Best Inglorious Poems
POTD 2 July 2018
Humans are capable of ‘Changing their State’. At times, a stressful, negative fusillade can be encountered from an individual wishing to subvert a person for whatever reason.
Lady Gaga so aptly describes this in her video clip above - and she should know through experience.
Kindness is a sentiment no one can ultimately reject.
Hard to do you say? - It’s easy.
Firstly, refuse your alter ego permission to react immediately.
(Your alter ego is programmed to protect your from a ‘painful’ situation)
The brain is a Bio-computer and can easily be reset to ‘Default’ by breathing into your abdomen (not into your lungs), - hold and then exhale, each action performed slowly to the count of 6.
Accusatory fingers pointing ~ eyes glowing hate
Seeds of venom spewing forth slanderous lies
Jealousy in all its inglorious green eyed splendor
Wool clothed wolves with undetectable smiles
Any tick of the clock it creeps up upon you
Evil plays no favorite it’s any man’s game
Seeming to push you up that stairway of victory
Then perniciously denigrates ~ disavowing any blame
Damned if you do ~ Damned if you don’t
Kindness perceived as weakness gets cast out the door
Tendencies to vacillate creates chinks in your armour
Resolutely walk the tight rope ~ lest your knees hit the floor
Eyes wide shut to the Evil all around us
Detach from this Chaotic Web in which we dwell
Be the Peace that ceaselessly penetrates the darkness
YOUR prerogative is to choose either ~ Heaven or HellPOTD 2 July 2018
Be it known as convenience food, junk food or munchies;
whether spicy, melt-in-your-mouth soft, or crunchy,
food, inglorious food, seduces with ease
and ensnares with the emptiest of calories.
Disguised as a comfort food comes macaroni
with creamy Alfredo and kin, Fettucini,
To not be outdone, spaghetti entices
with large fattening meatballs and sauce rich in spices.
“Deep fried” knows our weakness for fat, which gives pleasure
and saturates fast foods, it seems, in great measure:
KFC (finger-licking), batter-fried fishes
and chicken fried steaks -high cholesterol dishes.
Even fruits will attack with enjoyment unhealthy
as tarts, pies or pastries. That apple is stealthy!
Veggies can also be treacherous things
in guise of corn fritters and gold onion rings.
Too much of a good thing is pizza (so cunning,
so meaty, so cheesy), which no one is shunning.
The taco, burrito, and big burger too
in great numbers descend on us. What can we do?
Those delectable luscious desserts that we eat
have only to sit there; we cannot retreat!
Candies and chocolate, our decadent sin,
sweetly defeat us. We simply give in.
Ice cream, a smooth foe, knows when we are blue.
On a cone or a spoon, it drips, waiting for you.
As a milkshake, a frosty, a sundae or float,
or between split bananas, it sure floats MY boat!
Buttered popcorn is one salty foe, and we love it!
The hot dog implores in our mouths that we shove it.
Baked bread, so alluring, entraps with its scent,
which wafts through the air as if heaven sent!
The standards of junk food -America’s pride -
crisp bacon and nachos, chips and foods fried,
invade our malls’ food courts and lurk high and low.
Their smells overwhelm us wherever we go!
We might try but we can’t make our junk food desist.
for only the health nuts can dare to resist.
In the war with inglorious food I adore,
I say, Bring it on! Here’s my plate; I want more.
For the The Synathroesmic Cat Contest Poetry contest of Suzanne Delaney
*So now you can all know why I try to get to the gym a lot. hahaha
Oh, That Earth Wouldst So Truly Honor Thee
Dedicated To-
"The Great Unknown, Unsung Poets of the
- Past, Present And Future"
Oh, that earth wouldst so truly honor thee
You write poetic verse with such deep glee
As in glory-fruits reaped from your ink tree
Birth gentle winds blowing through land and sea.
Splash thee more, dear hope from your native tongue.
And gift world beautiful verse to be sung.
Inked pools born from candor and purest heart
Offerings of whispers that truth imparts
Defeating the dark which sets us apart
To gift more, fill up love's bountiful cart.
Splash thee more, dear hope from your native tongue.
And gift world beautiful verse to be sung.
Within thy soul and even thy sadness
Counter with blessed hope this world's madness
Shine with rhyming words, bringing on gladness
Yet ignore world's inglorious fadness.
Splash thee more, dear hope from your native tongue.
And gift world beautiful verse to be sung.
And through thy darkest sorrows gift anew
Heroic words that deepest dark breaks through
Gifts empathy, care many are thus due
For truth, darkness oft turns sky weeping blue.
Splash thee more, dear hope from your native tongue.
And gift world beautiful verse to be sung.
Oh, that earth wouldst so truly honor thee
You write poetic verse with such deep glee
As in glory-fruits reaped from your ink tree
Birth gentle winds blowing through land and sea.
Robert J. Lindley, 9-22-2020
Rhyme,
( A Look At A Sad Reality, Those Worthy But Not Rewarded )
Joan of Arc
HE speaks, and messengers appear
To innocence of one so young in year
The calling understood, she will not flee
Till France is free of English tyranny
The struggle long, a hundred years or more
An army tired, sapped of strength by war
She steps into the fray, new hope, inspire
Her words believed, the lighting of the fire
Hoorah, the trepid siege of Orleans broken
Triumphant Gaules their spirit now awoken
Battle proved, proud see her banner fly
On to the capital, her new war cry
Though the king be doubtful to her power
Sanctioned he, and blessed her of the hour
There, before the gates and walls so tall
Defending well, Paris refused to fall
Defeated, wounded, weary, drawn, down
Undone, alone, rejected by the crown
Falls into allied hands when out at large
Imprisoned to be tried, on falsehood charge
Religious order sent to set out court
To seek and force the answer that was sort
She, unwavering in her self belief
Her story standing gave them no relief
A minister dispatched to find (his) truth
Then shout her heresy from every roof
A thousand times the question fills her ear
A thousand times she answers without fear
Time was never going to be her friend
None came in aid or cared her to defend
Sent forth to burn in blazing execution
Inglorious was her perfect persecution
True to HIM her love would not betray
For HIM, at the stake, her life she lay
The passing years, gave her soul release
St Joan, now rests in reverence and peace.
Panagiota and The Autopsy
An autopsy, I found, educational to the max!
Those sacred, holy,human body parts, being
removed part by part.
Weighed on a scale, as if in a large supermart?
Really, truly, after all our human snickering and
politicking?
Is this who we are, simply meat on a cold slab?
And tell me, please, who is going to pay the tab?
Where will my Muse be when I lie naked on a table?
I can't scream "help" as the knife slices me from
neck to navel.
No trophies in this inglorious space and no POTD either.
No, poet friends, not in this inglorious stable.
There is no talk here of skin color nor of crucial racial matters.
For on that table,insides of all humans are of the same color,
Simply at peace,lying in tatters, I shout, all all lives matter!!
It's surprising, I withstood all this, being a young student
nurse and all.
It was September in Evanston, at Saint Francis Hopital
I shall never forget, that colorful, most memorable fall.
I never became a nurse,instead, fell deeply in love, truly,
a far more romantic deal!
We moved to San Francisco, where hills, deep love and
with poetry, my heart forever, he did eternally steal!
And the Pacific Ocean transforming from shades of deep
blues to the most enchanting teals!
July 5, 2023
Come my beloved
rest long within
the ethereal reaches
of my haven
within my sanctuary
rest your wickedly disconsolate
mind and so lay in repose
absolve yourself in shadows
cast for you
renew yourself in
the mist of my creation.
Crush me with your suffering
and your broken dreams
and your histories and your
deadliest deceptions
those cunning slayers of
all your hopes
so as I cast spells from
my dying contemplations
my terrible meditations
far West
I can obliterate them
annihilate their affect
vanquish their theme.
Envelope me in your angst
in your sorrow and your grief
as I lay dying
behind black embers
buried in the debris
of my decaying magic
ignite my cold conjurings
into vivid imaginations
into vibrant vagrancies
impress upon me
your utter depravities!
Suffocate me with
your inglorious sufferings
that I might ever
fixate on them
ruminate their demise
fashion my incantations
while I sleep
in the furthest
reaches of my
dread desolate world
while I sleep
in my secret realm
that ancient city
forged from mystic sands
which drift far and wide
far beyond the sphere of
creations glorious cosmos.
11/2/2023
* Angel Falls! Is a fictitious name for a city.
It has nothing to do with angels. *
Do you ever truly wonder who you are?
Perchance a being, with the heart of a star?
Who in this vast world are we anyway?
Stumbling along on this grassy, human pathway!
Thinking we are gods with pens, telling each
other what to do, where and when??
To all this, conceit, I say ,Amen and Amen!
I have done all of this, too and far more.
As if one can find respect or love in trophies galore?
Sought the loud applause of the loving poet crowd.
Sometimes, in the end, you get in your back, a nice,
sharp sword.!
I am sure poets have experienced this sharp angst
throughout history.
Forgetting, that “the other” is possibly,far more important
and significant than we!
It is simply a fact, I wake to, every now and then.
What good can I do for another, besides impressing them
with a very dull and inglorious pen!
Our mortal ends do come sooner, alas, than we think..
I am certain there is far more to do in life, than pen, with my
dull, insipid ink!
~~~~~~~~~~
Note…. I an finding these poems I wrote a few years ago.
I thought of erasing them? No reason to.! It is still timely.
Let me know if you understand me, hugs, Pamgie
There is a beat to the world,
it burns and bites, it can calm & comfort,
it will arouse and it will anger, it is a romantic rhythm,
immutable and immaculate,
an unselfish music it is, life provides this sensative song
and we all perfom a dance of danger, delight,& determination
as a humble gratuity for it's majesty,
how could any rational person contend that Nature is imperfect,
who dares accuse life of wrong doing,
how does such turgidity exist, minds on meger budget,
oh but they do, ugly creatures of hollow heads have argued so pompously
to indict the cosmos with error like how fowl beggars cavil
about quality of charity,
huffing, moaning, and squirming in their rationalizations for feeling indignant about life
inglorious as dirt on silk,
wrangling like gluttonous mosquitoes, vile & clumsy,
if they were to admit life's absolute perfection
then more self accountability for actions need ensue,
how could they slander Deity without blame,
I spoke to a religious zealot, pious as pain to wounds,
he said, oh no, life, including human discretion cannot be perfect
for there is sin and gross debauchery,
I discussed the matter with a scientist, calculating as the I.R.S., he replied,
no no, you play semantic games, nature is immensely imperfect,
like the price of fame,
I politely requested an example of imperfection from him, he smugly said,
" genetic mutations ", what unabashed ego I thought,
his response seemed word game,
I debated a logician on the subject, thorough as an army ant this one was,
she remarked that the idea of imperfection
could cause imperfect reality,
I said, if anything occurs it must be, otherwise it would not happen,
imperfection is that which should not happen,
all that becomes real is present time impeacability -
J.A.B. %
“cat o' 9 tales”
Like a cat has 9 lives
every witch in every Lilith
lives to write another day
woe bedtide the poor oaf
who gets in Her way
like Heathcliffe he’ll be tortured
from here to kingdom come
and back under the Hades rug again
where all good sinners
and their sordid secrets stray
to die another day -
roses placed just so by the fresh roadkill
let hungry eyed vultures have their wicked way
don't you know?
the broomstick’s not just for sweeping floors clean each day ...
Dorothy has Her way
like a cat has 9 lives
every witch in every Lilith
learns to fly strong again,
lives to write Her grimoire spells forever
each and every other powerful day
Candide Diderot. ‘24
“When, however, one reads of a witch being ducked, of a woman possessed by devils, of a wise woman selling herbs, or even of a very unremarkable man who had a mother, then I think we are on the track of a lost novelist, a suppressed poet, of some mute and inglorious Jane Austen, some Emily Bronte who dashed her brains out on the moor or mopped and mowed about the highways crazed with the torture that her gift had put her to. Indeed, I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.”
(Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own)
“What fresh hell can this be?”
(Dorothy Parker)
"If the doorbell rang in her apartment, she would say, 'What fresh hell can this be?' - and it wasn't funny; she meant it."
betide. :)
Apostrophe
A derogate demons asperity
Calumniate my integrity
Malicious deceit
Holding no truth
Held on to nothing!
My inglorious ignominy
Your repulsion Satiate!
Nauseated glut unsensual sodomy
Surfeit and salt in nasty infected cut
Given dichotomy
Or burdened with great weight
Tarnished, libel. Stuck in a rut.
Nothing left
Appellation stained – Tainted mendaciously
Verbal hate – Eat the flesh
Minstrel blood mixed with sacred semen
There’s nothing left – except for fire and this acrid demon
Uncomfortable confronting
your continuous consumption to which you're accustomed,
the crunch, the chew, it's all you do,
most munch at lunch while you the whole day through,
can't get a grip like a hug holding you
but when you sip it's a diet brew
no added sugar and calories are few,
but many saturated fats are stacked
impacting with gross growth of fat sacks,
so you boom take up too much room
and stay still through sore joints you feel
as you can't conceal spare tires that spill.
You've an ahss with a difference
surpassing any ahss in existence
by a significant distance
with its significant distance
disappearing in the distance
to France and French Resistance
wanting removal in an instance
with intense insistence .
To lose weight you need to move mate.
Eat less move more, it works for sure,
though at first a chore
instead of bursting out you'll once more
fit through the door,
and not resemble a dinosaur,
the sore-thighs-and-a-sore-ahss-eyesore-osaurus.
All four storeys of your inglorious
girth awkwardly bulges before us,
taunting as you pass us at speeds
outclassed by a passed its best tortoise,
a daunting and torturous sight
for our poor eyes that sore
at size you can't ignore
as your broad and soaring baggy core
drags flab and more flab along the floor.
To dine all the time like an assembly line
from 9 to 9 makes you the widest of mankind
with a need to wear a wide load sign on your behind,
eating on repeat
until you can't see your feet
or get out of that seat
while hoarding heat
roasting in rotation
as a gravitational orbit results,
these insults should install motivational mass
to counterweight your morbid oversized ahss,
… so yes your ahss looks fat since you asked.
Realise she hates guys that tell lies, she cries,
so I told her she's oversized and learnt lies are wise,
don't tell her she's wide from side to side or in her thighs,
cus her size cry makes her lies cry look a lie, lies are wise.
You stare as if you know
how my blood runs through my veins.
What wood are you?
Did you not come from a clan
of massacred trees
chiseled by an inglorious machete?
Were you the door that barred
the perils to our house?
Did you block the brutal sun from getting in?
Who carved you?
Was it not the rapist?
Was it not the thief?
Was it not the murderer behind the bars?
And you accuse me to have sinned
when all you do is mimic the fingers of your god.
Have you even opened those tinted lips
to mutter a prayer?
Why did you not dare to move
or tap my back when I opened my zipper?
Instead you feasted on my obscenity.
Why can you not tell your god
I attempted to fast?
Come!
Bleed and let these thirsty eyes witness your miracle!
Idiot.
©04-10-13
Love and War
L ove will always be in the end victorious
O nly love can be triumphantly glorious
V anity leads to pride and evil aggression
E vil loses battles in dramatic succession
What is the answer to the eternal question
that mystifies many upon their deep reflection
Will love ever conquer evils progression
eliminating warmongers hateful obsession?
Surely humanity is in a deep depression
as war rages onward without regression
Hope fades quickly without faiths confession
only God can help us now with his protection.
Ignorance is inspiring the irate inglorious
Love will conquer war, that's what were hoping for
Love will conquer hate, never again to dominate
Love will always be in the end victorious.
John Derek Hamilton
February 02,2016
Here, this day, on this inglorious
Field
Thy vain struggles will count no
Valour.
All hope now abandoned,
Imminent defeat unconcealed;
Erstwhile countenance display
Such waxen, languid pallor.
Surround by your dwindling
Forces
Ye will but sadly find...
That the stout keep of your
Valiant fortress is all but breached,
Once strong foundations failing -
Wherest badly undermined!
For a rigorous examination beckons
ye;
Stood before impassioned jurors
Chosen from the feared and all
Powerful families of the ignoble
Medici.
Black curtains drawn back from
Deep reveals
That look out over the enlightened
Years...
Where conceals...
Hidden between leafs of peremptory
Decree:-
A blight spread upon these lands,
Inflicted from Romes insidious
Plans -
That cause stain upon the
Renaissance of a golden century!
When clapping thunder breaks and
Brazen lightening clashes
Still I would know ye again:
A pounding, frenzied reflex devoid
Of all Godly purpose -
Detached from any amount of
Blame!
For I have sought ye out, O lowly
Meretrix;
Heaping upon you with bondage
Enforced through servitude and
Shame;
And I, O lowly Meretrix,
I...hereby command thy name.
A fastidious Advocate of intellectual
Character
Shallst I elect,
He who be a practitioner of
Theological proposal unrefrained,
To represent you -
Raised from the rank files of the
Dead and slain!
A public gallery, wherest seated,
Ghostly phantasms
That I purposefully select;
And for a judge - A deathly one:
Ill measured, worshipfully detached,
Beneath it all,
And hopelessly arcane.
This "Innocent" fool, dressed in
Guise of highest ecclesiastical
Enforcer,
Perpetuated a medieval Inquisition,
Both protracted and prolonged,
That openly boasted and rejoiced
In its zealous slaughter!
Thereby spawned a terrible edict -
"Ad Extirpanda":-
Cannon law that advocates the
Use of "Legitimate torture"!
Know thee also, Meretrix, the Pius
Pontiff,
Heaven sent,
Who in his greater wisdom
Convened over
The council of Trent:
Four hundred years spanning
Across a Reformations fears;
Reaffirmed when Pope John,
In reflective reiteration,
Was heard to chillingly hiss:
"What was...Still is"!
TO BE CONTINUED...
re-jargon re-emancipation re-align re-alteration, by design despair intended, no fear with the
truth deflected, relagate remove re-tie, retrained in rejection to observe a "new" (religion)
the temporal (love) that grows again from former things, and a past inglorious decidley mean
rewind rewind ligature will bind, search (religeon) you will find, the death of beasts and blue eyed men,
from torah priests and sun gods shamen, who killed the flaxen haired and strong, and
claimed gods blessing to chant and song, yet the dark skinned jesus came! to end the sadness
and pointless pain, he came to answer the sacrifical call, and yet his one aim to end it all,
and when you see upon the cross, the blond haired christ or son of god, wonder not why it is so,
also to the occident did his compassion go, to end religion and its shame,the old was gone
when the truest LOVE called end of game.