Best Got Off Poems
I laugh out loud
every time I hear a politician say,
that the best way to enrich a black person's life,
is to give them a job
Give them some work to do
Labor is the way out of poverty ---
are you kidding me!
They got the nerve,
telling a black person in America
they need to work
Put the shoulder to the grinding wheel,
get to know the sweaty brow feel
Getting employed will solve most of
black people's problems, politicians say
Hard work will bring an honest dollar our way
But I got a problem
with that four-letter word: work
I am bold enough to speak for my people
on this urgent matter
Telling us we need to work some more,
in order for things to get better for us
No! We worked long enough
Four hundred years is a long enough time, don't you think
We been working ever since
we got off those slave ships that didn't sink
We worked hard
at keeping our eyes and voices low
We worked hard
at pretending that we're slow
We worked even harder
at grinning and gritting our teeth
But we worked the hardest
at not getting lynched on a tree
Listen to me:
This is the children of slaves reality,
the living in America experience
of feeling the societal lash daily
Of being looked down on,
of being spurned and frowned upon
Politicians say they helped us all they could,
that entitlements didn't do no good
And only work can get us to where we need to be ...
sounds a lot like old-time slavery to me
No! We worked long enough
Four hundred years is a long enough time, I would think
We been working ever since
we got off those slave ships that didn't sink
We worked hard
at not getting pecked to death by Jim Crow
We worked hard
at trying to survive under the poverty line below
We worked even harder
at not telling the oppressor everything we know
But we worked the hardest
at letting our unchained KKKourage show
Yes! We worked long enough ...
now it's time for us to rest
Will you pay us back for that?
I once dated a pilot …
We both had our head in the clouds
Our relationship lead to a lot of turbulence -
I guess it never really got off the ground!
I once dated a glazier…
He thought I would be putty in his hands
But I could see right through him…
He was constantly smashed
I once dated an undertaker…
He knew he had stiff competition
I couldn’t cope - he was always ‘coffin’ when he picked me up in his hearse
He had no sense of humour in fact he was dead boring
I once dated an angler
The thought he was a real catch…
But the scales soon fell from my eyes
As he was obsessed with his flies
I once dated a footballer
He thought he could score with me
Told me he had great tackle…
But it was just a load of balls
I once dated a fishmonger…
He thought he was cod’s gift to women
He invited me back to his plaice…
Where I found out he was really a cold fish
Submitted to 101 poems in a row
Sponsored by PD Linda:-)
15th April 2016
I was enjoying my time in the sandbox
When a redhead with freckles climbed in.
The glint in his eyes left no question,
His mission was ruin and sin.
With my pail I had sculpted a castle,
But he eyed it with fiendish disdain.
His foot was the boot of destruction,
And he smashed it without any shame.
He laughed when he saw my reaction,
Through my tears I could tell he was glad.
My first lesson was learned in that sandbox,
There's nothing can keep out the bad.
I discerned that the boy with the freckles,
Had no interest in making a friend.
Though he had the face of an angel,
His looks hid a devil within.
I met him again in the school yard,
He was older and meaner by then.
He twisted my arm back behind me,
And insisted that I holler out, "When!"
I wish I could boast I played hero,
But he scared me out of my wits.
He growled "say when or I'll break it."
And I knew that I dare not resist.
All through the rest of my school days,
He tormented me whenever he could.
I spent way too much time in hiding,
Too fearful to do what I should.
We crossed paths again playing soccer,
And of course we were on different teams.
His attacks were not part of the playing,
He got off on the pain and the screams.
We never met while I was in college,
Though I heard he had landed in jail.
I wasn't glad at all that it happened,
Till I though of that sandbox and pail.
Like all lights at the end of the tunnel,
Aren't those that you wish would remain.
For a light in the darkness can fool you,
And turn out to be an on-coming train.
There's no judging a book by its cover,
So I caution you girls, "stay alert."
Some of those boys who have freckles,
Are devils who love bringing you hurt.
Abusive soul who tormented my heart
I didn’t wait for us to drift apart
I found inner strength at last
So don’t look at me aghast
You’re merely a crumb on my heart’s pie chart
A defumigator removed your scent
Into the trash all your hunting boots went
And those ghastly deer “trophies”
Ablaze with your spoiled green cheese
Your firearms too in the bonfire were sent
Valentine, let me give it to you straight
Goodwill came by for the very last crate
Maker’s Mark* for the homeless
Now that’s ironic justice
Hope your new home in the tent is just great
You wrecked my car and destroyed my credit
So you got off easy from where I sit
Not that you had much to lose
Just hair, weight, someone to use
Cupid aims, may your hemorrhoids get hit!
*Maker’s Mark is expensive whiskey
Entry for Sidney~Lee Ann’s valentine to an ex-lover contest
Written January 17, 2012
We got off the plane in Malta after our flight
Reached the arrivals hall and to our delight...
there to greet us with a hug and a smile
Paul Callus, his wife and his lovely grand daughter Valentina
THANK YOU PAUL - YOU MADE MY HOLIDAY COMPLETE BEFORE IT HAS EVEN BEGUN!!!!
Written in my hotel room in Sliema Malta
27th October 2015
Army service done, I was heading home
My Ma and friends I'd missed and Tige my dog
Served my three years never again I'd roam
I got off the bus, there was a dense fog.
And lying there was Tige my canine friend
Tige led the way, I started to follow
Strange way he went turning left at the bend
A dam was being built, I did not know.
I reached home, Ma was rocking in her chair
Said she'd wrote me about how Tige had died
Her words shocked me all I could do was stare
But I'd just seen him, Ma wouldn't have lied.
Safe route had gone but Tige had led the way
She said Tige had died three years to the day
Written on 26 September 2018.
Inspired by 'Gentleman ' Jim Reeves classic song 'Old Tige'
His voice the hiss of serpents,
he acknowledged the pact unmade,
but now he was here to tell him
how the debt would be repaid.
"All your sons, and all their sons,"
the devil's eyes glowed red,
"will perish while still very young,
yes, all of them, cold and dead."
With that, the devil vanished,
not long after, Joseph died,
and Jack, now the eldest,
found his career on the rise.
He married a well-bred woman,
she made a beautiful bride,
but their first-born child, a son,
very quickly died.
But how the public loved him,
the White House was Camelot,
but Satan hadn't forgotten,
and guided Oswald's shot.
Next in line was Bobby,
and he soon, too, was slain,
now Edward became paranoid,
though justified, ashamed.
Edward wasn't pleased with God,
the curse of his surname,
he knew someone would kill him,
if only for the fame.
And, one day, those fateful words
slipped through his lips as well,
the devil appeared as a gent,
and with a pact to sell.
Now, Edward was not evil,
but perhaps a little weak,
vehemently he refused, at first,
but Satan continued to speak.
The devil knew his weak spots,
affirmed he'd soon be dead,
then offered an alternative,
made up of hope and dread.
"You will live a long and worthwhile life,
and your children will live, too,
but in exchange for these gifts,
there are two things you must do:
You must find a young and innocent girl
and give her soul to me.
You, alone, must take her life,
but you'll escape scot-free.
The other thing you must give me
is your most passionate dream,
that is, to become president,"
the devil's smile obscene.
Well, Chappaquiddick happened,
and he got off scot-free,
I think he tried to be the best,
most honorable he could be.
But Satan keeps his promises,
and John-John's plane went down,
and now the pact is finished,
for there's no more left around.
©Danielle White
Do not confuse
my compliance
with agreement.
My quiet is not
for your appeasement.
I’m trying to survive,
while knowing
my suffering
makes you feel alive.
I’ll never understand,
how pushing me down,
causes you to thrive.
Is there
a special taste
in my fear?
A satiation
of your thirst
that is quenched
by a tear?
How do you
see yourself
when you
look in a mirror?
Would you
cease to exist
if I wasn’t here?
I am
sucked up
by your need.
Your “Love me
love me” creed!
Your soul hole
is to big to feed.
You’re a human parasite,
or a deep rooted weed.
How much more,
will you cause me to bleed?
I am child
You hold
all the power.
An imposing figure
like a clock tower.
I am held
in your tick talk grip,
hour after hour.
As I grow quieter,
you become
louder and louder.
Now I make
my great escape.
My own new world
a different landscape.
The old me
hung out to dry,
like a freshly
cleaned sheet draped
I become,
my own Super Hero,
with a brand new cape.
Without you,
my strength grew.
I did not allow you,
to determine who
I should be,
or what I am supposed to do.
That part of my life
is finally through.
All the lies you
forced fed me,
none of them were real.
I didn’t know then
how I should feel.
You somehow
convinced me
you were a big deal.
Now you hold no sway
and little appeal.
I got off of
your mind controlled
hamster wheel!
My life’s now my own,
I stopped the steal.
I am reading Edith Egler’s book “The Gift”
It caused me to contemplate abuse at the
hands of my father. I wrote another piece
titled Eddy in which I tried to understand what
shaped who he became. I am not angry with
him anymore. He passed away over 20 years
ago. I must admit it was an important part of
my family healing.
"Thank you for calling….”
Is what’s trained to be said
But when they get irate and lewd
I feel like hanging up instead.
This person’s always right, that person’s never wrong.
Mr boss sir, your breath is oh so strong !
they’re mean and crass, just downright rude
I might just be naughty and get the big boss sued.
I give picture perfect smiles,
the really artificial Kind
Welcome and please come again,
you just died ten times in my mind
Just got off the last call and I don’t mean to be crude
But goodbye till tomorrow, the next complaint I’ll elude
A collaboration with Stephanie Allen/Sean Solomon/Niketa Mckenzie
He Found Clouds That Weathered His Mind
Twelve months ago he caught a train
A train of thought.
At the depot of his mind he got on,
As a stowaway.
All through his life
He was hitching a ride,
Hitching life,
Hitching nothing.
In tow
He had nothing to show.
Just seeds of gloom
That grew into trees.
Trees of melancholy.
On the outside he was normal.
On the inside
He was fighting his demons
Masked as depression.
On this train ride
He hoped for an answer,
A guiding light,
An angel from Heaven,
A welcoming change.
It grew worse.
Winds of faith,
Blowing him chocolate,
Wrapped up in sweetness,
An oasis.
He saw her on this train,
Another stowaway.
Perfect.
Water for his drought
The angel he sought.
His sunshine.
They talked briefly.
It stormed,
She turning into clouds
That weathered his mind.
Another aberration.
He got off,
Kisses blowing
In the wind
Masked as pain
Taking him further
Into the abyss, into
the depots of his mind.
connie pachecho
8/6/17
Three years ago, we started from nothing
Nothing at all, just us and the will to go on
We worked and we worked, we fought for each other
Stood up alone and together, looking out for one another
But early last year we got off track
We got lazy and bored, it was resistance we lacked
As time wandered on our lives became sour
We need each other but only for a few hours
Then life turned upside down and everything was broken
What was real became haunted, we felt close to choking
So here we are now in the same situation
Problem is now that we don’t have us, different sensation
Now what do we do, which way do we turn, where do we go
I miss what we had; I regret every move now even more so
I had a visit last night, from the ghost of Christmas past.
That took me back in time.
As I was a bird in the sky,
I looked up to see in detail what the ghost looked like.
The ghost was a baby.
I kind of figured that,
he was wearing a babies hat,
with a blue binky in his mouth.
He began to fly over a familiar house.
As I looked closer I saw a pool, and realized it was my uncles house.
For a baby he was quite strong,
as he through me in front of the house on the lawn,
I looked at my reflection through a melted puddle,
and saw I was young again.
I saw the moon ring on my finger, which meant,
I was nine again,which meant it was 2006.
I got off and brushed the cold snow off of me, and walked inside the house.
I saw all my cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, siblings, and mom
all young again, with a hundred less wrinkles and a lot more smiles this time.
We all laughed played games and had fun,
then my dad came and took my siblings and I to his side of the family,
with everyone happy and young looking.
Next thing I know I guess it was time to go,
because in a blink of an eye I was back home.
Back when he was seven, our son won a contest
In his class, his turkey recipe adjudged the best
He was so happy, floating so high on cloud nine
but first prize was something less than 'quite fine'
He had to follow his recipe, cook our Thanksgiving meal
a prize which to his parents had no real appeal
As our son had never used the oven before
we planned on having problems galore
Sure enough, the new chef got off on the wrong foot
as into a pan, a frozen turkey in its package he put
Yet since the poor lad was so new to this game
we simply chuckled a bit, refused to lay blame
at the feet of our son, and explained so politely
that a turkey frozen solid won't cook quite rightly
He listened to us wide-eyed and dutifully
then gave that bird time to thaw proper-beautifully
Only --- so excited to start, he forgot the next instruction
which caused more than just some minor destruction
to the thawed bird, which was still in its package
as it entered the hot oven, awaiting the wreckage...
Well, you can imagine the looks on our faces
hearing the turkey begin to 'pop, crackle, snap'
For a moment, horrified, we were frozen in our places
before opening the oven, to a thunderous clap...
Our son was despondent; we had to cheer him right up
So we smiled our best smiles and said, "Just add a cup
or four of water to the pan--- after we scrape off the plastic"
~ I thought that my wife's laugh sounded a bit spastic
But our little budding chef put his heart into the task
and he basted that bird, doing all we had asked
So. when we finally sat down, and clasped our hands to say grace
~ You should have seen the big smile on our happy son's face
October 27, 2019
Thanksgiving Memory Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina Riddle
There once was a sad little Ghost,
teased for his fright-less boo --
unable to scare anyone, in fact,
attracting many a bull
(sounded like an amorous moo)
Oh, that poor little ghost! -- his white sheet always blue;
Maytag man suggested bleach: agitated back and forth~
Screech! Screech! Screech!…
(The saga of the Sad Little Ghost. Add to the saga in your comment: for example, the boo to the owl sounded like hoo...so he showed up with his Plagiarism lawyer~ etc.... The Witch heard the call as brew, or stew, so she got off her broom to prepare more gloom....)
THE SLEEPERS AWAKE
For century or more they served
Unchanging paths they always kept
As in a dream the tracks preserved
With faith immovable they slept
One day as on a given sign
Their somnolence came to an end
They woke and each looked down the line
Thought: ‘Now’s the time to make amend’
The drivers were caught by surprise
(They never chose to left nor right)
And they could not believe their eyes
At unexpected views in sight
What should have been a vernal place
With nothing but some cows and sheep
Revealed a bustling teeming space
Of cars and people half asleep
Some passengers were due for shock
Arriving not in Waterloo
But disembarked at Pembroke Dock
Some stayed; (it was a nicer view)
Some thought they headed for train boats
To Marseilles Nice or yet Cadiz
But woke in sight of John O’Groats
Got off the train with shivering knees
These days of glorious free ride
Gave inspiration, passing strife
When they could choose and they decide
And thus perceive a truth of life
Then with a satisfaction deep
They resurrected each old line
And laid down there once more to sleep
Perhaps to wake another time