Best Every Man For Himself Poems
A contracted seafarer...concerning no servile rank,
kept e'er involved watch...away from menial daily tasks top deck,
while steadfast wary of...the diligent taskmaster's whip.
A dawn swift gust...brushes the ship from a rocky pillar,
duly rallies from rest...aids calamitous bellows from crow's nest,
witnessed by crew...rose an angel disguised with devil horns.
Seawater laps feverishly...against ship's wooden hull,
as panic over breed minds...once sturdy legs go feebly about,
cascading thoughts grips privately...every man for himself.
Another abrupt action...frees a churning sea expounds,
and an opening hole...devouring anything within its midst,
as desperation consumes...a ship has long met its doom.
A lone selfless soul of limited else...moved past the lost,
and hastily clutched a burdened javelin...and hoist it upwards,
with his petitioned combined strength...released the deadly blow.
Her dying scream...was drowned out by restored happy voices,
and a wealth of well-wishes and praises...honoring accolades,
as lone eyes of a humble sort...gaze a siphoning pass.
"The world is your oyster,"
Some wise man once said.
This wise man was nuts,
What was wrong with his head?
The world's a cold place,
Which is easy to see;
From our cool, mirky waters;
To our beautiful, dead trees.
They used to talk about soulmates,
When love equaled life;
Now they murder the husband,
Who cheats on his wife.
"Every man for himself,"
That's our new motto now;
And try finding a man,
That could pray or teach how.
"The world is your oyster,"
Some wise man once said;
I wonder if our wise friend,
Ever got out of bed.
I have stories in my heart I want to tell
Some of people in paradise and others in hell
I know all the characters in my stories well
Some perish, while some are saved by the bell
The characters are just you and me in print
Described perfectly by thousands of words on ink
They maybe imagined, made up names and identities
But they are just like us, our situations and realities
Like God running the world and carrying out his plans
I forge words and create stories with twists and turns
Where paradise gets lost and hell breaks loose
Where no one can escape the blues
I am an artist; words are my paint as I sit and sketch
The reflection of humanity’s maddening stench
Brightly captured line after line on A4 paper canvas
Like a conductor I swing my fingers and make the alphabet dance
Heartbreaks all over and death in the end
In imagination as in reality, its hard to find a friend
Every man for himself and every woman abused
Even if you are Oprah or the queen, you still get used
Words are fun to merge, into sentences to tell tales
Compressing into pages, explaining why happiness fails
Dreams shattered in a tunnel, like the princess of Wales
People spreading viruses in beds and electronic mails
Like a chef I mix words as if they are ingredients
Cooking up manuscripts that have no recipients
I compose the truth in exaggerated prose
Enough to steal Shakespeare's glory, from right under his nose
My characters may not be close to fame just yet
But they have more grit, than Romeo and Juliet
More complex than Shakespeare's Macbeth
Best laid plans, matters of life and death
An unedited anthology of human tragedies
An underground bible of life’s vanities
With chapters and passages for my eyes only
Hopefully to one day inspire and comfort the lonely
When that day comes maybe I will be famous
But for now, I am unpublished anonymous
My nose is itchin', company's comin'.
Land sakes alive, as I live and breathe,
haven't seen you in a Coon's age.
Lookin' fat and sassy.
We're fair to middlin', barely gittin' by.
Livin' hand t'mouth, kids drivin' us up th'wall.
Uncle Sam bleedin' us dry. How're y'all farin'?
I'm on the skids, man, boss on my case.
Tossed out on my ear.
Ye gads and little fishes.
Ain't that the way, yah giv'em an inch,
they'll take a mile. You'll wind up
with your tail draggin' your tracks out.
Well, buck up, boy, every cloud has a silver lining.
Rome wasn't built inna day.
Don't give up before you start.
Where there's a will, there's a way.
Keep your chin up, time heals all wounds.
Don't sweat it, man, it'll all come out in th' wash.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
Put on a happy face, fake it, till you make it.
Stop monkeyin' around, actions speak louder than words.
Go out there and knock 'em dead.
It's every man for himself.
Let the chips fall where they may.
Hell hath no replete replica like an Ohiohell
memom memoboys dispelled with lovelessloss lorn laments
measured in misgiven gravid neutral grautities of cool compromised cruel
capsid cascades of dreary demented drowsy dump deep demented deny desires
with wilfull wallowing in unsupposed not to be here
herein two boys born to a numbnuts army husbodad and a
WTF what is happening in/outside this family 50's acircle
what comes next in the uneducated female nonintuition of a
deaddad accidential with a pity piss payoff and a whatdoIdo **** attitude
totally in reverse of an arkansas hope of upheaveal. GDMFSOB, who could I/we haVE
BeeN in the assinine scheme of things with someone in an intersomewhateducated semistate of minimal MFconsciousness. We play the hand we are dealt in the vast unscheme of unness.
WTF, and where/why does God take part and lessen a small boy's dream of donated dadhood by taking it away and leave him left to faulterflounder in a boyhood abyss. Dead, devoid, denied to the manmale circumstance of what the future folds to be delivered to doting descendents, like my three sons. with whom I struggled to
shower, impart, enable, enbibe, instill, foster, enliven, and all that I did not experience yet faux provide with an inner soulsense to a measured milestone of mannered man manufactured love and tendered texture of all mine to give with that that is mustered macro from a micro counteanace of humocapped coperal deliverance. All's fair they say unless u have been there and then it's every man for himself---and then, I dare u to get in my way---------no holds barred, look out for I am a survivor, all the way.
Hi, my name is Dave, and according to my grandparents, I wasn't supposed to live to be raised. Go figure.
it was one of the darkest moments in His anointed life
when the Roman soldiers came to arrest Our Lord Jesus the Christ
divinity was unraveling the prophetic scripture to be fulfilled
Jesus betrayed and then deserted the night went silent and still
Jesus was One who was regarded as a gatherer of men
but at the midnight hour His disciples abandoned Him in the end
the journey towards brotherhood is not just about the good days
it's about a willingness to have each others back when life is not going your way
spiritual brotherhood was being tested the enemy now on patrol
the men of God had fallen asleep and the devil had taken control
a war is being waged today against the Living Body of Christ
yet our Christian brothers are asleep on the job unawake to deal with the devil's strife
we need to open our eyes we need to be alert and aware
on the journey towards brotherhood exercising cohesiveness, compassion and care
but the one time that Jeus needed to have His men around
they abandoned Him and forsaken Him and then went underground
every man for himself they left Jesus all alone
and as a result He was crucified and ascended to the heavenly throne
brothers don't abandon each other there's strength in togetherness and unity
have each others backs and then tell Satan to get behind thee
Remember the days not long ago
When most people were actually polite
Men would open doors for the ladies
Strangers would wish you goodnight
Drivers would wave another car through
Though they were late for a meeting
Men would get up, give a lady a seat
Today this is rare and quite fleeting
In this age of instant gratification
It's each and every man for himself
A dog-eat-dog world we're living in
Some things I'm guilty of myself
It's really hard to rise above the tide
It's happening all around us each day
You run the risk of getting trampled on
Politeness is not a given, by the way
Do I think this world will ever return
To those simpler days of yore?
Probably not and that's quite a shame
Those were much nicer times, for sure!
© Jack Ellison 2014
You can scream and yell
Text or call 911
Please go run and tell
Everybody should try to assist someone
This Is not my problem, Its our problem
So please help me solve them
So many people in trouble in the world out there
But no one wants to help no one seems to care
That is because so many are living in fear
They don’t want to see or they don’t want to hear
No more heroes
No more true leaders to follow
Every man for himself, everyone is solo
Rescue me, help me please don’t go
I wish I could help you but I too do feel down
What help is there for men, women and children in towns
Devastated by man's greed and by highly efficient tools of exploitation and destruction
There is political conflict, racial, violence, strife or the economic greed of plundering industrial
nations
Now days the pain of neglect is felt
We all need to give that extra hand and just help
What I thought would be a moment of weakness turned into a moment of bravery
When I was 15, my suicide note turned into a poem that saved me
All I could do was use a pen to express the pain in my heart
They are proof that I survived so I'm no longer ashamed of my scars
My favourite time to write is when I have a heart full of pain and ideas in my head
Looking back, anytime I fought back against depression it was me who bled
7 years free from Self-harm, I used to wear long sleeves on summer days
Never been to prison, but due to depression I know what its like to be caged
Every man for himself is the only thing that my sperm donor taught me
He made me realise my own strengths by not being there to support me
I used to talk to myself, but when around others, I was never comfortable speaking
I would bury my emotions and hide my feelings because I wasn't good at grieving
I've faced so many obstacles that my life feels like a survival course
I've spent nights alone fighting suicidal thoughts
Followed by days of battling monsters and demons
Depression told me we were on the same page, I changed the script and stopped reading
I put it all on the page because people will always try to reveal and expose your insecurities
I've got nothing to hide, I put it out for the whole world to see
I've made mistakes, but this is about my growth and maturity
I always try and remain warm hearted even though it's a cold world for me
Some scars are still bleeding but I'm finally healing within
November 14th 2019 I was sexually assaulted on a night out and I'm slowly starting to have sexual feelings again
I was broken when my ex girl told me I should just get over it, I understand she was frustrated that I wasn't ready to be intimate or perform
But I found it easy to let her go, that was one loss I don't have to mourn
I won't apologise for taking my time to heal and working at my own pace
I have to live with the pain in my heart, and I'm just trying to make this home safe
All I can do is write a poem to express the pain in my heart
I used to be embarrassed, but I'm no longer ashamed of my scars
Around the world the world go round,
For everyone to see and live a life.
They say every man for himself,
But I say everyman for everyone.
Today is not like tomorrow will be,
For today is the day I’ve been granted,
And tomorrow I am yet to have,
I paint my house in different colors,
And I see the beauty I have created.
I paint my heart in bright colors
To make it attractive to whoever see
But one thing I forget when I paint
Is that my beauty is not the beauty
That everyone else sees and admire
Time and again am reminded of me,
When I forget where I come from,
So I can I remember where am going to.
I see the world and see it spin around,
Like the universe spin around he orbit.
With this I always know who I am
And the reason God gave me this life.
The colors, my beauty and my house
Are all the vessels to take me closer
To God who makes the world go round
And tells humanity of who to please
Because it hard to please everyone
But it is better to please God alone
Than to please millions who will turn
And crucify you, despise and leave you
It is hard to get any help,
When every man is for himself.
It is hard to gain wealth,
Working for someone else.
It is impossible to cultivate,
When seeds don’t germinate.
It is hard to survive,
When you can’t realize,
That you have to pull up your bootstraps,
And don’t fall into any trap.
The rule today is the rule yesterday,
Survival of the fittest.
It’s true that is what,
Charles Darwin says.
You can have your hand out,
But don’t expect anyone to give you wealth.
Remember these days and all days,
Survival of the fittest.
The evolutionary rule,
Don’t be stubborn like a mule.
Because every man, woman, boy,
And girl in the whole wide world,
Is for himself.
wrote in college @ ULM
Spring 2004
Some ink runs, not all ink fades.
I'll be damned you think you can win that easily.
It's true your words captivate and tease me.
I can't even lie that you make my breathing uneasy.
Reach out and seize me, believe me, you won't lose me that easily.
Bitterly I put too much trust in myself.
For the thirst of my desire it couldn't be helped.
But it's the hand you're dealt, another notch on your belt, it's every man for himself.
Even after a decade some echoes still hit a resounding truth.
Rewinds time to remind us of the intense fallacies of youth.
Memories of the commotion of our ocean of emotions flood open.
Reminsing on missing the transmission of your missive of bliss when we were kissing.
Not going to think too hard on what created its absence.
I know there wasn't enough forgiveness in you to handle my lack of sense.
For reasons I can't fanthom, it feels good to kick through the embers of this old fire.
Watching as cameras roll from our finest hour toward where it all went sour.
To you now I might as well be a name on a headstone, because you buried me years ago.
I've tried hard to do the same, because we both know you're happier when you don't remember my name.
In the light there is darkness. You don't see it but its there.
Like a sweet serenade, the words unspoken. Lies.
We've all heard it! It hurts but we have to move on. In life nothing is fair
We'll make it! Who knows when and how? Maybe after a thousand tries.
Perhaps a thousand lies. A thousand heart breaks and failures may come.
Just know there has to be hope. In the light there is darkness.
Whoever said life would be easy? it might not make sense but here's where I come from.
I had it all, chased the high, f***ed it all up. Now I'm filled with emptiness
That's not what its all about. Keep trying to be the better you.
Its true. We've all got one. Its your choice. So choose what makes you happy.
In the light there is darkness. I've seen it happen its true.
You better appreciate what you have, for it won't always be there. Life's just crappy.
Just hold on to hope. Every man for himself. I'll see to me. No one's got your back.
Don't rely on words. The tongue causes happiness and sorrow. Don't let someone else's hold you back!
Its uncertainty takes us into year three
Must mask up, still not quite free
A randomness science can’t comprehend
Mandate not, don’t get the shot—the latest trend
Surrendered to what’s taken longer
The jabs make immune systems stronger
To misleading rumors, we fall quarry
Thousands more we’ll surely bury
This spiky protein called Covid Nineteen
Ages five and up, now get your vaccine
A conspiratorial depopulation
Manufactured in another nation
The masses, it’s here for all races
Children seen with shrouded faces
Is this it, is Covid here to stay
What do doctors tell us to say
The virus evolves, it doesn’t go away
What lessons can be learned
Another life sickened and spurned
The Pope, another epistle
To what tune do we whistle
What will they say all over the world
Every man for himself, every boy and girl
All grown up—they’ll be heard and seen
As the — Generation Covid Nineteen!
Shakespeare brought good to life
Human nature to find the person deep within
Every man for himself
Humans of individuality all so different
Be stronger upon now
The path of a different way lays before ourkind
Community cut; slices our artery of connection
No need to associate ourselves
In times association sourced survival
Once weak and nor wise - we die
In times it masks of false happiness