Best Division Poems
‘Hey stomach,’ says anus,
‘Would you cut the crap.’
“It’s not me,’ stomach says;
‘I won’t take the wrap.
It’s what they’re eating,
So blame teeth and mouth.
I’m innocent,’ says stomach,
‘For that filth down south.’
Brain has a good laugh
At organ expenses,
By prodding infighting
Over false offenses.
‘Are you kidding me,
You two dumb kidneys.
Always a teamed pair
For a fight that’s not fair!’
Roared livid liver
Who was hardly pleased,
That they blamed him
For the smelly feces.
‘Oh stop it now, liver
Just sit there and filter.
We said no such thing;
Don’t get out of kilter.’
‘Tee-he-he,’ laughs brain.
My plan’s working well,
To keep each organ
At odds over a smell,
That they have no power
To change or repair,
And since they can’t think
They’ll stay unaware.’
Hands and mouth kept
Eating junk by the hour.
Having been brainwashed,
They blindly devour.
Long ago brain trained eyes
To focus on the news,
Now it was time for all
Parts, to pay ‘their’ dues.
Bones pipe up, and say,
‘Something doesn’t feel right,
Hey muscles loosen up;
Why do you squeeze so tight?’
Muscles answer and say,
‘Colon and intestines
Are the guilty squeezers,
Causing congestion.
I’m just doing my part
At the request of the brain.’
‘But muscles,’ says bones,
‘It’s causing me pain.’
And after a while
Brain has all body parts,
At odds with themselves;
Over endless bad farts.
Organs, blood, and guts
Could not get along;
They once did their jobs
Keeping the body strong.
But brain has the answer,
‘Let’s vote on what to do.
Either I run the show,
Or you deal with bad poo!’
Yes, brain got them quibbling
And each held a grudge.
All based on false info
That made brain, ‘King Judge’.
So each part gave in
To that sneaky design,
And waited for orders
From brain to assign.
But brain was a liar
And steered organs wrong.
The body collapsed;
It didn’t take long.
Just like brain, most statesmen,
Fool us like we’re tarts.
Let’s not die for their lies,
But stay whole, not apart.
Trying to pass an elephant
Through a needle is crazy and irrational
That's a narrow path to nonsense
Trying to fake it or to faint
That you score when you drop the ball
Every time is highly deceptive
That's a spooky way to show unintelligence
A sore loser is pusillanimous and vindictive
An illustrious leader accepts defeat and concedes
After losing a long battle. Bad or foolish deeds
Merit no rewards or compensation
Great men show comprehension, compassion
Bravery and true leadership in a crisis
Doing the impossible thing is not a basis
To a successful outcome. Common sense
Prevails all the time. Ignorance and intolerance
Deserve no defense. A man with a magnanimous heart
And bravery is a hero who puts nobody apart
Because unity wins all the time. Division is a cancer
That destroys dreams, hope and a better future
A genius keeps everything relative, relevant and simple
And stays away from anything that's senseless and impossible.
Copyright © December 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Black vs white vs dark skin vs “yellow bone
Men vs women vs straight vs homosexual
Poor vs the rich vs Afro vs weave
Christian vs Muslim vs atheist
All are keeping score
None will ever admit to being wrong
All are “woke"
You correct a brother and they'll go all intellectual on you with their fancy words
And when you don't grasp what’s being said, your opinion is null and void.
A sister would rather twist your words and make you look foolish rather than accepting the truth and be nourished
It's every creature for themselves, even at the expense of everything else
All are hollering their righteousness in the mountains
It's not about peace, about unity, hell it's not about the course they claim to fight for, it's about gratification not justification
Everybody rushes to be “quoted “
Nobody hushes down to reach a fair conclusion,
Because why would they want that?
If a solution is found, what would they babble on about?,
The “intellectuals “ shall all be heard,
So do the “wise-saints” and the “woke"
It was never about peace everlasting
It's about making it in the history book
Your idealism and ideologies are what important .
Now I’m not saying ignore the injustices of this broken world
We should all fight to be heard and nobody should be deemed more important than the other
You don't care about freedom, peace and unity
If you did , you’d sit down and discuss a way forward and not debate your own ways to win
What if crime was crime and a criminal, a criminal
Instead of an act of injustice against a certain group
It'll be crime against Humanity , because unity
Will a man be ashamed to report abuse against a woman?
Nobody would point at him and see him weak for it because all are equal
And it's not a woman against man, but an inhumane act against Humanity
Would the less privileged frail to speak against the elite?
A child be afraid to speak against family elders?
Nobody would be punished less than they deserve
All should fight to be heard and demand equality
But if we all strive to surpass each other when will the rollercoaster stop?
How many more years should pass in order for us to decide to be humans first,
You’re human before religion, colour, race, gender, sexuality, class,
You’re a human first.
You wear your flag like a second skin,
the colors bright, the threads worn thin;
And speak of victories long ago,
In voices proud, yet soft and low.
The tales are told, again, again
the triumphs carved in dust and pen;
The papers shout what you should hear,
While silencing what’s less sincere.
You count your coins, you guard your name,
you say it’s just a noble game;
But shadows stir beneath your cheer,
A trembling hand you won’t let near.
And so we stand on separate ground,
no shared horizon to be found;
Yet in the gap, I almost see
A kind of peace for you and me.
People holding hands of one another,
from different lands and races,
break wall of divison.
Kimo
* 3 lines
* 10/7/6
* unrhymed
SPONSOR:Debbie Guzzi
CONTEST NAME: Three Lines Are Fine
DEADLINE: 6/16/2014 12:00 AM
spotted division
birch trees live in black and white
bark reveals secrets
(June 20, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin USA)
(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
Recruit Division
I never applied to join the Army, a nice man phoned me,
He said I was the type they liked, with a steel certainty,
Plus he happened to mention the nurses on the way,
And the simple matter of doubling up my pay,
I signed.
So after having passed some sort of fitness tests,
I puffed quite a bit, but certainly tried my best,
I found myself, as many a medic knows,
To the town of Ash Vale, near a certain lady rose,
I’d signed.
Now as I walked, fashionable hair dishevelled,
There ahead of me, was a soldier whose back was upright and level,
So I called out, ‘Sorry to bother you mate, is the way for the Keogh camp gate’?
And the RSM made it very clear, that I would find it and him, certainly quite near,
Now I’d signed.
Within the breath of a watching gnats eye,
My hair was gone, no time to wonder why,
Everything seemed to happen with rapid and specific shouts,
Part of me was now wondering, a modicum of doubt,
Why I’d Signed?
Over the months to follow, each day a tired tomorrow,
I learnt about guns and bangs and running for fun,
Whilst far out on the expanse of the drill square,
A Russian yelled ‘Moy Et’ with a certain disposition,
Signing was my decision.
Now behind that drill square ran the main London line,
So we would be doing things, everything looking fine,
When the London train would pass, thundering on time,
And I tried not to grin at the phrase, ‘I left you in this position’,
Glad I signed.
I discovered a new world of dead fly biscuits,
Often so hungry the compo was worth risking it,
And how far a bed could fly, without seeming to try,
Or how proud I was as my bulled boots, not asking why,
I’d signed.
There was the nine second rule, certainly a gas,
Although they’d not mentioned they would take off the mask,
As each of us fit and healthy blokes,
Laid on the grass, throat burning chocked,
But I signed.
Finally a day arrived, escape from the camp,
Helping my granddad walk up the ramp,
Parents watched on as their son stood up,
Second best recruit, but no second cup,
Proud I’d signed.
Andrew Carnegie, Reminiscing Aldershot, 14th Jan 2017.
If you want to share your realities,
With someone you like and so love,
But have no reason, none for sharing,
Then the outcome will be undefined.
You can’t divide something by zero,
The divisor should not be nill, absurd,
You can’t say your number system,
Outweighs the context of your friend.
But if you’re feeling real complex,
Such that you want to give an ear,
Or something small, a limit, a tod,
Then a vector space may hint a field.
That fraction brings another total,
To show the quotient as good,
A neat side of you will emerge,
And a more friendly personality.
You’ll even get dividends back,
From a dispute, the fraction bar,
If you were both colliding, that is,
And not just silhouetting proactively.
You can offer yourself bit by bit,
If you must, but this slow chunking,
Will only involve time for the place,
Which you could’ve got to instantly.
When you give a friend money, time,
Subtract when you could’ve enjoyed,
You need to watch your distribution,
Because the right truly ends with you.
You’ll know that interest is wanted,
When you’ve related, not just given,
Especially if your occasion, situation,
Is the greatest common divisor, topic.
But if you still feel strained, depleted,
By the kindness that you’ve shared,
And you can specify the remainder,
Then please hesitate and round up!
When you’re calculating and gauging,
In your mind the cost of helping, love,
Then the relationship, the quotient rule -
The dude’s terms will state the outcome.
My sub-division is called the place of old people
There’re no young people in their formative age
With no kids but only single mom or dad in ample
Known as the place of aged people of suffrage.
There’re no young people in their formative age
To regenerate returning to their homes in picture
Known as the place of aged people of suffrage
With no ambitions of the present or the future.
To regenerate returning to their homes in picture
No grown-ups with fervent hope and ambition
With no ambitions of the present or the future
But it’s place the with self-obsessed bohemian.
No grown-ups with fervent hope and ambition
Bothering no more for diapers no happy mother
But it is the place with self-obsessed bohemian.
To take children around to play no happy father.
Bothering no more for diapers no happy mother
With no kids but only single mom or dad ample
To take children around to play no happy father.
My sub-division is called a place of old people.
********
Rhyme Scheme: ABCD, BEDF, EGFH, GIHJ, ICJA.
================================
Seventh place winner
Dr. Ram Mehta
==================================
Point To Be Noted
Q.If some women say we want to go to Mosque or Golden temple in bikini would that be OK?
Ans.No,because that place is not their property.Sure women can wear anything in public place but not those places which requires dress code.
How many ways I can say I love the York Region and 22 Division Police. A desire that
burns like fire in one's bussom or thirst that cannot be quenched or hunger that
cannot be satisfied or passion that keep on folding into zillion folds, and still
unfolding or a love that is the covering of tranquilly of the heart or love that put you
at ease- an utopia of my loving heart. These are a few of the ways I can say that I
love you all- a love that is multiplying each and everyday. Today, I love you more
than yesterday, and tomorrow I will love you more than today.
Democracy devolves into tyranny, Plato cautioned.
Flooded by the frigid torrent of factionalism,
will we certify his prediction?
Blinded by the prevarication of public discourse.
Numbed by the inundation of disinformation.
Crippled by the conspiracy of doubt.
The real deep state festers in our cortex,
a place where the charlatans of fallacy
invade,
a dwelling where terrorists of mind
take control.
But the terrain before us is vast.
The dense forest and effulgent meadows ahead are unmapped,
musky, fructuous forest floor perfumes the breeze,
The scarlet skyline of the dewy untrodden beckons us.
Abundant life is our rehearsal.
Can we honestly say we know for what?
Yet, such rapture is eloquent in our dreams.
Such reverie will arrest the parsing of our quintessence.
Our distortions are lifted when we are united
in communitarian struggle.
Published Online 4/2021: The Opiate Magazine
Also scheduled for print publication: summer, 2021
And now I return to write another entry
in this long poem. Behold the biting bees
pollinating many trees and flowers
at all hours in their bowers,
for humankind's consumption.
Let us eat many sweets
with our loves so sweet.
My love is a grape,
so sweet and dark,
for she brings darkness upon my soul,
for she has left,yet she is as royal as Byzantine purple.
Loyalty brings even the fortified few to falter somnambulantly in succession
As if tranced to commit, their convictions are true yet skewed
The blind emotional outburst of bigotry and cynicism conveyed
Is but a microcosm of what pain these individuals likely feel
Something of an atrocity to be used and told when to kneel
Although the accused has seen duress they gladly contride the thoughts of madness itself
I feel that you deny me reproof yet I will not pity that which cannot choose
As sad as it seems to me I see I've held on to honesty gleaning
Were supposedly a friend you said having talks breaking bread
But now that I see that your truth is my lie I know time will determine the test that was cheated
The sad part I'll say and to my dismay is that there wasn't discussion, just conceded
Hope it's enjoyed, misconception eroded have the seat that keeps you yearning and teeted....
Behind every difficulty
Look deeply for a solution
Never think it will be easy.
Sometimes it appears so tricky
To be worthy satisfaction
Behind every difficulty.
Sometimes you try best as can be
Rolling over resolution
Never think it will be easy.
Sometimes you take the task lightly
Without a priori caution
Behind every difficulty.
Sometimes you show little worry
About making a decision
Never think it will be easy.
Sometimes there’s animosity
Which makes assorted division
Behind every difficulty
Never think it will be easy.