Best Jam Packed Poems
I'm in me bath here, with a box of red cheer,
yeah a box of red cheer, beer's too bloody dear.
Me mind's wanderin twixt big **** and riches,
bein able to scratch at what itches,
without scratchin the bum out your britches.
If they think you got what,
they'd rather they'd got,
mate, hang onto your hat,
they'll bloody take that.
That girl in black tights, so jam-packed with delights,
nights full of delights in them slow movin tights.
She's not, like Jacko reckons, a whore.
Wouldn't lie on me bare wooden floor.
Christ, I did nothin to get to be poor.
And you can't pay what's due
so your creditors sue?
Funny old world, not half.
But good for a laugh.
I can't help but hear next door's shoutin and tears,
all their shoutin and tears, I can hear em from here,
through the stem of me glass on the wall.
Pray to God he don't hit her at all.
I'm half pissed and spliffed and I never could brawl.
But I stand in the queue,
for a place in the zoo.
Heard you shouldn't have pride.
They wouldn't have lied.
A party's upstairs but I can't breathe their airs.
I won't breathe their airs, them there upstairs.
So I fill the bathroom with me smoke.
All those girls shaggin some other bloke.
I just lie here and soak and suck in me toke.
What's it like not to do
what your needs need you to,
to beg borrow or steal,
to make stuff come real?
I hear downstairs' soul hit his lavatory bowl.
That porcelain bowl gets the whole of his soul,
as I wring out the bladder of red.
All the sweetest of girls, Jacko said,
have big whites to their eyes that aint never've bled.
There aint nothin so nice
as those whitest of whites
on rich girls
with sweet arses
in slow movin tights.
oh. dear. gawd.
another patently
meaningless
crush of stanzas, jam-packed with
adjectives and color words
straight from Roget's,
strung together in
strands of misuse and
improper context -
syntax-scraping adverbs and
prepositions dangled
at inhuman angles,
rushing in torrents to a
head-scratching conclusion that
leaves lips numb and dripping clear liquid,
fingers combing deep the
strands to tear out in horrid disbelief,
jaws left agape in
utter confusion and
hopelessness ...
it all settles like
brick-heavy clay in
the gut, that this vile destruction of
the English language and
its artistic forms -
this uneducated and
brutal bludgeoning of phraseology -
words replaced
willy-nilly by thesaurus-crazed maniacs,
(all for the sake of
impressing the masses
who don't know the difference),
is garnering dozens of
enthralled ignorance-is-bliss
comments, and placing
first in
contest-after-contest!!
how could any sane,
serious weaver of words
NOT want to blow
their freaking brains out?!?
the coronavirus pandemic
has been NOTHING
compared to the sickening
misuse of words
that flows on-and-on from public
poetry sites in crushing
waves of feigned
eloquence and verbal vivisection ...
could it be, perhaps,
that the circle writing ISN'T inane,
but rather a strangled striving
for the breadth of
non-linear orthography??
welcome to the
ultimate zero sum game -
the mangy monkey in the monkey
puzzle tree,
Schroedinger's kitty,
skinned and nailed to the barn house ...
fan-freaking-tastic ...
let's kill this clairvoyant clown,
quickly ... quietly ...
cuz ...
it. never. ends.
(lack of proper punctuation and capitalization very intentional)
Somehow you found yourself wide awake
Not lonely but unsure of what to do
Your other half is sound asleep and dreaming away
You yourself is far from sleepy
Your body is too energize from all the caffeines
You’re far from famish
Exercising isn’t your thing
Facebook became boring
Sudoku got tiresome
Nothing is good on TV but obnoxious fake news
Read all your books
Did all you house chores
Completed your last puzzle
Spent hours on poetry soup
And now... you’re laying on the recliner chair rocking away and staring up at the ceiling
Staring but unvisualized
Yes your mind is jam packed with thoughts
But what are they
Your legs are restless
Wiggling them toes
Pulling on your hair
Then switching to bite your nails
Seriously ~ gross
Sighing
Looking at the clock
It’s well after midnight
Oh yeah your mind blink and say oh time to sleep
Your eyes shut your mind down to NOT yet and blinking madly
Your mind sped off in black and white
And you continue to rock yourself on the recliner
And so the night goes on
Wiggling them toes
Pulling on the hair
Staring up away
Unnoticed of the approaching dawn
Somehow you managed to remember to turn the lights off
And everything went blank
—————
Goodnight my soupers
Form:
Tree Top Dancers
and Circus Clowns
The neighbors moved away.
They said nothing to anyone,
they just left.
New people took the home.
There was a big truck.
It was full of boxes,
and a TV.
It was jam-packed with animals...
and cages and crates,
and statutes of...
Greek women holding water vases,
Greek men with harps.
The truck itself was all blue.
Funny, even the tires.
Odd.
I watched as they unloaded other things;
a giant clock that rang...
from the time they took it from the vehicle,
until it went... inside... (hushed tones).
There was a deep freezer,
the size you could fit six grown men...in.
One on top of another...
a side; by side by side by side, by side, by side.
There was a trunk with a hunchback,
and then a hunchback with a trunk.
What can I say... they were a pair,
I had to stare.
Unfair, I looked away.
Then the mom, and the dad...
came rolling up the drive.
They were in a giant bread truck;
made of cowhide?
A dozen kids on the back,
and even a few on a rack?
A lively crew of gypsies.
Carnies, forced to retire;
from long days,
now gone.
The circus, the show,
the festival of colors;
no more...
Come to a new place,
to put on a new face,
to leave no trace,
of all that was left behind.
Yet how do you start a fresh life,
from a comfortable place you always lived,
upside down, right side up,
cheers all around,
and elephants that danced,
giraffes that sang,
and popcorn was the main course;
at dinner.
Now everyday life,
full of strife,
trying to make things right,
somewhere in the world.
The clowns still make some laugh,
at every funny gaff,
even if...
it is not in a big shoe,
or under a giant tent.
Be happy.
It is a choice.
After checking the Sears and Roebuck and Montgomery Wards catalogs until their pages were torn and faded, we took one last look at the sales ads in the local newspaper, donned our socks and sandal, and jumped into the station wagon to head out to that brand new shopping place called ‘The Mall’. Wheee doggies it was something. That joint was a jumpin’. It was cool and hip and out of sight. I mean it was really far out man. The mall had everything you could imagine, all in one building. There was store after store jam-packed with VCRs, rotary dial phones, cassette tapes, console TVs, One-Hour Photo, Blockbuster, and Toy’s-R-Us. It seemed like they had everything under the sun ready for a layaway plan.
After paying for the purchases with paper checks written in cursive, we’d head on down to the food court or the all-you-can-eat buffet for lunch. We’d sit on the red plastic-covered chairs and light up a couple of Kents, Chesterfields, Viceroys, Virginia Slims, or maybe some Lucky Strikes. We’d take a couple of pictures with our trusty Polaroid to commemorate the day by adding them to the family photo album. At the end of the day, the kids would jump into the back of the station wagon for a nap while we drove the two-hour-long trip back home. It was a good thing we only had to stop for gas once because, after all that shopping and eating, I only had two dollars left from the fifty we started out with. Seems like the high cost of just living is one thing that will never die.
On Main street’s sidewalks,
the store sign say they are closed,
is Christmas canceled.
JESUS
(Double Pleiades)
Jabbed their swords on Thy side
Jews mocked Thee… crucified
Jeering crowds - they condemned
Jud's flaw rolls down the lane.
Jagged scorns, wallops, spits
Jam-packed tortures to death
Just to Save, Thy Blood Shed.
(Oh My Jesus, Thy…)
Justified Saving Grace
Jive, sing, I Thank and Praise!
Journeying life with Thee
Joined anchors within me!
Joy-spared absolution,
Jubilantly reigned… crowned!
Jewish King - King of All!
March 12, 2017
A Blessed Holy Week/Easter ahead! God Bless!
Americans, Algerians, Australian aborigines,
Corrupt leaders of the world involved in illegal activities.
Bloodthirsty bullies brazenly bombing bystanders,
Militaries full of corrupt army commanders.
Charities for children, carers in communities,
Third world countries deprived of equal opportunities.
Doctors, dentists, drugs, disability and depression,
An angry generation full of negative aggression.
Evil egotistic eejits entering elections,
Profiteering politicians with the right connections.
Foul mouthed fools fighting over fossil fuels,
Crooked government clowns creating their own rules.
Greedy gangs gambling, goons glamorising globalisation,
A sad and unfair planet, full of frustration.
History of horrific holocausts, hate crimes, hard times,
Skull and bones, secret societies, illuminati hand signs.
Isolation, intimidation, immigration, inaccurate information,
Hiroshima and Nagasaki still suffer from radiation.
Judge and jury, jam-packed jail cells,
Relentless rebels not doing it for the medals.
Kalashnikov culture, killers keep killing,
The reality of climate change is extremely chilling.
Lame loud mouthed liars living in luxury,
Corrupt politicians should be in custody.
Microchips, machine guns, military madness in the Middle East,
The rich get richer while homelessness continues to increase.
NASA, NATO, new world order, negative nonsense,
Celebrating Columbus Day, do they have any conscience?
Outrageous organisations occupying oil fields,
Double dealing leaders involved in shady deals.
Pitiful pessimists publishing pointless propaganda,
While aids and malaria increases in Uganda.
Quality over quantity or quantity over quality,
An overused phrase that’s used too commonly.
Radicals rallying, ready for revolution,
Air, water, soil and radioactive pollution.
Sick, sadistic sinners selfishly selling slaves,
Fredrick Douglass must be turning in his grave.
Terrible terrorists taking over territories,
Religious beliefs still creating enemies.
Unconscious unkind useless United Nations,
CNN plus Fox News equals bias news stations.
Various victims viciously victimised,
Deadly missiles falling from the skies.
Wars, weapons, whistles blowers on the World Wide Web,
While others sell their souls just to become a celeb.
Drift into childhood
It's jam-packed with delusions
Vibe with the insane
This will blow your mind -
My Breakfast Potato - mmmm
Culinary skills!
Memories of you
Is like microwaving food -
Jam-packed with sweet carbs...
Threw butter in pan...
It sizzles...in yellow bliss!
Future food doused too
Baked some potatoes
I am a creative cook
Geek from head to toe
Sprinkled it with eggs
Lotsah cheese and lotsah spice
Then, topped with sour cream
I did the cookin'
I broke both legs, making it -
Father in trainin'
Washed pans, stove-ready
Made eggs to perfection - RAD
A nat'ral cook - mmmm!
Breathe in and breathe out
Get ready for bizarre plates -
Spread butter on toast!
It's time to dine fine
Expect the unexpected -
Clean slate on platter
I'm scorching in flame
I'm a burnt potato...true...
Turning to ash...lame...
Creativity
Is required to make delish! (A delicious dish)
This hobby thrills...all... (Meaning we like cooking or we like tasting food)
Jovial playing box
Jam-packed with jazz albums
Jump in your flats and dance
Just let the music play
Join in the bebop or
Jazz without a partner
Jitterbug with a friend
3/5/2017
to late for contest
We owned the world, we owned the sun
They were blue-jean summers, jam-packed with fun
Way back when I was nine or ten
How great it was to be a kid!
Where knees fell down, and bums would skid
Down asphalt roads, when life was good
We called ourselves blue denim twins
Summer mornings, flies were buzzin'.
Grab our bikes, and take a ride
And eat our lunch 'neath steel blue skies
Wipe sticky hands on blue jean thighs
Drink a gulp of Lipton tea
Sweetened with love, for you and me
The radio played those Elvis songs
A "send-off" smile, a day for fun
Running down the road, one mishap or a fall...
Band-aid & bubble gum, soon fixed our frowns
A patch on your skin and one on your jeans
We wore them with honor, but, we were teased!
Skating down the sidewalk, going clickity-clack
Stepping on the cracks will break your mother's back
Later playing jacks, counting threes and fours
Sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor
When dinner was ready, we'd be in luck
Spaghetti to twirl, and peach short cake
We owned the sun, we owned the world
Those blue jean summers, when we were friends…
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Existence is jam-packed with such deadly traps,
You would wonder why its Author made it so;
You never are sure and ever live on borrowed time
For its turns may any time deal you a terminal blow.
You breathe when you find you can,
And will not be there to raise a query
Regarding your untimely and unfair decease,
When short it’s cut your mortal merry.
You suffer and cry when you have a tear,
And still get more of the dreaded stuff;
You make new resolves but your will is weak
And so you forget them all in a huff.
You know the way you should go
But your legs are light and easy to tempt,
So you end up taking the wrong course
And end up ruing the resolutions unkept.
If a believer, you increase your bootless prayers
And hope that someone up there will hear your cry,
But find your very woes increasing day after day
Till you accept your immutable plight and cease to try.
Whether blind rich or church-mouse poor, every man has his woes;
The poor man is ever crying over all the possible opportunities lost,
The young will always have to contend unfulfilled infatuations,
And the millionaire will ever bawl over a business deal unclosed.
So rather than file on through the shortened pages of time,
Men should spurn all the care and feel happy throughout;
In plenty and in dearth, in love and in hate –
For why invest in care and still have to doubt?
The Eve before Christmas day,
No snow but clear skies
And visible stars
A full moon and the Milky way,
Sprinkling its magic, while
My gran and mom jam packed
Cookies into jars.
A dip in the swimming pool,
For it’s sizzling hot that night,
We want to go to bed cool,
Young children eventually
Tucked in tight, with just a sheet,
No snow, ice or sleet,
In South Africa, our home,
Where we sleep.
In their dreams presents, Santa and fun
Tomorrow’s weather prediction,
Thirty-nine degrees in the sun.
Dusted the floor with baby powder,
Who wears the same size shoe
As Santa,
We all look at Grandpa!
Under the tree are two funky
Pairs of flippers for the twins,
Who by now should have grown fins.
Time for bed, presents all
Under the tree
Fairy lights on,
In the kitchen a timer for
For the turkey put on for three
To be turned off at eight,
When we go to church
Come back for freshly baked
Scones and pancakes,
Made in the oven outside,
My Grandma’s pride.
Run for swimming costumes,
Jump in the pool
Oh it was so hot in church,
Now we feel cool.
Air conditioning in most rooms
When indoors,
Sunblock Cream and hats
When outdoors,
We love Christmas in Africa
And in the scorching sun,
Guess each country,
Enjoys and has its
Own kind of fun,
Whether in the snow or the heat,
Christmas day is a day
No one can beat,
Christmas carols are sung
Mistletoe hung
Hubby grabs me
And kisses me
With a glint in his eyes,
Have a surprise for you
Tonight after tea,
And your special mince pies.
Bright wrappings on
Presents under the tree
And so important is the gathering
Of the entire family.
Countless things change through
life through a series of
sequences; childhood,
adolescence and adulthood.
One’s life is packed
with inane habits learnt through
puberty; an experience that one
would rather forget.
For a few years one is bombarded
by pain, loss, annoyance, and
stupidity; many seem to be corrupted
by nature’s mechanisms of growth;
one begins to think they know
everything and thus take obtuse
risks along with making the utmost
ridiculous mistakes.
Nature begins to open Pandora’s
box creating a tidal wave of
events shaping us all via
pathways jam-packed with
obstacles that one must
conquer to become what nature
intended.
The diamond in the rough
My Sweet little bathroom singer,
Every song on tip of his finger,
Sang to melody each lyric, howsoever tough,
Shine of A diamond in the rough !
Overlooked studies, paper and pen,
Singing his passion, sang every now and then,
To the parents' much annoyance,
But Never did he lose his buoyance !
Today he stands on grand stage,
Life has turned to the golden page,
Enthrals jam packed audience,
No one can escape the effulgence !
Time can scrub the toughest of tough,
Glitters the most, my diamond once in the rough !
Written on 23/6/14
Contest- A Diamond in the rough
Sponsor- Gail Angel Doyle