Best Meanly Poems
This poem was a forest fire; it burned me up as I read it
I was supposedly the writer.
But was I?
Voices inside me are laughing, taking credit, kicking me to the curb.
My next poem is a blizzard.
She whirls me into a whiteness.
This turns into marshmallow crème.
I am quiet for a second,
Landing in a drift, head first, but there is no coolness.
Snow without coldness is not a poem at all.
It’s a fake poem like fake news.
I believe it best to give up now.
Maybe I am no poet at all but a prancing pony
Two steeds prance up. Dragging Cinderella’s coach.
Do not use Cinderella! My muse says meanly.
I stick out my tongue.
Cinderella, Cinderella, Cinderella.
I am easily distracted when imagination is giving me instruction.
How my raw heart raved
At the news of your departure
For them that can read
The sands of a forlorn heart
Will the rains ever come again
And hover my lover back to me?
I groped for the blind guide
Swore to fence his inner sight
To eternally end his thieving me
Of the only pearl
That my heart longs to keep:
That my eyes long to behold!
I cried on my mother’s lap
‘Let me be; I must have her
I must fly after her!’
Was all that forsoothing
No more than just a hoodwink-
A coquette’s meanly premium?
These torrid passions
Of a lonely heart
Have torn an unforgettable path
Thru’ the hows, whys and wherefores
Of a gallant search
For something to treasure!
Were I a prince, a poet or even a pauper
I would lead a chaste life
I would attend to my calling
Forget all the wicked nightmares
And attune to a life of celibacy and negritude
I would forfeit the worldly harvest!
You who travel to her nooks and corners
Will you tell me what’s behind the horizon?
What clouds hide me from her skyline?
Is there another star under God’s heaven
That shines brighter in her heart1
Tell me- my vigilant sensibilities.
All we eat is elk meat, boiled elk, roasted elk, elk jerky
sometimes fried elk if we get bear or whale oil,
oh, and sometimes elk soup,
for four months we've subsisted exclusively on elk
except for occassional dog meat, candlefish or duck,
the elk have become our saviors, and our culinary suffering,
yet it keeps us nourished like some kind of ape predators,
Clark has officially named the massive boulder at the front of the bay
Cape Disappointment on account that its now March 1806
and since November no one has spotted a merchant vessel
nor has any trading post been discovered along the coast in either direction,
frankly its astounding, has the world done gone forgotten that the Columbia exists,
everyone is gettin uppidy as bull frogs
and we've had enough rainy hours here to last ten lifetimes,
to hell with the sailors, we've gotta race to finish
and we ain't gonna get beat by a disappointment or by a sinister suprise,
Load'em up!...
Since coming out of the Rocky Mountains
like a migrating pack of wolves pursuing the scent of a bloodied den
I've been spending more time away from the river's rigors
providing fresh meats for the mission that we leave hanging along designated banks,
for the first time I feel liberated from the fear of failure
winter can no longer hurts us,
the great mysteries of the continental crossing have been revealed
through their savagery and splendor
the tribes have been touched with a new spirit of survival
animals ferocious and exotic have been tasted and classified
we have learned what these landscapes can lend to farming legions,
the mountains no longer menace us, we know how to travel their pain,
as my horse feeds on the grass of unowned soil
I reflect on my moments of intemperance with the natives
when I thrashed a Chinook thief into bleeding shame,
the order I gave to burn their village to silent ash when my dog and saddle were stolen
fortunately that was not necessary because I got them back,
the time I was meanly mocked by a Nez Perce Indian for eating dog meat
and threatened to split his skull with my tomahawk if he ever insulted me again,
J.A.B.
Disappointment /// Disillusioned
If only it could be known ?, if it be told
why my youngest Child, becomes meanly bold.
If only the truth be seen, the tale would unfold.
Regardless – she in my heart – I will always hold
even if – to these devils – her soul, she has sold.
My little world has come tumbling down,
uncertainty, heartache, fear for all around.
My life, no longer planted firmly on the ground.
Insignificant ?, I feel !, – not a ripple, not a wave
as I – carelessly thrown into the fray of a deep blue sea –
await my fate in the gloom and doom of impending eternity
as my youngest Daughter, prepares me for the grave.
This Beautiful Child, - goes ugly at times – Mel, Melanie,
seems determined - hell bent and hell bound to destroy me
by any means – one way or by any other
acting like – becoming so much like her mother,
following in the foot steps- wearing the boots of her sister,
Mandy, who can be a child without feelings, nothing to register
a sign, a belief in – there seems to be nothing to family ties.
It seems to be ?, all I feel from her, see with these old eyes
and have to wonder ?, has it died ?, all gone dry ?
Is my life ?, are my Friends, my Family – lost – reason to cry,
cry !!!, as all seems to have been going down the road, toward dust.
Do I accept ?, live without ?, I guess, move on I must,
as, upon this old metal – my life – things begin to rust,
become the poisons eating away
at what is left – taking me to that end day.
All that is left for me to do ?, it seems, is pray !!!
In my heart, in my mind, my memory, they will always stay
even if ?, in the physical, in the spiritual, my Girls are gone,
doing the things they must and continuing to move on
towards a world of bigger ( I pray ) and better things.
Things taking them beyond their mother / me, what life brings
to them, that has tortured, haunted and torn them apart,
allowing them a better future – then their past – and a new start
and hopes – from me – that all the negativity will depart.
Love
Dad
B. J. “A ” 2
June 3rd 2004
Make haste to befriend the toro meanly reared away from spectator prying eyes
by dread alone the bull is nurtured and prodded to terrify
and when at last the ranchero’s silhouette appears in the arena it charges
Wake! India! Wake!
There are no greater mysteries than those your scientists can unravel
the only mysteries that persist are those drummed by priests into your brains
even a helpless Stephen Hawking can pierce the Aryan mystery by silent reflection
Wake! India! Wake!
Let those who seek power in the polls seek it for their own sakes
sooner or later sooner than later they too will pass away
their power gnawing at their bones will feed the etherising flames of their pyres
Wake! India! Wake!
Let those who seek to challenge their power challenge it for their own sakes
they too will rot in the chains they have willingly chained themselves in
for they too seek power for the sake of power and for theirs and their own comfort
Wake! India! Wake!
And let them all pass over you you who have borne in quiet pain
mauling under the pretext of mournful migrations and the Mughal might
Mohenjodaro and Harrappa notwithstanding Vijayanagar and Kaveripumpattinam
Wake! India! Wake!
Do not for a moment think your sons have deserted you
nor your daughters gone to spawn with other spouses under other suns
your needs are their needs your tears their blood coursing in their veins
Wake! India! Wake!
If you had woken up earlier to tend to your shores to tend to the marauders at the border
letting only the lone Kshatriya exert his martial art abused by fine courtly comfort
you would not now wonder how a Rajput court at Mewar drove Akbar to such lengths
Wake! India! Wake!
(Continued in Part One - 10)
I'm waching the clock its screaming tick tock 3 o'clock with homework not done im already gone out of this world with one ood friend she helps me out she calls me chout once again im dreaming in bed but ill alawys have that dream in my head i wake up to see my mom meanly glaring as i start blankly staring and staring as i keep staring wondering whats happening i got to school to see my teacher glaring i open my eyes gust anough to see my friend is failing once again its just a dream thank the lord now im really awake eating my stake doing my work watching my mom weirdly lurk i ask her why she doesnt reply oh well time for school but wait its saturday so i go back to sleep i awake and start to weep i start to weep beause i cant get back to sleep
I am a dreamer but I don’t dream big
I am even stuck in one of my very ancient dreams
It was a dream that became torturous
Dragons stomping on all the rainbow colors
Seraphim dying in trembling masses
A big hand, meanly sweeping all their ashes
I still can’t let go off my dream
Mourning by the grave of what was once my everything
The Autumn breeze is lashing fragrance of your old cologne
Even the wind blowing in branches reminds me of your slogan
You were kind and gentle to me
My hidden half or even my charming prince
You knew every cell, every thought or sighs
Nothing I could ever keep from your soul piercing eyes
Your hands always kept me warm in the midst of deceit
The charm you possessed, fared to sweep my soul off the feet
What happened to the smiles you shone to the world?
Those so many stars you kept in your mesmerizing word?
Hell broke down on my dream
Weeds started growing on flower concealed hills
I searched but you had vanished into the thin air
My hands are still lingering in the empty space of despair
I am a dreamer but I don’t dream big
Not after what I went through in my last dream
It was a dream that became torturous
Dragons stomping on all the rainbow colors
Frowns, slashes, inhumane scold
Why can’t I let go off my dream so cold?
I am a dreamer but I don’t dream big
Not after what I went through in my last dream
Villanelle : The lesson cannot just be one life’s lost
for Trayvon Martin’s parents
The lesson cannot just be one life’s lost
When all around daily thousands are crushed
Small lives remind us of big causes most
Who followed whom and for what purpose just
The enigma’s always formed well-brushed
The lesson cannot just be one life’s lost
Generations march step by step foremost
To repeal Tyrant Laws meanly enmeshed
Small lives remind us of big causes most
Is there such a thing as a real black ghost
Would it have in its hands a black head dashed
The lesson cannot just be one life’s lost
Would those who cling most to this world make boast
That the next honour their desires cherished
Small lives remind us of big causes most
Can our lives mean as much as those lost
In great battles of the minds Space unleashed
The lesson cannot just be one life’s lost
Small lives remind us of big causes most
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
It is in heaven I shall live forever
the earth is my floor
and the sky is my canopy
it sends the rains to make rivers
to water me and grow me plants
for a simple sustenance
and for me a bountiful food
I do not meanly the falsehood
and concealing the truth
I do not create mischief
and trouble in my homeland
I am created from nothing
and nothing is me
and that me is secret to itself
A secret that Allah kept to discover
where I shall believe is true
nothingness is only seen from nothing
that nothing exists to prove I am nothing
that nothingness exists
in my existence it is indeed nothing
I do exist as nothing.
As I shall always need to believe
that my life would be restored
it is upon my life’s death
that Allah will teach me what I do not know
He will teach me who knows nothing
that nothing is indeed me
and without Him I really mean nothing!
UCA, Kota Kinabalu,
Sabah
29 June 2014
1st Ramadan 1435
She exudes the struggle of acquiring autonomy from her “faux mother” charmingly characterized. dramatized, and energized by Jamie Lee Curtis. The ladder reputable, suitable and quantifiable role as Doctor Tess Coleman transfixed at the larger than life superb therapist.
Despite the countless unflattering run ins with the law (sans, the emotional travails regularly broadcast afflicting the particularly mid/late twenty year old Lindsay Lohan), this chap can empathize, realize and sympathize mental health issues.
A substantial proportion of thine lviii birthdays counted from this anonymous fellow experienced profound anxiety, obsessive compulsive disorder, panic attacks, and as an added bonus schizoid personality disorder.
Thus, as the media hounds ferociously, meanly and vicious tore into the private antics of a starlet supposedly plagued with mailer daemons, I lamented the constant besiegement of popular culture craze to glean scads of disheartening, demeaning and daring to lambaste (who I presume to be) an exceptionally beautiful, justifiably gainful, and opportunistically lustful questing toward worthwhile peacefulness, stillness and to remain anonymous amidst the madding crowd.
No ulterior motive incites this astute, destitute, and glute (joyful my poop site works) tea us Maximus (palm pilot size) chap to cast his commendations in regard to one personality who found a figurative soft spot within the bosom of this beastie boy.
The Devil Made Me Do It
He sits upon my shoulder
whispering awful things
and I dare not repeat
the nasty songs he sings.
He claims he is not evil
it’s was all just bad PR
that caused his fall from favor
when he was a rising star.
His days are long and scary
as he wanders Hades halls
with his ever present “hell” phone
but no one returns his calls.
He hisses to me meanly
of the things that might have been
if he hadn’t introduced her
to the origin of sin.
So now he rides my shoulder
not much smarter, only older,
claims he’s neither bad nor good
just a bit misunderstood.
1/21/2013
submitted to – Any poem you ever wrote NOT for a contest
sponsor – Broken Wings
Aw sweet Angel, it's you that I seek
all alone jotting up winds so bleak,
for so many hearts I have perversed.
You; another to wield my meanly little curse.
I am the Queen of manifest clay,
Craft my horns despite the pill's delay,
Sleep child, the veil's open on a pagan's feast
such beauty on your heart fully creased.
We'll fly with crows and ravens! Then Daemons
without reasons; a joyless flight throughout the seasons.
A journey, a dream thought to be Babel
another crimson palm succumbs to this fable...
Acheron, Marionette of Seethe
Why have this Daemon gnaw in me?
"Help... is... agony..."
Her crippled hand
tightens this noose
songs whispered from serpent truths
another mind went bland...
Crushed the soul like a rock wild desperation
Cursed lack of prospects kills my inspiration
My life is suddenly lost in a black hole
And my joy disappeared there meanly whole
My microcosm is dying - I'll explode like a bombshell
In splendid isolation I go viciously to hell.
A girl with so many sorrows
yet she is happy in this mean world.
No one sees her tears
Or is it that they can't see?
They are hidden behind
her beautiful eyes,
which deceives them and,
make them think
she is the one they are looking for.
No one, I mean no one,
sees her golden tears
they are after the gold,
and don’t even bother about her tear.
They actually have nothing to do with her,
its her innocence which
they use meanly to the fullest.
I challenge the world they are blind.
Yes I am sure to say,
They are completely blind
Because, its not the outer body we see
It's the inner soul that should be pure.
Yes I am still sure,
the pure soul can make us cheer
not the physical body gives us pleasure.
I challenge the whole world,
they show me if anyone is really happy.
Yes I mean it, Real happiness,
lies not behind the physical body
but the soul.
The body, it's hated even if there's a single hole,
but as for the soul,
nothing, I mean nothing,
can create hatred
if you are really pure..
if you are really pure….
It's a big pile of crap
When your talking all your smack
About the way others live
Here's some advice I will give
I would rather be a prude
Than loud, obnoxious and rude
Making others always think
They are no good and just stink
Is it really fun for you
Making others sad and blue
Just so you can entertain
Yourself causing others pain
For no reason other than
You will never understand
The hurt you are bringing others
This harsh cruelty always smothers
Happiness and joy inside
Everyone that you have tried
To break with your words of stone
Never leaving them alone
There's new victims every day
That you always find and slay
Trails of spirits you've broken
Are lined up like shattered tokens
That you step on once again
Your reign of terror never ends
Until everyone you burn
Will just snap and meanly turn
On you with hostile emotions
That cause quite a huge commotion
Knocking that chip off your shoulder
As this crowd is getting bolder
With each curse that's being said
That is filling up your head
And punches are being thrown
While the pains making you groan
Realizing you were wrong
Bullying for far too long
The crowd finally finishes
Your brutality diminishes
Slowly more and more you reach
Deep inside until you teach
Yourself how to be polite
Now you are such a delight
Too bad it took more violence
To complete an end to this
That needed to stop before
The hatred down in your core
Took control and escalated
You never anticipated
All these years of acting out
Would make you turn all around
When you got a big taste of
Hate and anger with no love