Best Lied On Poems
Saturday afternoon with a few moments to kill
Took a ride by the park up on Dutch Hill
My mind went back to a time and place
When I wore a little boy’s smile on my face
So much had changed since those innocent days
I drifted back through the years where a child plays
I played in the sandbox and rode the swing
Climbed the monkey bars in the Early Spring
I remembered church picnics and being there after dark
Playing cowboys and Indians with my friends in the park
We rode the sliding board and climbed in the trees
Spraining our ankles and skinning our knees
Sometimes we gazed at the stars while we lied on the ground
Or tried to see how fast we could push the merry go round
We learned from each other as we grew up back then
And drifted apart as we became women and men
We played from sun up until it was dark
The best years of our lives were spent at the park
Overwhelmed
as mama offers a stare
at me.
Behind sleepy eyes;
I watched.
You would lay on the floor,
despite my warnings
You naughty child.
You cant stop snoring
like your father
she whispered
as she watched over
me like an angel
as I lied on the tiled floor.
You obviously
Took both our characters
my priceless jewel.
I opened my eyes
As I said to her;
There is no me without you
MAMA.
Those words caressed her skin
like the freshness of the breeze
after rainfall that she smiled
so softly.
I fell asleep peacefully
filled with stories
my mother told me,
knowing there is someone
guarding me like a god.
November 3, 2017.
Have you ever wondered if you died today tomorrow or even yesterday
how it would affect people
Sometimes I seem to forget that part
I have made many stupid decisions in life that sometimes I regret and other times I
contemplete on another exscape to leave this universe
.... Im not perfect only human
The streets raised me mommy disowned me yet daddy always loved me
Living from place to place reguardless if its yours, a friends or even abandoned
some things you can never erase
I have been through so much madness and chaos
lied on
talked about
beaten
even raped
just to name a few
.... but reguardless I will still never be beneath you
I walk alone 'cause I fear no one
I really dont have any friends
being my age you learn not to really trust no one
The road down betrayl heartache and pain
is the life we live here on this place
I remember being young thinking to myself
saying I wanted to be just like you
But never in a million years would I have
had thought you would be the one that
stabbed me in my heart
..... payback is one thing and karma is another
I lied on the green ,soft rug
lilies and daffodiles are the to give a shrug
The colorful silk is to the earth a rag
the cheerful sun is to me a tag
on the morning the sun showers
I lied to feel the beauty with raised eye brows
The wind and the sun are allied powers
gave birth to the both sun and wind flowers
standing humbly outstanding towers
In the mourning they run together
the wind , the rain and the sun to gather
the breeze , the dew and the beautiful landscape
holding the earth , wraping with the cape
the bad foggy earth's shape
from this beauty scenery, I cannot escape
I'm Eric Cartman and I'm an evil little *****.
My mom is poor, she certainly isn't rich.
She posed nude in a magazine because she's a Crack Whore.
She couldn't afford to buy me an IPad and that made me sore.
After I lied on DR. Phil, Apple was about to give me a Human CentiPad.
But they got an order to disassemble it and that really made me mad.
I started cursing God and he struck me with lightning.
I won't ever mess with him again, he's too frightening.
Many people hate my guts because I'm a racist punk.
When I offended a girl classmate, my ship was sunk.
She beat me up because she's a tough little Lass.
I tried to fight back but she kicked my sorry ass.
I certainly don't have a heart of gold, I'm a terrible lad.
People wonder how a nine year old boy can be so bad.
If you do something bad, I'll rat you out because I'm also a snitch.
I will not change my ways, I'll continue to be an evil little *****.
(This poem is based on the South Park cartoon.)
"Goodnight my dear", Mother said
As I lied on the old bunk bed
"Don't close the door"
I used to say, as she would turn, to walk away
Once again she said "Good night"
And with one stroke, shut off the light
Night is what I’ve come to dread
So I'd slipped the covers, o'er my head
My brother, used to sleep with me
The upper bunk, is where he’d be
The mattress sagged, the bed would squeak
He’d toss and turn, then fall asleep
But now he’s gone, they say he died
I do not know the reason why
Still late at night, the bed will squeak
When the mattress sags, I dare not sleep
Yes I've had my UPS and downs
My smiles and frowns
I've been talked about and torn down
Yes I'm a broken woman
It takes all for someone to love someone as broken as me
But with me is where he wants to be
I've been lied on and cheated on
Used and abused
Was I afraid he was going to do it to me yes
Because I am a broken woman
I never thought I could ever love again even worst allow another man to
Become my best friend
But look at me I'm smiling in happy
I'm loving him deeply
And the best part about it he loves me back
Broken woman and all
Bombing Indonesia
So they broke the law and smuggled drugs etc. How about we drop some 1000lb bombs on Jakarta and nuke each individual Indonesian air force, navy and army base? FOR A BIT OF FRIGGING FUN? FRIG YEA. What comes around goes around.
The Aussies lied on scrapping their F-111s. A recon bird flew high over Indo land. She drew up the motley bunch of Flankers and got splashed. As intended. She was unmanned. Manned F-111s went in and cluster bombed the Indo bases. F-18s gave top cover.
When the flankers showed up, the F-18 pilots confirmed what we all knew: the Indo Flankers had no missiles. Just a gun. Every Flanker was brought down. Their F-16s did better and splashed two old Hornets. But the Indo F-5s got three Super Hornets, in turn being wiped out by the Super Hornets who were actually bombers. A pilot smelling blood is a rabid dog. Reports of gunning civilians are that, reports.
There were some who said that Indonesia under the Soviet dogs was better armed. Equipped with Badger bombers and Fishbed fighters. Could they resist Australia? And bomb the F-18 bases? Or be like Saddam Hussein and wiped out? Indo Flankers did no better. War, all for a few executions...
What has become as the best makeup for woman?
Her youth, health, nature attractiveness
or just how she get looked to mirror, repaired tresses,
how she smiled and turn to glance?
Maybe mystic lied on her way of wearings,
in her fashion and subtle taste
All these things look as extra-precious
But beauty of soul, perfection of deep knowledge and reason
beyond all competitions and comparisons
as a parts of her grace and eternal elegance.
Breaks an egg and out comes the sun
Begging for forgiveness
For lighting
Ducks sailing on the spikes
Women watching them trough keyholes,
Light diffracted into Meduses-
My happy face
Circularly deformed-
The brave man behind lens
Is the sunset’s zipper
Of the blue eye spot-
Her face – mechanic eyes
Lied on the floor, naked-
A pomegranate breaks beside her-
Lucky charm, said someone –
(originally written in modern Greek and released in February 2006 from Nocturnal
Publications – translated here by the author)
They, them, those people
Are lying, not relying
On God. Lying...
Every time they do
Their wicked deeds,
They blame it on God.
They don't believe in God,
So, the dirty deeds they do,
They pretend it is in
God’s plan.
Once again then you
We’re not listening,
Poets told you to
Protect the children
Those mad scientists
Interfering with nature -
Using their knowledge,
To test God’s virtues.
They use H.A.A.R.P to
Manipulate and
Control the weather,
Now they want to
Hold their breath
And say God did it;
Because you were sinning.
Well nobody believes
In your King James tales.
Who more than black folk
Love Jesus so well.
No one is more true-
Than people of hue.
So why do you
Add insult to injury,
As you oft times do.?
just like "Katrina
You blamed that on God too.
Man, is so smart he can go
To the moon (really)?
Drastically changing weather...
Manipulation with harpoons.
But you can't build a reliable
Dyke in the 21st century.
So, all that was God’s fault?
Why didn't you rescue the people?
Oh, I know, God told you not to.
Lying on God again
Be careful America...
When the food is scarce,
And our seeds are altered,
None to spare.
But we still need clean air and
Clean water: Don't forget, medical
Attention can be withheld.
Why are you still buying;
Fake Gucci, fur coats,
And Korean hair?
Why are you not planting?
And storing or
Preparing for another
Blackout or worse?
Even though you pray and go to church.
Then again you didn't take heed
Ignored the warnings.
So now, blame God and ask God why ...
God why- why you didn't save me?
He’ll then will tell you ...I tried!
I sent a poet to tell you,
But you listened to those
who blamed me, and lied.
You should know that you are
the last people I would hurt.
The wicked ones know
That poets are
The new prophets.
These liars are propelled by
Tricks and greed.
Then a voice said to them...
“If from the poets
you had only taken heed”.
I am God and they lied on me.
If they’ll lie on me, “God said
“What makes you
think they won't lie on you? “
“You had better recognize”
“You had better know it “
God said-
“I sent you a poet"
“I sent you a poet”.
Marcus Mosiah Garvey arose from a little town, yes my lord
A Leo lifting Harlem, kingdom bound, yes my lord
Resuscitated religion around the black man’s looks, yes my lord
Cuddling pickaxe, hoe, and cradling books, yes my lord
Umpire of Freedom from home to foreign land, yes my lord
Seeker of justice from Costa Rica, Nicaragua to Panama, man, yes, yes my lord
Master of the African destiny, this man could dream, yes my lord
Overtures of empire, black starliner on the Atlantic stream, yes my lord
Sentinel and soldier, O Booker T’s light giver, yes my lord
Itinerant leader from island to continents, the diviner, yes my lord
Athletic word maker speaking truth to power, yes O my lord
Sequester again the UNIA at this defining hour, yes my lord.
Greatness is sometimes attributed, sometimes achieved, yes my lord
Africa’s proud son, both in you we believed, yes my lord
Regal was the call you made: “Up you mighty race!” yes my lord
Venerable the acts you did standing to the governor’s face, yes my lord
Earth has no better soul, or Jamaica another child, yes O my lord
Yielding everything to heal the lambs defiled, yes, yes my lord
How shall we see again the great black visions of grandeur, yes my lord
Evoking in cultureless voids Africa’s splendor, yes my lord
Royalty reduced to slavery would not crawl the dust, yes my lord
Once liberated minds can fly where only eagles lust, yes my lord
We heap up your tributes now that your dead, yes my lord
England’s queen can sleep without a dungeon for her bed, yes my lord
Men who dream are imprisoned to bury their dreams, yes my lord
Instead those dreams prove finite walls too poor, yes my lord
Superior imagination to tame, and brighter still gleams, yes my lord
So when the wind blows look for him at the door, yes my lord
Yapping Hoover at his heels lied on him to stall him, yes my lord
Over in Jamaica, he broke the walls of prison grim, yes my lord
Uncle Marcus, great hero, O how we miss him, yes, yes O my lord
Rectangular in shape as a deep shoebox,
where leather boots lied on long shelves.
I fell in love with their tempting softness;
I am wearing them and friends love them,
ladies adore them and shamelessly wink!
I consider myself as lucky as a rich man;
my boots will wear out, nobody will smile:
when they'll see a sad, worthless beggar!
Some are like gold in your life
Some are gold-plated
Know the difference
Because this will show you the reality of life
You can be lied on
Talked about, plotted against
And still, win
Often people try to spin you in
A direction that is not linked to your purpose
Break free and see the glory of your story
Every season of life
Should give you a reason to try again!
As you retrain your mind
And remove the blind spots that
Often plague human lives
You will realize that you are stronger than the storm
Getting up and trying again should be the norm so
Know who is gold and who is gold-plated in your life
This will make a difference
Because this will show you the reality of life
Yet in the end, you can be lied on
Talked about, plotted against
And still, win
Mark Frank
Copyright 2023
Those overly particular judges
Give me a halt when I see their contests
Asking to write what I feel
In hard form plus a kyrielle
I better go and take my long bed rests.
At first, I did once, spending my whole night
Started from the topic I needed to write
Half of pantoum, I dozed off
Felt like floated with the roof
My poem was posted after a week, fight!
All entries were judged after some few months
My poem moved to next page, new poems in front
Mine wasn’t found on the list
After passing judges’ wrist
Whose strictness lied on perfect rhymes and fonts.
Those overly particular judges
Give me a halt when I see their contests
Asking to write what I feel
In hard form plus a kyrielle
I better go and take my long bed rests.