Best Handing Out Poems
You think this is quaint, a case of the blues
A handkerchief for a dainty cheek
But I want to howl, I want to shriek
I want to tear the world in two
As you safely stand
In your well-dressed land
Handing out ornate soliloquies
Like pennies
yet neglecting to understand
The poverty of agony
While my dark demeanor
is dismissed
I will burn buildings
If you insist
On painting glitter
over rage
On labeling my pain
a phase
An inconvenient rite, a blight
On your ladylike
well-mannered path
My wrists bleeding
As you correct my math
My words are not petty, not obscene
I am not a robot, not a machine
To defuse, deprogram or debug
Or merely lock away and shrug
In your placid belief
that compliance is peace
What is prison for
If not release?
When I am tumbling through
Unstable skies
And need a roof
To calm my eyes
Bring me more than
A structured reply
Just sit with me
And ask me why
6/24/22
Grit in her eyes beaming fortitude of vibes
Powers her dash from one end to the other
Handing out drinks: brandy, whiskey, beer;
Serving high rollers and surly poor-souls
Where lights are flashing as machines jingle
When luck adjudicates winners and losers.
Watch her essence of fiery determination
Fueling her steps, gathering her strength,
As she churns numbers quickly in her head:
Grocery, rent, money for mother’s meds;
And some she’ll spare for her father today.
Hurriedly she sprints when her shift ends
Examining faces torn by ills, unwell, hapless
Under the bridge, by the train station,
Recalling childhood’s happier days within
Sound of his soft voice, calling her princess.
Abruptly she freezes, recollecting the scene,
Standing like a milestone on edge of the street,
Lips quivering, eyes tearing, pausing to forgive him
For abandoning them in a reckless charade
When suddenly a child became a parent…
So much about living she has learned since,
But not much about how to bury the dead.
May 11, 2020
HM: Brian's Select 8 Contest
FLAWLESS
A flawless world. Giving by your mother
Humanity holding hands like lovers.
Strung out deep into the sign of religion.
A flawless day at the park feeding pigeons
Attracting the positive light from the sun.
Where Global warming is undone.
A place where beauty is not found in the face.
Flawless beyond the mystery of space.
'Love' will be a feeling no one will resist.
'Hate' will be a word that won't exist.
Handing out smiles on a silver plate.
A world opened to the golden gate.
Flawless like the wind brushing my hair.
Where my heart is filled with the warmness of care.
A flawless victory, even if we must die!
A flawless world, in a flawless dream.
Now wake me up before I scream.
~SKAT~
Dad had threatened for some time, to reclaim the land behind the shed,
where rubbish over many years, had stockpiled but now instead
of being easy to be shifted, blackberries, docks and thistles grow,
entwining history of ours… and you know we didn’t know.
Mum cracked the whip one Sunday, handing out the different tools
for us to shovel, fork, pick and slash; of course she made the rules.
We weren’t to stop until the rubbish, had been cleared and left to show
a barren space to be landscaped… and you know we didn’t know.
Johnny parked the truck close to where we’d easily load the tray.
First we had to slash blackberries, to open up a pathway.
Old fencing wire and bent droppers, we pulled and tugged. The work was slow.
Plus bits of motors, old oil filters… and still we didn’t know.
The ‘Old Man’ knocked a stump out I can’t remember being a tree,
it disintegrated into pieces; white ant workings I could see.
Plastic pots and old fuel drums, onto the tray we heave and throw.
Just on half the plots been cleaned up now… and still we didn’t know.
A concrete trough and a mattress spring, mesh from an old birdcage.
A kitchen sink broken in two and a pushbike at some stage.
Sardine tins, a barrow bowl, and a seized up mower that won’t mow,
now there’s just one corner left to clean… and still we didn’t know.
A stack of roofing iron near the fence; the last that had to go.
One by one we dragged the rusting sheets… and still we didn’t know.
Dad picked up the final sheet, and then he quickly threw it down again.
His face was white and ‘cripes’ he shook… we ‘bloody-well’ knew then.
I volunteered in a soup kitchen to help the needy;
the homeless and the lonely, the addicts and the seedy.
For me in the kitchen, it was a place to socialize,
while I was helping out with many others doing likewise.
Susie James who is a single girl had trouble finding work.
Susie volunteers her time so, she is not one who will shirk,
helping out and giving smiles when handing out the soup,
and so becoming well respected in amongst our group.
Alas Susie admitted, with some sorrow in her voice,
when it comes to men she is forever making a wrong choice.
Susie explained that men she’s drawn too always have to lie,
for they are either married or have partners that is why.
So when a young man unbeknown has entered to assist,
Susie’s eyes were roving and she just could not resist,
to call this handsome man across to us and he didn’t balk,
and I heard the conversation as the pair of them did talk.
The first thing Susie asked him; “Are you a married man?”
“Not in the eyes of man”, he said, when answering dead pan.
‘So this man’s not married’, Susie smiled. ‘That’s a start at least’.
“Do you work?” And he replied, “Oh yes, I am a priest”.
Who was this white haired Claus
With rabbit teeth?
Carrying a ton of peanuts
For all to eat.
Dragged in a sleigh pulled
By Agnew and Nixon,
Who ran right beside
Donnar and Blitzen?
He circled Camp David,
A fast fly by;
With lox and bagels for
the Jewish guys.
A carpenters’ pencil
Was poised by his ear,
And boxes of nails dangled,
From the gear in the rear.
Why! Its Jolly Ole Carter Claus
Draped in menorahs.
Handing out home plans to
the Arab before us.
Visions of world peace
Danced in his head;
As, he flew straight to Afghanistan
‘Fore noggin hit bed.
When down from the sky
In the form of deer dung,
Fell fruit tree seeds
Too be sown in the sun.
And, as CarterClaus’ whip cracked
O’er Nixon's ear,
As Agnew blanched,
His eyes filling with tears.
Droplets hit sand with
A plop and a splatter
’Pon the fruit tree seeds with
Nary a clatter.
The desert grew green;
Trees sprouted and grew;
Hearts filled with wonder,
Bellies with stew.
Homes were rebuilt,
as before the fall,
Cook fires were lit.
Children grew tall.
And Ole Carter Claus
Flew home in a daze.
Passing out sandwiches
That Roslyn had made.
where are your eyes in the 11th hour?
do they roam to and fro, roaring
with insipid power, baiting the hook,
fishing for retractable men?
where is your nose in the 11th hour?
is it sniffing out a cesspool of plots,
hanging with odious men by the fire,
drawing in men with deceptive smoke signals?
where is your mouth in the 11th hour?
are you rambling out rhetoric, grandiloquent smut,
smirking, curling your lip, your serpentine tongue
slithering and snapping up every adamic crumb?
where are your ears in the 11th hour?
are they trembling with vibrations of horror,
jingling change from restless legs, harkening to
every pandering pain - every wicked wile?
where is your touch in the 11th hour?
are you reddening faces, tenderizing
every black and blue artery and vein,
darkening the skin of Eve like a cancerous cloud?
~ ~ ~
in the 11th hour, her kind eyes shower,
with rainbow tears, leaping upwards,
bowed in reverent fear, insightful and wise,
vigilant and circumspect.
in the 11th hour, her nose drawn to scents,
yes of honeysuckle and baby powder
but also the downpour of the poor and sick,
attentive to the stench.
in the 11th hour, her mouth soothes
with compassion, just and good,
sensitive to worn out souls, smiling
tenderly, speaking at chosen times.
in the 11th hour, her ears ever alert,
pierced by the outcry of Eve’s children,
drawn to lilting laughs, lullabies and psalms,
anywhere a helping plea sounds.
in the 11th hour, her touch gentle and soft,
changing diapers, dusting off tears, foraging food
for her family and the lonely, handing out hugs,
midnight feet tucking in the sheets.
~ ~ ~
Indeed, the 11th hour is here,
a time where good is called bad
and bad pronounced good.
In the overcast skies,
the spread of candlelight
like stars, so mercifully bright.
As midnight strikes,
each star is gathered like wheat,
the sun and the moon fall asleep.
4/2/2019
We do not see Jesus on a float,
in the big Thanksgiving Day parade.
Nor in a shopping mall handing out,
cheap Toys that child laborers have made.
You don’t see giant Jesus blow ups,
bobbing around out on people’s lawn.
He’s not parked in his sleigh upon the roof,
with a hundred bright flashing lights on.
They don’t sell you Jesus door knockers,
napkin holders or pepper shakers.
He does not drink Coke with polar bears,
or pose with kids for picture takers.
Was pretty easy to figure out,
why kids like Santa more than Jesus.
Because his advertisement firm has learned,
instant satisfaction will please us.
What four-year old kid will want to wait,
‘til he dies to go to paradise.
They just want to open their present,
and eating cookies for breakfast might be nice.
If Jesus wants to be a big hit,
he will need to go on to TV.
Ride a unicycle down Main street,
while shouting out Ho! Ho! Ho! with glee.
Living my life on the Dole*,
Because my Mum told me so,
Interview at ‘McDonalds’, but that Tyrant told me "No!",
See, we're a family with pride,
Don't sell fries at super-size,
But where's the pride,
If I can't provide,
For my own style of life,
Spent my money from the *Brew,
On Irn-Bru**, I swear that’s true,
Dreary, damp & cold, This black hole, I call home,
Only 'joy' I get in life’s the 'stick' I use for X-BOX,
And I aint got a tumble dryer so I step with wet socks,
Work-shy, but money-hungry,
Flats cramp-sized & pretty ugly,
Arrogant guy,
Until I woke up and realised that no-one loves me.
Brain melts to slush, in this non-testing occasion,
‘Gain Work’ is a must, for a teenage Caucasian,
Nothing separating me,
From drug-addled Dads of three,
No payday,
Just giro day,
No jobs… great,
Keep trying mate,
No end in sight as unemployment rises,
Government gives you cash like they were handing out prizes,
Where’s my reason to go out & work? My motivation,
Its pleasing no-one now, this escalated situation,
Experience is something that you earn, not that you’re born with,
Inexperienced forever, if I don’t get employed quick,
I don't enjoy sitting on my broken couch for hours,
I'm your Friend with Benefits, can only wash with cold showers.
(*Common British phrases for Jobcentre or Jobseekers Allowance Benefit)
(**Famous Scottish soft drink mass produced around Britain)
No matter how silly you think it is
Tell us your favourite dream
There's nothing that can surprise us
Heard lots of tales and schemes!
How about one where you're flying
Surveying the country below
Maybe you're ruler of a distant land
With a magic wand that glows!
Or what if you could be the captain
Of a great ocean going liner
A clown in a colourful marching parade
Could there be anything finer?
Bet you haven't thought of this one
A drummer in a rock 'n roll band
Or how about a pitcher for the Yankees
A lifeguard all muscled and tanned!
Have you ever wished you were Santa
Handing out Christmas prizes
Or an opera singer like Pavarotti
A super hero with many disguises!
I guess all of this just goes to prove
No matter how hard you scheme
It's best to be just the person you are
After all, dreams are only dreams!
© Jack Ellison 2015
#1. Armaggedon is not a geographical
location. The battle goes on within us
between the will or ego and the spirit.
Divinity lives within this battlefield in
our heart and souls.
#2. Armaggedon is not a remote event in history
but an occasion for the Self to connect more fully
to the nature of Divinity which resides both within
and beyond the self in three different ways.
#3. Armaggedon. The Self is the creation of God.
The serial disasters that humanity accumulates
in our lives are not from an All Powerful God
handing out retribution or revenge or indifference.
Divinity promotes that love is primary.
#4. Armaggedon is an opportunity to realize the
personality of God within our own lives.
Justice, wisdom, love, knowledge, thoughts,
feelings and behavior, except for evil, are aspects
of the personality of God. It is our responsibility
to merge with Divinity more fully to strengthen
those aspects of divinity within ourselves.
#5. Armaggedon is not a place outside of us,
it is a symbol of our faith. Being a child of God
means you already have the inherent qualities
of God within you, we all do, no matter what
religion. Like a mother who gives birth to a child,
the child has aspects of the mother’s personality
within her. Thus, as God has given birth to us all,
we have attributes of Divinity within that we
need to grow and strengthen.
#6. Armaggedon. The fever is already raging.
in a war that surpasses all wars and that is
alive within us on a daily basis. This war
holds the souls weight of my loyalty
toward or away from love, the primary aspect
of God.
Ukraine has got chemical weapons, the Russians claim
That are being used against their soldiers to kill and maim
And those apartments you see blown to smithereens
Are only illusions that we see, on our TV screens.
Russia claims actors are used and are pretending to be dead
Evil Putin is using propaganda to get inside your head
Russia called a ceasefire so that non combatants could flee
Then his army opened fire on them, how ruthless can they be
Those images you see of the old and infirm, trying to get away
Are just old folks enjoying the sunshine out for the day
With their worldy possessions in a supermarket bag
Doesn't make any difference that they're waving a white flag.
And those generous Russian soldiers handing out food
Is just lies and propaganda they're trying to delude
A false flag is another ploy that the Russians use
To distort and hide the truth then carry out abuse.
A Russian jet has now carried out a devious strategy
Firing at a small town in Belarus called Kopani
This is the perfect excuse, that Belarus has been looking for
They'll blame the Ukrainian airforce and enter the war.
The besieged Ukrainian cities, need food and medical aid
But supplies are stuck in Poland, is the west really afraid?
Nobody likes violent war but sometimes it's the only way
And those carrying out atrocities. must be made to pay.
Written on 11th March 2022
(Colino)
so you say you have no memory
of the last day you were friends with me
no link to help remembering
your brain can't give you anything
conclusion, you are clueless
your memory is useless
and you can't give your own story
nor pick out bits most surely
so you can offer nothing
your brain don't bring a thing
unaware or emptied
or with a truth which you're hiding
yet when I talk of incidents
the memories I'm recalling
you claim they never happened
and from my delusion they are spawning
you have no argument or alternative
just denial and diversion
questioning my sanity
YET YOU HAVEN'T YOUR OWN VERSION
But this is my one story,
never one before it,
a mystery for 14 years
when I was never talking
and in that time you stayed confused
as do all with me removed
you paint the scene I WAS SENSELESS
no logic to include
it passed the cause away from you
handing out bits others chew
you need them to think as you do
to be believed as now I'm refused
I tell them you manipulate
but I just get ignored
and even though they read this mate
it won't impact their thoughts
(Colino, Dom, Kev)
you 3 have no story
just denial and diversion
and people just ignore me
judgement through perversion
logically you're logicless
but all think that that is me
ignorance is really bliss
as is stupidity
people near or close to you
are stood to close to see
whilst everyone around the world
see differently with ease
you have no memory or logic
and claim delusion is with me
to those not involved it's obvious
you're just gaslighting me
*for Colino, Dom, Kev, and all the people believing them blindly judging me,
a person to whom you never speak yet judge assuredly.
they gaslight and manipulate, getting you as they got me
don't tell me my logic's gone, where is theirs, it's them you all believe
and Susan isn't validation, she knows as much as you,
like you she seeks from them, and like you don't come to me.
How rude to call me a lying delude
it's my life, and you weren't there
reality for me but just a tale to you
no response needed
you judge me without me involved
I've no influence on what resolves
from now on I AM NOT INVOLVED
with contamination they evolve
Once in a blue moon I have been told
The cliché’s clan gets together with the Catch Phrase posy
If I have told you once I have told you a thousand times this story or are you the last one to know?
Well, it all started for no rhyme or reason but you could see the writing on the wall.
Rat Race and horsing around would be in charge of the children’s activities for the day.
While crazy as a loon and Wacky Tobacky would take care of the entertainment.
Ice Queen would be the bartender for the night and Wall Flower would play the music.
Requests were already pouring in from the peanut gallery.
Young whipper Snapper like to hear a country song called one step forward and two steps back
And Jonny come lately wanted to hear a rock song called Chip off the old block.
Class clown always wanting to be the center of attention got drunk and started dancing
On the picnic tables.
Simon Says and Mother May I where there to tell everyone what to do and where to sit.
This would be a catered event so One sandwich short of a picnic was hired to feed this Motley crew.
On the menu was Fish out of Water served with two peas in a pod and for dessert The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree Al- a- mode.
Everybody was having a great time until the trouble makers showed up.
One for the road and Three sheets to the wind where known for starting drunken brawls.
The worst thing was they brought their 3 grown sons Hammered, sloshed and pickled.
If I only knew then what I know now left early. She had a feeling there would be trouble.
Penny for your thoughts would be collecting the raffle ticket money and No time like the present would be handing out the prizes.
Liar Liar Pants on fire and Cry me a river were sore losers and always made a scene if they lost.
It will be a cold day in hell didn’t want to go so he sent his wife Heaven to Betsy.
Too much of a good thing got sick and ended up taking the bus# Catch22 home.
Well, nothing lasts forever was the last song of the night and Turn out the lights the party’s over security guard company showed everyone the door.
The end.
Form:
Welcome to the Motown Motor City,
asphalt carpet ghetto grind
Automated fated urban living,
everyday inner-city surviving
Hard mean streets handing out no pity,
sharpens perceptive razor minds
Last stop underground freedom giving,
all-day Exodus gospel arriving
Factory-built hearts living manufactured dreams
Black Bottom be a lowly place to start,
Paradise Valley is a forgotten vision now a-rising
Assembly line tough, steel mental parts
Perseverance is Detroit revival defined,
no assembly required
Citizens report any municipal malfeasance
Just another urban spiritual capital gain,
congregation assembly required
Motown cars moving on a heavenly transport train
But you must be counted in attendance thereof,
to know the love song we were singing
God helped us to overcome every paved obstacle