Best Involuntarily Poems
Of the items in the store,
All were second hand
An old computer did I buy,
With a broken stand
One side was badly scratched
Two knobs were missing too
But that’s not the story
I’m about to tell to you
T’was about the second week
Of the ‘puter at my place
Sitting there against the wall
Near the old staircase
I recall the night was late
As I readied me for bed
When I turned the ‘puter off,
The screen … it turned blood-red
The appearance caused a start
I gasped a gulp of air
I couldn’t turn my gaze away
I stood right there and stared.
Then a low murmuring
From deep within the set
Cold chills ran over me
I’ve not forgotten yet
A voice, low and menacing
Containing graveled rasps
I could not then stop again
My involuntary gasp
I stood there mesmerized
My gaze remained transfixed
Emotions racing through me
And all of them were mixed
The Voice on the other side
Of the blood-red display screen
Issued a command to me
So ominous and mean:
“Place your hand upon the screen
And repeat these words to me:
Where you are right now,
Is where I need to be.”
I felt my arm move upward
Powerless to resist
I felt a burning in my palm
As the display screen it kissed
I heard a voice and realized
The speaker it was me:
“Where you are right now,
Is where I need to be.”
As the words transmitted,
Involuntarily,
I could feel a change come on …
Overwhelming me.
As I stared in disbelief
My hand – it disappeared
Absorbed into the blood-red screen
As the burning onward seared …
Through my wrist, up my arm
It’s hotness I could feel
Inward was I screaming
Not believing this was real!
In reflection from the screen
I was being pulled into
I saw a face, and then I screamed:
“That horrid face is YOU!”
The rapid assimilation
Continued then until
All feelings were extinguished
And all was calm and still.
A trillion beings there transformed
To tiny bytes and bits
And ‘tis every part of us
All websites now transmits
Now here I am deep inside
This computers’ display screen
If there’s disturbance felt
Oh so sharp and keen
Just place your hand upon the screen
And read these words to me:
“Where you are right now,
Is where I need to be.”
Renegades Foreva!
Renegade teenage rage babes
thinkin’ they all grown, all knowin’
when they seedlin’s barely sown
bleedin’ teenage angst with teenage crankst
always rhymin’ and mis-timin’ some poetry-crimin’
mis-mashin', diss-bashin'
word-clashin' song
heard on some half-sappy, sex-happy,
yap-rap, smack-attack vid
made by some brotha who’s just anotha
angry angst-ridden
wannabe gangsta kid
With a street beat
they be hummin’ or singin’ along
repeatin’ the deceit
not knowin’ curse verses
are just plain wrong and mostly maligin’
while grownups in earshot
takin’ all them swearshots
wishin’ them words had sweeter rhymin’
or that kids be more discreet
would take their claptrap,
no-class, crass-crack lyrics
and just tweet ‘em or mime ‘em
But if ‘dults could go back, meet themselves
when they was punk teens
fittin’ into pre-shrunk his or her hunk jeans
listenin’, partyin’ to poppin’ rockin’
unusual musical junk boy band scenes
and lettin’ out star-struck
super-charged
groanal hormonal
no-one-could-understand gland screams
then they’d be amused ya know,
might change their views ya know
cause remind ‘em not so pristine
when child and ‘dult they was in-between
Kids always lookin’ to find
who they are and who they be
imprisoned involuntarily
in their youthful penitentiary
no matter what century they be from you see
So if thinkin’ rap sucks cause
it’s just no-class hurls and low-class slurs
then fire-up that flux capacitor of yours,
head back to yo’ past and meet yo’ younger him or hers
see your own rebelling mis-teen-stakes
then rapping notions you might reshape
or rapping judgments remake
or least maybe now tolerate new-age teenage
rapping outbreaks and in-yo-face ear-quakes
realizin’ that come whateva or wheneva
that all teens now, before an’ where-eva
will evamore and eva be
natural renegades foreva!
© 2014 all rights reserved
Oh Vanity Thy Name is Metro-Man
At the gym,
admiring his bulging biceps in a giant mirror,
he reaches for his ever-ready smart phone
and stops to make a boastful tweet.
Driving home, sipping his protein drink,
he involuntarily sneers
noticing construction workers on a roof,
their strong bronzed arms glistening in the sun.
He makes a mental note
to stop off at the tanning booth tomorrow.
At the salon, and after his daily massage,
he lies back for his manscape.
Oh, how it hurts, he inwardly groans,
but as he contemplates how the hotties at the pool
will love his baby smooth skin,
a smile lifts the corners of his mouth.
At his sterile home
with its many beautiful toys meant to entertain
the largest and oldest of grown-up boys,
he goes to his social media account
eager to relate how just today
he broke his personal best bench press record
Before bed, he brushes and carefully flosses
and then applies his special lotions.
Looking down at his manhood, he smiles again
until the thought
of pushing papers at the office
flits through his mind:
Oh the drudgery that I must endure
to afford my awesome life!
July 10, 2017 for the Modern Vanity Contest of Lewis Raynes
the old apiary
my mind hums
with recollections
-------------------------------------
Review by Kazuko Nishimura ~ Haiku Masters ~ April 2018
By pairing the photo of an old, now abandoned apiary with this haiku, the audience can immediately imagine the sounds of bees buzzing around, working hard to create honey. For the narrator, those buzzing sounds may confuse or distress his or her mind by bringing back old memories, but involuntarily remembering past events is something everyone can relate to, making it easy for the audience to connect with this work. The sound of bees buzzing and the soft light in the photo show hints of spring.
http://nhk.jp/haikumasters
The day’s wearing labors reluctantly close
And the stars of the night slowly emerge,
It’s my plan to dine and then anon recline
But then starts this unending mental scourge.
This anonymous dame overseas has stolen my heart.
How I find myself punching her line after line I wonder,
Could she be merely exciting me for her fun and then claim
That the past joinings of God no man should put asunder?
I ignore the dissolute image of her adorable face
And elevate my sleepy thoughts to loftier ideals:
How I might one day write like Bernard Shaw
Or how being the commander-in-chief exactly feels.
But then I do not go far with my fanciful thoughts
Before my drowsy wandering mind is swept bare,
And the face of that unceasing dame obliterates
All the far-fetched castles I had built in the air.
My attempts to disregard her appearance are all in vain
And the more I dodge that face the more it stirs my pain,
Her eyes lock into mine and our arms involuntarily embrace
As I consider what to do about this ever-appearing face.
if you could last a day inside the body of
the lovesick-shell of a human
i turn into when i'm in love
i would applaud you
allow me to show you a preview first:
as one might think
loving someone and being in love are
two vastly different experiences
whereas
no matter how hard i try to avoid it
and no matter what outer influence tries to intervene
once my heart decides it loves a person
much to my demise and almost involuntarily
i will love you until my chest plate cracks
and shatters
and my heart is
hopelessly, yet hopefully
crawling towards you
if you were born into the hurricane
you learn to chase them
you learn to put yourself inside the eye,
because you’re strong enough to withstand it and you know it
you’re confused between boredom and peace so you opt for danger instead
because you don’t know how to love outside of the whirlwind
because what else do you know?
stuck in a loop of coming up with scenarios of what the future might hold.
coming up with an imaginary child that you love with your beating heart
thinking about how absolutely gut wrenching it would feel to watch her
feel and think and hurt
the way you are right now
baby doesn’t deserve that
you don’t deserve that
so why would you have baby in a situation with somebody that makes you feel like
you're standing in the eye of a hurricane?
because there was once sunlight
and there was once peace
and there will be again soon.
right?
A.W. Nutter
Morning grass laden with diamonds
Reflecting light as the sun ascends
Sleep riddled muscles slow to respond
Fear shoved aside as hunger transcends
Past sins continue to haunt the present
Forever trapped in an earth bound hell
The plague of suffering is heaven sent
My soul imprisoned in a living shell
Born to a sadist, another reprobate
Life a facsimile of countless others
Reincarnation, my preordained fate
Symbolic murders in my thirtieth year
Breeze caressing, naked legs and chest
Involuntarily shivering from the cold
God's retribution, collecting his debt
As this day of torture begins to unfold
My master approaches giving me a kiss
Before he begins carving away the skin
Eons of screams, echoing in the abyss
No salvation offered, no remission of sin
Her hand extended to caress my face,
to wipe the tears away.
gentle with a sense of grace.
putting back the parts that fray.
Hand approaching,
instinctive defense kicks in,
involuntarily coaching,
mind offline, nerves began to spin.
My arm moves on its own,
wrist meets hand, bumping it aside.
a movement sealed within my bone
my eyes open wide.
The flashes are back,
seventh grade.
a girl clothed in black,
unsure why she was made.
A boy about her age,
with fist or word,
externalizing his feeling of rage
making her feel unheard.
his foot against my shin
The force splintering in pain.
he will do anything to win
he has become my bane.
Fist against the locker,
inches from my face.
I hide the fear, what a shocker.
leaving just a trace.
His words piercing my skin,
hate for myself permeates,
the boundaries of what I let in,
weakening my mental states.
For a year I forgave,
each hurtful move,
I dug my own grave
wanting to prove,
(that I was ok)
The flash has ended.
My hands tremble,
thoughts are blended
my mind begins to reassemble.
I guide her hand,
his rule has come to an end
those words will no longer land,
I chose to let those holes mend.
You will no longer have power over me.
You have lost that right
why cant you see,
my soul in now light.
This is my life,
and it is a gift,
I will not fill it with strife,
From my path I shall not drift.
I am stronger now,
I've made the choice to live,
And you'll never guess how.
I chose to forgive.
A DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH
The silky pearly-white soft skin, beneath her comb's dark beams
and her intriguing olive eyes' attentive, thoughtful gaze,
behind the night's befalling veil, with elegance supreme,
like mystic crypts enchant the men and cause infernal blaze.
Involuntarily transmits her messages across
a forest nymph expands her spell beneath the moonlight's phase,
beguiles the thoughts; romantic dream her cherry lips of gloss
the nightly creatures stuns and laws of reason disobeys.
Untamed, a diamond in the rough, the nymph in darkness shines
without a partner to escort her dance beneath the sky,
denies to coexist with men, proposals she declines,
and so belongs to breezy streams, that lift her image high.
© Olive Eloisa Guillermo, 08-20-2014, All Rights Reserved
(Quatorzain or Iambic heptameter
good morning
good night
i walked the shadows of hidden meadows until there was a sign to the right,
you were bathing in the light, then it all fell flat
good morning
good night
ride along and sing a song with vague attempts of interpretation,
a transatlantic whirlpool of twisting and turning emotion,
good morning
good night
i'm sorry that karma took a small hit,
but it wasn't my intention
good morning
good night
perhaps this connection is a singularly demented projection upon failing stars
whose shine still glitter but with shadows of fear
good morning
good night
smiling involuntarily is a beautiful thing I'm sure,
especially at matters of such insignificance,
good morning
good night
one strides a rhythmic cadence as the little one jaunts with such carefree joy
and big picture indifference
good morning
good night
it's memory prevention week so I'm setting traps to bring the backhanded troll
to justice, it's a pretty penny to forgive and forget, my inheritance a bitter
serenity absorbing youthful anxiety
good morning
good night
stars cluster unaware of our constant stare, some have the look of shame,
masking hatred, they're twinkling smiling faces protecting the ones to blame
good morning
good night
nothing takes aim at the gaps and empty spaces that go on and on, and then
even after that they go beyond, not so much as a truth or dare of importance,
more or less an allowance, an embrace
good morning
good night
of course there's courage but it's arrogance that gets the job done, with a split
personality the lion awaits a cautious blend
good morning
goodnight
the truth of the matter preys pretend and colors splatter in a failed attempt to
matter, one way is the same all day, baring stops an road blocks along the way
good morning
good night
the hours played sleepless depravation, no breeze, no oscillation, a simple man I
am not, from where I've come a curious lot
good morning
good night
after all has been said and nothing has been done, there is the missing, and the
knowledge and the truth, but in the end we'll start over again
good morning
good night
So it's back to the limericks I go
Been neglecting my friends I know
If I make you guys laugh
And involuntarily pass gas
The relief on your faces will show
© Jack Ellison 2015
For Judy
Hello said the owl..' Dumpty just sat down rather morosely: the owl watched saying no
more..' after a while Dumpty ventured to ask after the cat, 'how has he been?' he asked.
Well you have been gone 5 days till now, replied the owl.. 'I slept 2 days right off..Then I
awoke I got him a dish of water, WOW..' what a performance that was..' the dish for some reason
decided it did not want to co-operate, I don't know what ever could have got into it.? it
must have got into some strange company somehow..Imagine..' and him in the state he is in..'
there was nothing for It I had to pick up the iron spoon, and threaten to splinter it into a thousand
pieces...' Dumpty shivered involuntarily at this..' you didn't he gasped..' Oh I didn't wish
to do any such thing said the owl, that bowls china is far to fine; that I would wish to destroy it
anyway whoo whoo.. I mean who knows what future role in story books it has to play? well he
had a drink poor old thing (mumbled about the fiddle) and then collapsed out again, and I
have not heard a word out of him for the last three days.! He is in a catatonic state you know..)
well that's the medical term..!
is that because, well because he's a cat asked Dumpty? No considered the
owl though I had not thought about it that way..' though praps it might carry some extra stigma..?
I think it would best not to mention to him when he comes round..!
copyright joe maverick poetry 2014
All thanks to William Wordsworth, one of our greats
I wandered in my kitchen round
floating high on cocaine broaches
all at once guess what I found
a nest of golden cockroaches
inside the stove, beside the fridge
singing and dancing on every ridge
Continuous gold in costumes fine
eyes a-twinkling; looks of gay
parades in never-ending lines
the bug-stards out in full array
ten thousand I would estimate
with spindly legs on roller skates
They weaved and waved in glorious tune
to Bug Stars' hit "We're wild and free"
well good to make a poet swoon
to hear such perfect harmony
I gazed in wonder at this troupe
outdoing any pro rock group
Skilled crooners crooned while chorus girls
in-sync tap-tapped and showed slim knee
with hoops and loops and swirls and twirls
each pitch they met with practiced ease
involuntarily I swayed
blew air kisses in accolade
Now oft in bed when sleep eludes
in vacant and depressive mode
their scrabble on my mind intrudes
as on my food their sh-t they load
and then my heart with rue is stocked
cocaine's a bug-ger!! I'll smoke my socks!!
A good portion of the nation is living out loud
involuntarily, because of invasion of privacy,
Inquisitions prompted by religious affliliations
and racial discriminations,
Private living has become obsolete,
obliterated by accusations, and curiosities,
The American Dream no longer holds the
same meaning for everyone,
Foreigners' lives are plastered on every news edition,
from the products they use, to the foods they eat,
Quiet lives are no longer discreet,
such indignities and inhumane treatments have become
the norm, because spies come in all sizes, shapes and forms,
When will all the mistrust and circumspection end?
Remember, Terrrorists don't lay down roots and pretend to
be friends........,
They are only committed to appearances and ends.
While shopping for groceries, this sweet young filly
Bent over which made me act very silly
Accidentally bumped her behind
Which was quite well defined
Starting stuttering and stammering involuntarily
© Jack Ellison 2015