Best Extended Poems
The Devil insists
The Fall is Drafted
Suffering is Scripted—
as Seed
I declare the Seed a Fraud
yet still, I plant it deep
The Garden splits its Jaw
and swallows Autumn whole
The Flowers, Lord, are Feral
They bloom without my Grief
they bloom despite my Watching
Teeth in the soil—they mock
Beauty grinds its Machinery
without Permission
And I, a Cog unconsulted,
must grind in Silence
The six steep slopes they gave me..
yes, all were mine.
I can give them to you..
if you wish them.
Though they tend to be.,
unkind.
Don't wait for them to love,
or understand,
or forgive..
It's not their way.
They serve only to light a path,
show you the way.
Discover who you are, yes,
and where you come from.
It's what you always asked,
and all you ever prayed.
Don't look too far forward,
they'll make sure you're blind..
Understand that you are all that matters
not them, not us, not time.
In my past existence,
circumstance sowed my roots
deep into woods of foreign soil,
slowly I ascended spreading my wings,
yearning to be evergreen,
blossoming in summer with glossy verdant leaves -
I became the soul of the earth.
Yet, I never belonged,
among a promenade of silver skinned pines,
who mocked my rough brown bark.
I was born to flourish in a tropical oasis,
so autumn winds stole my diverse petals.
I stood vulnerable with
bare branches shivering in silence.
Snow fell gently,
as my crumbling core began to rot.
Fate slashed at my anchor like a mad man with an axe,
until I collapsed with my sap bleeding dry.
I was left to slumber in melancholic meadows,
abandoned in murky misty moors.
In death,
I pondered, will anyone miss me in times of;
silence, anger, tears, smiles, laughter and regret?
Although they cannot hear nor see me,
will they still feel me in their hearts?
When they gaze at the night skies.
Will they find me among the stars?
Lost in thought,
yearning stardust and moonlight melodies,
my soul connected with an ethereal spirit,
an aromatic aura I had never felt -
I was finally found.
Her soft lotus touch roused a fluorescent glow.
Our hearts illuminated resembling the golden orb.
As my beloved portrays me in her poetry,
we wander in fields of forever,
commemorating instead of cremating memories.
Her devotion plants a special seed in her bronze orchard,
creating an immortal poetic garden -
where we bloom as flowers in all four seasons.
A paper man
Under paper clouds
The sky is falling
and he doesn’t know why
His edges are folded
He feels he’s undone
There isn’t any warmth
from a paper sun
Cellophane grass
Cardboard under feet
He has a paper girlfriend
With a paper heartbeat
His feelings feel flat
Just a few wrinkles
Paper snow is falling
A tinfoil star twinkles
A world of my creation
I just want to feel
Hoping my sky won’t fall
Nothing feels real
I’m three dimensional
Under a real sky
There’s hope beyond clouds
When my mind tries to lie
So I grasp for happy
A bit of pleasure too
Even when it’s not easy
It’s just what I do.
Inspired by a friend.
As men we are taught to keep our feelings to ourselves and suffer in silence. In 2012 I went through depression and it took me a long time to look for help. When our feelings are flat and the world feels two dimensional, seek help and reach out to a friend. There are people who love us. There is no reason to suffer in silence. Colour returned to my world and I am thankful. The sky didn’t fall even though in the moment it felt so real.
Sweet Talkers of the Devil
Reptiles in human suits are the true sweet talkers of the devil,
and are well known among the various societies in our world
as slick, sleek actors who fancy the breaking of common law
virtues by their actions in supporting ungodly acts of a real
form of reprehensible separatism that opposes all that is right
and true under God’s eyes in civilized human society.
These malefic actors are the perfect humanoid reptiles for
spreading their surreptitious message of greater autonomy
in the world as they seek to divide and conquer all people
in human societies with their notion and true intention of
setting back the real, hard-earned historical progress that
mankind has achieved over the centuries that have been
marked by war, strife, prejudice, tyranny, nonsense, and
utter debauchery.
What’s at stake you might ask? Think of the implications
of the negative actions proffered and foisted upon all
innocent people worldwide. Think about all the progress
mankind has achieved over the centuries while having to
confront and to defeat the uncanny forces of deception,
darkness, and true evil.
Beware of the Sweet Talkers of the Devil!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
November 1, 2021 (Narrative)
In the dim-lit alley of the soul's bazaar,
Were jazz and jive spill from ajar,
We tap our feet, snap fingers, under stars,
And speak in verses, raw and without pause.
The city breathes, a living, pulsing beat,
Its heart a drum, its voice a saxophone,
We weave through streets, our words a rhythmic feat,
In its sync with life yet distinctly our own.
We are scribes of midnight's whispered tales,
Our ink, the dreams that dance in smokey air,
Each line is a track on which our spirit sails,
A journey deep, beyond the skin, we dare.
So let us write, with passion as our guide,
Some beat poems, where truths cannot slide.
Then we'll take a carpet ride,
Sail across space standing side by side.
I'm a sinister shell,
lost in bygone
deepwaters of
gravity-less
cerulean tears,
that saturate
molten sundrops,
falling from
zinc-plated skies,
as heliophilic snow,
melts frosted
memories in
white-washed waves,
and the moon-
kissed paint of
chamomile dusk
seeps in
cataclysmic bruises of
cloudburst refrains.
Perhaps, phosphenes
perfumed with
blueth poppies,
splashing neon drops
upon midnight shores
of crystallized
coastal lashes,
left pearlescent
ice-drop stains
of fervent lies
and cupid's lampshade.
I was never a
flamboyant fleur flower,
for my rufescent roots
were induced with
evil effervescence
of elusive lambent love.
Dormant heavens
of cursed fairies,
are now bleeding
mahonia mist of
cocooned truths
and deserted dreams
in periwinkle
poetic estuaries,
where doomed
driftwoods float
as ash grey
carnival-canoes.
In werifesteria of
alchemist's
expensive jewels,
amidst soiled seagrass,
this heart slumbers
in silicon rain,
that drips from
lime-scented
starfish-shaped leaves,
when pain escalates
to tangled treetops,
blooming ~
scarlet sun-shells,
infused with
my smoldering
sinister soul.
They start thick—
not the polite kind you stir into tea
not the mild drizzle on breakfast toast
but the kind that runs hot
slow
dangerous
coating your tongue before you grasp
the price of its pleasure.
They start golden—
dripping off the comb
sun pressed into their marrow
too rich, too syrupy—
gumming up the gears of your schemes
too luminous for hands that flinch from light
too wild for walls meant to contain them.
You want squeeze-bottle love.
Clean.
No bees.
No stingers.
No buzz.
But they ferment in kitchens
where no one thanks them—
same way their grandmothers did
spooning fire into each serving
stinging their own tongues
just to stay sharp—
drizzling down your better judgment staining
Sunday shirts
unraveling wedding vows
spilling past boundaries
no one asked them to obey.
They get called—
too much.
too loud.
too open.
too shut—
like they were born to fit into your grip
instead of slipping right through it.
You try to jar them.
Slap on barcodes:
Best before.
Handle with care.
Discount if damaged
for quick sale.
But wild honey won’t kneel—
it contradicts logic
defies preservation
reason
perfumes the air
wrecks your thirst for tradition.
You mistook raw for reckless
Reckless for ruin
Ruin for something to fear.
You laughed when they wept—
like grief was a spectacle
like tenderness was weak
like softness
was a defect to be filtered out.
But by the time you realize
she’s the rarest thing
you ever tasted—
she’s already sweetening
the hands that never swatted her
And now,
we sit here—
jars without lids,
spoons still sticky—
trying to remember
what it meant to taste something
that never begged to be caged.
Maybe—
the glass wasn’t meant to hold her.
Maybe—
it was meant to shatter—
to let something wild
and feral
flood in
and leave you
pleading
for ruin.
—it’s a reckoning,
unapologetic,
untamed,
final.
Just say no to sunshine
Trying to penetrate your dark doom
Wrap your black cloud around its fire
Smoother it in your tears, in your grief
In your past trauma
Feel it struggle in your stranglehold
Feel its energy released, drained,
Spent in your grasp
As happiness gasps dying
Drooping, whithering away
Should it rise again to sear your darkness
Murder it
You're so good at feeling hopeless
Why try to feel anything but
Slay it again and again
Every time it swells up in you
Tempts you to believe that it will last
It will stay, it will dwell deep in your heart
Forever
Convincing you with slippery slick sly serpent tongue
To let the big lie slide inside you (again)
Where you tend it, hydrate it, and grow it
Until its even bigger than before
(Really)
Yeah... and you let it fill you up
Lift you
Thrust you gravity free
Ride that rocket to dizzying, breathtaking
Earth shattering heights
From which you know you'll be
Shot down like a rainbow
Stretched over the sky
In a spectacular, sparkling, dizzying
Exploding array of glittering joy
Spritzing the heavens, drizzling down
Coating your heart with sweet, warm
Delicious love
Only to have that scorching light
That blasted you full
Retreat from the depths of your darkness
And leave you emptier than before
Sighing with despair
F___ sunshine
In a box full of everything I’ve ever lost,
The first thing I’d rummage for is the patience that could’ve led me
To your open arms at any cost
Slow moving nights, without a trace of day-dreamt advice
My home away from home you provided, but without a trace of a porch light
Well I’ll find you but it’ll take so much out of me
And I’ll hunker down and prepare for the motivation I’ll lose suddenly
Well I don’t have the time to find everything
and here is where I put myself aside to choose priorities
But in a box full of everything I’ve ever lost,
The first thing I would scour for
is the opportunity for mental bandages, only a damaged soul could’ve ignored
And every ring of earth's rotation bringing me to a soured destination
Of knowing now, that you were the glass that kept us separated
I’m antagonizing fight or flight so we establish who controls this
My head’s too far in the clouds, I’m blind to where the runway is
And it's getting hard to tell
of what rejections were the world’s protection
And what were just sacrifices
But in a box full of everything I’ve ever lost
The first and only thing I would gaze for,
Is the paper you riveted with every metaphor
That would’ve changed my view of you, had I not tossed
But mistakes are the thorns that bring intimidation to every flower;
Dwelling on them won’t make you more well-rounded
And it’s about time I started living my life in my own honor
Cause everything I’ve ever lost,
Took a nerve laced under skin and numbed the ends
Before the people pleaser in me attempted to plea with one-sided amends
That would have led me nowhere,
With no one to carry me
So in a box full of everything I’ve ever lost,
I’m peering for ashes, post-flame
From a shifting smile that disintegrates
Travels make the mind wise
Wise enough to know
Everywhere you go is change
That comes either fast or slow
The Sun can be an enemy
Or the sun can be a friend
Weather it is in the desert
Or in the cold and wind
The rain goes where it needs
And sometimes strays too long
Watering vegetation, flooding
Thousands of homes
The rain can be an enemy
The rain can be a friend
We cannot make it’s limits
But we can try to defend
Time is sometimes limited
And sometime time is free
But when it comes to Revelation
We don’t know when it will be
Remember time can be your enemy
Or time can be your friend
Don’t play with time and you’ll find
Time will let you be
Wine is always available
But rarely is it free
Wine can change your feeling
And wine can give you sleep
But wine can be an enemy or
Wine can be your friend
Wine can destroy in seconds
And bring a trial to an end
Love can often find us
And makes slaves of the free
Love can also bind us
To the strongest tree
Love can be an enemy
or love can be a friend
The Love of Christ it finds us
and makes us all believe
War can bring us freedom
War can bring us sin
War can make us hero’s
And traitors deep with in
War can be an enemy
War can be a friend
War can bring us liberty
And cripple us while we live
Religion gives us reason
To fight the horrors of sin
We cannot love our brothers
without a god within
But religions can be our enemy
Or religion can be our friend
The cause of war and prejudice
And where hopes and prayers begin
God can give us assurance
That this is not the end
There will always be a something
And on that you can depend
But God can be an enemy
Or God can be a friend
To choose between Heaven or Hell
You have to listen to Him
The whirlpool stars of the Milky Way appeared when she was feeling grey.
Mother-of-pearl constellations shimmered across her skin in the candlelight.
Saturn’s red rings spiraled wildly at her climax—
A solar flare unleashed in breathless surrender.
Turquoise desire bled into solemn greys,
And those greys married verdant dreams, swirling in slow motion.
To gaze at her was to weightless drift in a heavenly sky,
A vacation from this unforgiving world.
Her allure was all-encompassing, enchanted and unique,
Spiraling me into a pheromone-induced high
Each time she glided by like moonlight on water.
She was a celestial mesh of chaos and charm
Unreachable, until the universe paused and she murmured, stay.
Thank you
How I keep saying
Deep gratitude showing
Generosity, kindness, beauty
The wonder and joy of giving..
What would I consider or measure
The value of what is received, the feeling of pleasure
Unable to weigh or count
What is given, a flowing fount..
Thank you
A word too much used and said
Nothing equal back could be paid
Just the sweet taste in hearts we pass to mankind
And a legacy for Humanity of being good and kind..
Thank you
How I keep believing
In words converted to true feeling
In genuine souls to my worries kindly listening
My pain enduringly wiping..
Thank you
One of God’s many a blessing
The gift of gratitude for which I keep praying
Recognition I keep showing
To those who paved the way for the grace of living
To all those who filled my whole with smiles
And my dark chambers with light
So as I could reach the warmth of Hope and Faith inside..
Thank you
Over and over I would say
To people of God
And to the Almighty I would pray
As I recall more than one sign and call
Nothing should be in life for granted taken
To meet life twists, the heart toughen..
Thank you
So much in life I owe
To who caringly appeased my fear
Patiently lent an attentive ear
Lovingly brightened a gloomy atmosphere
Humanely bore my weakness and what I shed of tear..
Thank you
Of what life brings am in awe
Despite my perception of its limitation and flaw
Tolerance and acceptance I keep fostering
Allow peace and bliss my inner self illuminating
And only the wonders of good in Humanity I keep seeing
With a strong belief in sharing, caring and giving..
Thank You
The salt of the seas
sacred in nature...
the salt spice of life
that sweetens our existence...
Albumin, salt of tears
that we cry with blissfulness or sadness...
the salt of the earth
that is offered to the world
to sprout everything, and can not
be tasteless
(thus proclaims gospel)
cheers to salt
of redemption...!
They Speak of You
Hey beautiful,
How often
have I called you softly
by that name?
Your voice is a warm whisper
more soothing
than a gentle rain.
You are lovely in so many ways,
I could spend eighty-eight days
times eighty-eight ways,
just writing poems and plays.
Dedicated to just how beautiful you are...
From your head to your toes
to your near perfect nose
and all your girly parts in between.
...
You have only to look in the mirror
to see what I mean.
You are the beauty
of a single sunflower
in the middle of a desert oasis,
as twilight sets fire
to the sun baked sands.
You were created by the hand of God
and wanted by every man.
You are the beauty
of a cool glass of water
on a world where summer is eternal,
and no one has had a drink
in a thousand years.
What I believe to be true,
the word beautiful
was invented for you.
So, when anyone,
anywhere, at any time
utters the word beautiful,
they speak of you.
Perfect in all your imperfections
you've been beautiful all your life.
And if it hasn't happened already,
one day some lucky young man,
is gonna beg you
to be his wife.
For your a natural beauty,
that kind of beauty
where make up makes no sense.
You’re the answer to the question...
Why mess with perfection?