Best Disparage Poems
I'm hearing rumors that are easy to believe
but none of them give me reason to grieve
You've been telling people their poetry sucks
Words from your mouth flow in a fetid flux
What arrogance is revealed in your slander
You don't rile me enough to raise my dander
The absolute truth is that I just don't give a fig
Your remarks show you to be an arrogant prig
How dare you disparage so many other poets
People call you 'rude' in case you don't know it
I've laughed at your slurs and each bitter assault
If the truth hurts your feelings, it's all your fault
You've mocked and criticized lots of poetry
making you a monster with green-eyed jealousy
I've heard from many, and in their point of view
'they' say you're a nasty male version of a shrew
There's been quite an extensive survey taken
and the unanimous results should jolt and awaken
you to see that on you this request they bestow...
The message: "Open your big mouth and eat crow
Oh, but that is something you would never do
so there'll be no lamenting nor feelings of blue
No tears of sorrow on the smiing cheeks of many
of those you've insulted, and there's been plenty
Some say Love is everything
Some say love is nothing
Of course, if one has never been loved,
never felt such warmth from another;
absent the caring nearness of a dear
mother, father, sister or pal-of-a-brother
not been taught by nurturing family
but, in fact – of love deprived
then, before lived,
to one's buried heart
love has already died…
It is not, necessarily, that one’s heart
has never sincerely desired though not tried,
but the painting of his world
his experience has so lied
any chance for developing
empathetic features --
his nature has been cruelly
deprived –
therefore,
before the feathering brushwork of him,
his portrait of love
has already cracked, peeled,
unrecognizable~ dried….
Sometimes things lost
are never found: that sand-castle
on beach, adult, sunny, encouraging
faces, painted by the sun
like a silly made-up clown --
Somethings lost, are never found
Some couples meant to be
are never joyfully bound
by faith in cherished sacrament
of marriage...Cupid and his trusty
bow left sadly to disparage.
God has His
Heaven, and the Devil
our misguided low-some hell
before learning to soar~ man fell
the joy of loving stopped
before started – and the Spirit of
Love, yet brokenhearted….
He held my hand, not one word was spoken
Then a ring he offered as a token
He could not ask for marriage
For fear I might disparage
His eyes conveyed sentiments unspoken
* Entry for Adeleke's "Unspeakable Love" contest
The concept of gays in a marriage
One side loves and one will disparage
But rule supreme court
And one side must retort
Justice just had a miscarriage
Author's note: Regardless of the outcome from the supreme court, I happen to favor gay marriage. There really is no other conclusion since we are a land of equal rights. We should do all we can to foster a society without discrimination. The arguments against these rights reveal a lot about certain people of religious persuasion. It would be comical if it were not so sad.
This poem may get into trouble,
The world wants identity double.
Attempting to culture commonality,
The world champions individuality.
Theft of language has become all too common,
Yesterday’s use today identifies one a strawman.
Definitions change, words take on other meaning,
Often toward groups one way leaning.
At our language different groups continually hack.
In the case of *****, African American, now Black.
Or European, White, then Caucasian,
Korean American, Indian, rather than Asian.
Why is it that unmentionable words,
You know them, our dialect’s turds.
The use of people demeaned still proliferates,
While outsiders use carry’s different weights?
Color, religion, disability, sex, and age,
All lines in the sand drawn to disparage.
We should agree that race be set aside,
Bound together in one Human pride?
Our world needs new words and labels,
Not old words containing past fables.
Words that create, unite, and rejoin,
Not words that change on the flip of a coin.
Straight should mean unbent?
Snowflake should be heaven sent.
Gay should be a happy feeling.
Black’s big “B” should begin peeling.
I applaud the generation of Ze.
The neutral meaning of he or she.
A word with definition created anew.
A word defining both me and you.
8/31/2017
Is there anyone who can explain to me
why someone in the Soup community
would gripe about those on the lists,
ranting on with their pen in clenched fist?
How important can the lists possibly be
to set someone's nerves off so repeatedly.
Why dwell upon them with such negativity,
screeching and wailing like a banshee?
I don't know what the fuss is all about,
but I certainly don't see a reason to pout.
If their name is not on the lists, no doubt,
could be they're just jealous as all get out.
I don't care who writes the most poetry.
I don't join contests for people to notice me,
but why do they impugn poets unpleasantly?
Just ignore the lists and drink some Chablis.
If you are guilty of this, take a drink or two
and put an end to your nagging like a shrew.
I'm weary of your protests and hullabaloo,
squawking all around the site like a cuckoo.
Contest themes give poets a place to start
silly limericks, or something from the heart.
You disparage them, tearing them apart,
but a poet's lines are treasured works of art.
What's it to you if poets want to compete?
Are you afraid that you'd go down in defeat?
Instead of bahing like a sheep with each bleat,
turn your sour scorning into something sweet.
You get poem of the day or poem of the week.
How quick you are to label yours with a tweak,
not the mark of one who's humble and meek.
It's a bit hypocritical. That would be my critique.
Entering contests is a poet's choice, not a crime.
If there's a laddered list poets wish to climb,
it's not right for you to sound off or chime.
Why don't you just find some other pastime?
Oh where,oh where is she
My wondrous Darlene De Beaulieu ?
In my heart do I see her face
Radiant with poetic grace
A handsome place is her fortune
And poetry both her sun and moon
With kindest comments she does encourage
Those whose lesser works others might disparage
This feeble eulogy to her do I dedicate
And may she e'er find herself in good estate.
Oh my ignoble mind
why must you be so
rueful-this sorrowful pity
abject-I am not contemptible
brooding-unkind contemplations.
Oh my heinous conscience
dare not
mock me-oh the cruelty
taunt me-cuts so deep
bleed me-I flow dying.
Oh my callous intellect
why must you yet
scorn me-is praise so ugly
castigate me-the pain beguiling
disparage me-oh your brutality!
Oh my derisive aspect
dare not
deceive me-illusions prison
betray me-my loyalty shaken
delude me-my truth so naked.
Do not do so!
Oh my afflicted mind
why must you
transcend my heart-this raw love
overtake the purpose-all consuming
of my fierce quest-aching in urgency.
Even still with
scant recompense
I die a thousand deaths
in your ideations.
The 1st day he commanded light to split the edge of night
as He lit up every crevice from dark to blessed sight
On the 2nd He severed bodied water sea from sea
beneath a dome of preservation it was all that one could see
On the 3rd day God commanded all the waters to be still
so the earth could have her bounty & produce herself at will
On the4th day he created all the lanterns of the sky
sun, moon, stars of heaven, with an Ordinance from high
On the 5th day he commanded all the wingly lofty birds
to increase in rounds and flutter, beneath his silent word
On the 6th day God commanded all the animals at large
to live aside the earth in kind and serve without disparage
On the 7th, God created man from little clumps of clay
resting in the notion he'd love them, come what may.
October 26, 2018
"The body, like the oak, is bent and gnarled,
The shallow-rooted mind is overthrown,
When we are near the evening of the world."
---From, 'Runes for an Old Believer", by Rolfe Humphries
Facebook post: "Respect your elders!"
My mind may not be now
as nimble as once it was,
and although I might see all
with jaundiced sight, not fresh,
not new, my mood is mostly
cool and quite calm.
--- Until, that is,
some brash provocateur
begins to essay an attack,
thinking to erase the marks
my words have made and to
overwrite them with his own.
I care not very much that he
with logic may displace my niche,
nor cleverly might mock me.
But to disparage Age in dotage,
with vile invectives, is doltish,
brutish and dumbfounding.
My sweetest comfort is
to have no doubt that he
(nor others of his ilk) will
never see how ineffectual
must be this mild complaint.
A believer in God
killing babies fun fun fun
rape, well I blame all sides
Forgive
my hate
and ignorance
and silence when it maters
I have traveled no where
have no conscience
love those who disparage the weak
the weak are terrorist
the nerve of them to speak
I have no heart
a heart requires pumping blood
empathy is for other fools
no one cares
who drowns under Zionist floods
I have no voice
other than among peers
who love their rifles
more than they fear Gods cheer
My sword is a Tommyhawk
empty words and
backhanded slaps
if you hate I am yours
I am in good company
amongst all the silent ones
indifference is my medal of honour
I am America
I am none of the above
I have a heart
Naught to say I shan't disparage
A cherub in its stroller
Laugh at married horse-drawn carriage:
Denounce a Holy-Roller!
Point my fingers in their direction,
And have a hearty chuckle!
In Truth it is my own reflection-
One which leaves me puzzled...
No one should suffer ridicule,
By the words bled from my tongue...
But in the end, I am the Fool
Who should never make the fun!
With painted face and silent smiles they light the night so dim,
Oblivious to their stalker and his diabolic whim.
They'd come to sunny Florida to flee Maine's winter snow
And play their silent pantomimes on sidewalks as they go.
But the analyst has programs and experiments to run;
Methodic’ly he thus connects the silencer and gun.
Onlookers claim the analyst did murder them that night,
Then calmly pulled his pencil out, his test's results to write.
But as for wherefores and the whys, when asked of him a reason,
If these are not fair game, he cries, Why call this 'Tourist Season'?
His court appointed council does the best that he is able
To win the jury's pity for this client so unstable.
This man, his sobbing lawyer pleads, was brilliant as a child.
He never was a vicious lad, and next to most, quite mild.
Such things he pondered others wondered, if indeed they never spoke them,
As, to what hue those Smurfs, now blue, would turn, were one to choke them.
The lawyer then begins to quote behavior science stats
Of those who make their living pulling habits out of rats.
If in his heart a man resorts to rationalization
A wrong might seem a right when there's sufficient provocation.
As situations worsen and confusion grows with time;
Seems right, when with a silencer, one shoots a silent mime.
If innocent is how you find there's none 'twould you disparage,
For squelching this inquiring mind would be a grave miscarriage.
Those murders were experiments, not born of animosity;
Performed were they to satisfy a morbid curiosity.
Still the jury found him guilty and to ease his troubled brain,
Ordered soon a lethal potion be injected in his vein.
When asked before the gavel rapped for any final comment,
The killer scratched his head as if his muddled mind to foment.
Yes just one further question in this form of execution
do they disinfect the needle in a sterilized solution?
When men are full of envy they disparage everything, whether it be good or bad. (Tacitus),
Its easy to allow lust for power
To blow forth a wicked heart
Its so easy for an envious soul
To shoot hate's poisonous dart.
For wolves who tread as lambs
Will point your every blunder
Sail not on their empty dreams
For they'll tear you to asunder.
They drink the cup of hatred's wine
A glutton without contentment
For all their lust and life designs
A shroud of discontentment.
They want the fat, that fat has got
That clouds their every movement
They scorn their lot, that hate forgot
With mourning and resentment.
They all put so much stress on
getting a college degree,
and if it’s math or science,
I think that I would agree.
But in the humanities
another trend now appears,
kids are taught to hate themselves,
and this is reason for fear.
Instead of the great questions,
they’re taught to obsess on race,
and disparage great thinkers
who have the ‘wrong’-colored face.
Instead of human nature
they’re taught to harp on gender,
to the point they no longer think
there is a ‘him’ or a ‘her.’
Instead of economics
they’re force-fed socialism,
and thus doomed to see the world
through a misshapen prism.
Instead of building a life
these students are taught to see
themselves as passive subjects
to assigned ‘identities.’
Instead of questions of faith,
they’ll be taught religion is dead,
just to have leftist belief
pounded hard into their heads.
What comes back won’t be something
worthy of pride or respect,
their morals gone, their reason cowed,
their soul an absolute wreck.
You will not get a person
quipped to take on the world,
you’ll get an angry NPC
out rioting like a churl.
You will not find them ready
to become women and men,
just fragile people who think
the name ‘Blackjack’ does offend.
You will not find strong actors
now ready to get to work,
just entitled people that
rant and scream like spoiled jerks,
and worse still these useless souls
have a hundred grand in debt!
I got to think a trade school
would’ve been a better bet.
Then at least they’d be useful
to society at large,
help to maintain all we’ve built,
and not be the culture’s charge.
Plus if they really want to
give the great thinkers a look,
they can go do that for free
with a bunch of library books,
Or look to the internet,
most of the greats are there for free,
your own thoughts will be as good
as what comes from academies.
Unless it’s math or science,
college doesn’t make much sense,
don’t sent your kids to college,
you’ll just be ruining them.