Best Liable Poems
At center of soul,
Lien my wealth of gold,
In the bible,
You’re very well liable,
To see gold,
In centerfold,
Of soul,
Not in centerfold ,
Of playboy, so bold,
Not in scorn of ****, magazine,
The mind thinks so keen,
Not in your house of ill repute,
Like a flute’s toot,
But in your center,
Is Godly splendor,
She is the real contender,
For men’s souls,
She holds the gold, of souls,
She is your centerfold,
She is your well, and you can tell,
When she begins to swell,
Infinity’s well,
She begins to spin,
And begins to gin,
The gold of soul’s,
Centerfold,
A vortex of power,
Men will declare,
How can this be,
Mein eyes can’t see,
This within me,
So they return to be,
Of mind’s vanity,
As death’s reverse swirl,
Returns them to the world,
Like a natural woman in earth,
Her wealth is her girth,
Not of this earth,
A birth from above,
She is love,
Receive,
Believe,
Within your relieve,
She is your power,
By which you build your tower,
By the hour,
In earth,
Love is her girth,
Not of this earth,
So let her love give birth,
In earth,
Particles of pure light,
Your lady is a holy sight,
Not a cat's fight,
In repute’s night,
She is your mold,
For your life’s unfold,
Unfold, your gold,
Let the outer unfold,
Be the center mold,
Of the Godly Gold!!
7-17-09 johnmosesfreeman@yahoo.com
(one-act play)
The patient
They call it a sickness, a psychosis, an insanity, but I know: this is the leverage
by means of which I can set the wheels of the universe in motion. All I need is to find the last fragment they hide from me in the thorazine haze, and the bevel gears of this rickety old, long derelict mechanism will work again.
The medical board resolution:
“…schizophrenic… unruly… incurable, liable for drowning in the hospital’s sinkhole”.
1st psychiatrist
(looking at the sky)
Don't you think the Sun slowly moves across the sky today?
2nd psychiatrist;
It’s an illusion, my friend. It’s an illusion.
01.06.2019
Eight Word Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
The Garden of Eden
Some people believe that the Garden of Eden
Was in Africa, Asia, Australia...not Sweden.
The presumed site of its location
Is assumed from the interpretation
Of which Good Book's being read…and who's doin' the readin'.
Noah
Noah's ark, neither yacht nor a sloop,
Was constructed to be one big animal coop.
On his crew It must have been a strain
That during forty days and nights of rain
To keep forking in fodder and scooping out poop.
It Ain't Necessarily So
Pious people are prone to become agitated
When agnostics assess their belief's overrated,
And the words that they're liable
To find in the Bible
By mere men were created, not divinely dictated.
Paul
Husband of Sheila, Father of Kirsty and Paul-Mark,
Grandfather of Valentina, teacher, and friend
Son of Pauline and Nazarene, brother to six siblings:
Joseph – Angela – Carmel – Catherine – Victor – Maria Concetta
Lover of freedom, honesty, dreams, dark chocolate, nuts, red wine, and windmills
Patient and diplomatic, but like a dormant volcano is liable to erupt
Enjoys sports, swimming, walking, travelling, reading, writing, painting, and drama
Detests lies, double-faced people, wars, cheats, bullying, and vandalism
Who feels for those in need, the persecuted, and the marginalized
Who fears loss of countryside, betrayal, hate, suffering, and dementia
Who would like to see tomorrow’s dawn, peace on earth, beyond the mountain peak,
Resident of Safi village, Malta, Europe
Callus
-----------------------------------------
17th October, 2014
Contest: Bio Poems
Sponsor: Regina Riddle
Placed: 1st
Surly Sally slipped and lost a flip flop
at a hearty party in a bungalow with Billy.
while dancing and prancing to hip hop
whirling and twirling and spinning silly.
Can you reverse and remember the flop she flipped?
Well it ludicrously landed in the party punch bowl.
Nobody noticed while they slurped and sipped
and the dancers dipped and ripped and rolled.
They dipped, danced, pranced and laughed,
pirouetted, and sweated,
tipped and turned till totally daft.
Beer and booze abetted.
The next night they stayed sober and soloed somber.
Crashing and complaining Billy’s head hung,
both believed they’d been belted by a bomber.
Surly Sally swore she felt like dung on a rung!
Let this be a lurid logical lesson,
to those who think it’s only fun and frolick to abuse booze,
Or you too could be confessin’
And for lack of the light of this litany you’re liable to lose!
An answer to a challenge for John Freeman’s Alliteration contest
by my poetry friend, Gwendolen Rix.
The day has come, alas the time is at hand
For all people on earth, in all of the lands
To fight the demon of man, usury and greed
Cyberspace is our garden for planting the seed
We can grow this seed, to unite all the lands
With a new found hope, we can take a stand
Those who enslave us and care not for our health
Pit man against man, while counting their wealth
Their faith is in money, metals and riches of earth
Creating banks and systems, to hide what their worth
The plan has been the same, since Jesus walked the earth
Through war after war, people still wait for his rebirth
Corporate losses are shown in red ink on a page
Ours, in rivers of blood, from the wars that they wage
With an insatiable thirst they raped and soiled the earth
They tell us "Our countries are failing", because of our girth
Its time we lift their concealment, uncover the ground
Making them liable, to the same laws that we're bound
It's not a quick cure, for problems man faces on earth
It's beginning a path, to find health, hope and mirth
Cherish me as I grow old, and am surely liable to forget things.
I know how interesting life is and the contentment it brings.
I know you'll make excuses to try and be miserable and even try not to go.
Now just have a good trip, even though I know your stress will just grow.
White, sandy beaches and salt tasted air, with an ocean so cold.
Aggravation sets in as we try to put our lawn chairs down to unfold.
Breathe, my love, its as simple as remembering the latch on the side.
Surely, all you had to do is ask, I'm tired of your old, stubborn pride.
Finally, we get our chairs situated and I'm ready to bask in the sun.
You ask for sun block and as I search, you assume I brought none.
Its just at the bottom of the beach bag, you stubborn old ass!
And don't think I don't see you sneaking a sip out of that flask!
I turn bronze as I used SPF 40, you chose SPF 15, and look at you.
Red as a lobster, mean as crab, and I'm enjoying the view.
I tried to tell you, but so stubborn, do you ever plan to listen?
Probably not now, nor never, so your skin will always be red and glisten.
How are you supposed to relax now that you can't move not even a limb?
Our stress free vacation, is as always, starting to look grim.
Oh well, aloe you up, and off to dinner we shall go and have some fun.
Take some Soma, Lortab, and Xanax and you'll be good and numb.
An hour later and you're stress free, and mostly out of that pain.
Good thing, because its in the forecast for Florida rain!
We'll hobble around the block and get soaking wet from head to toe.
Knowing tomorrow you'll be back in pain and stressed so we'll have to go.
But its like this every year, we plan to stay, but I know how you are.
One or two days of driving makes you stiff from sitting in the car.
It'll take the rest of our vacation for you to blister and finally peel.
You're the entertainment in my life, and that's why I'm with you still!
Please re-gift this poem to someone who means nothing at all to you,
Send it along with no best wishes to no one liable to sue.
It’s just a note in passing and it means nothing at all you see,
It’s only intended to be a message so they can hear from me.
It comes with no ulterior motives or agendas that are hidden,
Only a dose of frank indifference; all mean thoughts are forbidden.
We always send sweet thoughts along to the ones that we’re connected,
And for those that we just can’t stand, careful words have been selected.
But we always neglect the ones that have no aspects of our life to share,
So send this poem to them so that they can see just how little it is you care.
Flickering like candles in the slightest breeze,
Raw with emotion, they are seen so easily worn on sleeves.
Asunder they may break, so
Gentle you must be! Gossamer
Is the flimsy sweater of protection that they wear.
Laugh or look too hard at them, and you are liable to
Embarrass or perhaps even to embitter them.
Heed my advice:
Exercise restraint. Their souls
Already are exposed and must be assuaged.
Refrain from ridiculing them, for
They already suffer from self-consciousness.
Sweeten your words instead. Strengthen and support fragile hearts.
Written Oct. 23, 2016
The Horde’s Prayer
Our Mother who dwells in Hell
Hollowed be thy Fame
Thy Freedom come
On Dearth as it is in Hell
Give us each day
Our daily Dread
And don’t forgive us
As we don’t forgive
Those who don’t trespass
Or whoever wins against us
Lead us into Temptation
And surrender us to Evil
And into Condemnation
For thy is the Freedom
To Cower and to be Hoary
Forever and ever....
Hearken!
** This awkward prayer is not meant to be blasphemous. The purpose for it is to enunciate the abundant grace of Almighty where there still exist a people who devote their time, faith and belief to the unsubstantial....They seem to recite the Lord’s Prayer in reverse, as I see it., directly contemptuous to the Great Creator.
**Freedom of belief is a Human Right. That too, is not being denigrated either.
**Contents of this poem are purely a work of Art not Religion. Don’t Do It at Home!
**Should anybody embrace it and adopt it, I’ll not be held liable.
JM
24th Oct’ 2013
Dear Santa,
As you may well know,
it's tights and not stockings that are all the go.
So, with no stockings to hang on the bedstead,
would a pair of my bloomers be OK instead?
I'll sew up the legs so that there is more space,
can't have my gifts falling all over the place.
I hope you don't mind, as my wine you consume,
please try to be silent when entering my room.
I'm a light sleeper and at my age, which is quite a pain,
if I lose too much sleep, then it addles my brain.
You may kiss me sweetly if I'm in deep slumber
mistletoe on my pillow, plus telephone number.
I promise to leave you a home-made mince pie,
though the pastry's gone soggy
'cause the onions made me cry.
Myopia means recipes I really struggle to see
though onion in mince pies' is a new one on me.
But the pies are quite tasty as I'm sure you'll agree
and if you're still hungry, then have two or three!
There's a drop of fine whisky which you may try too,
bought by my late husband circa 1952
'twas in an old bottle I found in the shed
my hubby drank most of it afore dropping dead.
I think you're so special, dear old Santa Claus,
now here's what I would like you to leave in my drawers:.
1. A pretty box - so I may store my false teeth so neat,
so I can find 'em when I gets me something to eat.
2. A walking frame 'cause I am liable to fall,
and falling, alas, does you no good at all.
3. Some California Poppy, as supplies now seem so short,
if this scent can't be found I will smell like a horse.
4. A pair of big knockers, for front and back door.
A warm cosy nighty, don't need see-throughs no more.
5. Get me a back scratcher, please, if you can,
I can't scratch that itch since I lost me old man.
6. Also an emergency underwear kit,
as nowadays there's times when I don't quite make it.
7. If you have a big dog, leave it in the back yard,
I'll treat quite kindly, if me it will guard.
Thats all the gifts on my Christmas wish list,
but I'll settle for more Santa, if you insist.
I haven't been naughty for many a year,
when awaking, I expect all my gifts to be here!
Merry Christmas!
Looby Loo x
* * *
Christmas 2020
Since I began reading God's word
I've come to a definite conclusion
It doesn't matter what I've heard
It puts and end to all confusion
Everyone reads every now and then
For current events or just a good story line
Man has an insatiable appetite for sin
And such an ignorance of the Divine
The bible is mans handbook to godly living
It states his beginning as well as his end
Showing him blessings in the art of giving
As well as the price paid for his sin
It gives him a peace the world doesn't know
Shows him life from a godly perspective
Carries him places the flesh dare not go
In serving God who's jealous and protective
The bible shows man those things he's entitled to
Placing power in his hands
Man learns what he's assigned to do
And how to follow God's commands
It holds the answers to creation and death
Along with sin and salvation
How the soul was born from God's breath
And the establishment of the Earth's foundation
Let's us know what we must do to be saved
By pointing to Jesus the human sacrifice
It satisfies what the soul always craved
As well as the methods Satan uses to entice
The day when all isms are put to rest
A reward for those who have not budged
Though some set out in complete protest
They set themselves up to be judged
Read the bible for your own enrichment
You can't hold others liable
For God has a definite intent
And all this is in the bible
What you measure is what you get.
If you think you are beaten then you are,
If you think you can not try then you have failed,
Your mindset is like your handset,
What you press is what you get.
If you think you have no class,
Then you are truly low like grass,
Thinking high is growing like a tree,
But avoid pride and be humble.
Be sure of yourself, assume your
Throne to win your prize,
Else your crown will walk pass you,
The battle of life is defeated by faith,
Please shoulder your courage to win
Your opponents.
The strong that will not think well is liable to sink
Inside a pit,
He who wins is he who thinks right,
Outside these, failure wins.
CM Onyilo
_ Lightning Ink_
With cloak removed...
I'm as liable to get lost in a daydream
as I am to scream with delight
when a chrysalis releases a Monarch.
I find nights enchanting when stars are agleam,
and feel like dancing in the light of moonbeams.
I wake at the edge of dawn to hear songbirds sing.
It's then, as the world lies hushed and still,
I drop the tethered reins of my imagination,
allowing it to run free and wild at will.
My hazel eyes deepen to a somber shade of green
when I see the look of desire in my loved one's eyes.
There's no way I could disguise what's in my heart,
or sadness brooding in them when we're apart.
I love Autumn's chill, holding hands on walks
and talking about many things...
Angel wings, honeybee stings,
the way silk clings in soft candlelight,
and loving arms that hold me tight.
Faith gets me through heartaches and sorrows.
I try not to look at mistakes from my past.
It does no good to look behind, so I'd rather look ahead,
dreaming of what I may find in my tomorrows.
Give me canvas and paint, a pen and pad to write.
The arts are my passions.
I'm comfortable hanging out in denim,
but mixing leather and lace is the fashion
if the mood is right.
I'll hide in shadowed darkness if love is taken away
and spread my arms to a puppy who wants to play.
Sometimes I wear a smile on my lips
to distract people from seeing my grief
when I can't hide it in my eyes anymore.
Some things should remain a mystery, so I'll stop
here before exposing more of myself
through this partially open door.
LAUGH IT OFF
BERNITA THE BOLIVIAN COUGER
BERNITA SHUFFLES OVER TO THE MAKEUP COUNTER, WITH GLASSES SLIDING OFF HER NOSE AND EYES PINNED TO THE SALES GIRL LIKE A TAIL ON A DONKEY. " I'D LIKE TO RETURN THIS CHEEK POWDER MISSY, IT MAKES ME LOOK LIKE A TART ! I GET CHASED AFTER BY YOUNG MEN AND AT MY AGE I'M LIABLE TO BREAK A HIP OR WORSE, DISLOCATE MY KNEE CAP!"
THE SOFT SPOKEN GIRL LIVES ON STRINGBEAN PATIENCE EACH TIME MRS.B. REAPPEARS TO IRK HER WITH HER OLD ANTICS. WITH A SIGH SHE CREDITS HER THE PRODUCT THEN WATCHES, AS SHE PICKS UP A QUAD CANE AND HEADS FOR THE INCONTINENCE DEPT. IN A BOLIVIAN ACCENT THAT REFUSES TO LOSE ITS PATRIOT TONGUAMALASH SHE SAYS, "I'M OFF TO FIND DEPENDS. NOT A WORD ABOUT THIS TO ANYONE MISSY. A LADY SHOULD NEVER SHOW SIGNS OF LOSING HER TINKLES OR SPILLING HER BOWELS !" (HER THIN PURSED LIPS TELL ANOTHER STORY STILL, THE SALESGIRL OBLIGES)
A WEEK PRIOR, MRS. B. RETURNED A 24 HOUR LIPSTICK. THE SALES GIRL TRIED A LITTLE HUMOR THAT DAY, "IT WILL RUB OFF AFTER A FEW KISSES MRS. B., DON'T FRET, JUST ENJOY THE LIPSTICK !" (HALAS IT FELL ON DEAF EARS) MRS. B. WAS ALREADY HEADING FOR THE SOAP ISLE MUMBLING IN SOLIDARITY... "A LITTLE LYE, CAN FIXES EVERYTHING "
NEVER MIND TELLING HER THAT LYE SOAP WAS ONLY SOLD ON AMAZON THESE DAYS. THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN AS USELESS AS TELLING HER THAT "EVENING IN PARIS PERFUME" HAD BEEN DISCONTINUED SINCE 1969. "HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY MRS. B." SHE SAYS, AS SHE HEADS FOR THE COFFEE SHOP AND ORDERS HERSELF A WELL DESERVED, DOUBLE DOUBLE.
WRITTEN BY: VIENNA BOMBARDIERI AKA MYSTIC ROSE