Best Livers Poems
Livers
bleed
lungs
gasp for breath
vessels of poetry
read
pain disappears
tears recede
love floats above the sea
tides of sadness
recede
planted in marshlands
seeds
friendship bloomed
living for words
no longer matters
I embrace my brother
love his might
standing on cliffs ledge
gazing this new morn
softly I whisper
we are one
Twas the night before Christmas and I was a gasp
at the rumors that filled me with an odious fright.
For Santa Claus was now tired of working for free
and would be harvesting organs well into the night.
He would be looking for kidneys, livers and hearts
as well as others too numerous to mention.
All this was designed to lower his cost of production
and help his Elves with their healthcare and pension.
The reporters reported the disheartening news
that dear Santa had put an end to holiday cheer.
And to lock all our windows and batten the doors
to prevent a Christmas which could end only in tears.
Now the Media's record of telling the truth
was often wrong and extremely spotty at best.
So I had faith in Saint Nick and his message of hope
and would not give in to the lies they address.
So I fell into slumber to awake Christmas morning
and put my trust in the jolly old Elf.
But awoke latter that night when the stomping of hooves
caused several books to fall from the shelf.
Quickly grabbing a candle... I flew down the stairs
to see my tree laden with presents and toys.
As dear Santa had come through with his usual flair
and my trepidation turned to wonder and joy.
So I opened a window and peered through the night
and spotted the old Elf at the head of his sleigh.
I heard him yell from afar as he drove out of sight,
'You should rest in bed for most of the day.'
I pondered his point... unsure what he meant
as my body began to shimmy and shiver.
And as sure as the bells that would ring Christmas morn...
that fat bastard had taken half of my liver.
So as I lay in the bed and considered my stress
and the reason for my tension and plight.
But put it aside... when I realized by giving an organ
I put the spirit of Christmas in a more favorable light.
The End
Night before Christmas Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Date: Nov 29/2019
As I see it there is no cure
Meds can help that's for sure
But meds can make things alot worse
Mental health is a real bad curse
The meds will help you sleep at night
Or even help you fight or flight
The effects may damage your internal store
Kidneys livers even more
I know this at first hand
So join me on this awareness stand
I stand here totally med free
Trying to think rationally
Its about trapped memories
We must search for the keys
The only way to rid this fear
Process the memory shed a tear
To process the memory we must go back
Get the processor back on track
Its a complex piece of machinery
It's called the brain can't you see
They talk of trauma and incidents
Put it in the box sounds magnificent
The filing cabinet is over flowing
PTSD just keeps on growing
So relax and ground yourself
Another winner in mental health
Do this and return from hell
Use sight,touch, sound and even smell
Bring yourself out of the dark place
Look around for the friendly face
Open up and talk it through
This victory does belong to you
Many types of help out there
A lot of family and friends do care
Don't try to fight it on your own
The black dog has just grown
Try the doctors or self refer
You need help that's for sure
Once in the system your tool box is bigger
Hit the black dog with the big yellow digger
He will never totally disappear
You will be stronger have no fear
When he raises his ugly head
Your strength will put him back to bed
I am referring to therapy
Non intrusive just you see
It's not for everyone I do know
But surely it is worth a go
Finally I will just say
Take every day
DAY BY DAY
Stay strong and remain positive
You've deserved the right to live
Garbage poetry,
that’s why they make you pay—
a toll booth on the road to nowhere,
ink-stained palms held out
by men who couldn’t read a pulse
if it bit them.
Poets strutting like roosters
on borrowed dawns,
calling vanity “vision,”
calling noise “truth,”
calling themselves necessary.
Christ, the hubris
could pave a parking lot.
They workshop the life out of it,
sand down the blood,
polish the scream
until it sounds like a brochure.
Then they wonder why
no one listens.
I’ve seen better lines
scratched on barroom mirrors
by men who knew
they were already lost.
Those men didn’t pay to publish—
they paid with their teeth,
their livers,
their nights.
It’s hard to work
when everyone’s busy applauding themselves,
hard to write
when the room smells like resumes.
The real poem
is hunched in the corner,
drinking cheap beer,
waiting for everyone to shut up.
Most never do.
Breakfasting with champions
Sound nutrition for a growing girl
Delicious, too.
Damn near perfection.
Cat in my cradle
sharp claws and foreboding meows
prophetically scratching out neural canals
filled with songs of the way it goes.
‘Charm’s a scheme’ – opus in D Major
‘Maturity a bitter disappointment’ – e minor fugue
and ‘The purpose of a human life,
no matter who’s controlling it
is to love whoever’s around
to be loved’ – Symphony in C
Songs to plug in by
Lifted by laughter into the network
of lovers and livers
thinkers and givers
titans and dreamers and friends.
When the overspeed trip triggers
it’s good to know
that the power’s still flowing
ready for next time
of plugging in
and cooking breakfast.
I gave whatever you wanted-
Thy but took me for granted-
Neither you paid attention to the appall
This is an important call
Your earth I am, you dear all-
Tsunami had been a story for you-
You forgot the huge ash spew-
You quickly forget the squalls-
This is an important call
Your earth I am, you dear all-
On the surface I gave you so much green-
On using oil instead you were too keen-
Empty soon is going to be bowl-
This is an important call
your earth I am, you dear all-
The entire hydrocarbon already you burnt -
Solution that I gave never you learned-
Energy in alcohol is not small-
Never will it let cars stall-
This is an important call
Your earth I am, you dear all-
What was for the future you drank –
Pain then you felt inside near flank-
Livers and kidney now take great fall-
This is an important call
Your earth I am, you dear all-
To preserve for the future still there is time-
But you have to consider condition mine-
On me you concentrate huge steel n concrete-
For my balance it won’t be fine-
I shall spin then like a bent bicycle wheel-
Towards nadir will I go, or in the Zenith-
I might fall into the dark infinite beneath-
Where then be you and who to listen the bawl- (cry loudly)
This is an important call
Your earth I am, you dear all-
If I do not fall but loose declination degrees-
Either then you will heat or get highest freeze-
Wooden poles might become trees all
This is an important call
Your earth I am, you dear all-
I try to understand
What it was like
For you
When your world
Consisted of
You can't
You can't
Sit at the front of the bus
You can't drink from that fountain
You can't look that man in the eye
When you speak to him
It's yes sir
How high sir
You can't
You can't
You can't better your life
You can't go to that school
You can't be friends with that boy or girl
Then you Rose
Parked yourself
In a front seat of a bus
sat with quiet strength
With an immovable spirit you said no
Enough
I deserve more
I demand your respect
You drank from freedoms fountain
You exerted you
Took what was
Changed it to what is
What is
Is because of you and the many
That fought
not with hands
but galvanized spirits
The call of yes we can
Yes we can
You became part of the we
Participants
Livers of the dream
Doors opened
A crack
Some still try to hold you back
Yet you know
You can
Those glorious words
Fought for
Earned
Deserved
Finally
Thankfully
Taken
Realized
That chance at a better life
Your piece of American Pie
Your life
Rooted in
You
Yes you
Yes you can!
You will
You have
Finally you have a home
a country
That belongs to you
< amidst swollen moon
creatures of the night stalking .....
predator's bounty
be ~ witching ~ hour
beastly mannerism gone
totally but .... wild
black cat crosses path
another seven years of ........
having such bad luck
culdron pot boils
hearts ~ gizzards ~ livers ... bat's hair
witches stilled brewing
Why is it:
we plant gardens
but we garden plants?
we call natural medicines drugs
and we call unnaturally produced drugs medicines?
we label our disease-addicted corporate-insurance complex
a humane "health care system"?
we prefer fetal alcohol syndrome, pickled livers, and dead drunk outcomes
to THC induced probable failure to ever develop yet another over-yanged Type A personality,
with an antisocial proclivity for sprouting pickled livers and other deadly outcomes?
we tend to respond to uninvited Type B personality invitations
with Type A fully-alert personalities,
yet we respond to uninvited Type A demands
with Type B laissez-faire, neglect, and cognitively hypnotized languishing?
the older our nation grows
the younger our culture appears to prefer?
we pay more and more to elect politicians
who produce positive economic priorities and outcomes less and less?
the louder and longer I persist in persuading you of my wisdom
the shorter and softer grows your attention span
and capacity to hear me?
we produce prodigious amounts of dispossession destined for the trash
yet we seldom intend to ever possess and take ownership of our future trash?
Business As Usual economists respond to eco-logical health
as if their home eco-nomial turf were some alien crazy wealth?
domineering competitive Business As Usuals
fail to see we are a sustainable cooperative economy's
most significant source for disinvestment
away from Earth design health
and resilient development wealth?
we seldom have enough time to notice and appreciate new places and faces
but we drag through ponderous time invested in the same ol' retiring spaces?
if some communication event between two people
is called a transaction
then we think "economics,"
but if some communication event between two non-humans
is called a relationship
then we think "ecology"?
that digital information is always binary
but polynomial information is not assumed to also flow binomially balanced?
we invest in gardening well-crowned edible and ornamental gardens
but we often find it prudent
to nationalistically divest
of co-evolving nutrition-rooted Earth?
Consultation Room
Our organs we disdain
Until we have some pain
Then begin to learn
Let organs respect earn!
There’s this red “bean”
Fond of giving a spleen
Pith can suffer “cones”
They call kidney stones.
Maligned cirrhotic livers
Afflict with painful fevers
You may relish one of sheep
Yours gives scant sleep!
“You’ve got a Big Heart.”
Then think you’re smart!
There’s fire in the chest
You would hardly rest.
Diseased swollen lungs
Give the worst pangs
You sweat all over night
Yet shiver with frost bite.
When eyes are in pain
They see lightning and rain
The Pain eyes can lodge
You wish them to disgorge.
Not least a swollen ear
Which no sound will hear
It gnaws into your soul
Leaving you an empty bowl!
“Labour, to an aching tooth
“is nothing, I tell the truth!”
“You’re good wif no teef
“Than wif cyst underneaf!”
Cancer of the prostate-
Who would aptly relate
The worst of all the worse
It is a pure human curse!
Those who eat so well
Call gastric ulcers real Hell
Once a morsel you partake,
Writhe like a dying snake!
And, cancer of the cervix
Has Pain with no prefix!
The sick that you nurse
Suffer agony like a curse.
*
Whoever is now healthy
Is confirmed as wealthy
Organ treatment or care
All our efforts must dare.
Correct thy eating habit
Potential throe will inhibit
Work till you sweat
Disease spurns the heat.
Substance use or abuse
Condemn it and accuse
Cancers that we endure
Come from deals impure.
Regular checks are noble
To detect what may wobble
“And rectify the setback
“That’ll get ya out o’ track!
*** Upon spending a sleepless night with a malignant lung (13/11/2013).
JM
14th Nov’ 2013
A small chicken more like a fryer
One with all its innards
When the pack was opened
Out came two necks, three livers, two gizzards
No hearts?
There has got to be a poem in here somewhere____
Inspired by and dedicated to
Sara Kendrick and her poem "Chicken"
I once had a chicken
Came out of his egg kick-in'
He was the strangest thing , I've ever seen
This chicken had two necks but he only had one head
I'm guess-in' that's why he was so mean
I wasn't 'till much later
That a Chef asked the waiter
To go buy some chickens, at my farm
So I told him, as far as chickens
HE, should do the pick-in'
So he grabbed-up the fryer, in his arms
Although it was some trouble
He saw his profits double
Figure-in' to buy one and get one free
The Chef was really please
As he took that bird with ease
Then turned-up the stove a few degrees
He gave the bird a whack,
And there was a sudden thwack
As that little fryer's head, hit the floor
He thought he had struck gold
When he started to unfold
Seeing that the bird, had offered more
Two gizzards and three livers
Is what this bird delivered
And the Chef thought this made a darn good start
But further on inspection
There was a sad detection
The poor little Fryer had no heart
So I've learned, Not to be mean
Or you'll end up a cuisine
So, be nice and kind from the very start
Even if you're bless,
Having more than the all rest
Don't be a little Fryer with no heart
New York, New York, the road in the fork
of the events, the places and folks who've buttered the pork
Like Rockefeller, Moynihan and Andrew Cuomo
Frank Sinatra, Louie Armstrong, John Lenon and Yoko Ono
Lenny Bernstein and Lenny Bruce
Cookie Monster, Rocky and Bullwinkle Moose
There's Radio City, Central Park and Carnegie Hall
Coney Island, Yankee Stadium -- Let's Play Ball!
The Brooklyn Bridge on the Hudson River
Lower East Side and the Village, for swingin' livers
Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle and White Ford
Don't forget Casey Stengel and Yogi Berra -- Oh, my Lord!
Marilyn Monroe, Madonna and Phyllis Diller in curlers
Archie Bunker, the Meathead, Anne Meara and Jerry Stiller
Stooge-mania, West Side Story and Annie Hall
Kramden, Norton and the Honeymooners
You've seen or heard of 'em all
There's Madison Square Garden and the NY Philharmonic
The Times and Wall Street Journal -- news junkies tonics
Malcolm X, Dr. King, and Abe Saperstein
Julius Erving / Dr. J with a case of Afro-sheen
Baldies like Kojac and Yul Brynner, the King of Siam
Sam I Am, Son of Sam, Green Eggs and Ham
Harlem Globetrotters, the Apollo, Kareem Abdul Jabbar
Jay Leno, Ed McMahon and Johnny Carson, the great Jack Paar
There's Broadway, Times Square, Soho and Fifth Avenue
Isaac Stern, Pavoratti, Willie Nelson and Ray Charles singin' the blues ...
Make a list from the Statue of Liberty all the way up to Mars
~ You still might leave out a legacy of constellations and stars!
Someone said 2016 was a bad year as well known people were dying.
Of course, a lot of not well known people did as well.
In the wars we are experiencing and of terrorists actions.
When I overheard somebody say 2016 was a bad year.
I wondered why!
It does not matter who you are.
No-one like me! Or a film/pop star!
When death calls on you just so!
You cannot stop it, oh no, no.
I know doctors can repair bad parts. Like livers, kidneys, even hearts.
And they can sometimes revive you. As that’s what God meant them to do.
I think that’s when He makes a mistake. Calls you before your due time.
As when I thought I would go. He seemed to say, ‘Hmm not this time so...’
I know not why, he passed me by. I try to be good, I really try.
But as I am mortal like you I see. I guess another chance, he gave me.
So when it is my turn to go. Please don’t all be sad you know.
As Paradise is a lovely place, quiet, calm and full of grace.
So cry not, be pleased for me. Be happy, although me, you cannot see.
I can watch over what you do. As that’s what I hear spirits can do.
So when a name appears just here.
It’s in a book up there, I hear.
So worry not for who do now go.
They are cared for up there, they are just so.
Apon are arrival once at times seemed questionable
We were greated by none.
Hawaii had spoiled us to all other airport experiences
Were else could a half hunover yet slighty buzzed madman
stumble from a plane to encounter a beautiful woman in a grass skirt
and cocunut bra once even now made me thirst for for a pina collada.
But in in canada there was nothing to greet us there but cold
As we stumbbled around dressed like soon to be doomed criminals awaitting trial.
Cananda its slogan should have been.
Welcome to Cannada it's really dam cold.
But we knew where to find warmth in this enviroment.
Or for that matter any enviroment.
For we were drunks or as i liked to think of it consistant drinkers
And on are journey into this land of freezing weather maple syrup
and ice hockey.
We had one true goal.
we had come to drink Cannada dry.
No bar would go untouched No bottle would not know are name.
we would hit on many women.
Score with a few and say we had slept with many.
I was a religeous man and i needed to get in touch with with the spirts
The spirts of Canadian mist Jim beam And my old stand by spirt Gin
It was a bold mission for which we had set forth.
Are livers were alredy beaten to almost a pulp but
we still somehow walked and functioned in disquise of
semi normal human beings but nothing was further from the truth
we were writters once ment we were professional crazy people
On a mission to depleet this icey land of its alcohol
an drink canada dry