote anywhere.
Paper towels or notebook paper, it mattered not.
When away from my computer, I would jot.
That boy brought the beginning; self-confidence.
His cheery influence blessed me with lifetime joy.
They liked my poems; so, I wrote thousands more.
All of this because of one young boy who will never know,
It was his good-word raps that set my soul aglow.
March 8, 2017
Written for the Poetry Contest - Younger People Who Have Inspired You
The rumours were persistent; the split was on the cards
sad news to music lovers, despair for lonely hearts.
Fab Four disintegrated, a tragedy for some,
but fame by then was certain, a legend to become.
My mates and fans forever declared fidelity
and threw a crazy party...they called it Let It Be!
The sound reverberated; the place was dimly lit,
the atmosphere inviting; each song a Beatles’ hit.
We bumped into each other as we reached out for wine.
We clicked...tacit agreement, which suited us just fine.
I asked her name in passing, not wanting to intrude,
She laughed and coyly told me, “Hey, babe, just call me Jude.”
We merged with rhythmic music; unnoticed time went by.
Our drinks were spiked, and goodness, that sent us really high!
We danced till early morning, and that’s when I passed out
I came to on a sofa to beat of Twist and Shout.
Two drowsy days then followed, as well as restless nights;
with blurry eyes all heavy, could not withstand the lights.
I often think and wonder ‘bout Jude my stranger-friend
who whispered with insistence: ‘I wanna hold your hand’.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest: Rock ‘n Roll Rhyme Fest
Sponsor: Phillip Garcia
© 8th September 2016
Once upon a time
my mother read me
tales of princesses
who joined with their prince -
fairy tale romance.
Wishing on stars,
I hoped my prince
was out there too.
He hung the moon.
What magic
when life held
such promise!
I was
spurred by . . .
dreams.
Love!
It filled
my mind.
A young girl,
I asked for
just the moon!
I longed for it.
I searched for it.
How elusive
it seemed to be.
Once found, it often
disintegrated
quickly, for it was -
after all - simply
the moon dust of dreams.
For Catie Lindsey's Diminished and Advancing
Hexaverse Contest Poetry Contest
How thoroughly you wreck me
With the taste of hope, I can't resist
That you may actually perceive my existence
As if you haven't already taken more chances than I can give
In fact, I gave so many
I lost my will to live
See, with every gamble on you that left me devastated
A small piece of who I am
Of my soul disintegrated
You encouraged me along the path to my death
Yet here I am, holding my breath
Trying to overhear you speaking
Gleaning your words
For what you're truly thinking
I must be a nitwit, a dolt, a birdbrain
For here I am taking your bait again
Even the hundreds of violations
Hurt less than seeing your pain-filled expression
I love you the way a dog loves his master
It's innate, it's instinctual
(Ha) I guess I'm well-trained
For no one has gone to lengths this drastic
To earn your love, to be your sidekick
The price I paid was catastrophic
Only to find your heart despotic
For after all my loyalty, my love, my respect
I begged for you to save my life
And you walked away instead
Leaving me to face the grave
With a comment that you don't see it that way
I guess I must truly be less than intelligent
As I find myself considering
If your abuse could be by accident
what is it
about a fireplace
the flicker
of its flame
the crackling
the aroma
of wood burning
the dance of colors
the magic
the life force
the power
the destruction
what is it
that connects
to a deeper level
of timeless wonder
enchanting
to our very soul
willingly
surrender
letting ourselves
be hypnotized
mesmerized
watching
listening
as if
to a riveting story
with secrets
divulged
what is it
about a fire
that captivates
and thrills us
time
being what it is
feeling real
idle illusions
disintegrated
in the moment
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~MINDFULLY~ 2021
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on April 14, 2020 for contest STRAND PICK 12 sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
The day was still, windless
A presence surrounded me
Though my eyes seemed empty
I could see it standing, waiting, silent.
Not threatening, just waiting among the rocks
As I stumbled towards it.
After the fall I thought I had lost it,
the power of blind vision.
How wrong I was I still had it
The gift of seeing,knowing,hearing what others could not.
I sensed its fear as I drew near
Fear of a stronger power than his.
Treading silently, stealthily between rocks and
thorns I marched forward, my companions stunned
by my determination to seek that cloying entity.
The closer I drew the more powerful the sensation
Its throbbing life meshed with mine, its fear a powerful odor.
Then I came upon it ,undaunted by its threatening stance
With one slash of my hand it disintegrated
That poison, that being, that force of evil
That shrinks one’s mind, one’s power to do good.
Dispersed into thin air it shrieked and hissed
Against the wind, disappearing over the hills and into the dust
From whence it came.
I felt only relief but knew that in time it will rise again
Perhaps in a different place, a different time, in a different form
To tempt and lead astray, weaklings.
Its evil intent is to destroy, oppose God’s way
Drag us down into depths unknown
Stand strong, stand firm, stand on the WORD.
Twelve rounds of excitement
Two rivals smiling in the middle of enchantment
The bell rang...
Both fighters were wild
Two rough hands still mild
The bell rang again -- end of first round.
Second round...
Gaiting horses, eluding kicks and punches
Baiting bodies, protruding hunches
Third round...
Fighters in merry-go-round
Hide and seek on square ground
Fourth round...
Faces smearing, eyes rolling
Bodies perspiring, allies chanting
Fifth round...
Feet hovering, foot work disintegrated
Temperature rising, hard punches connected
Sixth round...
Audience clapping; boxers hitting
Attacks jabbing, gloves slugging
Seventh round...
Whacking arm follows, gloves batting
Ulnar bone gallows, heads swatting
Eighth round...
The champ fighter grinning, nailing one hard scour
Second fighter fainting, flailing above the litted floor
Ninth round...
Stronger fighter grinning again with right hook
Left hook thrashing, down the second fighter of blind look
Tenth round...
Challenger flogging, kept on rising
Challenger pelting, the champ fell on floor gasping
Eleventh round...
Both warriors pummeling, whipping, jostling
Switching, clubbing, lashing, drubbing
Both fighters fell on adulated white floor
Before the ninth count both warriors stood tall
on wrestled floor
Twelfth round...
Last two minutes of peppering round
Both fighters staggering until the challenger dropped first and gaunts.
Champ still standing, waiting for the ten counts...
Last twenty five seconds of the final round,
First fallen fighter with a bigger heart stands
Champ dropped on his knees --
Laid flat on aproned, famed canvass
Ten counts numbered as confetti lands...
The winner and challenger standing in the corner, beaten and bruised
Bleeding profusely after winning a dream never cruised.
In the year 2258,
C.R.O.T (Cellular Recombination of Organic Tissue)
is the largest multi-planetary corporation in the solar system
This is their most popular subspace commercial ...
Step into the cosmic shredder,
get your undesirable cells vaporized instantly
Then get your new ones recombined into your genetic matrix
All this for a very small nominal fee
Is there a part of you that you want to let go,
come to us,
CROT,
we're the cellular recombination pro
We're the best,
nobody tops us
We got the technology you can trust
Do you have a missing gene in your DNA,
well, let our company fix that,
come on in right away
Come to CROT
We have what you need,
we can expand anyone's capabilities ...
for a very small nominal fee
We will give you a new genetic makeup:
you can think faster,
have sex longer,
Have a body more stronger,
slow down the aging, make you live longer
With CROT you can't go wrong
This is a life changing offer,
so tap into your neural phone and call us
CROT is the place to go
CROT,
we're the cellular recombination pro
We're the best,
nobody tops us
We got the technology you can trust
All this can be yours, for a very small nominal fee
Welcome home the new you
at the end of the day
Let CROT disintegrate all your flaws away
As sin and perversion often
become integrated…
So many lives and families
are being “disintegrated.”
Many are being driven by sin’s temptation force…
It’s no wonder much of this country
is way “off course.”
The morality and values that once made a great nation.
Are evaporating…. Leading to a
“spiritual separation.”
Love, honor, and respect of God…
Is often a “thing of the past.”
Anything of God seems to be
disappearing FAST!
God is our only hope! And him alone!
Only he can bring healing to our broken homes!
He’s the answer to this wounded nation, that bleeds!
It’s only God that can meet all of our needs!
He’s our provider… The great: “I am!”
Won’t you reach out to him?
And give him your hand?
Why not give him a chance? And allow him in?
A brand new life for you…
Is waiting to begin!
May we allow God’s holiness and love to reach
down into our hearts…
Asking; “Lord please forgive our sins!”
Is a good place to start!
By Jim Pemberton
Somehow in this
disintegrated abyss
I have come to find
Me, Myself and I
Somehow endlessly trying to find
my mind
Something I have come to miss
in this,
transcendental place inside
a colorless, formless, define less
thought amplified space, where I reside
Assist me be so kind?
One with the dark dreadlocks
Hide it in Pandora's Box
& never ever open it
For you never know
The thoughts that might govern it
It could be the biggest paradox
Hello!
High!
Delicate
Divine
Beautifully refined,
soul.
I have seen you before
We have endured many past lives
You seem to be the one i've been existing for
I've looked from the end of the world
to the planets next door
I cannot think anymore
My minds spilled all over the floor
Pardon me,
Sorry
Excuse all the gore
I know this is not what you came here for
Where does your magnetic consciousness sleep?
Is it there amongst unknown beings?
Or is it where we dream?
Why does every little thing seem to be
So obscene?
I cannot see
Come
Gather in the land of extravagant delight and reckless abandon
Observe the Queen of all beautiful scenes
Something u will never fathom
Watch, as she bleeds out all her dreams
I WISH I'D LEARNED TO SEW
I wish I’d learned to sew
My mother asks me how
How I’ve survived till now…
I tell her I don’t know
I’m feeling so forlorn
My socks got old and worn
So I’ve thrown them in the bin
I cannot take it in
And yes I know how cold my toes will be
Those socks were so lovely
Now my feet feel so chilly
I'm sad my darning skills have let me down
And now my feet are icy
(Original lyrics were written by Don Mclean)
******
A tribute to my penguin socks
I’ve walked all over you, but that’s all in the past
I knew that our relationship wasn’t strong enough to last
You’d always been part of a matching pair
But the thinning fabric I can no longer repair
I’m finding it extremely difficult to finally let go
But the hole in my heel was just too huge to sew
I’ve had this pair of socks for about 4 years thye were my absolute favourite ones and had cute penguins on the them… but the threads were so worn so thin they have disintegrated and yesterday my heel went through and they cannot be repaired and are now confined to the waste bin … its poetic licence about not being able to sew as I have mended them many times in the past
11-16-17
Roaring in like a speeding train,
the twister left no time to flee.
And my house disintegrated
into pieces, all around me.
I'm catapulted from my bed,
while I'm tossed around like debris.
And in that whirlwind of darkness,
it was impossible to see.
The air was sucked out of my lungs,
and I passed out, thinking I'd die.
But I found myself on my back,
staring up at an angry sky.
'Twas a miracle I survived,
that tornado gave me a fright.
And I began to realize
just how lucky I was that night.
I got trapped under some rubble,
my legs pinned by a fallen tree.
But I could hear someone digging;
and thanked God, rescuers found me!
they said the flower was as golden as a flame
you believed it was tar, color of shame;
for beyond the sun and the skies lived a name
whose great eye flickered eternal fire
that can make one slouch dead on the bier;
for into the dark night shone a solitary star
as that was your accepted belief as dear
of a disintegrated, moldy hope;
that they averred should lob a long rope
and truss them together in stillness
for thus lies huge human bliss,
as the soul turns bright when there is light
from the sun and the stars and the grand eye
and beings go cheery even though at night
for if you are not so surely soon you will die