Best Manuals Poems
Although we're getting on a bit, we're not ashamed to say
that me and my good lady, well, we get it every day.
We try different positions when we're both upstairs in bed
if we're not lying down you'll find us writhing round instead.
There's tubes of stuff in drawers next to us on the bedside table
and manuals that we've bought (oh, plus the internet, when we're able).
When needs arise we get it, boy, we get it while it's hot,
it comes from out of nowhere and we're upstairs like a shot.
The word is out, and local swinging groups call to invite us
but then find what we are on about is rheumatoid arthritis!
Why do mechanics need manuals when they’ve fixed it before?
Answer my question or I’ll walk out the door!
Didn’t they attend trade schools or get OJT?
Why need repair manuals? That what gets me.
I just want a mechanic who won’t refer to a book.
Just fix my car already, don’t give it a second look!
Why do pilots run checklists and reference their charts?
Just push the dang button and hope the plane starts!
Didn’t they go to flight school and pass all the tests?
Pilots fly most days, so who needs all the mess?
I want a pilot who knows without referencing a chart.
Just get on with the flying and prove that you’re smart!
What about the doctors who are practicing still?
Why can’t they get it right? And that includes the bill!
They’re always researching new studies in journals
When time’s better spent attending patients’ internals.
I just want a Marcus Welby, Ben Casey or Kildare
Instead of keeping up to date, I just want them to care.
Why do lawyers review case studies and legal decisions?
Such antics in my book leave them open to derision.
All that studying in law school should have been more than enough.
After passing the bar they should already know their stuff.
I just want an attorney who’s a know-it-all ace,
Not a book worm mouthpiece to plead my case.
Finally, the poets, being wordsmiths their art
You won’t see them referencing a checklist or chart
But look, in their hands, just what can that be?
A dictionary? Thesaurus? Are those what I see?
A real poet never needs help reading Shakespeare or Keats
Using Webster and Roget would make all of us cheats!
If a poet is real, the words should just flow
I think that all poets should automatically know
The right words to use, and literary crutches forgo
How dare they try better vocabulary to hone
They should come up with good things to say on their own.
I’m looking for poets who’ll just know what to say
Like Lewis Carroll’s poems in his heyday:
“Twas brillig, and the slithy toves, Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogroves, And the mome raths outgrabe.”
Don’t bother looking up his words, for that would be a dumb thing.
Using a dictionary or thesaurus, you might actually learn something!
There are always those who say that you are wrong.
They are the ones who never stray from the herd.
They go to school and learn everything about life from manuals.
They write poems and stories like other poets and writers did.
They get good grades.
They stay out of trouble, but engage in acceptable rowdiness and fun.
They write and give great graduation speeches.
They become middle-managers, mostly.
They fold their socks and underwear.
They stay abreast of the latest trends and movies.
They quote famous quotes like they thought them up.
They attempt to belittle, passive-aggressively, anything out of orthodox thought.
They live their lives like lambs.
They buy big, beautiful things.
They wear shiny wedding-rings.
They drive down drowsy streets.
They form committees.
They bake things shaped like commercials.
They invent rules for writing and art.
And
I
Don't
Follow
Them.
My favorite dream,
Not so ordinary, I guess,
Not sex, wealth, fame,love...
Not seeing long missing ones,
Not vengence, not pride,
Just simply bona fide,
Getting my hands,
On a grand cathedral
pipe organ
I've had this dream often,
Give me 5 or 6 manuals (keyboards),
Leave me some snack food,
And leave, shut the door,
And I will explore the music
I so adore.....
I'll sleep on a pew,
If it's all the same to you,
But 90% of my time
Will be at that console,
Improvising till in the bench,
I will wear through a hole,
Don't need no frigg'en audience,
Don't need no recording device,
Just let me play on
And to my own joy, let it suffice
The mighty roar of pipes,
Fill the universe,
It will be glorious,
And not a curse...
Oh, what ecstacy!!
Can you just see me?!?!
I just hope, with all those keyboards,
I have both in the same key!!
Time to look
Look closely
at the backward
forward thinking me
Consumed
by my own consumption
Hybrid driving wanabe
Thinking I'm thinking of others
when it's all about me
Big house
with some solar panels
Seventy two inch plazma TV
with over Two Hundred Channels
All the latest gadgets and owners manuals
On earth day I feel good
because I light some candles
Sure I recycle
trying my best
Yet in the end I don't consume any less
Attracted to labels
I like my "Three Leaves" and "Guess"
I have the right lingo
and know how to dress
You'll see me riding my bike
just about every where I go
Five grand of carbon fibre
all part of the show
I expound on the enviroment
so you will know what I know
I talk about gardening but I don't own a hoe
It's all about the illusion
I like the idea of green
drinking ethical coffee at the bean scene
I like the attention
all the conversations
I use inuendo and insinuations
Yet travel on a big
fuel guzzling plane
to fabulous
soon to be spoiled
destinations!
Outside a quaint town in fair Vermont,
by my family’s vacation home,
is a small field with fences and sign,
in the warm month’s it’s a place to go.
They have a flea market on weekends,
rows of tents pitched under mountains green,
for most people it is just old junk,
but it is fascinating to me.
There’s a tent that’s selling goat-milk soap,
I did not know that that was a thing,
the man behind it smells of hippie,
but not too much, since he’s still selling.
Next to him are magazines that
were new back in my grandfather's time,
postcards from before the depression,
so many that it boggles my mind.
Across from that, old iron housewares
from a century that is long past,
rough-hewn evoke memories
of a wholesome time that couldn’t last.
Besides that place, hand-turned wooden bowls,
from a shop the next county over,
their pretty, yes, with natural lines,
but at that price, I will say, “No sir!”
Then there’s the tent with all the old books,
dangerous place for men like myself,
it’s foretold I’ll pick up old novels,
but which ones? I can never foretell.
A guy is selling old comics books,
another is hawking baseball cards,
gaudy women’s clothes are over there,
near cheap tools and pieces of old cars.
There’s the guy with army-navy stuff,
yellowed manuals from World War II,
and more knives than you could ever need,
yet I still walk away with a few.
Of course there is the hot dog vendor,
with cheap prices you don’t find these days,
then a tent with essential oils,
I just roll my eyes and stay away.
Buy cheap bandanas for the nephews,
little guys will think that they’re so neat,
the I meander back to my car,
let the wheels take the stress off my feet.
Children will generally meet your expectations
Especially when they feel loved and accepted,
When feelings are factored into many situations
When with their parents they feel connected.
They certainly deserve a cogent explanation,
Without anger and threats being interjected,
As to why their parents expect a cessation
Of the type of unacceptable behavior detected.
written June 28, 2021
The Following Instructions and Detailed Manuals are Available On Planet Earth
Just add Humans.. and mix it up a bit.
Include
Religions
Famines
Climate Change
Pollution
Pandemics
and Excesses
Politics
and World Wars
Abuse the Nature
And some more
Flora and Fauna
Kill them off
Then you should come out on top
Think of yourself and not others
Especially any mothers
Don't worry about the dying
Just keep on denying
And then make sure that whatever you did
Never contributed to any of this
As far as it can be said
You were any part of it
That's how you kill a World
DAMO
As adults we walk around the streets and parks
with a face saying “I know where I’m going,”
“I know what I’m doing”.
Timetables, manuals, diaries, and journals somehow
find themselves in our pockets,
as form of reassurance for “I know what I’m doing” slogan.
Other times we show a blank expression on our faces,
when the weather forecasters go all wrong;
when life savings end up in a pyramid scheme;
when heroine dosage goes out of control;
when we blame the stars for a breakup…….
Uncertainty breaks apart our certainty……
Poet name: Teddy Kimathi
Date of entry: 12/10/2015
For the contest: Creative Layouts
Sponsor: Broken Wings
The Accoutrements of Knowledge
The accoutrements of knowledge
had crept into his life, overtaking it.
No more did he sit and think,
idly allowing nuance to shade gray
the black and white of learning’s
playful inconsistencies. Old books,
manuals, manuscripts, texts,
subscribed to journals, cluttered
his encroaching space. Old thoughts,
ideas, dreams, brainstorms and brain-farts,
waited – holding numbers – lost in
the labyrinth of slumbering genius.
The need to learn, the drive to succeed,
had seduced him, lured him into the
netherworld of concrete minds,
set in their ways, confident of
their credos. This hell of blindly
accepted dictates emanating from
a “think” tank, this babbling of banal
benediction, this forced worship
of the mindless by the thoughtless
had dimmed the beauty of the sunrise,
muted the music of the spheres,
closed the eyes of the seekers,
pulling the wool of doubt over them.
So he left the trappings of the pedagogues,
fled the archways of academia,
sought a clear and simple thought -
An endeavor not unlike the search
for an honest man. His goal was not
to think but to experience thought,
not to memorize the dance steps
but to experience dancing.
They said that he had “burnt out”,
lost his focus, succumbed to the stress.
Now free of the encumbrance of the
accoutrements of knowledge, he was
free again to seek, to follow, to be
conscious of the sound of his heartbeat,
the rhythmic surge of his pulse,
the shimmering glow of a dappled sunrise.
He would learn from all about him,
study the art of the mud daubers,
the construction of the beavers,
listen to the songs of the lark and sparrow,
answer the call of the coyotes,
taste the bliss of the bee hive honey.
He learned – no books can teach you
the scent of dew damp grass at dawn,
nor recreate the harrumphing solo
of the lead bullfrog. Nor could they
explain how the dragonflies dance
varies from the butterflies ballet.
And so he thought. How and why
had he constructed a barrier of
knowledge that frustrated his
search for anything else?
1/24/2015
submitted to – Any Poem Written in the Year 2015
sponsor – Laura Loo
Tuaoi stone air traffic controller
There is nothing new under the earth,
Or even under the water.
Glowing green fog landing crew,
Tuaoi stone, auto, aero, sings and moans,
The automatic, powered sorter,
20,000 years ago, during the ice age slaughter,
the poles did shift, Atlantis slipped,
under Atlantic waters,
{green grass in the frozen Mammoths}
{animals and whales flogged into caves}
a seer he spoke, from the stone, awoke,
“get to high ground” came the order,
“go to Egypt or Yucutan by boat,
or death will take your daughter!”
Tuaoi stone hums generates, alone,
Prismatic colours long and shorter,
Used for controlling aircraft drones, {Valixi}
Landing fields now under water
The tractor fog of green, magog,
Just one colour used of many,
The white light sheen, of the stone unseen,
Controls the path of any!!!
So venture not down Bermuda’s slot,
Ole stone is still on duty,
Do have a care, or you can share,
The underwater beauty,
Or bloody not :}-
Don Johnson
Two super powers then…
Valixi = Alantean Aircraft 20,000 bc
Vimana = Indian Aircraft mercury fueled 20,000 bc
The Indians even wrote of the repair manuals….
--Evil starts as germinated seeds,
noxious weeds of social infestation,
spreading and suffocating human diversity,
pushing all freedoms into extinction,
the loss of Liberty's creed,,
--Men-Women birth their offspring,
but raised by the State,
alienated offspring grow into bastards,
by design to this fate,
no-longer is Family an understanding,,
--Started in guise of education,
parasitic propaganda by subliminal indoctrination,
targeting children of all ages,
instructing apart from parental objections,
future groupthink masses of inclusion,,
--Religion, History, Novel books outlawed,
that promote ideas of Independence,
instructional manuals that's only allowed,
through State approved media correspondence,
making State approved "truths" unflawed,,
--The masses become Independent-less adults,
in a One World State,
populations regulated, mandated birth controls,
but elitists can freely consummate,
elitist offspring perpetuates State results,,
--The State espouses universal equality,
a mandate against humanity's will,
a law silencing humanity's opinions,
or voicing your opinions from jail,
the State sees as insanity,,
--Humanity becomes living taxed products,
feeding the machines of State,
their worth is what's produced,
fearing for failing to compensate,
you're redistributed, if you obstruct,,
--Populations are kept under intoxication,
by the State approved vice(s),
the willing are comfortably numb,
happiness of suffrage the price,
humanity's compliance made through addiction,,
--Outlawed are self-governed rights,
by State tyranny without impunity,
your lives owned until death,
because you are State property,
all controlled by elitist might,,
--Physical privacy regarded as hate,
pedo-molestation considered universally normal,
it matters not your sexuality,
to all ages so formal,
criminal when reject this fate,,
--Evil that's made a right,
guilt is replaced with ethics,
fundamental good is considered evil,
by the State centered civics,
moral evil in everyone's sight,,
--This is a living nightmare,
that insidiously penetrates humanity's soul,
a world never knowing Hope,
or escaping something this cruel,
the State of Evil despair,,
--Freedom, Liberty and self-governance,
does this sound that bad?,-
it's better than being property,
by a State grown Mad,
or take a standing chance.
I found my love in granules,
In father of manuals,
On 13th of annual,
In teacher of Samuel.
I am drunk, still awake to drink his elixir of love.
I pass out, and return to life like flying dove.
In his literature, I am the best of the buff.
In lonely cold nights, I escape with his love as ****.
Kill my activity,
Stole my creativity,
Bury my selectivity,
Stop my festivity,
Even vanish my identity,
In your worst nightmares.
I will be peeping and cheeping “ALI”
When the first person sat,
Then another came to bat,
Third the mischievous rat.
Then he came,
The brother of personality,
The origin of principality,
The epitome of functionality,
Having 11 as plurality,
The servant of immortality.
Come do repeat Mesum,
I am obsessed with his rum,
Cut my tongue or make me dumb,
Till my last breath I will not succumb.
Suicide is against the law,
Come and kill me and make me saw.
My Goal, My Destiny, My Station “ALI”
My Insanity leads me to getting called mad,
I am overwhelmed instead of being pale and sad,
I am supreme, having him as my master and lad,
My treasure of heart is out of your capacity to add.
He is not God, I believe in his Lord,
He is Creator’s Instrument 2nd Chord,
He is almighty’s best accord,
Beware of the double-edged sword.
Oh Superior of the men,
Oh host of the then,
Oh authority of the when,
Oh pen of the pen.
If I see anyone from first to fourteenth,
I will say “ALI”
-Daniel Rizvi
The way less traveled I would like to choose
The beaten path offers no challenges indeed
Steer my way with brain in head, feet in shoes
There are no self- help manuals, no formulas
The right for one may be another’s wrong road
The way less traveled I would like to choose
There are no easy answers, and no road signs
It is a rocky path going through raveled end
Steer my way with brain in head, feet in shoes
There is a winding road that never ends
Full of curves lessons learnt at every end
The way less traveled I would like to choose
Maybe on one will look at my life’s success
I know may be the weeds grow up behind
Steer my way with brain in head, feet in shoes
On beaten way the individuality one may lose
I believe I am doing something worthy deed
The way less traveled I would like to choose
Steer my way with brain in head, feet in shoes
Dr. Ram Mehta
===================================
Sixth place win
Contest:" the way less traveled" In Honor The Rambling Poet
With great power comes Greater responsibility they say
But aren't all human created with such power ?
Power of the mind, instilled in our spirit ,fruit of our soul
We speak, dwell and sip from the abundance of our hearts
Ain't we suppose to drink responsibly ..¿
Been responsible enough to lay out the juicy juice of our in-depth mind
Execution of those shouldn't be inept
Manuals encrypted
7/9/2017