Best Heterodox Poems
The streets are chilly cold on rubble stone
The sky covers me for the wind has blown
The stars my guest within my humble zone
My shoes rest the night for they have sewn
Two pairs hanging in my homeless throne
Take one if you are less than me a bitter bone
Walk proud my fallen friend so we may prone
Under the heterodox heavens as we walk alone
July.27.2017
TWO PAIR OF SHOES -Contest
Sponsored by: John lawless
Categories:
heterodox, home, humanity, loneliness,
Form:
Monorhyme
Stands on the land of heterodox
Who's the mightiest God of all?
People live and die on their equivocation thoughts
Those who exclaimed about the God who never fall
Inversely proportional to what they always do
Who's the mightiest God of all?
Seekers, believers, heathens and philosophers with their point of view
All still seeks for the truth and uphold one they call peace
Inversely proportional to what they always do
Compiling the ideas piece by piece
Who are we without all these idealism?
All still seeks for the truth and uphold one they call peace
At the end world leads to anarchism
They failed to adhere what they create
Who are we without all these idealism?
The idea of God and religion become skeptical trait
They failed to adhere what they create
Stands on the land of heterodox
People live and die on their equivocation thoughts
*This poem inspired by the contest that held by Richard Lamoureux, which I failed to join, but somehow I come up with this idea. Thank you for the inspiration :D.
Categories:
heterodox, god, inspiration, introspection, life,
Form:
Terzanelle
i just want to sit around,
drinking, sniffing things, scratching
myself, getting high.
just watching my pen
fill up a page.
do whatever it takes
to become a 'writer.'
a 'poet.'
something i admire, but
never really aspire to.
i just don't think i'd fit in.
they write poems about insignificant
relations and parallels to the
most trite of insights.
so here it is.
my poem about nothing.
about Pyrrhus and his futile
fight against tyranny,
how krebs will never fit in
either.
we've both survived a war
that's killed us.
'another victory like that
and we're done for'
'for Hecuba!' but
who is either to any of us
that we should keep
burning their name,
a revolutionary backfire,
Orc consumed in his
own final livid flame.
even your own wings cannot soar
so high past the wax-melting maze
of the sky, past this
palace of wisdom.
the house shifting finding
for you another pit,
with clouds round rolling
the mighty choose to reside,
hidden in their labyrinth,
behind their podiums, judicatures
& wooden caricatures of humanity-
writing poems about nothing,
terrorizing imagination &
out-lawing sanity.
will you be my Valentine on that day?
we'll be spurning christ's terrene body
watching the whole demon-built-world
descend as our flesh melts away.
let this mortal loss gain immortality.
let them puzzle over this for
centuries never fitting the edge
pieces together, if they do,
make room they'll be muzzled
& burning too, our doom
obstructed by Crass Casualty
dicing Time into eternal mansions
once this beast called man is surpassed
and the illusions are masked
in the mirror of life imitating art
imitating wilde paradoxes,
such a poetic heterodox.
Categories:
heterodox, death, imagination, life, poems,
Form:
Epic
The wheel of fortune has spun our way,
we’re on Spring-break for 8 more days!
The transition to leisure was as smooth as oil,
without classes, he’s just a guy and I’m his girl.
For three weeks we’ll have had the suite to ourselves,
it has all the amenities, it’s like a hotel.
We’ve never been together, alone, for so long before,
it’s so deliciously heterodox, it’s like a reward.
Peter (my BF) observed, “This will be a reality check.”
Yeah, he’s a hopeless romantic.
“Sorry sir,” I said, “It's my policy not to cash reality checks.”
Categories:
heterodox, boyfriend, fun, girlfriend, holiday,
Form:
Rhyme
My heterodox heart abandoned and impaled,
By such beauty where kisses have been jailed…
Marooned by your love and escaping has failed,
Decomposing with my last breath echoic exhaled.
Imprisoned by lachrymose of your lascivious lance,
Intoxicated by illicit lust as we started our dance…
Exciting erotic illusions within their eternal expanse,
Derelict desires a victim of calamitous circumstance.
Cupids arrow a venomous violation as to perforate,
Entangled by blind love of a felonious feverous fate…
Entombed by a hellion hole where demons dictate,
Castrating condemns of constructs that consummate.
Engraved is your name like mutilated cattle as to bore,
A disintegrating disease puncturing to my inner core…
Be your love a germinal genocide of a groveling gore,
Erupting excretions executed by the sinister spore.
July.21.2019
Impaled Poetry
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausin
Background music by...Audiomachine
"Guardians at the gate"
Placed 8'th...Thank You
Categories:
heterodox, betrayal, conflict, love hurts,
Form:
Rhyme
Sundial
My passion is the silent weather vane
The gambrel brought such sorrow
Much I marveled this roughcast cairn
Eagerly I looked for the lintel
I have dreamed of the clocks
Eagerly I looked for the masonry
It was heterodox
Somewhat louder than the freemasonry
Back into my memories rewinding
And the clapboards never machining
Deep into that darkness watching
Still is notching, still is notching
The graves seemed happy botching
And so I screamed, 'Is that a weatherboard?'
I crave the dissident, derelict dormer window
My mind always strays to caryatids
Much I marveled the dissident gazebo
Much I marveled the eighth patio
I crave the baronial, balcony breezeway
You warned me about the indigo
And so I screamed, 'Is that a drift way?'
Take thy landscaping from out my heart
What time is it, And the megaliths never grinding
What time is it, And the masonry was nonbinding
I heard an italianated, slapdash roofing
It was fireproofing
I discovered the statues
Take thy picket fence from out my heart
I discovered the vases
Deep into that darkness listening
'It's that plaster work,' I muttered
My passion is the silent weather vane
The gambler brought such sorrow
Much I marveled this roughcast iron bane
Eagerly I looked for the lintel barrow
It's a new day and yet dark now,
What time is it on the sundial?
4/7/19
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2019 ©
Categories:
heterodox, adventure, analogy, time,
Form:
Free verse
at the beginning earth was a place uninhabitable
to any living thing, it was nothing but a furiously
burning wandering fireball in an immeasurable open space
while wandering in space,
however, hit by the meteoric showers, bumped into planetoids,
and from its own gravity the earth gradually lost its surface heat
and became a gigantic piece of rock covered with the great many wrinkles
in order to survive,
the living thing cannot afford to lose time any more in this darkness of unknown beginning or inconceivable end, it must find a place to settle and bring new life
into the world,
came and clung to the surface of the rock and struggled to hold onto it
one day, when a cry of pitiable life tore the standstill time into pieces
because it was unable to bear the time that is infinitely quiescent any longer,
it echoed in the space and returned to earth as a dim light
in that light the sighs of the living thing heaped up high
and became air, in that gleam the tears of the animated thing
came together and became waters
when water swelled to overflow it became lakes, rivers and seas
and when air became heavier it raised itself to a wind,
and when wind passed through the surface of earth
it turned into vales, hills and clouds
life began with great struggles and confirmed by quickening
in the darkness and echoing heartrending cry, though grew while calling the sea
a mother and the mountain a father, and conceived meaning of lots of phenomena:
why the rivers flow and clouds drift, dews on the grasses
change into fogs and finally dissipate,
the stars come to visit the lakes
and kiss to form ripples at night
the seed of arrogance grew in the heart of this creature
spreading rapidly among the creatures living in the surface of the earth
and when his arrogance reached to the heaven, the creatures threw stones
in the seas, set fires on mountains, while boasting with those words:
“we conquered world, the world is under our feet”
hence the earth surged by a raging water,
and the windstorm rose to shake the rocks in the mountains violently
nonetheless, the creature did not introspect
his own detestable deeds but continuously acted
in a lordly manner throwing his chest out as before,
though enjoying saying this favorite phrase:
“this age is a corrupted age! this age is a degenerate age!”
Categories:
heterodox, allegory, creation, earth, life,
Form:
Free verse
Mercurial
authoritarian lead style
heterodox
person
or
group
holds
lightning rod
for
criticism
from
old-fashioned
readership
FACTOTUM
works
tirelessly
glossed
as "do all!"
with
force
behind
command
refers
to
handy
versatile
sort
of
assistance
Written: March 21, 2023
Categories:
heterodox, analogy, inspirational,
Form:
Other
My healthy right mind
is not one likely to retain left brain
disparate details
more than elastic and interconnected trends.
So it has been with U.S. religious history recall.
I live immersed in impressions of indigenous communities
without investment in distinguishing
relationships within ecological nature
from communications between theological spirits;
without language capable of recognizing difference
between left brain either/or outside transcendent divides
and right mind both/and inside immanent imminent dialogue.
I remember early religious cultures
were also natural tribal communities
of profound communication resonance.
I seem to remember prophets for change,
for renewed faith communities,
were those whose personal immersion experiences
within nature/spirit
ecological theologies
were marginalized,
considered heterodox
and/or not colonizingly competitive enough
to safeguard patriarchal fertility
regenerativity
sacred communion
of Earth's interdependent health/wealth web
inherited from faithful progenitors
and projected to continue only without multicultural change
by uniformly utilitarian future robotic generations.
While U.S. religious history
is dominated by exodus trends,
advocates of old time religious revival
often break off from frozen icebergs
claiming it is no more possible for Earth's sinful nature to change
than it is for a transcendent god of punishing jealousy
to change His ever-loving mind about evil nature, fallen
down and up
in and out against good healthy HolySpirit.
Yet this Great Transitional divide,
when we consider global religious history
back to indigenous nature/spirit immersion experience
of multiculturing EarthTribes,
appears like a Great Fall
after, and maybe not before,
this human species became supremely self-anointed prophets
of self-inflicted divine realms
inspiring more of a Great Rapture
co-arising communal healthy wealth
back when prophets
and sages,
seers and witches
were being devoured by dinosaurs,
decimated by protracted frozen winters,
unseasoned steamy swamps
of nature/spirit immersion
in marginalization experiences.
Could it be
that ecological empowering relationship,
or lack thereof,
predicts theological communication,
compassion,
and lack thereof?
Categories:
heterodox, earth, health, history, integrity,
Form:
Political Verse
When I thought of the fox he just escape out of the box;
The spider laughed while running on his hands;
It was heterodox insect with eight legs eating dark chocolate;
There stood a theistic hovercraft
They are perfumed from unseen spacecraft
Much I marvelled the propellant comet;
I am shorn of my vomit yet I sprew up the bird nest;
Somewhat louder than the grommet;
While I pondered, antinomian and palmate;
~
Run on little red fox
Run on don't watch the clock
Choose next line from the options below
Kayaking and kayaking with my chuck
Death shall bring hares
When I thought of the fox he just escape out of the box;
The spider laughed while running on his hands;
On a track the spider chases the fox
5/19/19
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
Categories:
heterodox, adventure, analogy, longing, visionary,
Form:
Free verse
An idea sprouts
a heterodox notion
Sweeps 'cross my radar ~
atavistic wave on the ocean...
Can there really be
in this metaverse evolved
A concept so novel, so fresh
it gets people involved...
Categories:
heterodox, encouraging, people, proposal,
Form:
Rhyme
Sharing My Political Opinion
for 11-22-2019
By: Tom Wright
I find socialist thinking,
to be quite heterodox.
But they, in turn, must believe,
they’re smarter than a fox.
Each proposal would be paid for,
with a new wealth tax.
But most couldn’t care less,
just who it impacts.
They’d bring this financing,
into the government coffers.
Where they’d gobble it up,
with other hungry political scoffers.
Thinking that the government,
could much better disperse.
When they can’t agree on anything,
because both parties are adverse.
They seek to win an election,
by promising free stuff for votes.
Then stuff their own pockets,
as the national debt bloats.
Many are elected with little,
and soon become millionaires.
Thinking they’re now superior,
and voters, well, just squares.
Categories:
heterodox, perspective, political,
Form:
Lyric
February second - requires one
with acute hearing to cock, and ear
turnips tickling the nose nostrils
delicate hairs (instagram ideal outlook) subtly,
markedly, lively..., yet gently flair
soon harkening shrieks
of delightful analogous funfair
no stranger to Renaissance Faire
of pitch perfect gamesomeness
will seem as... otherworldly pleasant
ah heaven sent giftware,
where all creatures great and small
sing psalms, upon arrival when hardware
trappings of winter shucked witnessing
unrolled welcome Scottish mat so hare
and tortoise can race,
cuz vernal equinox, sports a linkedin
improvisational, ebulliently
educational, cerebral, audiological...
twittering melange I will hear,
and grateful no defect doth impair
ability to revel silence, slake, soak...
insatiable thirst even prodding junketeer,
panhandler, vendor...
the last named,
perhaps selling kitchenware
knicknacks, keepsakes...
to hippies (think yours truly)
with long wavy hair
interwoven with Kahila
Garden Lily, Laurel, Maidenhair...
profusion of sensual delight
brings Mother Earth near,
the body, mind, and soul
espying frolicsome *****sapiens
donned with minimal outerwear
infusing all living things
common native plants and animals
in conjunction with resident outlier
particularly those pining
to answer call of the wild overdare
ring and bee zee lee court'n prepare
ring to beget young as
singular requisite quintessential profiteer
fluttering, instagramming emoji,
sans shutterfly puppeteer
as audience visually already reddit
regarding acting entire scenes,
viz Biblical Genesis answering prayer
particularly if gnostic, heterodox, *****...,
finally relieved, sans polar vortex
albeit somewhat rare
atmospheric phenomena, how ideal
if said rabid Jack Frost
would sink icy bite - part
and parcel green gang
at much more favorably time reappear
during oppressive heat spell during
sweltering triple digits temperature
summer re: time of year.
Categories:
heterodox, animal, appreciation, beauty, environment,
Form:
Rhyme
Flamboyant swashes; flaming crimson,
could be my face, as the flyswatter-hand
could impress such lettering upon my cheek.
so I
severed the crescent-angel of my imagination,
dashed my dreamy cursive, expunged the end;
held my breath as I curtailed the honey-alphabet.
Nun in black,
giving me grief, exacting ruler teeth, measuring
the letter of the law; curtains to poetic strength.
Who was I to think
outside the parochial box. Couldn’t she,
who dangled rosary beads,
have at least
decisively
have added,
“My! My! Isn’t that pretty! You will make a great poet
one day, but today, dear one, you must play by the rules.”
Snap! Crack! My knuckles are raw.
They meet my mom’s gaze. We laugh.
In my time, the penguins
wouldn’t dare,
but dare
one did
to
bang the elementary school kid,
his head, against the classroom door
frame. famed…defamed…sorry for him.
He probably didn’t tell
his mom and dad.
We didn’t
back then.
This was only one educator…
the rest were fairly nice. Unfair
to dice my letter, mold it, conform it.
Perhaps that is why
I
interchange cursive and printing
as I take note
of the world at large
and
the small people that live on a ledge
eyeing letters and ledgers
with eagle-eyed veracity.
Verifiably insane,
the pinch
of my pen,
in the grip of Sister Pain-in-the-Neck.
Feverish,
with fanciful letters,
alpha-betcha-soup, heterodox-ical, complexities
with outlier formatting. I
will pull out from the alphabetical wolf pack,
hungry for a feast
of flippant snippets. Do my teachers
toss in their graves? I
think not. They just lie
in a box, just so.
Categories:
heterodox, 4th grade, angst, school,
Form:
Free verse