Best Hazing Poems
How rare, how innate this journey
manifests to be, the foreshadowing
of a loners blessing.
That intuitive thought to travel
with when my third eye seems blemished.
A mannequin of myself hidden in
longevity, that has yet to spoil.
I sometimes allow thoughts to slip
away from this safe haven,
thereby welcoming consequences,
consequences only an amateur
would allow.
In this game of similar links,
I’m quickly reminded of a presence
bestowed upon me.
Those allies illustrated for battle.
Only a true soldier could retrace these
portraits, heavy pages of uncertainty that we failed
to erase. I’m grateful however, of the genuine flame it
ignited.
We defeated the irrelevant
hazing, and found the blueprint for
camaraderie.
A groundwork for future war scars discovered
in our spirit. Overtime we prayed, and
received that undaunted
scent.
Still, perhaps in this physical scene,
There lies too much symmetry for this
parallel vision.
Some fade away as a result,
anticipating a reunion in higher
dimensions.
But as this masterpiece continues to illuminate,
I praise God for this muse called friendship.
Driving my kids crazy
Every day and night
Because my mind is hazy
Nothing comes out right
Still, I keep on teaching
The foggy lessons in my head
At the end of all my preaching
There's but one thing said
"I know what you are saying...
You said that yesterday."
In their heads their praying
I will go away
Still, they do consult me
When they are truly stuck
But, if I get to wordy
They'll be out of luck
The message will start hazing
From their doe-eyed sight
This act starts with a glazing
Of eyes and face and light
I see their minds have left me
They are waiting out their time
And if, they ignore me
It is a small crime
I know my kids all love me
And I feel just the same
Still I hope they'd all agree
In this there's no blame
And so I may keep yapping
Each and every day
But If disaster's tapping
I'll be on the way
I just want to guide my kids
Not drive them away
As I watch them roll those lids
I see the end of day
Okay, I'll be quiet now
No more torture, pain, or strife
And if, you'll just show me how
I'll go e-mail my wife
In our little Arkansas Dover town, we never clown around, about the sacrifice
Christmas is about Christ, and his great love, which suffices
We live and let live, to our charities we give, for in heaven above
It's all about Love, refining one's self, to enjoy in Dove, who is love
We put down the mind of strife, we celebrate Christ's birth
The sacrifice, `tis about life, and knowing it’s worth
Increasing our unction, never to wane, the Lamb's fame
In public we still pray, at our functions we still say, “in the Name”
In celebration of Love's life, we give up, all of our means
No hazing, it's amazing, all over town, Nativity scenes
To suffices our worship, the special day is necessary
Signs of heaven, Love's leaven, the Babe, and mother Mary
The Father, the Son, the Holy Ghost, some don't want to get even close, (or near)
For they fear, the special day of love's cheer, unto Christ, so dear
Have a very, very, merry, Christmas, Devonshire, to heaven for sure, and to all at Soup
Now year is close to over, don't be a rover, please visit Dover, “old Moses love scop”
10-16-09 For Carolyn's Christmas contest
4th placement
Petals drenched in poison pearls of emerald envy,
carefully placed objectives whilst adrift in my tears of realization
Longing sorrowful souls among lilac lakes,
buried deep into somber depths of tinkering procrastination
Starving for ruby righteousness and pristine perfection, and yet still reaching towards a tilt heart searching desperately sunset embers
Distinguishing luminescent authenticity among
bittersweet endives drifts away with each cooling December
Shall I pursue soft screams for kissed loving
ethereal roses dazzled with enchanting sensations
To float away from every twisted hazing hoax with every spoken whirling weapon - coated with fabrications
I can hear my soul sing, and my heart is telling me…
“Let it Ring.”
My soul can reach the low notes in the shadows,
And hit the high notes in the sun.
Whether restful or restless, revengeful or regretful,
I will just…
“Let it Ring.”
Helplessly or haphazardly hazing happily high,
Or decenting down with the distorted and the departed and all the rest,
Even louder yet, my soul will still sing, and I will…
“Let it Ring.”
I will pray for the forgiveness of the forgotten few,
Let them be lifted from the depths of the fray,
So our hearts can meet, our souls will sing,
And together, forever,
We will “Let it Ring.”
He was 11 when his first scars began to appear
In the beginning his scars were small and not very deep
Originating at school his hazing began
This boy was bullied
He was changing and his friends didn't like it
They teased him
He was a twig and had a squeaky voice
He had no one to help him
So he turned to the blade
He cut daily to escape the emotional pain
His body continued changing
His scars became deeper
He couldn't handle becoming a man
He couldn't handle the stress in coming of age
As he developed he gained responsibilities
The world expected more from him
he wishes he could go back to the boy of his youth but knows he can't
His body growing bigger
His shoulders broaden
The weight in becoming a man is heavy
He wants to stay this little boy
The thought of being a man terrifies him
Now has mood swings
He's not happy all the time like he used to be
He angers easily and
Wish to remain that little boy
Then he realizes
He must learn who he is as an individual
He must endure the changes
He must push on
Listen to advice
Stay fit
Be patient
These scars are symbolic
A badge of honor
Decorating your self-identity
Transforming you into the man you wish to become.
Watch those buckaroos lose their insides when saddled to a wild one untied it’s fer a sight when they ride . Yiddy –up was the wail when a bull of a devil left his trail some kinda fight on the road to hell.
No wonder I headed for Whiskey Row with some forty drinks down below sure is thunder in your hole will rock your soul as you face the mighty cold.
Strums my guitar and softly singing as the cowboys are around the camp fire ringing as the fire is blazinin another day is hazing. Got the notion for prayin as another cowboy was payin and he was sayin
Lord ya know the deeds I’ve done and in the shadows I have hung I just wanted to be thankful for meeting me on this fateful day and in thy range I will forever stay.
Vanita Allgood
Not Be Another
No matter what may be Patriot's Play scheme,
None if it ever would spoil Seahawk's dream
And what appears to me to be amazing
Is having a football that people were hazing.
What unpleasant things to a football could you do?
Making it take a bounce not known to be true,
Or suppose something to football you applied
Which made ball slick after it had dried.
How about discovering a doctored up baseball;
Started to curve and then downward would fall,
After surface someone started to scratch;
Maybe for me they might make up a batch.
What if my basketball was underinflated?
And for a while longer we all had waited;
Ball now was much narrower each shot I took
Even if a free throw or could be a hook.
Who me my friend have an unfair advantage;
To my cruddy character apply a long bandage.
And when in Super Bowl, Series or World Cup,
Should never again be another cover up.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
http://www.story-telling-around-the-world.com/Military-Memories.html
PS. Check out military memories above.
Photo by US Navy WestPack Album—Gorelick 2nd top right
“Not Squared-Away”
Crawling and sliding through slimy debris
Knees scraped raw on the gritty hanger bay
We’re sailors on the carrier Coral Sea
Crossing the equator this bright April day
Our shellback ordeal-just good-natured hazing
A navy tradition; great nautical fun
Like pagons, it’s old King Neptune we’re praising
Great Zeus, let this filthy business be done!
Now shellbacks! We’ve made it unscathed, more or less
We toss our soiled clothes out to the ocean breeze
But I find myself in one hell of a mess
For I left my wallet in my dungarees!
Now drifting away is my navy ID
A grave offense if it’s lost or misplaced
It will no doubt be captain’s mast for me
Where I’ll be demoted! Denounced! Disgraced!
I stand at attention, rigid and straight
The captain shouts: You are not squared-away!
Sweating bullets, I ponder my dire fate
I’ll surely be thrown in the brig today
A lost ID at sea is close to a crime
A gross dereliction, stupid but rare
On just bread and water I will do my time
As I topple down the steps to despair
In solemn dread I now report to the chief
With a churning stomach and anguished mind
But now all fear lifts and I sigh in relief
As he snaps: Get to work; were falling behind
Written 9/11/22
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of late, a solitary fireman’s sedate, sad sobs
sought some balm for his own dreadful sighs,
missing the “arffs” of a terrier he so adored
his eyes slept alone on nights deep in aching ardor…
till he was summoned and exposed to a blazing
untamed flame, raging a tower wired in wild hazing. in
one giant flash of courage, he threw himself unto screams
of canine thunder. then, a fainting spell. a whisked escape…
brave smoke fighter gradually revived from blinks
of quick stupor by warm licks lapping his ashen skin.
accepting tender scratches of mommy dog’s paws,
the flapping ears of puppies awakened his kindred desire…
as he gazed into a gauze of grateful reverie , hounds
clung to his belly as if he were a daddy pooch leading
a lost pack, now orphaned from dreadful calamity,
yet his rare touch dissolved tiny pups’ grating anxiety…
a blessing poured from all this catastrophe… fireman
was awarded three doggies’ full custody. for gratitude
is known as a prize for risking one’s life; the bliss
of God’s gift bestowed on a man and his new family…
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(( for Joyce Johnson's " Doggy Gratitude" Contest ))
A boy. Short. He goes to school and cowardly hides behind every corner, scouting out what lurks behind the next turn. Always shoved and disregarded, he seemed to have no friends. He was bullied everyday by this monster. Someone who terrorized him since day one. “Why me?” was his battle cry, just before every black eye.
A boy. Alone. He was adored at school. A big jock. He hated his life, his choices. He picked on this kid, a rather small kid, who was simply pathetic. He would catch glimpses of him, cowering behind corners, and hiding in bathroom stalls. It was this kid that made him popular. He did not hate this him, but simply saw him as an stress reliever. Anger reliever. He was praised at school, abused at home. School was his safe haven; his home away form home, but no one knew what truly went on behind that strong, muscular smile. Divorce. Abuse. Shame. His mother was a prostitute, sold every part of her just to manage to keep him alive. His father was a drunk. Abused every inch of him to relieve him of his intoxicated wounds.
A mom. A prostitute. As a little girl she was very bright. Did well in school, and even managed to get into a good college. It wasn’t until that one night she mad a stupid mistake. It was one of those fraternity parties. “All the cool kids went, right?” She would tell her self. That’s all it took. One kid. One rufie. One sip. Next thing she knew she was pregnant. She dropped out of college. Told her boyfriend it was his kid. Got married. And had a beautiful baby boy. It took five years until she told her husband the truth. The truth about the conception. He left. She was alone, receiving no support. No money. It took her one month until she found herself in the back of a strangers car in an alley way for $200.
A frat boy. A stupid hazing ritual. “Host a party. Drug a girl. Have sex.” Only he made a mistake. He got drunk. Too drunk. He had no control over his actions. The demon residing within him took over, raped a girl, and impregnated her with what ruined her dreams, his dreams. In frustration he went to get fresh air. And made one more stupid mistake. He was conscious of what he did, and knew he could not live with his mistake. Police found him hung from the fraternity balcony the next morning.
This is in dedication to all those who suffered from something that was no in there control.
Life is hazing
people dazing
have you ever pulled a gun inside your head?
blow out your brain and still have your mind instead...
coffee
fountain
chimney
mountain
those words sound nice but don't come right in bed
waking for a drill but drinking at a bar for bread
life is joking
people choking
ever wonder why the old man just laughs at you?
smiles at your position, knows that your a dead man too...
Inner voices
Awkward choices
Mail bride orders
Thumbing borders
Hoping wishes
Easy dishes
Washing dreams
Alien schemes
Lion cowards
Rusty showers
Utilized mirrors
Synchronized prisoners
life is smoking
people toking
notice how your eyes have turn out to be a no hand clue
is it me or now you turn to know your crazy too?
coo coo ca choo coo coo ca choo...
A frying dying yolk of sun winks at the dimming eve, the runaway ocean breeze… surf rushing, gushing over under feet; memories savor washing, cleansing conscious sweet
Falling motion slowing backward hands reaching, grasping for the cool bathing crystal blue rolling and strolling out from the shoreline sand in sand
Empty, now imaginary imprints beaches once filling now fading footprints the lost summer you were still a girl pure and passionate I was developing into becoming a man
The gulls knew the secret of our lost summer place, obscuring dunes topped with pastel seas of greens grass, for no apparent sudden reason I glimpse the clouds that align revealing splendors of tender draped familiar face of a distancing past
Forever eyes so very forever lost when gazing upon you and overwhelmed by your sweet and sickly taste, our souls intertwining within the four corners of our world the beach blanket redefining complexities of the here and now time and the you and I space
As we commandeer commanding the universe to cease for an another noon, seizing, kidnapping each hour from the keeper as we continue drowning into each other’s pools surrendering to the longing yearning witnessing crowning glory beneath the dancing beams of hazing maroons...
It was gone broken
shattered like a glass falling
from my hand to the floor breaking.
Never would I see another daybreak
in the same way
as colors fade from distant hazing
where everything turned a little crazy.
I sat here wondering
staring at broken glass laying scattered
and I knew then that nothing mattered.
Life, love, happiness, liberty it was shattered
never will it be gathered
like the glass that lay scattered.
Yet, I did dust away the glass fallen.
I tied my shoelaces and I went sailing.
Plugged the hole, I stopped waiting
and I kept sailing.
Gale Lynne
The typical intro,
A moment of reflection,
Philosophical conversation with my glass veil is ago,
I swear she's the perfect audience lacking in cognition but excellent in reception,
Shameless in anonymity and thoroughly content being one-dimensional,
An afterthought emerged from reverberating echoes,
Rationalizing a fantasy through demented reality and an appeal to logos,
External concern expressed through intellectual opinion against a majesty outside the realm of scientific convention,
A slight ringing in my ear,
The hazing of the eyes,
My hand presses against the screen and a genie appears,
her technicolor smoke-screen muffles sound and blankets sight,
Far beyond my mortal boundaries I reach,
Into the land of impossibilities ignorantly called "make believe",
Calling upon my polygonal masters from this pulpit I beseech,
That your realm of tangible thought be opened to me,
Allow me to apply my humble craft in hopes of conveying your magnificence to the world,
So that they too will experience your wonder,
Before they grow too old.