Best For What It's Worth Poems


Premium Member For What Its Worth

Mindfull of a parallel sequence
we seem to function light between
thought and hurt hoping for
easy advancement up the channel steps--
pecarious invoking with someone who
knows--- and not knows inescapable from
ourselves compliant (fraud)  if need not be.
Backwash of hidden intermittent terrors preclude
external sensitivities---like my aching back
heat waves of generalized dizziness and
gender--izing. The sweet bird of youth
never suffers a jet lag stupor as we enjoy
and (softly) murmur the last rungs in a 
flaccid present tense loss of self faculty.
But the nevertheless picture of realitivity
lends a jargon journal future sometimes
nameless but  (at least)  omnidirectional
happenstance.

For What Its Worth

My heart is yours
For what its worth
It beautiful and cruel 
and it misleads many with lovers eyes 
to follow what they believe are stars in the night
Like fairys dancing in the dark
It will lure you in with shining lights
And goad you into a taste
Of wine posined with a bit of lust
Fully believing that you are in love 
It will take you by the hand
And drag you to the rocky cliffs
Convince you you'll want to take a swim 
Breathing in the salty taste 
You wont realize that as time passes
Your only wasting away 
It will tell you sweet lies
They mean nothing of the truth
Though it may perhaps care
Its only infatuated with you 
It will tell you that you have wings
And push you to fly to the heavens
But when you spread your arms to soar
You'll realize that is was just a fake image
It will hold you gently
Like an andaconda in a dream
Feasting like a carnivor 
Silencing your scream 
You'll find that you are trapped
With no way to be released
Until it wakes from its dream 
- Until it wakes from its dream
If you want it you can have it
Though it will only be on lend
My heart is yours 
For whats its worth 
Remember I warned you my friend

Understanding

System of events so dramatic it reinvents.
My wisdom over lends a static in a sense.
I give them my hands in return for amends,
Even though it is them who never understands.

Shackled and chained, felt internal pain.
Condemned to complain, alone I remain.
I forget my name, hide my face in shame.
Aiming for the fame, my souls put in vain.

Isolated feelings, as high as the ceiling,
Dealing with each one as time keeps on ticking.
I’m sealing the past, and starting a new beginning.
This living I’m seeing, no one should be given.

Sometimes I wonder, when I hear the thunder,
Is GOD asunder, because demons are under,
Waiting in numbers, in patience, in slumber,
At the end of a tunnel, throughout winter and summer.

I guess it could be worse, I could be in a hearse,
If I put my greed first, I lay deep in a curse.
Since my birth I was destined to disburse,
For what its worth, I’m willing to make it work.


Premium Member The Art of Eating Lobster

When in swanky restaurants, 'tis easy to daintily dine on cordon bleu,
But dining on lobster requires deft finesse without humiliating you!
For what its worth, I offer the following that I've learned o'er the years,
To show snobbish waiters you're really not all that wet behind the ears!

First of all, a wizened waiter will provide a bib if he's really on the job.
(Somehow, they perceive right away that you are a rather artless slob!)
When cracking open each morsel, some violent squirting may occur!
Should juice spritz the guy at the next table simply say, "Sorry sir"!

The hapless lobster is dissected in certain order to make the meal complete.
First, remove the claws, crack the shell with a claw cracker and remove the meat.
For this a fork is provided, then discard the shells in a bowl being discreet!
Next, twist the tail from the body and break off the flippers - those you musn't eat!

And now for the piece de resistance, that long anticipated holy grail,
(That you paid fifty-five bucks for!) - that scrumptious lobster's tail!
Insert a lobster fork into the flesh and gently ease it out of the shell.
(Sucking meat from the legs is optional - on that matter I will not dwell!)

A female lobster might contain a bit of roe considered a delicacy by some.
(If that is your fancy, quietly asking about the lobster's sex is the rule of thumb!)
Plunge lobster pieces in butter taking care not to let it run down your arm!
(Leaving a sizeable tip for the disaster you've created wouldn't do any harm!)

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

A Conversation With Aenesidemus

"A Conversation with Aenesidemus"

all perceptions are relative 
and interact 
one upon another 

take a coin
stand it vertical
spin it

gravity does that
it’s one way or the other
there is no in between 

middle roads

even when you hold it
steady between your fingers
there is one side or the other

the middle exists
it stands for what its worth
for a short time

let go of the hold, 
it wobbles and 
topples over

and falls in line
one side or the other 
eventually

choices are detours
you may take the high road
and one may take the low road

the road less traveled
too, converges, 
where both high and low roads

eventually meet,
some say its complex
if you ask me, 

designed, 
even chaos has its place,
simple, neat

all perceptions are relative 
and interact 
upon another

truth, 
he said,
varies infinitely 

under circumstances 
whose relative weight
cannot be accurately gauged

nor guaranteed

therefore, there is 
no absolute knowledge
for everyone, 

for all people 
are brought up 
with different beliefs

under different laws
under different 
social conditions

yet, he says, 
pyrrhonistically
speaking 

all perceptions are relative 
and interact 
upon another

hiccups
contradictory

scrolls of tropai modes
the suspension 
of judgment 

it’s enough
to do your head in 
all this walking on water

a real tonic 
for those 
experiencing cptsd

humour and 
intelligencia
assists,

streaming 
light through 
jadeful windows

enter left screen 
Belief

(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)

Shoulda Read the Fine Print


SHOULDA READ THE FINE PRINT
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

in bygone days I did the football pools
and always hoped my X had marked the spot?
making sure that I had read all the rules
an agent did the post ere I forgot.

for years not one single problem, until
my draws came up, I had marked the right spot.
on paper, I'd won a fortune! the thrill!
sadly the agent to post had forgot".

oh yes! it went to court, I'd win I thought,
all I got, for what its worth, my stake back.
yeah! so much for rules, taking it to court.
onus, on me, to see it in the sack!

I was wrought, I had read all the rules, but
I shoulda read the fine print, adjudged, shut!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Composed 17th January 2018
Entered in 'shoulda read the fine print' Poetry Contest, sponsored by John lawless


I Think, This Shabbat

Listening to services 
on my computer 
   I remember by 
wild youth 
   Now I sit perched 
on
the 
precipice of old age
  and have only some poetry
                                to show 
                                for it 
Had poetry in the 
    NY Times 
No relationship - except for some nice 
  platonic ones 
     I hear them singing 
  on the computer 
so I will put down my pen 
  drift into Shabbat 
for what its worth

I Am, I Am

I can’t believe the words your written
What makes you think your smart
How dare you judge this life of mine
Was straight right from the start

I never was to meet you
What is it that you think
This is just my chat line
I’m not desperate as you think

If you think you’ve got me figured
I’ll tell you that your wrong
You need to walk a mile as me
Before you sing my song

Don’t tell me about the 90%
Don’t judge me by your rules
I will be me, and always me
Not someone else’s fool.

You think you know about me
I wish I knew the same
You’ve never even met me
You only know my name. 

You’ve hurt me with your judgment
With your “think about it” tone
I thought I had a chat mate
But I’m wrong, I stand alone.

We flirted and we had some fun
And lots of time we passed
With jokes and stories 
And things gone wrong
And travels in the past

But now I want to sit right back
And close those lines again
Those tentative lines that I let out
To reach the land of song

I just feel so let down again
By judgment from your kind
You seem to think my world is free
I tell you I need time

My being is a big dark place
Too sensitive I may be
I struggle with my very life
To feel my soul be free

I used to trust the whole wide world
All roses I did see
But I’ve learnt it’s full a big sharp thorns
That rip the flesh off me

I’m going now, for what its worth
I did enjoy our chats
Got things to do and places to go
And find out were I’m at.

Love, Mum

who decides..
who gets lies..
and who gets the girl..
because my suggestion box is full..
and truthfully speaking..
a two-story house is too close to the sun for my liking..
but i dont mean it the way you think..
i just have a bone to pick..
but my dog is starving..
heads down..
tails up..
its a half confession..
the rest is forth coming attraction..
in traction of seduction skills i've acquired over the years..
whilst dodging humble old man as they are ferried to their graves..
oh God, this story ends..
but i am not in the end..
though i intend to see it till the end..
so i hide my shadows in dark places..
drinking risk-free ice-tea..
as the moon shines over my shoulders..
and for what its worth, i will bring you that star..
I LOVE YOU MUM..

For What Its Worth, I Get Out of Bed At Least

How is it I'm only 26
Sitting here in the middle
Of a mid-life crisis?
I haven't even had time 
The older ones tell me
To slow down my rhyme
To find the logical reason
Behind these actions
Of unquivering self treason
But its all I've known
Living paycheck to paycheck
Was how I'd grown
Job to job, city to city
Cut the lights off and
Look I'm still pretty.

But this face doesn't pay the bills.
And my body can't handle paid thrills
And the circle comes right back around.
At the ripe young age of 26
I'm smack dab in the middle 
Of a mid-life crisis.

For What Its Worth

For what its worth…  
I would like to thank my parents for keeping me stable
With a roof over my head and food on the table
For making a way for me to be able
To be myself to be who I am and not just a label
For keeping me safe and secure
For making me and making sure
That I stay on a straight path
And learn from all the things I’ve endured
For what its worth …
Thank you and I appreciate what you’ve done
Stuck by my side and believed in me when I was young 
Held on and still kept that grip even when I acted dumb
I just thank god for being your son
Though there were struggles you sheltered them off
For me to live right you paid the cost
Without my parents ill probably be lost
So I thank them for life and how they took charge
For what its worth…
Whatever I need it was provided
Though times aren’t hard now 
 They weren’t always delighted 
And when they were around I had you to fight it
There’s no limit to your abundance of love 
And for that love is all that I can give to you
Love to you my parents for being there all my life
The reason I live and why I’m alive
And once again I LOVE YOU



Dedication to Kerry and Ben Foy my parents without you I  couldn’t be who I am and everything that I do you are an inspiration so I Love and thank you very much for being there for me when I needed you the most so once again THANK YOU
© Trey Foy  Create an image from this poem.

The Beginning

To the beginning of a wonderful future but, a future of what?
For it seems every time I try to say the words, the door of emotion shuts on me.

My words of wisdom are your sounds of noise.
I wish for just one day to be with you, to show you what real love is about.

I want to take you away from the world of hurt and take you to the illusion of joy,
for joy is truly an illusion but, a mystical one.

If everyone in the world was like you, the world would be a happier place.
but, there is only one you,  and thats why you are so beautiful in my eyes.

My body is young, my soul is tired and old yet, this does not matter for if your around 
I am filled with hope and peace.
so, for what its worth you are the king of my dreams.

Tonight when you lye in your bed think of the words spoken, and the thoughts revealed
(don't forget me)
for you will realize my secret feeling which is no longer a secret.

She Needs It: Daily and Continually

She Needs It: Daily and Continually!

Well bro, you got the ‘prize’ and you done play your part!?!
You’re not secured yet bro; listen and take it to heart.
She needs your compassion and attention, now and forever;
In your future together, you need to make her a believer.
Part-time affection and sometime appreciation, can’t cut it;
Full-time commitment in courtship, is what gives mutual benefit.
Roses, presents, and hugs and kisses; they never seem to fail;
But when you “mess-up,” a sincere apology will always prevail.
Being overly romantic and mannerly is not just for the start;
It should be frequent and continue, “… Till death do us part.”
Treat your woman right, there’s no time for complacency;
She will appreciate and needs sweet compassion continually.
Not just when you’re feeling freaky and want some loving;
For her, a night full of passionate loving, starts in the morning.
So, treat your woman right: speak well of her and to her daily;
She’s the apple of your eyes, and your one and only baby.
Then she will fully respect you and your every effort;
And you’ll get the best of her, from her; listen, for what its’ worth;
Isn’t it worth the effort to have a good, long-lasting union?
Listen bro, it’s my writing, but many a woman’s opinion.
                                              End
                                    By Dion O. Penville

Endurance Unappreciated, Until Now

Endurance Unappreciated, Until Now                                       
Forcefully taken from beloved Africa, and brought to fertile Caribbean soil;
Sold as much less than merchandise; to unwillingly and unendingly toil. 
Separated from friends, family and tribe mates and everything known;
To be someone’s property and possession: a thing which is fully owned.
Others benefitted from our enduring strength and our unfailing effort;;
But, they never ever credited, nor appreciated us, for what its’ worth.

On the plantations it was House or Field; even then, we had no choice;
Only given instructions, shouted at, or whipped; we never had a voice.
Stripped of our name, our dignity, our ethnicity and every earthly possession; 
Losing everything, and gaining nothing, but our daily, miserly provision.
Others benefitted from our enduring strength and our unfailing effort;;
But, they never ever credited, nor appreciated us, for what its’ worth.

Daily and relentlessly, we strove; unceasingly we were required to work;
Always cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, planting or turning a fork..
Shedding blood, sweat and many tears; but never once gaining a cheer;
Homesick, physically abused, and, separated from loved ones, so dear.
Others benefitted from our enduring strength and our unfailing effort;;
But, they have never ever credited, nor appreciated us, for what its’ worth.

Through the years; ‘Slavery ended,’ chains broke but, systemic bonds remain;
Our Name, our Dignity and our Ethnicity, we’re still striving to fully regain.
In this 21st century, “justice, equality and impartiality” for us is still a fallacy.
Because, in some people’s minds; “Melanin is still subject to white supremacy.”
Others benefitted from our enduring strength and our unfailing effort;;
But, they have still never credited, nor appreciated us, for what its’ worth.
                                                                          End
                                                                 By: Dion Penville

Robust Delirious

Music is a reiteration of self
Humbling a wide selection of conceptions
That trade away masquerades so that the truth will be dealt
It’s shown in my ears, defiance of my peers
Deliver an astonishing attempt
At artful resentment
But
As it goes, 
I’d rather uphold my vision of such proceedings
And holster my dumb-droll to the cadence of rest
Rhythmus frivolous destructive creativity ascribed as venomous
But I assert for what its worth it’ll draw a plaid on your shirt
Into your blank-faced words that couldn’t draw upon the surface
What a few detergent rounds could instill into the sound
Note, a voice’s only weakness, it destroys the facetious
Observe

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