Best Ingratiated Poems
poetically fractured retractions
gnashing night prayers,
scribbling braille,
written sideways
dipped in holy water's resolution,
compromising statements
of disbelief's proclamation
spinning music the color
of nakedly sick psycho, yet
burnished souls keep on ticking
quarter past total trade-offs
in a spoonful of smoky reflections
sans acid's sugar trip,
anointed of rose-reddish
bloody false pretenses
dancing off center phases
in disillusioned
pirouettes of pseudo redemption,
whirling out of control on
staged tapestry's loftiness
surrendered ballet slippers
in blistered half promises,
as twisted metaphors sprightly
tuned out spun anomalies
below birds on a rusty wire tweeting
admissions' cobalt blue hazed execution,
rendered inky alterations' inquisitions
'pon pedaled pink fluff profundity,
exhaling paroxysms' jazzily engaged poesy
in vehemently enraged deliverance,
naught one is ever as they seem
through pigmented film 'neath
figment's imagined looking glass
of ingratiated delusional grandeur
He had a great conflict and fight
And his soul was the main site
Heart fell in love from the first sight
As her magic ingratiated it so right
Heart wants this love to grow
As a pine tree covered by snow
To withstand era's winds which blow
But this was against mind's law
As it ordered him just to flee
Cause sorrow is love's famous fee
Fearing loss in eagerness sea
And so ,it preferred safety key
To forget her and close love door
To leave this fascinating shore
But heart said she worth dying for
As passion was so hard to store
Who would lead in this case?
Heart had an etched love trace
Mind wanted to win the race
Soul is torn in between needing brace
By: A. Badr
A token flash from your azure eyes so fair
The snapshot did my ingratiated lids snare
Your sharpened stare did my focus pair
My singed cornea was left in state of disrepair
Your beaming irises cast a searing flare
My dilated pupils your steam did not spare
Reflecting lenses as mirrors cast lurid glare
My glowing retina could not the intense flame bear
THE CHANGING WORLD
The age of chivalry and bravery has ended
That of sophistry, rivalry, upon us descended
Those with ability, to charm and talk, are commended
They are now indeed enemies, whom we once befriended
Where has all the love gone, hitherto, unlimited
The human greed for wealth remains unsatiated
For money, men unleash violence unabated
The rich and elite are highly ingratiated
The poor and forlorn man’s woes are unmitigated
Never were people so fearful, streets so deserted
Always under threat, somehow their lives will be disrupted
True, in Eve’s drawl and Adam’s fall, we have lamented
But Devil’s devious ways we have inherited
As peace-loving people, we too were once saluted
Today, hatred and revenge have left us demented
Apprenticed to enamoring aviary, Love's cerebral chords to refine
To interpret the alluring tones in each, captivating line
Overhead, a snow white dove in the pure light doth shine
Innocent libido's inhibitions to illumine
On silted ground, turtle doves in beautiful harmony fealty bine
Every silky neck strand in seamless congruence to twine
In enchanting Lilac tree, song birds in melodic chorus rhapsody pine
The titillating rhythms of amorous romance to define
On fibrous pulp, wood peckers their virile aspirations sign
Artfully tracing each groove on hull bared and supine
In golden pond, nubile swans in tantric dance align
With graceful movements gently stirring the foamy brine
Hovering , humming birds' wings vibrate o'er suckling vine
Then with salivating tongues on frothy nectar dine
At dusk, Nightingales' guttural groans in palpitating soliloquy whine
The moonbeam's enticing spell on unwitting lovers to assign
Ebony-caped crows bellow bewitching chants o'er listless ravine
Each ingratiated soul with lustful thoughts to incline
Stealthy hawk with piercing eyes each svelte fiber doth divine
Then with dexterous agility swoops down on silky ermine
...a tribute to Hermann Hesse and his novel 'Narziss Und Goldmund.'
Two friends in early childhood when their lives were worry free,
each pursued his own direction to fulfill his destiny.
One was tempted by the devil to devote his life to greed,
debauchery, dissimulation, he embraced each sinful deed.
He ingratiated himself with the wealthy, bedding courtesans and Queens,
all the while maintaining strict discretion, gaining riches by deception and guile.
From palace to palace he traveled, always escaping detection,
'til he tired of all of the cheating and lies, and spent time in devoted reflection.
Much older now, his skills were not the sharpest,
no longer did he yearn for wealth and fame,
he became disconsolate, and longed for peace and solace,
a return to the village where they called him by his real name.
Meanwhile the other spent his time in isolation,
became a monk and took a vow of silence,
as part of a brotherhood he was content,
rarely, if ever, was he called upon for penance.
He left his cell each afternoon to tend the Bishop's garden,
tilling and weeding the flowers and plants,
in the evening he could be heard singing,
embroidering the hymns with soaring descants.
Asceticism is a doctrine that requires self-denial,
taken in excess it lays a burden on the soul,
a burden which in retrospect is seen as self-defeating,
what steps can be taken to ensure the soul is whole?
The two men reunited in the village where they spent
such happy times in playful animation,
examining their practices they sought an end to their excesses,
too much praying and playing required a strict examination.
In the midst of life's continuum to maintain a happy medium,
play and prayer and work and everything in equal measure,
the Greeks had a phrase for it ~ 'Nothing In Excess,'
a phrase we would all do well to contemplate, and treasure.
...a tribute to Hermann Hesse and his novel 'Narziss Und Goldmund.'
***********
Two friends in early childhood when their lives were worry free,
each pursued his own direction to fulfill his destiny.
One was tempted by the devil to devote his life to greed,
debauchery, dissimulation, he embraced each sinful deed.
He ingratiated himself with the wealthy, bedding courtesans and Queens,
all the while maintaining strict discretion, gaining riches by deception and guile.
From palace to palace he traveled, always escaping detection,
'til he tired of all of the cheating and lies, and spent time in devoted reflection.
Much older now, his skills were not the sharpest,
no longer did he yearn for wealth and fame,
he became disconsolate, and longed for peace and solace,
a return to the village where they called him by his real name.
Meanwhile the other spent his time in isolation,
became a monk and took a vow of silence,
as part of a brotherhood he was content,
rarely, if ever, was he called upon for penance.
He left his cell each afternoon to tend the Bishop's garden,
tilling and weeding the flowers and plants,
in the evening he could be heard singing,
embroidering the hymns with soaring descants.
Asceticism is a doctrine that requires self-denial,
taken in excess it lays a burden on the soul,
a burden which in retrospect is seen as self-defeating,
what steps can be taken to ensure the soul is whole?
The two men reunited in the village where they spent
such happy times in playful animation,
examining their practices they sought an end to their excesses,
too much praying and playing required a strict examination.
In the midst of life's continuum to maintain a happy medium,
play and prayer and work and everything in equal measure,
the Greeks had a phrase for it ~ 'Nothing In Excess,'
a lifestyle we would all do well to emulate and treasure.
Copyright © 2016 Keith Bickerstaffe
Poetically fractured retractions
gnashing night prayers,
scribbling braille,
written sideways
dipped amid holy water retention,
compromising statements
of disbelief's proclamation
spinning music the color
of nakedly sick psycho, yet
burnished souls keep on ticking
half past total trade-offs
in a spoonful of smoky reflections
sans sugar's acid trip,
anointed of rose red
bloody false pretenses
dancing off center
in disillusioned
pirouettes of pseudo redemption,
whirling out of control on
staged tapestry's loftiness
surrendered ballet slippers
in blistered half promises,
as twisted metaphors sprightly
tuned out spun anomalies
below birds on a rusty wire tweeting
admissions of cobalt blue executions,
rendered inky alterations' inquisitions
'pon pedaled pink fluff profundity,
exhaling paroxysms of engaged poetry
in vehemently enraged deliverance,
naught one is ever as they seem
through pigmented film 'neath
figment's imagined looking glass
of ingratiated grand delusions
Twisting and writhing
Ruffling leaves as she passed
S-curves and U-shapes
Propelled her
Past the crumbling daylight
Into the absence of sun
Tar and pitch
Where nothing was to be seen
She sank down on her belly,
Licked the air, thought about
Her life as she gulped a rat
Wondered at beasts and bugs
Their feet, hooves, legs
Ponderous about her own
Lack there of
Her belly had grown crispy
Her eyeballs dry and flaky
As she continued to wonder
In her state of change
Belly down, itchy, itchy!
How easy it must be
For the horse to gallop away
For the cat to preen with paws
The cow to kick unwanted infusions
But she! SHE had to grind and rub
Against rock, bush and dirt
Was she powerless?
The moon
The cold blue white glow of the moon
provided just enough sparkle for her to glisten,
in her shiny black bodysuit
And she began to think doubly
About her situation, as she undulated and bucked and listed, to free herself of her skin
Black bead eyes observed the crunchy strips of paper flaking off, revealing the supple oily wet curves below, new and smoother than fresh patent leather
Was she ingratiated by her lack
of paws?
By her absence of cow tail or even fingers and toes? No.
She thought on,
and considered her second skin, worn out and yellowed, as an old worn out slipper to be discarded, and she- she with her powerful belly like a smooth sole, gliding on the most agile, powerful foot, moved on
With a sensual ferocity
Across the night’s stage
Once upon a time holly loosely based
upon a true story
There was a man who shall be called
Lord Mountbatten / Battenberg
A true Hero in every sense of the word
Or so we all we're and have been told
1 part German somewhat British like
his father before him
Who now looking back upon reflection
truth now be eventually able to be told
The fact's don't seem to bare out
what we were in fact told to believe
and make of him
Because what he in fact seemed to
be was this
A man who rose to the lofty position
of Admiral despite the fact he crashed
3 ship's and cost countless lives
Who ingratiated himself through any
means into the grace's of the upper
echolocation of royalty and polite
society in order to service his agenda
Who resided over partition which the
losses and aftermath are still being
counted till today
Orchestrated the introduction and
marriage of his nephew Phillip to
Queen Elizabeth
And dropped his lifelong childhood
friend the King in waiting for his
brother when he abdicated
In retrospect not fit to even be granted
so much as an audience in or with
such company in fact sullies their good
name and reputation
Unlike a man who through his deed's and
actions saved 2 million plus lives and
shortened the war by breaking the Enigma
code
Who unlike him was not repaid with
numerous honours and titles bestowed
on him in recognition of his contribution
But instead was chemically castrated
berated and worst of all suffered the
indignation of being hidden and wiped
from history altogether
At least now it's finally left up for prosperity
and history to decide with all the facts placed
clearly clarified on display
Who is fit to be called a Hero King
in all but Reginal name
Balance of time slights the recurring vigil
Country's pride gleans the depleting residual
Annual tears water the artifices above manicured ground
Unextinguished pyre of tinseled youth still seethes 'neath clodded mound
The drum roll of spent days serenade each, muted mime
As ceremonial taps grant ingratiated minds trite stime
Into heroic feats rendered in soldiers' splintered prime
Human shadows hover in the solace of peace sublime
Sodden warriors' token sacrifice remains layered in lime
Sentient wreaths shroud shallower graves
Each, calcified bone now jading memory's slave
Stoic crosses reincarnate the souls of the fallen brave
Devoted progeny patriotic reserves from depleted fibers shave
Nature did not understand me,
When it produced me,
But I am understood by nature,
By life’s processes and behaviours,
Thoroughly admired and integrated,
Almost ingratiated,
Unable to complain or dig,
Standing amazed at the plate.
That I evolved, I know,
Sure as a goldfish of his water:
My ancestor’s genes were modified and changed,
Through everyday behaviour and focus,
By partners’ characteristics and traits,
In the determination to get through and win,
By the physical touch relationship of sex.
No problem at all, that’s fine for me,
That massive statement of gene makeup,
Those free interactions which take effect,
In the enormous chain of descendants,
Through that family ancestry tree,
It made me,
And even more, it does not determine me everyday,
Because I’m free to choose my own rack,
Friendships, partners, jobs and interests,
And I can see that evolution is fair.
Nuptials wrung from ingratiated hand
Purloined hope dripping from each strand
Pristine fibers with leased value you did brand
Quilted folds of ivory now your treasured contraband
Bleached residual your selfish honor did demand
With sinewy clutches my graceful cusps remand
Your jealous stock, with annual annuity planned
Gangrenous envy flowed from your jading band
Opal plains with silky troughs now desert quicksand
Denuded tendrils cannot your cool, callous touches withstand
Now Praying Mantis shells encrusted on a barren island
Cracked, bleeding cavities deeded to your wasteland
Framed by Greed
A festooned and fractured peacock
More than just his tailored suit
But no less than the material made of
Caricature of broken records
He repeats the same different song
In bland and blithered platitudes
Fat millions counted in pennies
With the black book phone numbers of X and rated lovers
One he counts to ten
Beguiled dishonesty of truth he wears
On back stabbing smiles
And comfortably ingratiated friends
The fat starvation of his heart
No longer needs to work so hard
At being human
Weapons dealer and pimp of innocence
Player of black trade and drug abuse
Criminal of luxuries bullet-proof
All for me said his bloated sack belly
The polish, the shine, the lights and indifference
Servitude serves his robbery of plenty
A hijacked ridicule of femininity
Fashion dripped and preened beside him
Prattled and gibbered on a diamond encrusted mobile phone
Fake and vacuous cost so much
In plastic implants and Dubai makeup
Shoveled up
In the hotel lobby
He sauntered in
The swagger of malpractice
His gold plated education treading the deep plush pile
On “ get out of jail free ” cards
The sharks tooth gangster man and his bodyguard
Were nothing more than an oily painting
Framed by greed
Some day the inconsequential may find itself revealed
Dare to walk this plateau of significant insignificance
this mind of indifferent
and apply such a steadfast mitigated circus
in clogged up self-ingratiated opinions
Better that every servant serves their purpose
and reads their script like everyone else
dance to the tune
along with the trained dogs of celluloid wealth
Portrayed in the skin of isolated pomposity
such an Oscar awarded to political sneers
those outbursts of emotional mendacity
a mere expense of fashion is how easy
life appears
Overburdened with concern
realities unreality of box office applause
pandemonium headlines what a celebrity can earn
and every act is acted by pressing play or pause
Just another show motion, another accolade of pretense
another incontinent photo moment to make them all proud
another vacuous misinterpretation
in their own overpaid defense
just street entertainers blowing their bubbles into the crowd
Then skip down the streets yelling bubbles, bubbles should not be allowed