Best Lackeys Poems
The White House harbors an orange traitor
Benedict Donald, science-hater
He never met a fact
He didn't try to whack
This prick puts the 'dick' in Dictator!
The obtuse ogre of petty poses
Has imposed on the City of Roses
His troops of lackeys
In unmarked khakis
Masking free speech with tear gas and hoses
Anyone who does not tongue-kiss his shoes
Is fired, or conspired to be 'Fake News'
He has little use
For reason, or truth
Come November, this deadbeat pays his dues!
7/22/20
(the 'City of Roses' refers to Portland, OR, where I live)
Categories:
lackeys, anti bullying, community, political,
Form:
Limerick
The middle class here can't be saved
When 0.001% act so depraved
Their wealth without end
These royals* still pretend
Did not come from us—their
enslaved**
*The Royals: CEOs, Banksters, Revolving Door Regulators, The FED, Congressmen for sale, Lobbyists, Board Members of Big Corporations, Major Shareholders who vote for these Board
Members, Corrupt Managers, Dishonest Used Car Salesmen, Presidential Candidates with more than two Residences, Elected Presidents (and their lackeys who pretend to regulate but look the other way)
**The Enslaved: Workers, Career Regulators who are trying to protect the public, Honest Hard Working Citizens, Students--some with oppressive loans, Immigrants, Soldiers, Police, Firemen and Firewomen, Parents, Children, Orphans, Disabled, The Sick, Small Business Owners (who don’t hire lobbyists), Volunteers, Health Care Workers, Welfare Recipients, Inventors, Investors, Entrepreneurs, Actors, Artists, Journalists who do in-depth investigation (not like those with FOX News, ABC Radio or many other of the outlets where they mouth the status quo), Non Profit Corporations, Charities, Teachers, Transportation Workers, Waiters and Waitresses, Dishwashers, Servants, Farmers, Managers, Ship Hands, Cooks, Unemployed
Author' s Note: Have been at Occupy Wall Street 8 days in the past two months--which is why I haven't been here--plus I have to work. Miss you all, but it's for a good cause. I am very briefly seen on Conan's feature: Triumph the Insult Comic Dog at Occupy Wall Street if you are looking for some humor with a little umph.
Categories:
lackeys, happiness, life, peace,
Form:
Limerick
LEAST WE FORGET THE GIRLS’ KILLING CRY
(Apropos The Boko Haram Girls)
i
We no longer hear
the screams of the young girls
nor the whimpering
of their little brothers—
nor the echoes of falling tears
of grieving widowed mothers
and the muffled hush, hush, hush
to new born babes.
How much longer
must we awake
to another morning
we wished we never lived to see?
Mornings where
the horizon’s plains
are dotted with earthen keloids
of humpbacked graves
in overpopulated makeshift cemeteries
where food crops once grew.
Horizons reminiscent of
the screaming echoes animating
from departing Middle Passage ships.
ii
How much longer
must we experience nights
of damned deranged dads—brothers
roaming, ravaging, raping
sisters and slitting mothers’ throats;
damned deranged dads—brothers
driven by a demonized illusion
of the Nile goddess of fertility;
intoxicating themselves
with chalices of their families’ blood?
How much longer?!!!
How much longer
must our daughters remain
forgotten victims
Of those who’ve lost the free
in freedom—like those who’ve sold the in
in independence—lackeys
to and of ancient slave masters
who’ve learned well
the western ways of deception?
iii
Unmoved and no longer
grievously concerned,
the world mesmerizes itself
with a deceived sacrilege image
of a revered Nile goddess.
Meanwhile, defiled bodies
of African girls
are no longer newsworthy…
these wretched of the earth sisters
continue to suffer ethnocentric
rape and gendercide: perpetuations
of free roaming…hoodwinked brethren,
inebriated with neo-colonial genocide.
Categories:
lackeys, africa, bereavement, conflict, daughter,
Form:
Prose Poetry
You slithering obsession;
You creeping vine, wrapped round progressive centuries,
Til kings and rebels and dreaming men
Become as lackeys,
Following your trailing, withered leaves.
You visit men in midst of night.
Your comely form mirrors fates unbidden to light of day.
Rise up - - oh Men!
But you, sheathed in shimmering sensation,
Beckon them to cross the barren edge…
Dust to dust
And men pass on,
Ever trapped by your treacherous caress,
And words: “Ah, such is life,”
Fall as stones from unprotesting lips.
But as men lie on Death’s rotating rim
They quick identify you, the Victress.
Categories:
lackeys, angst, betrayal, mystery, sin,
Form:
Free verse
We the People Have Been Jaded
By Franklin Price
10/24/2015
We the people have been jaded
By the current happenings
Though the Constitution says it
We are not in charge of things
Takes millions of dollars
To try to even run
If you cannot get the cash
Before you've started you are done
It's rumored that the middle class
Is this country's beating heart
If it has no contribution
The rich are the biggest part
They get all the attention
Dollars given passed right back
When their lackeys are elected
By the wealthy's super pack
Must reverse this bad reality
Though very difficult will be
Get money from the masses
That means from you and me
Take away the Super Packs
Limit contributions each
Candidates will have to work
Their constituents to reach
Invest their cash and effort
Get interest from the common man
By stumping out there on the street
With open hand and empty can
If their position makes some sense
To the majority of us
We should contribute what we can
To let our favorites ride the bus
Categories:
lackeys, political,
Form:
Rhyme
The Nuclear Issue.
There they sit the high and mighty
And their lackeys it is serious
Business, who can have them and
Who cannot have them.
How important they are these
People who dare not think or whisper
About the elephant in the room, yet
It sits there glaring for all to see.
Confirm or not to confirm, we know
They have it. Will this conference fail?
Most likely, the enemy of a deal only
Wants total surrender.
Categories:
lackeys, absence, business, future,
Form:
Blank verse
LEAST WE FORGET THE GIRLS’ KILLING CRY
(Apropos The Boko Haram Girls)
I no longer hear
the screams of the young girls
nor the whimpering
of their little brothers—
only the echoes of falling tears
of grieving widowed mothers
and the muffled shhees
to new born babes—
How much longer
must I awake
to another morning
I wish I never lived to see?
A horizon whose plains
are dotted with earthen keloids
of humpbacked graves
in makeshift cemeteries
where food crops once grew;
horizons reminiscent of
the scared skins
of the weary backs of slaves.
Another damn day deranged
brothers roaming, ravaging, raping
their sisters and slitting mothers’ throats—
Driven by a demonized illusion
of the Nile goddess of fertility,
and further intoxicating themselves
with chalices of their families’ blood.
Brainwashed and mind warped
as if by a crazed neocolonial
good luck fetish—
are these who’ve lost the free
in freedom like those who sold the in
in independence—lackeys
to and of ancient slave masters
who’ve learn well
the western ways of deception.
Unmoved and no longer
grievously concerned,
the world mesmerizes itself
with a deceived sacrilege image
of a revered Nile goddess—
Meanwhile, no longer news worthy
wretched of the earth sisters
continue to suffer ethnocentric
rape and “gendercide”
from their hoodwinked brethren.
Categories:
lackeys, africa, allegory, analogy, gender,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Just Now, I Started To Feel...
All Stopped Up With Writer's Block
Thus lack any idea about
what to type out until aye
reach the end, and
even then cannot
make any promises (promises -
this aint no typo typo),
to meet (even ill)
equipped outback
with or without an alley bye,
which dismal situation unlike earlier,
when fount of literary creativity
unstoppably gushed profusely
lichen wherein rub
barb plants for rain dee cry
hence, just imagine situation
(**** guss) to
being constipated, and dry
miss daisy crazy regarding
(collective soul sigh'n noses)
begs for antihistamine,
asper nostrils to get dry
from congestion - so envision
both symptoms (for real)
affected this guy
bodily woes simultaneously,
while conservative flash mobs
sprout like pollen haters
trample grass roots
activists chanting jai
guru dev donned as barenaked,
foo fighting, nirvana
seekers no lie
trucking with pearl jam
hued open skyz
passing one black crow
did house after another
jet ting via reo speedwagon
greeting village people
mix ultra liberal protesters,
who peaceably demonstrate my
self included holding recycled
placards, sans
targeting well nigh
Republicans Putin on the Ritz
must be ousted,
cuz them that har pry
ha merrily bilking work
a day citizens seated
on their tushy in expelling qui
yet deadly flatulence athwart
cushy congressional seats
to ease government lackeys,
who trumpet "FAKE" news.
Categories:
lackeys, 9th grade, adventure, encouraging,
Form:
Free verse
when one thinks about the truth go's down the cave of are
love are called angular rivers across the
landscape of the resistance
we know
the existence of happiness is not an impulse in
yourself or a mourning of
the absolute risk with the...
...air cleared up visions of our heaven...
comes off the stand and the wild boar of Tempt
and ...
...the defendant wishes to be the one to do revolutionary
thinkers tie on the sidelines of balance
You have already seen how mediocre
the kiss of a stranger who just about him looking
and does not want to experience what love is
the rays
of happiness
envy the way of the whirlwind
of what beatified become
as a mystery of love 's
grace the delusional idea
of the rich figureheads
who experience what the cold
told how urgently needed the perfection
of an underground language that plague lackeys peace 's
founders can get yourself a crown of magic and dwarfed
around the trees of interaction
the wind refreshing shape
stormed the poet's responsibility
of the extended bet a wordless dictation wishing for
others to use as an image curve do cry
engraved paper to the house of loyalty
Categories:
lackeys, nostalgialove,
Form:
Lyric
.
On the cyber-stallion
of military might,
against the backdrop
of missiles, a fearsome sight,
Commander-in-Chief,
malevolently looming,
stares at charred corpses,
then gazes around, smirking.
There, the wounded crawl and drag
their dead through debris;
yonder, ashes of home
and heart, maimed memory.
The old, the children,
they may be blasted away
as burnt offerings
on the altar of peace, he'd say.
Hark the chanting of his
lackeys, dogs and toadies:
"Hail, the Commander-in-Chief,
brave champion of peace!"
That lion lionized by those
with envy and fear,
wish he were this drunk
lizard drowning in my beer !
.
Categories:
lackeys, political
Form:
Tail-rhyme
I Came To the Medina
Looking for my Palestina
Baby my Baby
Where are you?
Still under the rubbles?
Still alive my Diva
Oh my Devina!
The Highways robbers,
The snitch, the pimps of the Dollar,
And of the Shekel,
Still abusing the little
Ballerina,
But she defied them all,
And she is still standing on one little toe,
With no support,
Since she became,
Now lonely in an orphelinat
My beloved, my adorable
Palestina!
Live, and live and live now,
And in the future,
Despite the A...Rabs
And the Gulf lackeys
And Al Alkami of the Palace,
Still serving his bosses,
In the Medina,
Snitching, selling his own meat,
His own flesh and honour to the Zombies,
Who used Red Indians,
Puerto Ricans,
And poor destitute,
Oppressed Latina
But remember my hero,
Who reduced those to zero,
That was once, in the famous,
Battle of all battles,
Of Hattina!
Saladin here he lives today,
And tomorrow,
With a million and a billion,
Enforced by men of deed,
Not of a creed,
And true soldiers,
Martyrs, Mudjahideena!
Categories:
lackeys, conflict, dedication, freedom, political,
Form:
Political Verse
Astride his cyber-stallion of hi-tech military might,
against the backdrop of missile silos, he's a fearsome sight,
the Commander-in-Chief, so huge, malevolently looming,
smirking at seared carcasses, grinning and preening
as the wounded crawl and drag their corpses through debris,
embers and ashes of home and heart, maimed memory;
the old, the children, if he says so, must be blasted away,
as bloody burnt offerings on the altar of peace, he'd say.
"Hail, the Commander-in-Chief! brave champion of peace!"
nervously chant his lackeys, clowns, toadies and cronies;
a power-dazed lion lionized by those trembling with fear,
how I wish, he were this drunk lizard drowning in my beer!
Categories:
lackeys, peace, people, social,
Form:
Rhyme
Stephanus Marcus Book I
Canto2
Verses 4 and 5
The hunting parties ride in teams of three.
Each force has falcon trained in cage for prey.
Groups make a wager paying needed fee,
pot goes to winner by the close of day.
Sir Cedric rides a mare a handsome bay,
this knight was baron tenured late of date.
King Richard gave him title Easter day,
but he joined James' cabal and waited fate.
Black knight willed more, his avaricious mind to sate.
Another threesome hunting prey till night
was Marquis Daenon, noble great of Thale.
Duke Lighten, grave of Hallow Castle's might,
and Sire Ben Brooster never known to fail.
All fine men ranged the fields for hare and quail,
ducks, rabbits, pheasants using peregrines.
Duke Saint Charles made them feel at ease on trail,
now often showing antler deers and hinds.
To nobles fine his lackeys gave assorted wines.
Categories:
lackeys, england,
Form:
Rhyme
if the wolf teeth demonstrated
than peeling the road as lackeys, silver output
the bad luck the night crying for the dancers
frivolous melancholy
keep me under the spell of the decorated path on my mood in the trees high
off the surging transmission
jungle gaping in wish the big bang as a reinvented VIRIS in your head
you have now seem to realize who's talking about his pride as evil and cold science
will by singing phrases of lights
from the sea up to end
the wheat from the wild as a child diluted in the heath
of the lamb faces strings on the peat
Categories:
lackeys, imagination
Form:
Personification
Rats in the cellar, squirrels in the tree,
things aren't the same as they used to be.
When I left for school with my li'l lunch pail,
I didn't expect a penguin to swallow a whale.
Such an injustice, I've never seen,
a cantaloupe falsely imprisoned a bean.
It's unheeded screams, uncontrolled laughter,
when it's trolls that live happily ever after.
Doors off their hinges, pancakes are stacked,
biscuits are burning, windows are cracked.
Termites in the baseboards, rabbits that fly,
pigs that regularly take to the sky.
Voices that whisper, mad dogs that bite,
winds that go howling and look for a fight.
Wrapped in cellophane, mixed in a blender,
taped up in cardboard and returned to sender.
Rainbows and ravens, kaleidoscope dreams,
leafless branches, gallows lit by moonbeams.
Music boxes, pink ribbons and bows,
tags come on packages; tags come on toes.
Curtains lifted, sick, unsavory scenes,
gear wheels in gear wheels run strange machines.
Dissected, disowned and double-downsized,
unaided, unacknowledged and unrecognized.
Puzzles, conundrums that cannot be solved,
water plus turpentine make witches dissolve.
Pimentos are diced, harsh words are spoken,
nightmares are jumbled; eggshells are broken.
Lost in the doldrums, eyeballs protrude,
walking on blisters, a horse latitude.
Spineless jellyfish, lackeys and flunkies,
silver tongued vultures, branch swinging monkeys.
Experts and pundits, paid authorities,
Kool-Aid in canisters, down on your knees.
Bishops take pawns, the fat lady sings,
fires ablaze on black nights with kings.
Shattered stars, fragmented stones,
shining splinters, bleak, burning bones.
Songs without meaning, songs without words,
sung by unseen phantoms and silent birds.
Refrigerators with pictures nobody knows,
eyes staring back, no answers disclose.
Spiders and spinning bicycle wheels,
buffalos, bandits, and slippery seals.
Electric toothbrushes, electric chairs,
lethal injections, pushed down the stairs.
Pieces on the floor, a sad state of disarray,
the gift you've left me is insanity's bouquet.
You stole my cookies, pilfered my cat,
laughed at me roundly and turned me down flat.
Mice it in the attic go chitter chatter,
have I lost my wits or gone mad as a hatter?
Categories:
lackeys, dark,
Form:
Rhyme