Best Headed Poems
Yesterday’s sweet corn
now rests among the shucked,
where norms’ victims lay.
Side-by-side in rusty silos,
awaiting the gristmill;
dull substance feeds the masses.
Look at us, Mr. Kipling.
What became of “The Man Who Would Be King”?
Laugh at us.
Anesthetized aspirations
embalmed by mediocrity,
hacks without hopes rest in a garden of low expectations.
Individuality sacrificed,
we are the dull fruit
carried in coffins created by conformity.
What is left to feed the next generation,
but the seeds of monotony
without a kernel of creativity?
*May 26, 2018
Where are we headed? I know not where
Where are we headed? I know not why
Where are we headed? I know not how
Where are we headed? I know not to whom
Is it better to know or not to know?
Is it better on my own or with you?
Is it better if you come to me or I go to you?
Wonder is an aphrodisiac that may lead me to you
Surprise is not enticing but it may lead me to you
Uncertainty is terrifying yet exciting and it may lead me to you
Where are we headed, me and you?
Where are we headed? hopefully not to doom
Where are we headed in this world and how will we bloom?
restless sleep, struggle out of bed
walking like a zombie, newspaper read
thought patterns familiar rise, am in their grip
over cravings nurtured thus far, we once again trip
recognising piquant dilemma, distanced from joyfulness
we reverse attention polarity, choosing playfulness
as an experiment to begin with, soon addictive
before we know it, our orientation meditative
continuous consciousness correction
whereupon we choose our hearts expansion
erases gently aberrations of our conditioned past
memory images of yesteryears now leave us all aghast
we know not about God or any esoteric spiritual technique
discerning mind lays aside urgings that make us weak
as we go in within in deepening tranquil silence
we rekindle flame of love by this dalliance
feeling lighter now, carrying no burden
shifts were slow although it may seem sudden
treading now gently, flowing like the breeze, at ease
we amble along in wonderment, aspect embrace-hold-release
31-March-2021
New cracks in old stone
Just beginning to show,
Reveals things never shown
Things only one could know
Just beginning to show
A solid surface scrambles,
Things only one could know
Shedding into shambles
A solid surface scrambles
Every chisel brings a change,
Shedding into shambles
In time, it must arrange
Every chisel brings a change
Upon hard - headed rock,
In time, it must arrange
For none can beat the clock
Upon hard - headed rock
Reveals things never shown,
For none can beat the clock
New cracks in old stone.
< she's a hard headed woman
lovin a soft hearted man
when they get together
they join hand and hand
for loves be glory
in this fairy tales story
for she's a hard headed women
lovin a soft hearted man
a hard headed woman
lovin that soft hearted man
though shes stubborn as an mule
but can make that man still drool
as he's so shy
but captured her roving eye
for she's a hard headed woman
lovin a soft hearted man
a hard headed woman
lovin that soft hearted man
now don't you just think
romance can start out as a wink
even if it may be a little lie
come on little boy now give it a try
for she's a hard headed woman
lovin a soft hearted man
a hard headed woman
lovin that soft harded man
My Next
Country Western Song LOL
(how well I could play)
in a straight forward way;
simplifying it, making it more pure
in a clear sound, turning it up
and bearing down...
there'd be distortion, red-anger, punk-blue,
get it up tough, keep it going,
'cause I didn't know what else to do.
at fifteen I was unreasonably accomplished
with those long dynamic echo-delayed riffs;
at eleven I was sleeping in the back of a car
surrounded by books an amp and a guitar,
rolling around with the sound of
a welt chord, a grace note, Henry Miller and Nietzsche;
laying-down these upholstery-songs in the summer of seventy-eight
where reverb was explored beyond the return of counter-culture,
going 'round the bend, headed in a back-words direction again
brown headed cowbird
female busy laying eggs...
bluebirds reject nest
Fact:
Brown Headed Cowbird
lays her eggs in other
birds' nest and lets
the other birds feed her
young...Some birds know
that it is not their egg
and they will abandon
the nest or roll the egg
out..Some birds don't
figure it out and raise
their young..The Cowbird
doesn't have to build
the nest or feed the young.
She stays busy laying eggs
summer..
red headed
woodpecker runs up a tree...
ant trail vanished
I beat her like a
red headed stepchild because
That is what she is...
*JOKE- I don't beat her,
but I do have a red headed
stepchild. :)
Hardworking, Hard Headed
Enthusiastic, Loving, Caring, Ambitious
The Daughter Of David
In Love With Little Mix, Netflix, And Youtube
Who Feels Guilt, Pain, And Sorrow
Who Fears Spiders, Snakes, And What Is In The Darkness
Who Would Like To See Little Mix, David Dobrik, And Kian and Jc
Residency In Hemet, California
I didn't realize
how lazy I had become!
The marijuana smoke
blowing my mind,
like a loaded gun!!
Slept most the day,
mood swings for a hit,
kept close friends away.
Today I am clean
nothing stands in my way!!!
Ready to take the world by storm
I am normal now,
clear headed and back to form...
Dead end jobs and low wages cripple
I'm a family man now,
stifled it's simple!!!
Jared Pickett
5/28/2011
Asavvy1
A once healthy old man
all alone in the sand.
I reflect upon my past
The good and the bad.
All that I've had.
Why time went by so fast.
With a cough and a weeze
I rise up to my knees.
Then I roll a cigarette.
A hand through my hair.
A breath of fresh air.
At least they've not killed me yet.
Still one set of prints.
That really stinks.
No wonder I'm so lonely.
So back to my tent
where again I will vent
about losing my one and only.
Another day is done.
Wasn't that fun?
I lie down to read.
I can't find my book
though I look and I look.
So instead I smoke some weed.
A couple of good puffs
of fresh homegrown stuff.
My head vieled in fog.
Although a rarity
I have a moment of clarity
and decide to get a dog.
I now close my eyes
and await the sunrise
where it starts over again.
But such is the quandry
of this stoned, stupid and onery,
hard headed, homeless man.
Hey fat man
in the little red suit
All those little girls
think your so cute
But ive known the truth now
since i was over three
And caught you kissing Mommy
under our christmas tree
I heard whispers and moans
and little passionate sighs
Ya i saw that twinkle
in your bloodshot eyes
I crept over to your bag
and peeked right in,
I saw twenty bags of cookies
And a bottle of gin
Your were gettin busy with mom
Goin all ho ho ho
Then i saw my name
On a lump of coal
No little red wagon
No G.I. Joe
I screamed, "thats it fat boy"
"you gotta go"
He got dressed fast
So lively and quick
But first i swatted his ass
With a red-hot poker stick
Up high he jumped
And went screaming into the night
I said, " and dont come back"
"until you get it right"
Where are we headed in life, I do not know peace or strife. Life is but a journey that needs balance and love, anxiety will make love flee like a flying dove. On this pathway, we find we need to pray. Evil wants to snatch us, like lust-not a plus. Where are we headed in life, a day of peace or exotic wild life. I hear your many desires, as we sit under the stars by this fire. You say you want joy, it is work and not a toy. Where are we headed in life I do not know, this past year has been really-really low.
Date Written:4/2/2021
9 Place
Where are we headed
Contest Judged:4/23/2021
Sponsored by:Unseeking Seeker
Tumble leaves; fall,
golden red and yellow streaks:
a leaf's farthest reach...
Calico clouds, glow:
beauty's limit impeached,
shift and shade as seas...
Sun seasons life's taste,
autumn, encirc'ling in space:
winter's promise; chased...