Best Low Cost Poems
With the rules she is quite savvy
Yet she has to pay a levy
She knows for a fact
The weight is exact
But, madam, she is top-heavy.
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This is an offshoot to Jan's "Lets All Embrace Big Boobs"
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Contest: A poem you have not entered in a contest # 7
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Placing: 4th
Love Revisited
He welcomed the somber silence,
and cursed the torpid time that had passed
since his last visit.
Invasive weeds had overrun the place:
Colorful weeds ‘tis true
strange purples, yellows and rusty reds,
scattered here and there
embellishing the lonely place.
He sat on a stone and stared into a void.
Memories rushed into being:
memories long pushed back,
where murky banks held telltale thoughts
he always wished to repress.
How beautiful she was so long ago!
Could he forget that beauty after so many years?
It was not important. He loved her still.
A feeble bunch of forget-me-nots
Would mark the place he saw her last.
Were they enough to convince her soul
that he loved her still? No matter.
She deserved more that a small poesy
of low cost frivolous flowers,
bought on the spur of the moment
as if their offer would alone
atone for his disloyal past.
Is it not strange that after all these years.
he had come to pay his respects?
To remember the good and the bad?
The happiness and the sadness?
The dreams and hopes
and the disappointments
they shared together.
Yet together they made it,
They survived until some years ago
A heart block killed her.
Now she lived in a better place
And he could do nothing but sit alone grieving
and thinking fondly of her.
All around was silence
Except for the dirge of the cicadas song.
In his yearning, he discerned:
sometimes love is not enough.
Red one
Blue one
Old on
New one
Ah heck
Side effects
I think I am
Due one
They’ll flatten
Or fatten
Always been
In Latin
Or tongue twistish
Latinglish
To patent
A statin
But I’ve had my fill
And summoned the will
To say bye to the ill
Coz I’m over the pill
There were lots
Of drug shots
That I got
For clots
And sun spots
To slow snots
And fix rots
As a tot
I shopped ‘em
And stocked ‘em
Then popped ‘em
Or swapped ‘em
I ravaged
And damaged
Til a salvage
Was managed
Lived in sin
To my kin’s
Own chagrin
I was lost
And was tossed
‘Til therein
Bought low cost
Vitamins
I’ve shaken
The achin’
Forsaken
The fakin’
Nor more need
Of needles
As I’m free
Of evils
I’m not yet over the hill
But have had more than my fill
And I at last, have the will
To be so, over the pill
BELIZEAN BLEND
In the beginning it was the Yucatec, the Mopan and Kekchi as well
Who came from the steppes of Asia where nomads dwell
They fished and farmed milpas, in paradise; away from hell
Some building great civilizations that, for many reasons, eventually fell
Then came the Spaniards whose ambivalence; mixed feelings
Caused them to waver in subsequent dealings
Killed some natives, driven off by others
In the end did not settle; wasn’t worth the bother
Displaced by the British, rowdy pirates turn woodcutters
Who made laws and build infrastructure down to the gutters
Cut logwood, then mahogany for powerful and wealthy folks
Then, to satisfy greed, sought others to enslave in yokes
Africans from Jamaica and Bermuda transshipped
Then as chattel they were frequently whipped
Stolen from Africa, becoming the major labor force
Dehumanized and tortured for centuries without remorse
Mestizos fleeing oppressors in the Yucatan
The War of Castes brought them from beyond
Working as chicleros and cane cutters
As a way of providing ‘ bread and butter’
Garinagu deported from St. Vincent as a form of punishment
Many dying in their odyssey , their massive predicament
Survive , resiliently, on the rebound
A proud people, with culture and learning very sound
Mennonites coming to enjoy religious freedom and peace
Avoiding persecution for a life of ease
Providing furniture, low cost poultry and eggs
Reducing the cadre of many that beg
From India and China they were duped and brought
As indentured servants who were hastily sought
Later as merchants and shopkeepers they came
Voluntarily this time, which is not nearly the same
Backpackers and excursionists everywhere
In a world where they’re free to choose elsewhere
Not part of the earlier diaspora
But manifestations of a new plethora
I’m a hate by-product,
made in America
I’m a plantation commodity item,
blue-eye gem slave engraved
in red clay walls Ivory bank vaults
I was silver dross reject packaged:
Prison cargo bar code stamped
coming to America
There’s no doubt about it,
I was fashioned here
by the free-market profiteering traffickers
They sell liberty propaganda lies,
and economic caste division worldwide
Got global many-me, slave waging
in a brave, New technological World
Laboring on noisy climate change thin ice
The only question is:
For your bottled silence,
what is the collaborating price?
I’m a fear by-product,
manufactured in America
Whatever your racial animus preference is,
you can buy on-line, prime patriotic hysteria ...
for the gutter low cost of a figure 8 black ball
My street value is worth a late 911 call,
trigger transactions get no refund
for any tin badge mortal damage caused
A morgue resale
happens every crimson clover fourth fall
I’m an ethnic waste by-product,
iron-oar dumped in America
The Black Plague of chained anger came
when they cattle branded me
with a new name
Been living depressed in ghetto bliss
four centuries as auction clerical
Sitting on a factory warehouse shelf ...
waiting to be placed on a death inventory list,
by the merchants of flesh trafficking
Human property owners and gun lobbyists;
those bought and concealed,
in some dark lord’s pocket,
are semi-trailer trash, automatic fire revealed
by unfretful fetter-some me
I’m a ricochet, re-defined bullet mind,
made in America
Flung on an upward trajectory
Looks like dem old ugly chains
got a new modern face
Beauty upgrade ... high-end cosmetic tech;
low-cost dressed in labor modest,
minimum maintentance convenience
From da delta plain sugar cane fields,
to the glamorous Silicon Valley hills:
Ancient bigotry of blood biochemistry
required some thinking ahead
Remove dem outdated iron appendages
from da carbon-based legs
Loose dem fettered bodies from da plantation
That warm-hearted gesture
was prompted by the cold realization
of mechanized industrialization
Machines worked tirelessly better than humans,
with zero margin error for rebellion
From da poppy-white numb cotton field chores,
to the black-site, laboratory rat maze corridors:
Modern slavery has been plastic,
guinea pig perfected;
Darkly spirit heavy iron chains
got replaced by skin light bar codes,
and microscopic nanobyte pain
in the nether layers of the epidermal
From plantation to implantation ...
total body control to full mind control
Invisible chains is a better option
From forced emancipation to voluntary enslavement ...
necessity of convenience shackles the soul
Grateful servitude is a Dead adoption
Go sing illusory freedom, spiritual songs
in an unseen force-field:
Laser etched number scrip plantation
Eat, drink and be merry, ye bonded bones ...
harvest a bountiful yield
Give curses to the marked implantation —
corrupt binary code command subjugation
The Mephistophelean workplace
is a future-now,
internal space Gulag situation ...
an augmented field mule muzzled occupation
With plenty of open-air, coffin acerage:
rows and rows
of furrowed thought manipulation
Dem New Age lobotomy slaves
be toiling on a grave condition plantation,
whose dirt cellular
cubic dimensions are:
Six-by-six-by-six injected damnation
New Year's Resolution, 2017 (Light Humor)
For the longest time, it has been stated that we use only 10 percent of our brain.
Of course, the hold idea of brain usage is in dispute for a myriad of reasons.
So let us assume that it is not true that we use only 10 percent of our brain.
Let us also conclude with the idea that we utilize far less than is available to us.
Let us suppose that we use 30 percent and declare ourselves smarter than we think we are. With that in mind, I am throwing caution to the wind and saying,
“Look out world for my brain because in 2017, my resolution is to start running on all cylinders”. I hereby resolve to use the remaining 70 percent of my brain.
30 percent simply is not enough to make the necessary changes.
I hereby apologize for the portion of my brain that has been idle for years.
Just to think about so great a neglect is enough to bring me to tears.
Just imagine how such an achievement helps to free us of so much pain.
Who knows? Maybe I will be able to inspire a million others to do the same.
Just imagine all of the untapped potential just waiting and sitting there.
Just think for a minute and try wrapping your brain around that if you dare.
Perhaps we will learn how to build a beautiful new city at the bottom of the sea.
I can visualize a jumbo jet flight from the Eastern seaboard in New York City, sucking in enough solar energy to fly all the way to the City of San Francisco.
I tell you, with a fully utilized brain we could at very low cost make fresh drinking water from the salty sea. Unlike The Straw Man from The Wizard Oz,
I have a brain. Therefore, I shall resolve to use the other 70% of my brain. And who knows? Perhaps we can keep singing , “My Country, Tis of Thee”.
It is going to take more than brain power to save America and the world.
But fully using our God-given brains? How can it hurt?
12212016 PS Contest, New Years Resolution, Kim Rodrigues
(FYI:( There is no scientific evidence that we use only 10% of our brain. On the contrary, an article in Scientific America concludes by saying, Ultimately, it’s not that we use 10% of our brains, merely that we only understand about 10% of how it functions.)
In May, as we honor Our Blessed Mother Mary, Jesus’ first
and most important Apostle as Queen of Heaven and Earth, let us also focus on how to care for God’s creation. Everything in the worldbelongs to God, and our job is to care for it out of love for him and our neighbor. Try these easy and low-cost ways to care for God’s creation:
If you are interested in birds, put up a bird house in your yard
or neighborhood. More habitats disappear each year and birds have fewer places to nest
Limit the use of chemicals and pesticides in your yard. They
may be harmful to birds, wildlife, and pets
Wash laundry in cold water. You’ll cut energy bills and find
that most clothes are just clean.
When hiking or walking outdoors, stay on trails, keep dogs
on leashes and avoid sensitive natural areas especially during nesting season.
Dispose of oil and other toxic materials properly. One gallon
of oil poured down the sewer can contaminate one million gallons of fresh water.
Replace one incandescent light bulb each month with
energy-efficient compact fluorescent ones.
Reduce the amount of water your toilet uses during each flush
by placing a jar or other closed container full of water into your toilet tank.
Collect rainwater from gutters by placing containers at the
end of each gutter. Use it to water your garden or neighborhood landscaping.
Give thanks to God as the Creator at mass. Our worship of
Him will make us more aware of all God’s creation.
Walmart
I despise you
The flea on the dog
Aphid in the garden
Disease that turns into plague
Wasn't to pleased we did business with you
Was out of my control,
Had to watch the news
He comes in my room
Look of disgust on his face
Units being returned
Okay, no big deal
They never reached the shelves
Gamblers disadvantage seems unreal
You reported units sold
Numbers don't add up
Some underpaid worker
Wasn't properly trained on your scanner
It's seeing loved ones hurt
16 hours days,
Sorting through sheisty distributors
No first grade teacher telling you how to read a contract
It's brutal
It's full of life
So when someone really screws you over
You're lungs clench,
They bite
Hard to breathe
Hard to see
Wedding coming up,
Bills wont adjust
You've made it hard
Your business tactics
Make broke so abrupt
I try to keep my head high
Attitude optimistic
Trying to make a dent in the world
Hard when you're a role model for retailers
They'll be sure to follow suit
The real fear
Companies don't learn
Brick n Mortar stores will bump up churn
Because the leader of the pack
Decided to cut prices and help
High price of Low Cost,
Still cant fit my emotions into words.
Big picture,
Big release for us
Small in comparison to others
Can't imagine the look on big distributors face
When they got their numbers,
Want Walmart to burn in hell
Still wouldn't be even
Second Home by Rob Barratt
An escape from the rat race.
Life lived at a slower pace
An idyllic setting they won’t be letting
The cottage slumbers ,
Like the electricity meter numbers
It’s early March.
The house is dark
They’re in Marylebone
Or in Rome
It’s a second home
It’s a mothballed shell, residential hell
It’s a funeral bell, a death knell
For the low-paid locals whose response was vocal
(In the White Rose, before it closed)
But unrecordable
It wasn’t affordable
It’s an empty place, a waste of space
It hasn’t got a ‘phone.
It’s a second home
People recall that within the walls
Of this second pad, lived a Mum and Dad
With their family, on the settee
They watched Morcambe and Wise, and ate pork pies
In the blue TV light on a Saturday night
Life was pleasant in Woodland Crescent
But the parents are gone and the kids have grown.
Mustn’t moan.
It’s a second home
In the shop, the assistant mops a spillage
Cycles to a less fashionable village
And she saved for….how long was it? To get a deposit
On a studio flat, where you can’t swing a cat
And she silently groans and takes out loans
Despite her persistence, she’s just living an existence
She says, “Why me?” and wishes she
Could spend the days where she was raised
She wishes she could own
That second home
If they want a holiday by the sea
Why don’t they try a B&B?
Life is tough. Isn’t one place enough?
And don’t try to build low cost housing
‘Cos you’ll be arousing
The anger of every second home owner
Who’ll fly in from Barcelona, or Gerona or bloody Pamplona
To claim they represent the residents
A majority of decadents.
Don’t want to set a precedent
They want a postcard picture,
A chocolate box fixture
In water-colour paint.
Want to keep it quaint
Maintain its reputation
Don’t worry about inflation
Or minimum wage degradation
Sod the working population
Mustn’t lower the tone ………..
It’s a second home
Thin, hand tossed, or pan.
Pepperoni pizza?
Join me if you can.
Dine-in, buffet, or on the run,
pizza for lunch is so much fun.
Taco pizza will hit the spot.
This pizza kitchen sure is hot!
Yes, dessert pizza made just right.
Chocolate chip pizza is such a delight.
Extra meat and light on the sauce.
Join me for pizza at a low cost.
On a diet?
That's okay.
Veggie pizza fixed your way.
Some like it hot and some like it cold,
but I like mine spicy and bold.
Order to go or dine with grace.
Join me at the pizza place.
This must be Hell
Myanmar a place far away
Where the men in charge
Executed the ex-Pm and
Several other ex-men
I read this and found it disturbing.
How easy it is to sign a death warrant,
Dispose of the rubbish,
Destroy families with the stroke of pen.
How cheap is life?
Yet no sleep is lost.
A sigh of relief
At such a low cost
A shallow grave
Without the formality
But a name that might
Gain immortality.
Wipe your enemies
From the face of the earth
Rape a few women
And watch them give birth
Wonderful world
Deadly smell
There must be a heaven
Because this must be Hell.
David Cox 26/07/22
Second Home by Rob Barratt
An escape from the rat race.
Life lived at a slower pace
An idyllic setting they won’t be letting
The cottage slumbers ,
Like the electricity meter numbers
It’s early March.
The house is dark
They’re in Marylebone
Or in Rome
It’s a second home
It’s a mothballed shell, residential hell
It’s a funeral bell, a death knell
For the low-paid locals whose response was vocal
(In the White Rose, before it closed)
But unrecordable
It wasn’t affordable
It’s an empty place, a waste of space
It hasn’t got a ‘phone.
It’s a second home
People recall that within the walls
Of this second pad, lived a Mum and Dad
With their family, on the settee
They watched Morcambe and Wise, and ate pork pies
In the blue TV light on a Saturday night
Life was pleasant in Woodland Crescent
Opening presents, chasing pheasants ……
But the parents are gone and the kids have grown.
Mustn’t moan.
It’s a second home
In the shop, the assistant mops a spillage
Cycles to a less fashionable village
And she saved for….how long was it?
To get a deposit on a flat like a closet
And she silently groans and takes out loans
Despite her persistence, she’s just living an existence
She says, “Why me?”
And wishes she
Could spend the days
In the house where she was raised
Life is tough. Isn’t one place enough?
She wishes she could own
That second home
If they want a holiday by the sea
Why don’t they try a B&B?
And don’t try to build low cost housing
‘Cos you’ll be arousing
The anger of each second home owner
Who’ll fly in from Barcelona, or Girona or bloody Pamplona
To claim they represent the residents
A majority of decadents.
Don’t want to set a precedent
They want a postcard picture,
A chocolate box fixture
In water-colour paint.
Want to keep it quaint
Maintain its reputation
Don’t worry about inflation
Or minimum wage degradation
Sod the working population
Mustn’t lower the tone ………..
It’s a second home
my wallet’s tounge getting longer and longer
credit cards’promos pumping stronger
flat tv, i-pad, santa trimmings at low cost
really now, my unpaid dues on zero defrost
egad, i’ll be jailed being a triple goner
the dark side tempts me—a real shopaholic
will win the lotto and forget being catastrophic
can’t wait to blow left-over greens
christmas ads ringing pied piper dreams
buy, buy, buy utterly catatonic
dashing like a mad woman i daringly arrive
snooping at branded goodies my eyes crazed overdrive
surprised by a chipped baby- on-a- manger sale
reminding me my sweet spirit has gone pale
went to bed tucking christ babe, so glad i’m richly alive!
(for PD's HOLIDAY POEM contest)
by: nette)
If time were to suddenly stop, would you look around?
Glance and catch the earth’s hospitality,
Look, no truly look! Just to see what keeps us on this ground,
It’s something we humans like to call the planet’s gravity!
Something to keep us grounded since we tend to stray.
If only for a night you have been hopelessly tossed
Trapped in a cage made of your own self-fear.
Before long all joy will seem to have been lost,
When all my colors have faded to shades of grey,
The light’s sweet embrace reminds me to rest for the day,
Only then faith can make your joy reappear.
If time were truly to stop well such a thing is just too profound,
It would take a lifetime to learn something like this at an academy,
The defining silence that follows the roar of sound,
Grasping the complexity of the situation is quite simple actually,
To stop for a day now that something for which I would pay,
Living your life at the bottom low cost,
Free to choose your own career,
To be free to dance in the sun’s warm ray,
Sunbeams unknown melt away your frost,
It’s a change that you have not before crossed,
All of a sudden you see everything clear.
For a moment if time had stopped would it have made you happy or felt like being drowned,
If the earth wished to stop and have you look at her would you criticize her fantasy,
Would you have only looked at Mother Nature and frowned?
Are you inclined to chastise her about her own self-vanity?
With a heavy weight to carry and given no leeway,
Like a wander misplaced in the forest,
A time for change draws near,
We’re reminded that there will eventually be a price to repay,
For crossing nature leaves most in exhaust,
It’s a fact of the matter most seemed to have glossed.
It’s time to remind them who will bring in a new year,