Best In The Joint Poems
Paste on your passion smile
Crisp all your words
as you settle yourself
to be self-consumed, heard
Whisper sweet nothings
which only you know
Don't stop the banter,
the words or the flow
You've reached the summit
of the loneliest point
You're king of the vacancy
best in the joint
Write all your poems
on the back of your hand
and read them at supper
of cream pie and sand
Your siblings will stand up
and whisper applause
You've felt all emotion
and ridden all stars
They bid you good-bye
for you're out of their league
and to think you just wanted
to be heard, succeed...
QUALITY CONTROL
Visions of scientists in white coats, with glass jars
Scraping layers of paint off new cars
Or women with heavy blackframed glasses
Weighing the sugar content of two sweetened masses
Or testing the strength of steel cables to breaking point
(Same approach to the patience of the menfolk in the joint)
But equally when your neighbor puts down his banjo
For out to the backyard lightning-still he’s gonna go
Check to see the alcohol content is always the same
And put a match to a spoonful and watch the flame.
Or when the gas station guy changes a tire, and you arrive
Late, you kick the tire before you drive.
Quality control can be done with lens and vial;
But equally it can be done bronco-style.
It's a damn shame they say honor thy parents
But I had none
They shot my only love grandma
In a drive-by
Now I'm all alone
What a shame bout my pops
Rolling Stone he was
sucka was never home
Even in heart and soul
What a damn shame
Wanna talk about Shame
How about my sista Trisha
A junkie a ho
Was found two years before
sprawled on some basement floor
What a shame what a life
God Oh God I want to blame you
Lord I want to cuss you
I want to ask why why why me
But can only blame myself
As I sit here in the joint
Staring at these walls and my thoughts
Doing twenty to life
have no pity my little brotha man
You see you have but one life ..
One damn life
some days are too long, too draining, too sad
some days last...
frozen
something missing,
blame is all you get
stop screaming,
the outside world isn't listening.
this door is closed.
the judge himself is not man enough
to judge himself-
he worries about
unrelenting judgments
that began in the New York Hills
the eastern door when
you bit your lip as a guarantee
inner turmoil was real to you,
the wall is real to you,
and you can’t get out
this door is closed.
stay a little bit longer on the ground-
do whatever your blue collar working-class hypothesis tells you.
your roots
are shatterproof,
life on the street is harsh
harsherer than life in the joint
and every five seconds somewhere in the world, someone goes blind
and can’t find the door.
I've been going back
in time for just a bit
Thinking back on my life
those times I had no wit
Being in the eighth grade
I remember all so well
The time I was given a dare
ten minutes before the bell
There was a popcorn maker
that sat just down the hall
The kernels, oil and salt
in our room, we kept it all
I don't remember every detail
just the basic truth
I was dared to snort the salt
and in my blissful youth,
I thought, "Whatever,
it can't be all that bad"
So they laid it on the table
and took a pen from the pad
Pulled out the ink
so now the pen was hollow
I had not the slightest clue
of what was about to follow
I laid the pen before the line
and up my nose it went
The biggest sting I ever felt
as my knees slightly bent
I coughed and hacked for a few
my orange nose was surely glowing
Trying to see through watery eyes
I thought my sinuses were showing
As they all rolled and laughed
I took the pen and threw it
Said, "If you think it's that funny,
then one of you do it!"
Just then the room got quiet
could hear a pen drop in the joint
So, a smile fell across my face
as I had just proved my point
Of course they had the right to laugh
my stupidity wasn't their fault
But a lesson learned in school that day
never, ever snort the salt!
I write poems you listen to them
There is no end to this lovely game
You open your window and the birds call
I open mine and the rainbow-footfall
I weave a dream, under your umbrella
In the joint shade comes up our villa
You make tea and I fill the cup
Warm bubbles call us to the marble tub
I keyboard in smile, as you whisper words
This way we set free, many lovely birds
You make the clouds and I deliver rain
Dry grassless earth both of us disdain
I raise slogans in the procession
You dream vignettes of the revolution
I am charged under sedition and go to jail
Shadows in the cell make you frail
You fight for freedom and I keep waiting
Sparkle our eyes till our suns are setting
Then there are times when I go right
You choose the left and there is a fight
The windows are closed and the doors shut
The nagging sickening feel lingers in our gut
As the mercury rises the black clouds appear
Rains come down and the sky is clear
You give me words and I write rhymes
Together you and I juggle the balls of time
I play the drum and you march on
You and I go on aeons after aeons
_________________________________________
May 12, 2016
Suubmitted to – Any Couplet You Wish II – Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Laura Loo
In the Bible the book of James reads like a Shakesperian play
With words that are archaic and not used as much these days
James writes of his concerns about how to lead an ethical life
How one should communicate in order to follow the ways of Jesus Christ
But in society today proper language seems to have gotten lost somehow
Can you understand what people are saying, can you hear me now?
For It's not so much as what you say, but It's how you say it.
Ebonics, street lingo and generation X slang words
It's not so much about can you hear me,
but do you understand what you have heard
"Put some frosting on your bling-bling"
Now what in the heck does that mean?
Some rap music isn't so bad,
If you can comprehend the main point
But most of those songs seem to address violence
and the gangster life in the joint
We need to set an example with the proper Christian tone
Re-teach the youth of today to communicate
in a language that's not all their own
May God make them the instruments to carry forth His story
Pray that they come to understand the with Him, there Is glory
Can you hear me now? a slogan that Verizon does use
Can you understand me now with the words that I choose?
The diversity in the university
Is just a sign of the individuality
There's nothing wrong with being unique
and marching to the beat of a different drum
BUt can you hear me now
and do you understand where I'm coming from?
Senate Intelligence
By Franklin Price
6/8/2017
Senate intelligence, not so sure I saw today.
Those words an oxymoron for what I heard some say.
Do not become political, I heard the chairman speak.
Some of them would not comply, their minds were just too weak.
I'll not point my fingers, not be specific in my point.
If you watched, you may agree, there were non-listeners in the joint,
that thinly veiled or blatantly, proudly took their party's side
I saw again the sad state we're in, “You did not listen”, is what I cried.
You had a chance to clear the air through a fine upstanding man
That he was canned by the president, of that I'm not a fan
I think he has integrity and he did his job too well
Tried to be all to everyone. I think that's why he fell.
Position required arm's length, unbiased and aloof
Made some very tough decisions and it all went through the roof
Stepped on several psycho toes by thinking for himself
Was much too good, thought consequence, and now he's on the shelf.
The FBI director's job should be autonomous
With freedom to investigate all the crime done on the bus
Without the threat of firing, without sufficient cause,
Investigate to solution without oxymoron pause.
It's a shame we don't have Hoover still, who covered his own ass.
Collected trash on everyone, to mess with him must pass
If you tried to take him down, you were likely going too
Then your royal job, upon the hill, would no longer be for you.
There always are temptations to selfishly advance
To give you free vacations, to put money in your pants
You better clean your act up, we the people watching too.
The president got Comey. We don't have to vote for you.
Seventeen
By Franklin Price
7/30/2015
Seventeen when will it stop
A traffic jam we need a cop
Too many think they're heaven sent
That they can run for president
Can't get together have a meet
A forum for that mighty seat
If they could just cooperate
They may have stopped at only eight
Another example of their plight
Won't work together only fight
Better soon find where it's at
Or four more years of democrat
Not so many on that side
Just a couple for the ride
Scrambling to present their point
Or maybe end up in the joint
How have the parties come this far
Think they're all drunk just left the bar
That would make a little sense
How else could they be so dense
Hard to decide who gets our votes
They are not lions they're only goats
One will lead us lambs astray
We'll find who it is on voting day
May not like it maybe will
I just know I've had my fill
Of many posers now hell bent
Who think they can be president
Earth is the "being" that is evolving, "experiencing life," physically
The only evolution humans can contribute is in their spirit
As I said many poems ago, independence is a myth, but feel free
I write as my record - mere footnotes to the AKASHIC record
Play the part you "feel" you want; but Earth's destiny really reigns
The GOD I know is a Cosmic Being, all the planets are "His Body,"
Each body part and related organ has its own vibrations
Some of us are feet vibrations, will not be heart vibrations
(But as the Hindu Caste system - rightly taken - needed even Sudra)
We are in this together, Earth the Mothership matters most
When we die, we are at a lower vibration that when alive, hence a break!
But staying with evolution (Atlantis, some 12,000 years ago) helped us
By downloading the STARS into the earth, via the Pyramids (in 8 faces)
Allowed undulations of space-time, space-time, space-time, space-time
When we beings here say, "I am," we help Earth continue its Plan
We really have no plan for ourselves, we are like cells in the head, eye, toe
I did confess: all knowledge can help (Islam, Church, Hindu, Buddhist, Jew)
If we link our SPIRIT's journey with Earth continued evolution, too
"The Memory Man"** said, we a tad of Free Will: two tools in a "cage"
How we use these: a paintbrush and paint, is our FREEDOM: sealed room
Will we scratch at the walls to make a hole, with the brush?
Might be better to paint a window, or better yet, a door
Even stars on the ceiling, galaxies, as we may connect with constellations
That just helps us to cohere, put coherence in our thought-emotion-spirit
But most of all, know those who love Earth, have the download, we'd profit
In the joint enterprise to KNOW "Gaia" Earth - and her Cosmic Mission
**NOTE Argentinian-born Matias De Stefano remembers his life in Sirius & in the last days of Atlantis, 12 000 years ago. That knowledge was lost because it only passed by chanting & drinking water (which caught the vibrations of the wisdom). Google him & be prepared to have you head rocked.
Letting the music flow through me.
Enveloping me and helping to ease my mind.
Lightening my spirit and calming my heart.
Allowing me the freedom to expand my imagination.
Let the stress of the world slip away.
Running down my spine to land in my feet.
Slipping out of me to flow along the floor.
Gaining a life of its own.
Starting a strange and new journey
Turning from stress to a multi-colored creature.
Absorbing everyone's stress and negativity.
Feeding off it and turning it to a brilliant display.
Lightening the mood in the joint.
Setting toes to taping.
Hands a twitching.
Hips moving and bodies grooving.
Notes flow and float in the air.
Energizing the crowd.
To an almost frenzied state.
Working better than any drug possibly could.
Potent and pure.
Making Waves
Sexy dancer to the waves.
See how she moves to the music.
Base turned up full boom boomboom!
Even when she’d driving, she dances.
Her stereo on full while she nods her head.
She’s the stereo loving gal and don’t we know it?
Her job is her life in a Go-Go bar.
Watch her turn, wiggle and dive for the punters.
Pay her a dollar and she’ll suck, buck and you.
Doing this and more to the tunes.
Her body is the ocean and her soul the wind.
Her moods match these and she always gets her way.
This gal isn’t poor or stupid.
Because she owns everything in the joint.
The bar, the stereo, the band, the songs, the punters.
She looks like a whore.
Anyone else wouldn’t be like this.
Except for a naïve innocent teen used and abused.
It’s high class illusion.
Part of the show and old routine.
No more or less is given by Sexy Sultry Sharon.
In her bar by the sea.
She does six shows a night.
Bearing all and more for the likes of you and me.
So off we go to her bar.
Bring all your cash and an open mind.
You’re in for the night of your life so don’t be late!
It was a Sunday cherry picker
Saints were coming not to bicker
We will take a few
Then on cue
Change them to
A special wine
And have a nice time
Mr. Bourne he did listen
Dreaming of a fantasy mission
Catching the hive
And staying alive
Missing St Mary
Saints knew this was not going carry
Mr. Bourne’s mouth
Was heading south
Before the first forty five
One went in, no lie
“This is not red,”
Mr. Bourne said
Thinking they were playing with his head
“And I am not dead.”
Looking to still get a point
Mr. Bourne kept himself in the joint
Until the final ticks
And the Saints dropped the kick
A shot they could not defend
At the very end
Adams gave it his best rib
Into the goal resting inside the nylon crib
Gold sands
Will be in relegation hands
Saying goodbye to the glitz and glamour
Sealing the high profile coffin using a hammer
Foxes headed to see the Lily in White
Needing something to stay in the top four team fight
Champions League fit was feeling right
Along came an honest test
Seeing if Foxes had anything to confess
Very early Foxes were a mess
Delivering the ball to the wrong address
Later on there was two from Kane
A double dip as per his fame
No one really had a complain
It was the final scoring in the game
Foxes still tied with the manuel Devils
For extra matches on an International tournament level
Noted there are two
Left for Man U
While Foxes have another against, you know who
Poetically Presented Politics
By Franklin Price
3/1/2016
Poetically presented politics
Is something I find fun
Try not to party orient
Or point to who's the one
Look for funny foolish things
That should not be a point
If not used in the current race
Could put runners in the joint
If half truths got an Oscar
And a sidestep got them two
All would be awarded one
And most of them a few
He had reached his breaking point and had no reason left to live
For he ended up in the joint and twenty years the judge would give
He felt completely alone and his insides were stripped hollow
For his problems had only grown as it was his own demise that he chose to follow
So filled with hate as it overflowed in his cell
For he knew of his fate, he was headed straight for hell
Lashing out at every single chance for that was all he ever knew
Always having his stance but never really holding anything true
But one day during his daily routine and just out of the blue
A new guard he had never seen said “Could I speak to you”
“I know your anger and sense your pain for I was once in your shoes
“But in the Lord Jesus you could gain while you’re in here paying your dues”
Putting a Bible in his hand and looking him straight in the eye
He said “He will understand if just give Him a try”
Throwing that Bible against the wall and trying to spit in his eye
He said you think you know it all, I wish that you would die
“Read it” he said as he turned to walk away
Saying “For you He has bled and you really need to pray”
With two fist of rage, he yelled and then screamed out
Get me out of this cage, laughing, he said that will end my doubt
Later that night he was unable to sleep
Turning on a little light,he pulled that bible from its heap
And as he read it feeling all of his shame, words clinging to his heart
Till finally he called out His Name and that was only just the start
Out of all those women and men he saw everyday
He never saw him again, that guard who told him to pray
And when he did finally inquire as to where he had went
There was never any such new hire for that was an Angel that God had sent