Best Dislocated Poems

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Leaning against the ropes, eyes swollen half closed

Its been a long fight....

Blood dripping from a dislocated jaw

Body beaten and bruised; taking a few more blows

Crowd screaming; colourful figures; cloudy sight?!

Knocked down a few times but, not counted out yet

Not yet; still standing to catch a...

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A LIFE CYCLE

Ejected
Dislocated
Passive
Activated
investigative
Never stop
Driven 
T’ward the top
Content
Paternal
Fulfilment
Feel eternal
Perceive mortality
Free
Just a memory


Geoffrey Brewer
September 2018...

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The idea behind this poem came from reading a poem of the same title, written by Richard “Canadian Man-god” Lamoureux. Now, his poem went in an entirely powerful, yet other, direction than I thought it was going to go. I happily let him know that....

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I penned a couplet for you today.
Rather, a quill manipulated
my hand and scrawled mendacity.
The misanthrope's who read the ode
applauded with flippers on.

Such insight. Such depth.

Mussolini meets Monet and
the Mephistopheles Mambo mounts.
Call me a scribe and I murder myself.
Call me a liar and I impregnate your...

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When social upheaval brews chaos of nihilism,
Forfeiting moral values, embracing skepticism;
Instability ensues, clamoring in emptiness,
Believing world is futile, life is meaningless,
As broken norms shout, voicing nothingness
From souls alienated by misplaced intellect,
Mislaid by thoughts, vacuous and mindless.

Barren is the landscape of infertile minds
Dislocated in grip of...

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I’m drawn to airport departure halls,
to the optimism of leaving.
The suspension of here.
The promise of there.

I like the in-between feeling of transit,
the lightness that comes from  
exchanging one clock for another.  
And how someplace else makes you a child, 
everything new again.
And the...

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Fifty years of bustin’ ass, I never had a dime,
If I had any balls at all, I’d’ve chose a life of crime;

I never owned a brand new truck, a flat TV or yacht,
I figured I deserved much more, but settled for what I got;

I’ve had...

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The man lay painfully wedged between two large boulders, 
his position an anomaly only the cruelest of fates could bring to a man. 
 In one moment he’d been sure-footed, gingerly climbing  the cliff. 
In the next instant, he was tumbling into a cavity...

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The Evening Soup, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s La soupe du soir

						To J.-K. Huysmans

(Verlaine here paints a stark tableau of working-class or peasant life shorn of any symbolic or imaginary references. Even if I see no reason to keep to the strict rhyme scheme, I have...

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My city has been abandoned
by royalty for vultures to defecate and Hyenas to spit on.
The large hole left is a huge hindrance to every emotional functionality
making inactivity a coveted blessing to this feeling
which was once an inner paradise
as vacuum is more glorified to this emptiness
handled...

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...Continued from Part 1...

Poor little Evelyn, her poor physical conditions at birth puzzled local doctors,
It was a mystery she was born with a dislocated hip and a deformed right foot.

And evidence of bone damage whilst within her mother’s womb, that happened,
9 months  of exhaustive...

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Part Five

Some couplets apart
         much remains redundant
    even obvious
inapt by way of pointing to fresher vistas
  and those that follow the rarity of your verse
imbibe nothing else from this age’s handy cornucopia
 ...

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Don't slide your arm around my shoulder
unless you want yours to be dislocated
Don't try to tell me I'm beautiful
trust me it's overstated and overrated
Don't ask me if you can get me a shot
I'll probably give you some lip
not the kind your thinking though
more like replying...

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I stand on the cliff’s edge and look down,
The falling stones, I hear their resound.
I close my eyes to feel the winds embrace,
I sense its touch all over my face.

I’m alone,
No fear...
The white waters pound the rocks below,
If I fall...
Who would know.

This is my selfish...

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We lean in, like a sculptured work in progress,
enigmatic scent to kiss,
when suddenly,
the three inch wide orange rubber bands around our wrists,
pulled behind our backs,
spring us away from each other
at supersonic speed.
Hair flying in front of our faces, slipping through wind without weight...
Back to opposing...

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