Best In Conclusion Poems
The paintings where discovered in an old barn
The crime of the century
All six paintings masterpieces
All the locals where questioned at length and width
No one had but a single clue
Except for the local art dealer
He whispered to the inspector
I saw a very colorful van
Drive off in the night
It was not someone from around here inspector
The inspector asked Theo, did you hear anything?
The art dealer replied I am hard of hearing you see
Upon which he proffered a flask from his breast pocket
I think Vincent lives near there, off you go and ask him
When the inspector sought out this new witness
He was no where to be found
They suspected it was his van
In conclusion
Vincent Van Gogh
And was never found
Notes: In America we pronounce his name Van Go, not Van Goff
I write on my pets, most often my cats.
I think I may even have written on rats.
I write on God’s gifts that in nature are found.
I write on things based on sight, smell, and sound.
I write on great landscapes, on seascapes and sky,
especially on sunsets that dazzle the eye.
I write on almost everything that I know of.
I think in particular, I write on love.
I write on romance, some made-up stuff too;
I write on things mostly that I think are true.
I write on emotions, on evil and hate.
I write on TV shows and food that I ate!
I write on opinions I’ve formed through my life,
my joys and my trials (like being a wife).
I write on my feelings and sometimes on grief
and often I write on how life is too brief.
I write on my friendships, my children and kin.
I write on some topics again and again!
In conclusion, on paper I write while in bed
scribbling thoughts coming to my pillowed head.
Seconds:
If there was a second I didn't think about you
God himself would have to point it out
Because this sample of heaven is 24/7
As the minutes tick on since you been gone
I sit and think on all the things I did wrong
Every second I ask myself two things: why and where
why didn't I realize what I had harmed
and where for the club, I was there instead of with you in my arms
Minutes:
For every minute I spent with you I remembered
like when we first met in September
The minutes that we slow danced together
Are energies collided and warmed my heart despite the cold weather
Every minute with you I was on cloud nine
There was no question, I was yours and you were mine
It was through those minutes, sixty-seconds was expanded
With you it gave the affection I had so long demanded
Hours:
I will dedicate the hours to what is present
For it is through the hours of thinking that I learned my lesson
The hours since we've been apart
They have pushed and pulled on my heart
Through the hours I remember what once was
How this simple lust could have been love
For every hour, my lips mouth the four syllables of your name
Even if time froze, I would still do the same
Money can't compare to what love can bring in a lifetime
Who wants to be a millionaire?
I was once one, but I didn't need three lifelines
All I needed was you to see me through
My rough days and longest nights
With you, darkness came to the light
In conclusion, to every second, minute, and hour I write to, Know that I still think of you.
As they loomed through the sacred grove,
With staffs of Oak and Mistletoe,
Casting Oghams to the wind,
These men are wise with strength within.
They know the secrets of the trees,
And all the critters that live with these,
Once the kings would sort their counsel,
But they are the Wren, out from the wing.
First Irish chief had three eagle feathers,
Where the Bards were called the Fili,
In three worlds they would venture,
For three is sacred to the order, as is Awen.
The king is the eagle in the Duir (oak)
But the Druid is the wren that flys out from his wing.
/|\
The Native Americans have a similar story it goes something like:
As the Eagle soared and was about to claim his kingdom,
Out popped a little wren from under his wing, and flew a few feet higher,
declaring, yes, gaze upon your king, it is I!
In conclusion: It is ok to ride on the coat tail of others as we all do, but at
some point, we all must go out there and make our own path, or own inputs.
For the wren’s nest is also the Druid’s house.
I am whatever you say I am...
but, let's get back to reality...
Three short years ago, this room shined welcome mats across a screen of doldrums.
A place of unfamiliarity that screamed,
"You don't belong!"
Yet, a voice of reason spoke and said,
"Expand yir' roots. Venture beyond the comfort zone. Academia resides inside that room, but know you won't be alone."
Repeatedly,brainwaves declined what my wife and editor had told me.
I'd say,
"no way, I'm givin' up my soul for free, they read, they pay, like it's always been, the way it's going to always be!"
Unbeknownst to me one day, and with a slight of hand, my "Open Sores" were put on display and surprisingly more than a handful of great ladies and nice guys began to give feedback on what I had devised.
This interaction was something very new, helpful, and impressive. For a change, it was something real.
For years, those around me were quick to give praise with hidden reasons. Constructive criticism is amazing, and I welcomed being corrected or set straight.
Now there are those who choose to shut me down without explanation, and call me names.
DO NOT mistake me for sophomoric! These words bleeding from my guts have no style and need no approval. There is no thinking involved here, no plan. If you don't like it, fine...don't censor or bracket me in. So what if I am illiterate? If you don't like "street poetry" or the pathetic stuff I write, don't read it. If I offend you, tell me.
We should welcome those who are different than us.
Words of truth inspire movement, like fire.
I came to this room to expand my horizons, step outside the box, learn, help, grow.
There will be no apologies dealt for being different, or for being labelled as something uncomfortable to you.
This has been an ok room so far, but there is some clique trickanery going on.
If the dictionary must come into play, let me recommend looking up the term "Poetic License."
True, I may not be the writer you prefer, or aspire to be....but tread carefully my friend, for you have no idea of my profession. I've made a fine living, for a good long time, spewing words onto paper. I came from nothing, and may still be nothing to you...still, I do what I love, have no boss.
I am not an aspiring writer who dreams of a life, I live my dream. In conclusion, I must wish you luck in finding what you peddle poetry for. Until then, keep
Black Powder
---------------------------------------
He waits offstage, his posture tense,
his gaze locked on the audience -
his first in years.
He blots the sweat that wets his face,
then walks onstage and gets in place,
amidst their cheers.
In bowtie, vest and dinner tails,
he's dressed down to his fingernails.
His face is flushed.
His eyes close tight, his breathing slows,
beyond his sight, the tension grows
The house is hushed...
If he can pull from knurled old trunks,
the Magic that their world debunks,
he can pretend
(at least until the curtain rolls)
it's still his show, and he controls
it in the end.
Illusion casts no lasting spell.
No, in conclusion, he's not well,
so... shifting gears,
he lifts his hat to loud applause,
black powder sifting out like gauze...
and disappears... *
---------------------------------------
can't even fart anymore
without kicking up a hurricane
halfway around the Earth
according to reports this has occurred
at a great loss of life and mind
within minutes of the methane
the dominoes began to rumble
and poor Flash who was
merely greeting the morning sun
became history's first flatomaniac
Flash was burly with hair
up and down his back like
a mink in a 5th Avenue perfumery
his girl Florence was in cartoons
playing the hope card
in a séance with the laboring masses
at the Union of Opposites hiring hall
I was giving the citizens
an anatomy lesson your Honor
I should be given a stipend
for public elucidation
Flo was the key if not only witness
thought she saw the god Apollo
leaping out of a moving taxi
the effect was so dramatic
that she had to leap too
and hasn't stopped since
her testimony was a monstrosity of detail
in conclusion my rebuttal established
several seemingly salient selections
I am a dissector by trade your Worship
and a taxpaying asset to any community
Flash was sentenced with stern admonishment
you will henceforth exercise your libido
within the confines of spherical propriety
to which Flash assented
without the slightest ********
er objection
and somehow strangely unafraid
the Flasher of Costa del Mar
disappeared one night
sucked into the belly of an alien craft
over the cattle lip badlands of Montana
they commenced their hideous experiments
as Flash mused without anesthesia
on the incalculable immensity
of the starry Universe
and watched a mobile home run amok
across 9 lanes of traffic
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
I think that we forget how to be human, after awhile.
Our feelings harden, due to the other non human beings who cause us to build
walls. These walls tend to keep out the actual humans who, just maybe, love us.
The innocent who, just maybe, love us are also hardened because of the
inhumane treatment put on upon by the first party.
In conclusion: This goes around and around and around. Humans causing each
other to hate, fear, and harden.
God’s joy and awe at this being before him
Not even the angels’ jubilation could compare
A beginning, a calling and an eternity were placed beside him
A heart of gold to house the breath of God
A path was laid before him for his feet to follow
God gave him day and night as company
Day so he can marvel at the goodness of the Lord in the light
Night to ask for guidance in the dark
He gave him also, a tongue to praise and worship His greatness
God gave him trials and tribulations to build his faith and trust in Him
He gave him a destiny and passion to fuel his feet forward and forget the trials
and tribulations of yesterday
God made him a friend because He knew he could not do it by himself
In conclusion, God gave him a soul as a promise as a promise that one day He
would come back to get him
And with love, He sent him on his way…
God smiled and named him
You.
The happily ever after...
He searched the kingdom for a fortnight 'til all saddle sore and weary,
With his eyes bloodshot and bleary,
The prince arrived at the last door.
He found two sisters, far too ugly, and an even uglier mother,
And asked himself why even bother,
This whole darn quest's become a bore.
Then from the kitchen came the vision he had searched so far and wide for.
He asked stepmother what she'd lied for
To say the three of them were all.
A flash, a crash, there was the gown, and then he saw her bare right flipper,
And on the left, a crystal slipper…
The girl he'd danced with at the ball.
The stepmother feigned regret that they had sadly so misjudged her,
T'was for her good that they'd begrudged her,
But to a prince one shouldn't lie.
On her wedding day the trio met the fate they should have dreaded,
They were arrested and beheaded,
And Cindy never blinked an eye.
The wedding feast and celebration were the grandest in the nation,
The king and queen felt jubilation,
Their son was "normal", after all.
They could retire and the crown would be passed down to their descendants,
Their kid, grandkids, and co-dependents,
They were so glad they'd had that ball.
But on their wedding night the prince confirmed his sexual confusion,
And forced them both to the conclusion,
Theirs was no fairy tale romance.
But still they made the marriage work, although they had no little nippers,
Sometimes he wore her gown and slippers,
And Cinderella wore the pants.
So, in conclusion, Cinderella got her semi-happy ending,
In spite of all the rules I'm bending
To tell her tale and make it new.
It wasn't meant to be so grand,
But what my muse commands, I do,
And now in bidding fond adieu,
My hat is off to those of you
Who stuck it out and read it through.
The End
An ancient proverb states that he who knows, and knows that he knows, he is
wise follow him,
But how do we know that he knows? And knows the fact that he knows, and
once we know that, then we know and know that we know, so why follow him?
He also states that he who knows and knows not that he knows, he is
uninformed inform him,
But how are we to inform him, unless we know and know that we know, for if we
don't we are in no great position to inform him than to inform ourselves?
It also states that he who knows not and knows that he knows not he is ignorant
teach him,
But in order to know that you know not, you must know a little so if he knows a
little, then he's on the right track so why teach him when we could teach
ourselves to know and know that we know,
It states in conclusion that he who knows not and knows that he knows not he is
a fool shun him,
But if he knows not and knows not that he knows not then he does not know even
as much as he who knows not and knows that he knows not so why not help the
fool instead of he who knows not but knows enough to know that he does not
know.
However, there is a new proverb on the horizon.
It states, that for those who know and know that they know, those who know and
know not that they know, those who know not and know they know not, and for
those who know not and know not that they know not,
The most astute thing to do is to know when to keep quiet so that no one else
knows whay you do or do not know until you are absolutely positive of what you
do and do not know, then keep trying to know until you know not, for he who
knows not knows more!!
Anyone can write…
and drown in their self-delusions;
from persons into personifications
lists of passions, glorify self's illusions;
down those lists,
most veiled by incomprehension
one's passion is most often expressed
as the byproduct,
of misconstrued personal emotions;
therefore, in these briefs that follow
rest some seeds for those
whose mental fields lay perpetually fallow…
Xenocrates, his gods being unity and duality
i.e. episteme, aisthesis, and doxa
are lost to US,
by rue of epistemonike aisthesis;
Mersenne's numbers,
to Eratosthenes' sieve
Erd?os' factorization,
and Archimedes' constant conceived;
Holy vowels expressions!
Great Gobs of Goose shite, please!
release US from this context,
relieve this tumultuous tease;
probe Bertrand's Postulate,
exposing your thinking's
prime numbers seized;
however shallow, and wordless
your tongue tied thoughts do concede…
so many things are above me,
so many more lay beneath
my scratching, itching, and twitching
these are reminders of my simpleton's grief…
in this fiat before me
on these issues held, and in my beliefs
that my mind is much more
than the street corner tavern's
proverbial hat rack…
now that's a relief!
What is it within US?
that sullen darkness and introversion hides
those snide daily reminders
the eclipse of the sun
and or a debutante's swoon
a cheap parlour tricks wonder
or that pin-striped baboon's face
we each express as we howl at the moon…
Excuse me this meandering
but, it is my gut busting chortle
you now so surely conceive
that this little snippet from our dear William
does so help you believe
that we all live this one time
so as ourselves, do profoundly achieve
what your inquisitive conscience
exposes as your life's
most constant semibreve…
['Think of this life; but, for my single self,
I had as lief not be as live to be
In awe, of such a thing, as I myself.']
in conclusion of
this bit of confusion
do infuse this allusion
as your daily transfusion
of the smack of illusion
and the sole, blithe, transformational revolution
now necessary for your mindset's
ever changing and ongoing mental de-evolution.
I’m not a sweetheart or an angel
I could get really rude
I’m not always in a bright mood
I admit I have a attitude problem
I get easily annoyed
I always listen to people over you
And I’m always paranoid…
I get very *****y
And you point out all of these…and I can’t understand why
Cause you’re most defiantly not the good guy
You get mad to quick
You’re the definition of a Hypocrite
You can’t keep your hands to your self… nor your eyes
Which knowing you, shouldn’t be a surprise
You’re controlling,
I can’t even have a boy as a friend without you knowing
Or going in for no reason
And your mos. def. a great actor
You had me fooled for a quick minute
I’m glad I never let my guard down for a second
I know I lied about ever loving you
But I never went behind you back and talked to your little cousin
Nigga you were bugging
I don’t know but maybe you think I’m dumb or stupid
But I’m smart enough not to dare go back out with you
But its not you nor me...its us
We just can’t be
I can be very *****y
And your just plain crazy
So in conclusion
Don’t try to put it all on me
Cause it was defiantly 50/50……
I know, I know.
For some of you people, it's hard.
You have no choice.
Your parents didn't teach you any better.
If at all.
If you had any parents to speak of.
And the crowd you run with is worse than you.
So, in conclusion...where would you go to know.
Where would you learn to grasp the courtesy, the decorum.
The bourgeois sense of civility somehow afforded to the rest of mankind.
You wouldn't.
You didn't.
And there you are.
Flapping.
Flapping that big-ass mouth of yours.
Into your spittle-loving smart phone.
Spewing and flailing.
Mewing and assailing.
With everyone within earshot (read: a thousand nautical miles) absorbing your golden renderings.
Renderings filled with more primal, guttural nonsense than a naked mute, set on fire, playing charades.
More monologue than dialogue.
A demagogue with a catalog.
And then you finish your call.
And start another.
More nonsense about someone else we don't give a **** about.
And then you finish.
You go silent.
There's hope for us.
When all of a sudden.
The earbuds go in.
And the singing begins.
In tune, then out.
(Insert meaningless rap dribble and delicious mcnuggets of profanity HERE)
I guess naked mutes like karaoke.
The train arrives.
We all depart.
There is a G-d.
(5/6/14)
It's hard to breathe-poor respiration
Stomach hurt due to a combination
Of starvation and constipation
I feel like bad inflation
I need deflation
Get me a doctor to perform the operation
To make it in this world its mad desperation
I refuse to make adaptation to nonsense and instigation
I'm so sweaty more wet than condensation
Precipitation
Evaporation
Body so glossy it's like anatomy lamination
So I dry off like fabrication
I wish I was make-believe like animation
My own choice my own obligation
First start with an observation
Then evaluation
A problem in the atmoshere? Bad radiation
In 360 circulation
Earth's manipulation
Creates a bad situation
For the population
To feel a bad sensation
Like planet domination
Due to poor human reputation
The ultimate retaliation
Is Revelation
...As the #1 selection
Regardless of complexion
Object of every girl's affection
Lookin for the best connection
As a correction
From going in the wrong to right direction
It's like an infection
I want success so bad I get an ********...
In addition
To my subscription
To a perscription
To my addiction
Of the worst possible condition
Avoid the infliction
And affliction
Of pain of a titanic description
So I jail my anger with no jurisdiction
But I still face conviction
For kickin the automobile of anarchy into ignition
Can it lead me to a contradiction
Or a mental restriction
While I sleep I have recognition
I'm not the disease but the cure or is that a premonition
Or Gods intuition...
This is literal
Critical
And pitiful...
Beware we are almost at the completion
Of Earth's depletion
It's no secretion...
Could it be distinction
Or extinction...
From gov't corruption
To volcanic eruption
We are the production
Too late for interruption...
Any confession
Any suggestion
If you want to end the world here's the succession...
In conclusion
This is purely retribution
For distribution
Of pollution
No illusion
No confusion
No dillusion
Just an intrusion
Erase the constitution...
There's no prevention
Of the redemption...