Best Megaphones Poems
The eyes behind a head inclined reflect a universe
Of shanty towns and kings in crowns and parties in a hearse,
Of heaping mounds of coffee grounds and pennies in a purse,
Of heart attacks in shoddy shacks, of motion in reverse,
Of reasons why pale kids must die, quite trite and curtly terse,
Of puppet people at the steeple, kneeling down averse,
Of tinkle tones and megaphones with empty words and worse,
Of life’s begin’ in utter sin and other things perverse,
Of lewd taboos and residues contained within the Curse,
While poets blind, in gallows’ rind, carve epitaphs in verse.
Summer love, a man, a woman, conception, a new born
Ring the bells, amplify megaphones, bugle the cow horn
The ceremony begins, baptism, cries, holy water
From two one, family, father, mother, son or daughter
A priests blessings, proud grandparents, proud parents, birth anew
Hospital papers, a birth certificate, much to do
Tears from parents, tears from baby, tears from all, tears of joy
Breast fed, nipples, milking mothers, changing diapers, oh boy
A songbird sings, rock-a-bye-baby, lullaby's at large
Aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, sitters take charge
A pacifier, a cradle, corners of stuffed toys
Hanging crib toys, singing toys, jingling bells, rattling noise
A new generation, of life, all this, in summer love
A woman, man, baby, a family, from god above
I want to live in a world
Where people with substance abuse problems
can walk hand in hand with a community of friends
Because addictions as we know it is harder to fight through then it was for frodo in the Lord
of the rings
I want to live in a world where
Poverty and homelessness is in our realm of political focal lens
Because the way I see it
Poets are street reporters
and Misery is the sheets that blankets
the poor.
Our pens are our megaphones
Social Injustices have continually been silenced
The news focuses on Angelina's Newest Babies
Or whether Tiger woods was guilty of infedility
and My god..... How distracted we become like
horses with side blinders
so mindlessly flipping through our
television sets
which in essence are portals where the doldrums of our brain cells come to hibernate
and we forget about our abilities to cause a commotion
Inspire with our thoughts
Our crazy, beautiful, wonderful, abstract, unique, witticisms that can set off a movement like
a thousand beautiful rainbow dominoes.
Falling to the floor in a ballet of tumultuous delight because
Change... change can simply erupt overnight
“I WILL OBEY”
stack the legos
make the towers
bury the money
build the server
send the message
the dandelion’s on fire.
tonight,
the code goes out
the message is clear
the message is coded
the megaphones were charged.
walk the blueprint of my home
listen to the frying pan cry
the due date on the digital
service bill is late but they
gave the world an extra day.
his voice follows
her voice carries
the world’s bloodsuckers
require new poison
the moon asks for the sun
the sun asks for an eviction
step after step
the coded messages reiterate.
time laughs as we forget
to breathe
resistance is pointless
and yet,
resistance is doubled.
tonight,
my ears have no conscience
they’ve made their own decision
jail stripes make love to the ball and chain
toupees move with agitation.
we’re all headed toward the same e n d.
By: Chicano Eddie
10-28-2016
Do you ever feel like –
You are being driven onto jagged rocks
By an unforgiving tide,
Searching for a refuge,
Searching for somewhere safe to hide?
Feel the world is spinning much too fast
And you are barely hanging on,
Like a vinyl record spinning out of control
And you don’t like the song?
Feel like you are on a sheer cliff face
And the next hand-hold you can’t find,
The storm clouds gathering above you
And they aren’t silver lined?
Feel you are wildly out of step,
With the decision makers at large,
That you cannot make yourself heard,
Cannot influence those, seemingly, ‘in charge’?
Feel you are whispering into the wind
While others bellow into megaphones,
While the privileged feast high-on-the-hog
And throw you the picked-clean bones?
If you feel your warnings can’t break through,
Just be mindful to protect your mental state,
Your views will eventually gain support,
Just hope this happens –
Before it’s much too late…
Cant the world just get along,
War is dark and sad,
Your always so unsafe,
Just to walk out your front door,
Into smoke from guns and cannons,
With police yelling into megaphones,
"STAY INDOORS"
The sad, sad voices from mothers and kids,
Because there father die right in front of them,
Fear flowing from every sidewalk,
And or street,
Every little house has the news on,
To figure out what is going on,
They can not sleep,
They can not eat,
Till they know the war is over and it's SAFE!
oh but how those goddamned Atheists
would not stop yammering away---
with their Darwin & their Evolution & their
want to live in the reality of a world in which
human beings take responsibility for the lives that they lead
without pretending as if some deity was watching
without pretending as if some deity was going to come &
save them---
and over the span of this latent nonbeliever’s life
sooner than later, the voice of those who are sick & tired of a world
churning & bubbling in a chaos produced by those
theists, deists & just plain morons,
came to the forefront.
with megaphones in hand
they march today to the capital
voicing their complaints &
asserting themselves as a people who will not be ignored,
as a people who have been kept silent for way too long,
as a people who have come to stand
where so many maniacs have stood before
pronouncing their myths & then
marching off to kill another who doesn’t believe in the myth that
they do.
today, the masked nonbeliever knows that they are no longer alone,
because of people like Richard Dawkins who have stood up against a world
that thrives on lunacy,
wanting to instead rely on facts, evidence, and the real conclusions drawn from
the scientific method & investigative processes---
the masked nonbeliever
no longer needs to hide &
they get on a bus, or a plane,
or they just plain drive to DC today
in order to find community with those
that have had enough of this ********,
making that first important public step
to be facebooked & tweeted & covered by as many media outlets
that are not still bent over the table
getting raped by the religious
who would love for all of our mouths to still be closed
who would love for us all to be burning at the stake
as if it was still the
middle ages.
*if only Christopher Hitchens could still be here to witness it.
humpty has moved up to the wall &
all the kings horses, men, soldiers, fighter planes and drones
are focused on further strangling iran,
they are denying a palestinian state
they are backing the further settlements of israel
they are focused on running for the throne of the empire in 2012
and as business as usual continues
they march on as cogs in the disturbing, self-destructive machine
which has not learned a thing from history.
but the opening of the eyes within the empire
at the civilian level
is beginning to occur &
people are finally in the streets
people are throwing their fists in the air &
the blood is pumping in this
ceasing of the day---
one might even go so far as to say that
some may in fact be ready to fight.
if humpty & his men are still claiming that
“what we have here, is a failure to communicate,”
then they better get their megaphones &
they better open their history books---
one should wonder if marie antoinette’s neck was sufficiently
lotioned up
when she went to the guillotine,
or if the nicholas II (bloody nicholas) & his family were ready
for what came to them in the ipatiev house that night in mid-july---
while the mainstream media are finally forced to cover what is
happening,
the fuse has been lit in other cities.
when the eyes open,
a person is able to look around &
in this brilliant, beautiful and monumental moment,
one can look to see others who have finally had enough
whose eyes are now opened to
and whose ambition is full of fire,
intelligence &
perseverance.
this is happening.
A highlight of my grown-up life,
Before I was a mom or wife,
Was being one of those who cheered
On game days, when our teams appeared.
This was in high school, years ago.
The squad, unlike today’s, gone pro,
Was there to get the crowd enthused;
Exhilaration we effused.
Through megaphones we shouted out.
The crowd responded; we had clout.
So when we yelled, “Gimme a T!”
You best believe they did, with glee.
We practiced hard and stretched each limb
For many hours in the gym.
It was our church, or more, our temple
And our rabbi, Mrs. Stemple.
I wore that uniform with pride.
To me, it most exemplified
A feeling potent, deep and strong
That to this world, I did belong.
Tonight our squad will reunite;
This poem I likely will recite.
We’ll reminisce about our past
And hopefully, we’ll have a blast.
But looking back, what I know now
Is being on that squad, somehow
Was magical and did provide
Such joy, I still have some inside.
Close to a scandalous ten thousand,
A reproach to the late Reverend Townsend;
All with their advertising megaphones,
And big dreams-nursing microphones …
In my town of domicile
With odds one can’t reconcile
Which I had some time walked miles
With my job-hunting files
That rather handed me victorious counts
Of how their number mounts:
I tell you: A Religious Harassment,
An unendurable embarrassment;
Ten thousand, really a killing figure
For a town wielding not the circumference of Cairo
And herself not lending to vigour
Definable with honest biro …
I still maintain: gong hollowed-out halls,
No Rock Musician would try for his frenzied falls;
A good many of them: a late traveler’s tent,
Whose thanksgivings broadcast Satan’s intent …
Never could be God’s umbrella,
For the catholic Emmanuel and Emmanuella;
Nor altars for demonic exits
From Christ’s patronizing visits …
Christ’s salvation current;
Is unthinkable in rooms of high rent!
Mysterious Mumbo micron meanders most monochrome mornings
Merry Mickey monster makes mentionable mackerel marmalade
Michigans maleficent mayor maimed Mrs.Maryjane May Marlow
Mumbling meager monarch mumbles making Muncie memorable
Minute minions marched missing marshmallow marsh
Montana mistresses mixed millions, mincing megaphones
Marvelous misguided monkeys mimed minutemen,
Milly mistakenly met misogynist men making mincemeat
Marty’s munchable muffins mysteriously melted
Mystical memories mischievously met Merry Mickey
Missouri's mania maybe mystifying many Minnesotans
Moppish meanies mislaid miniscule Mississippi maps
You pick a fight to live today,
You tell the time you saw the dreamed-of shore
of an island, Gilligan,
Gentle wind at your cheek,
A kiss parting lips caress,
A day wide-eyed as a lamb,
But then the harrow got you.
So swing your partner, men sashay,
Sad to say I see you lost a leg,
You can call the do-si grow
One of them megaphones
You could goose it up: Wrong way!
If you don’t know where to sit,
Why not by your other shoe?
But pick your spot and stay away,
One fine day the world will open wide,
Till then keep your company
With the goat-kid-gloved-of-
the-less-said-the-better-backed-
down-mouse-frightened elephants,
schooling the lesson you knew.
And take your tea with tooth decay,
Spoon-to-cup-by-spoon-to-cup you go,
Rhythm stretches on like dough,
Apple-pie-order slow,
And you kneed deep all alone,
Haystack-deep, Gabriel's song!
Blast it! Blast is 'las to brew!
You can’t hurt words.
Lord knows I’ve tried.
For years I tortured words,
twisted them, kicked them about.
For a time,
it was just me against words.
The more I hammered on them
the more they jumped back up
and mocked me.
There is a God of words.
He protects words from politicians,
lawyers and poets.
I learned the hard way
that you have to love words.
They are not weapons, there’
not flags, not megaphones.
Loving words means knowing when
not to use them. This is just respectful.
You won’t hurt their feelings.
but if you misuse their power to
Illustrate and illuminate,
they will smear and smudge,
or shout too loud.
Words do not need much company;
just enough of themselves
to actually say something real.
You can’t hurt words,
and in themselves they do not lie,
it’s only the heart that lies,
and of course,
untold numbers of poets.
Lacking definitions
for glasses without bottoms,
we call them telescopes
or megaphones. But still
they crawl down our throats
like silver centipedes
because we close our mouths open
at just the right time
and we spit up poems.
So who cleans up
the order? Leaving it there
long enough, it will go away
or like a dog we tongue it back up--
coo at its sweetness, faces
blank as Big Chief tablets--
holding out these empty glasses for more,
wishing for the long, lasting sip of stars.
I could decide that you are bad
And people urge to judge you mad,
If you would often keep your dad
Thinking that he could not be glad,4
Because you had him made a pad:
A bearer of what leaves one sad,
Often misspending Hard- earned wad,
On every craze, every cursed fad:
You, his doted -upon lad:
The one in megaphones he had