Best Lay Waste To Poems
I rode to power on a Midwest horse,
Bearing amongst the feathers in my cap this terse brief
from my broken people:
To lay waste to the irksome order
That home and abroad now prevails.
Strained voices break out in the valley below
And many more in the world across the seas
Bidding me to dismount at once
And move to saddle the global kingdom
Of Reagan, Roosevelt, Clinton, ...
That now is mine to ride.
Yet this very kingdom I came to crush;
My Midwest horse, I wouldn't trade for it!
In her neighs, I hear a nay
Forbidding me to consider the bargain.
Her counsel I think I'll heed
For between the two, she's the easier to ride.
A horse that trots on cheap lies
Or a kingdom that floats on costly allies--
That's the question I now confront.
Unpurged sad memories
Unpurged sad memories lay waste to my soul
Surreptitiously seeping to the fore
Flee me from demons devouring me whole
Lest eruption at my volcanic core
Paint your face happy clown
Sup sweet elixir down
Please please let me drown drown
Sad not sorry
Long lost story
No more worry
From conscious recall morbid memories stole
A child’s innocence no less no more
Never forgotten his predators growl
Or beard thorny
24/05/2018
Written for Broken wings puzzle of my rhyme but I forgot her 5 words. Oops
I have conjured you into existence and now, you are a raging tempest in my mind’s eye. I shudder at the mere thought of you and your embrace... Will you lay waste to my whimsical heart’s content?
Though I wonder in and out of states of dazed confusion… I still keep reaching through the violent winds of change that knocks me to and fro. My soul is the left shaken by your swift flooding of my being… How can I overcome that which is not seen with my rose tinted vision? For my stricken eyes are not as they once were, instead I envision and feel your figure close to mine and it is blinding and binding.
What say you, beautiful melancholic creature of my own making? I wish to have respite from you… I will be free… I want to be set free from these furious shackles around which I am bound
I came to say, I cannot stay, I know I must be going, in the royal unreal realm
of simple selfish self, shedding/shredding of the u/me/my shydom charade of people poor of word, thought, premise and promise, but lay waste to words
more of toiled terdom, lest of prostrate para phrase, some ill of chance, some driven by mere sillo cir-cum-stance, but yet all speak of shillshock silly ro ma nance. When I read your
words, and see your shallow thoughts, I think of co intentions derived, so fleshily fractured in lieu of rectal information that I see only all slow contrived, love lived unrealized.
You can take yourself, so important, so reliant that no one else can u be, yet when alone you pray, your wishes seem to say, the love you've seen to sow, is what you've slain and all your own is forgiven forever and a day. Turn back your so so speak space indifferential don't ever slack to remember your place in loves real time rhyme, when you learned that just to love is as good as to be loved, unless it is meant to be by a willful non being, guilty to of all that is knowing, not knowing unforgiving un less you
thinkthank you could, be awful good and not pre pursue a moment that all is said in non normal nomenclature alphabet albeit I follow you in all of my instincts to let you gogo. I see all that is you and wallow in your everpresence of my own loud aloneness yet faux pause for your anoited
allowance of love forgiveness in our togetherness aplenty. When love ends
and couples cease to exist, where does love go??? When do u abandon "ship".
A TAXPAYER SPEAKS
Years ago when filing tax forms reared its proliferating death’s head
I cursed, perspired, and thought about moving to a foreign homestead
As a low-income taxpayer I felt too unimportant to hire an accountant
So I filed and filed for years, at all times a very incompetent combatant
Penalties-plus-interest plagued me and I could not raise a skilled defense
Prolonged tax failures destroyed my sense of self-confidence
It was past time to explore options to end to all this tax nonsense
Waking to a new day I jumped out of bed at the crack of dawn
And scoured the yellow pages for a tax advocate to call upon
After detailing my sad tax history they agreed to take my case head-on
My tax life was now covered by tax experts with knowledge and brawn
My “Tax-Saviors” wasted no time plunging into battle early-on
Past tax filings were messy, chaotic, confusing and jumbled
Yet they contended, defended, persevered and never crumbled.
I have learned that tax advocate giants who defend vulnerable taxpayers
Give Tax Dictators headaches for they are tougher and tenacious tax players .
A tribute is due these Tax Defenders who aid us so nobly
And recalling the moving inscription on our Statue of Liberty
(An Emma Lazarus 1883 poem composed in New York City)
My tribute follows and is submitted very humbly
(please forgive the “re-phrasing” substituted for clarity):
Give us your tired, your poor, your tax-ignorant masses,
Yearning to breathe free who have no one to file their taxes
Oh, send these huddled and tortured masses,
(Who feel so inept and like derisory asses)
To Tax Saviors who lay waste to all kinds of tax matters
Rescuing taxpayers dwelling in indecision and tax-law tatters
These Tax-Saviors welcome all with an open-door policy
And any taxpayer who makes the journey
Will at last enjoy fear-free tax filing yearly.”
(However, new tax laws are being drafted by devious Tax Dictators
Who derive joy from harassing captive taxpaying participators!)
standing at the end
of a real life
open-eyed nightmare
is a group of, broad-day, mind killers
how many of my kind have you time-warped
into sanity...
who gave you the wights
to strip away my rights
when i(I) have committed no crime
dirty are my Intravenously, Musically poisoned entrails
that have been molecularity sinned, and thoroughly chewed through
i (I)am in horror
of my in entombment of the mind
and could not believe
that in passing are vines of venomous deceitful
crawling witnessless, by way of pushing carts in Stores of Alzheimer's
i(I) am ashamed
for i(I) have shamed my ancestors
for they are genetically murder
and i am of the walking internally controlled
your crimes will build you my tall buildings of glory
but time will lay waste to your deceit
and the earth will swallow your offspring's
reputations in a world of knowing
for you can only hide so long from the truth...
this a Declaration of war of the Alzheimer's kind
when i leave this earth and no longer hold breath
i shall stand at the abyss
with weapon in hand
and we will be of equals
on the battle field of light
and you and your shall taste the innermost part of retribution
See the black cat run, jump, slink away, a shadow within shadows and a life force of mystery. A predator in composite, a compact killer, a butcher for life, the apex of its design, all built of little fur and bones, razors, a hunter in miniature.
A professional from birth. Cunning, slick, and sly. In the calculus of black cats that plot and destroy. Do they bring presents of dead mice, bird heads, and stranger things. Yes, they do! To there humans as tokens of respect and devotion…
But, all that fury and murder in a small cute four-legged form a furry little shadow within shadows, with big soulful eyes, they lay waste to your soul's ramparts and snuggle into a little furry ball of furies, as abyssal black stares back into your soul with twin pumpkin fire lights eyes of purrfect piercing design.
They express love without words. They slowly blink emerald eyes, a symbolism of that devotion, as a deep purr of a suttle silent little engine revs as you stroke the ferry beast as it is stretches and yaws, mouth of bright teeth, curls around feet down and hugs your hand as the little endless engine of furry fury cuddles and only just wants loves.
Such the duality of a thing and apex predator in a pint-sized puff ball. Of furry fury… A black cat is a shadow within a shadow running under your feet as you stumble to the restroom at midnight on Halloweens Eve.
They sit and watch the void above your head in the air of the unknown things best left unseen by humanity and only black cats can know. In correlation between black cats and their shadows, they know the unknown, unseen, and undreamed.
See the black cats run, jump, and slink away, a shadow within shadows and a life force of mystery. A predator in composite, a compact killer, a butcher of life, the apex of its design, all built of little bones, razors, and furry furies.
Cunning, slick, sly as it curls itself around your heart, wanting cuddles, treats with slowly blinking eyes of love, and devotion in the way only a black cat can!
Unwelcome shades of scorn, I despise
On this woeful night I slowly fade
Spears that pierce, I feel betrayed
Dismayed, I sorrowfully close my eyes
Resigned to the tempter’s whim
I woefully ask, for him to forgive
Yet I speak no whispers bid me live
Aught I lay waste to my grievous sins?
[Contains - for effect - deliberate miss-spelling
and bad grammar]
That old pirate cave was a tourist attraction
The guide was in period dress
In old pirate garb and a well practiced script
This tale he would tell to impress…
*
“Rob ‘The Rum’ was often glum
It’s how the grog would make him
And spiteful too, with things he’d do
And kids would go home shaking
He’d scare with ‘pirate antics’ boasts
And frighten them with tales of ghosts
Until one day they all fled, crying
But horses hooves left six there, dying
At threat of the noose they told him deny
the stories he’d told and that ghosts were a lie
At last he conceded, then lost and dejected
said, ‘There ain’t no ghosts, I stand here corrected.’
But justice it seems weren’t too fair in them days
So though he concurred he was hanged anyways
But maybe his God tried to save that old sot
For his neck never broke with the slip of the knot
And so with legs kickin like some headless chicken
He begged and he pleaded to be cutted down
And folk turned away but one heard him say
‘My ghost shall forever lay waste to this town.’
And even today there’s people what say
They’ve seen old Rob here in his cave
I do not deceive and you should believe
That you’re either you’re stupid or brave.”
*
Then outside the cave into which they were crammed
A loud banging sound as a car door slammed
Every head turned to see what went on
And the Pirate announced it was time he was gone
An angry, but tatty, faux pirate, appeared
In fancy dress clothes and a clearly fake beard
At first he said nothing, his face wore a sneer
And then he yelled, “How did you lot get in here?”
One visitor said, “Yer man let us in,
the one with ugly great scar on his chin.”
The faux pirate said “It’s a slack time of year
It’s the middle of winter… there’s only me here.”
He turned to the clatter of horses on cobbles
And fled when he had an attack of the wobbles
And a voice, just an echo announced to the party
“You do know there ain’t any ghosts…
Me hearty.”
9 January 2022
Contest: A Ghost Story
Sponsor: Angela Tune
Beast
I’m the lonely voice in the wilderness.
The Beast eye’s up his prey
It wants to defecate on my remains and lay claim to my soul.
Its hunger is insatiable never able to quell its thirst for blood.
It is cursed to search for its victims.
But this time it’s unable to lay siege on its prey
For my armour is my faith
And my weapon is the truth
They are like kryptonite to the Beast
Gnawing and twisting at its insides.
Its only desire is to lay waste to everything around it.
With every stroke of my pen is like a lethal blow to its body.
Festering wound seeps out its vile disdain.
I am merciless in my attack.
No longer will the Beast subjugate me as one of its many helpless victims.
For I have become the Hunter
And the Beast has become my Prey
I play Call of Duty: Mobile. This poem is about my friends and
I playing Battle Royale.
UI: Welcome to Battle Royale!
The match is about to start!.....
Time for the mission!
Get ready!
Playing Battle Royal with my friends...
The match has begun and we’re just dropping in
Run like a madman and pick up a gun
I gotta keep runnin’ cause I’m not done.
Run! Run! Run! Gotta find me a vest
So the enemy can’t ventilate my chest
We’ve all loaded up and we’ve killed us a few
Now the zone’s closing in -- it’s a dangerous brew
We’ve got a really long way to run
So let’s take the whirly birdy for fun
Flying choppers to and fro
Airdrops come and airdrops go
LORDHUMONGOUS, in his omnipotent way,
Runs to the gunfire and into the fray
Hardtime_ closes in on a different line
To outflank the enemy in record time
Whatever the enemy throws at them, they take it all in stride
These boys know how to lay waste to the enemies pride
Running and jumping and sliding we do
Riding and killing and slaying til thru
DemonicLime and I like to have Tank Time-
He drives the tank and I man the gun
He likes to run them over for his fun!
He gets annoyed when I kill them first
But there will be plenty to quench his thirst
We rave and we raid and we rip and we rend
The squad is intact and we’re nearing the end
There’s one last sucker waiting to die
Then KristineTheMean cries, “Ooo I gotta guy!”
Gunfire erupts and the UI replies,...
We have a winner!
That’s right! We won! We kicked ass, indeed!
The party’s still rockin’ and it’s a quarter til three
Now that we’ve won, we can each take our throne
Cause we left the opposition as charred and bloodied bones!!
Modern convenience
In nearly every room of our convenient lives we have vessels which facilitate our lack of permanence
Our trash cans make it easy to psychologically remove ourselves from that which we don't care for
To discard is bred in to our nature
We are inclined to depart from that which we are averse
We seek to depart our own existence readily and
embrace the temporary realities given to us
Yes each room does remove reality with very little effort indeed
Each untidy detail hidden and unmanageable just goes away and our minds our taken,
numbed, and subjugated to the whims of those who know…they know our masses
yearn for more when we know not why…we pay homage to the 70" alter day in and out
The prophesy of purchasing power dictated and fed through waves of familiar escape
Watch the disconnected relatable protagonist lay waste to self and loved ones before
your delivery dinner gets cold…then
Find their way back with the mirror of every-man that imparts the pseudo internalization
of realizing the struggle of network dispensation from behind a TV dinner…
night after night'
Then the day comes…when realization and identity is replaced by relate-ability
and internalization…some irrational emotional lobotomy that causes the very light of
our core to dim and seem only to brighten in the false light of promised
escape and inclusion…from 8:00 – 9:00 every Thursday on your favorite network…
be sure to tune in…
As we clear cut out Forest
and lay waste to the trees
we unleash our demise
like a revenging disease
so be ye good stewards
to the dark green domains
or it's regrowth will Feast
on your rotting remains.
Who would lay claim to know,
The greatest story ever told,
Perhaps Homer Simpson Doh!
For none else is so bold.
It would take a mere simpleton,
With the mind of Crusty Clown,
Best he’d come up with,
The sky’s falling down.
Let’s not judge him too hard,
After all he’s a mere cartoon,
I’ll tell the story myself,
The world will hear very soon.
Bet this’ll pique some interest,
Even raise pointed ears,
For what I’m about to impart,
Will unleash your inner fears.
This world is going to explode,
I’m afraid the end is nigh,
No other way to say it,
Earth will be blown sky high
I’ve contrived a great weapon,
Called “The Doomsday Device”,
Just one more button to set,
Your all gonna pay the price.
Guessing I’m some crackpot,
Not a genius or child prodigy,
Everyone will die nonetheless,
For nobody’s getting off free.
By the way, Hi I’m Stewie
I live on spooner street,
Now I’ve set the timer,
Here’s an hour as my little treat.
For I’m not the son of man,
But kid of a family guy,
Why I lay waste to this world,
Lois my mum hid my favorite toy.
By
David Kavanagh
O Spring, O Life, where art thou?
Everywhere I look, new-born life:
flowers are singing, birds dancing,
while squirrels play away the day--
But there still is death in the air,
an ugly, cold-hearted killer too
tiny to see but big enough to
lay waste to mighty nations--
none are invincible, no army, no
air force, no navy can resist--
This murderer has only one
real enemy, and mighty it is--
the human spirit to live,
the human heart to love,
the human soul to endure,
a trinity inseparable, undeniable,
so even death must pause....