Best Mentalities Poems


Being Human Beings

BEING HUMAN BEINGS

Some people are evil. 
Maliciously.

Some people create  drama. Monstrosities..

Some people have ulterior motives. Intentionally.

Some people have remorse.
An apology.

Some people have profound words. Poetically.

Some people are tree huggers.
Organically.

Some people have no common sense. Stupidity.

Some people are real religious.
Spiritually. 

Some people are inmature.
Mentalities.

Some people die in crashes.
Fatalities.

Some people are ignorant.
Their just to blind to see.

Some people have a sixth sense.
 Let's call it telepathically.

Some people feel sorrow for others.
 Some would call that Sympathy.

But when people understand  sorrow for others. 
It becomes empathy.

Some people are real chill. We'll say Copacetically.

Some people are plain fake. AKA...Artificially.

Some people are solid.
 Its called Solidarity.

Some people are single.
Its called singularity.

Some people take their last breath.
They are put in a cemetary.

Some people save their breath and  never speak.
 Monastery.

Some people are tone deaf.
They  have No melody.

Some people dress real risque.
 In other words quite provocatively.

Some people rise above the rest. That's what i call Quintessentially.

       BUT......ALL.... PEOPLE....

Should love.
Unconditionally.

Demonstrate peace.
 Peacefully.

Work.
Systematically.

Live.
Longevity.

 Laugh.
Uncontrollably. 

Respect others.
 Diplomatically.

 Throw away the hate.
 Practice racial equality.

 If We do all those things,
then the world we live in,
could be in,
perfect harmony.

Premium Member Mathematics Pleiades

Math, the realm of life, let's
Multiply all pleasures
Minus entire sorrows
Manage total tie-ups
Measure mentalities
Matrix adventures and
Minimize kindred’s flaws.

Pleiades Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May 
Date: 06/10/2020
Placed : 1st
Form: Pleiades

Covenant

COVENANT

The mourning of lost souls 
The treachery of natural disaster
Brings us before God to ask are we forsaken.
To adjust to ways and will of a greater source,
We go into an intellectual setting to form mentality,
Our voices, we feel, are the only key factors in overcoming what annihilates us.
The sorcerer stands now to devise a plan of spells to bring peace and wisdom amid us.

The people of the village song for a greater harvest in the old days.

The terrorists’ fires
The hate crimes
Henceforth precarious times.
To adjust to the forever changing of minds,
We must choose carefully and construct from within.
Our focus is intelligence.
Our voice must be acknowledged by acumen.
The enforcer of all these truths is a necromancer.

In the old days, the people of the village produced prodigious cognizance.

Eggheads opinionate.
Thinkers investigate.
Mentalities are our way.
We are informers of God.
We are of rightful norms.
We are the people born to construct governments.
We are modern time and divinity.

These are the idyllic years!
______________________________________________________________________|
Penned August 15, 2015!


Apostrophe In Time

water weeps wildly
whilst washing away your
jesting foolery.
I saw the sun annihilated
	Against backdrops of liturgy
Lethargic activity that earns
	It’s title as the Earth’s endearing child
Against backdrops of monogamy,
Pedestrian thinking,
	Accelerated usage,
Lapping up mentalities from bowls of pulled poultry,
Doing nothing for the Universe, Yet stealing all unities,
Dissention and green lights and babies birthed and apostrophes in time,
Influencing the way we work on thinking of ourselves as HUMANS, As people, not things.
Growths, from children to adults, the contortion of time, the peeling of fate, the sweet sugar coating like a scab on your life,
Bleeding out of your heart and seeing out of your eyes and feeling through your brain and feeling through your synapses.
Here are the producers of the broad way show of assimilation
Here are the problems, Here are the irregularities with the hole in the boat, But don’t worry everything is now under…
Black as a burn on white , yellow as a can of
	Cream, not yellow at all.
Not nothing but irregularities we perceive as
	Potential ingredients in life.
But in greed, is what we are, in need
	Not so much, Thinking SO outside
	Of the box, that the box has grown
	Legs and walked away and has grown
	 A full beard and a full head of ideals.
And we are trapped outside of this fully
	Matured matron of mystic answers.
And we are pleading to God to be let 
	back in...
But you know something, GOD IS IN THAT BOX TOO.
And you know something else, inside all of us
	Is a little box opening when
	It's ready to breed a plague of
	Insatiable urges.
A quest for self.
A journey through self. 
Black and blue benches where a man sits,
	Breathing, he breathed.
Waiting for his anti-matter mother to annihilate him,
	But less than he believes because anti-matter
	Kills not what it touches, But what it needs to 
	Kill itself.
A piano, might be boxy and Brute-Like
	But might mean more than piano
	To you.
It might mean the 'end is nigh'
	For music is the sound we hear to 
	feel forsworn,
	to feel filthy inside of ourselves.
GOOD, GOOD
But remember, the Doctor is here
	And he is watching from inside
	The box, and he's sitting over a cup of tea,
With GOD,
	       In that BOX
© W. Hunt  Create an image from this poem.

More Than One

Quizmasters often test mentalities, 

by asking folks to name pluralities, 

of things of many different sorts.

Like, soldiers might be called 'cohorts'.

There are 'flights' of geese and jets and stairs,
 
my socks are sometimes found in 'pairs'.

A young girl's curls could hang in 'bangs',
 
and crooks might hang about in 'gangs'.

Such gangs could join to form a 'mafia',
 
alas that only rhymes with 'raffia'.

Apes, as you'd know, can make a 'shrewdness',

could rednecks joined become a 'rudeness'?
 
And though Collingwood fans are two a penny,
 
more than one is just 'Too Bloody Many'.

Unless you have been in the same pub or football ground with Collingwood fans, or on the same train or tram or continent, you will never understand.
© Red Omara  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Couplet

Premium Member The Counting House Hammer

In the Orient it's called Karma,an inescapable butcher of beasts continuously chopping,slicing & trimming the meat of our mentalities,precisely weighed,
 
Occidentally the official judge of justice is commonly greeted as God,punisher of aggravated appetites,gatekeeper to the blissful & blightful kingdoms,

perhaps there are astral accountants tabulating spiritual treasures of ours,scribing with blood & bones,celestial lawyers indicting us on ancient legalities,

no action eludes the energy of Nature's ear & eye,to sing with no voice or weep with no tears is to try & erase facts from flesh,removing silt from river,

sometimes good fortune arrives in our awry lives,unanticipated & unsolicited like dreams of victory teaching us its possible to outdo the odds,dance on defeats,

however,recompense is irrevocably required by the Divine source as agony is requisite for birth,a timeless tax that gives everything a welcome worth,a value,

a mother who delivers a deformed child,small business owner increasing sales,a professor thats worshiped,pastor of an indigent church,self content poor man,

the purse of Providence is heavy & organic like a full belly always digesting,making space for more & more charity & confiscation,smote with a kiss,

a balance of thefts & rewards,lies that give loss,love that provides learning,poverty that lends perspective,sorrow sowing strength,profits producing paranoia,

justice is a blacksmith that will heat you & cool you,strike you & smooth you,shape you into something appropriate for your properties,polish your planes -

J.A.B.  2010
Form: Didactic


Premium Member Zion

All Beauty Calls Delight. Every Freeman Grows Heavenward Inspiring Justice, Keeping Lilliputian Mentalities Natal, Ordering Procreation, Qualifying Rare Synthesises Toward Universal Visitations, Wandering Xanadu, Yearning…. Zion.
Form: ABC

Premium Member Husbands Are In Heaven Whose Wives Scold Not

So much emphasis is placed today on the role of the wife
She is to be pure, pristine, just, hardworking
She is to imbibe all who surround her with faith
She needs to be able to know everything without ever asking

She is to be the woman behind her husband
The one who would make of him a gem
To be a wife, is surely a complicated state
Acted out badly, one can even be a contraband!

But what of the duties of a man,
Is he as important as the woman
To be a husband requires one only to work and bring money
To care not whether the home is, without him, in harmony

Husbands are in heaven whose wives scold not
Husbands have rights, rights to use words of spite
Rights to beat, rights to abuse
Rights even to cheat, to hurt and bruise

When the woman speaks out, or scolds such a man
She becomes something seen by some as a legend
Seen by others as un-womanly
Whatever, she knows how to protect herself through her duty

What of those men whose wives scold not
Should they be brought back to the pot
To be cooked and simmered
To be brought to the right path

Feminists, equal rights, equal opportunities
Women's places no more being in the kitchen
Husbands, change your mentalities
We, women, we are frail and easily broken!
Form: Rhyme

Heartbeat of a Sleeping Giant

Heartbeat of a sleeping giant

In my mind, there is a boy who exist in
Chains.
Inside a cold, dark room of painful 
Solitude-- is where is heart would remain.
Behind these walls the sorrow is inevitable,
As relentless as the passage of time.
Mentalities corrupt and dark, brainwashed 
And hopelessly blind.

Prisons are packed with crowded spaces,
Lifers and guards with hallow faces.
Shackled hearts afraid of changes,
And weakened wills become complacent. 

Yet I maintain with patience,
Time can limit but shatter my will,
Strength blazed across my chest as solid as 
Penitentiary steel.
But silence speaks,
It tells me all I need to hear,
It confirms my believes and it promises
I have to fear.

It reminds me that without freedom,
I’m alone.
And these whitewashed walls 
Don’t make up for blackened souls.

I’ve given 95% of my boys
A handshake than a pound,
Before they were either locked down,
Or buried off in cemetery grounds.

What I’ve done is who I am,
But who I am is what I do now.
I won’t let up or cease to fight.
Just time I plan on doing it right.
And what’s right lies within me.

I’m learning to appreciate my struggle
For it would be hard to find the 
Joy of accomplishment without it.

We live and we learn.
We rise and we fall.
Like the heartbeat of a 
Sleeping giant, 
With bittersweet dreams.
Stay up, never down.
Form: Lyric

Les Atrocities Paris Vendredi Le Treizeime - the Paris Attrocities On Friday the Thirteenth

Je déteste les attaques ISIS vendredi, 
Ils etaient ignoble, dégoûtant et le mal, 
Au nom de Dieu pour la religion, 
Avec les mentalities és dans l'oubli 

nous devons justifier structures démocratiques, 
En défense, en tuant tous les terroristes
Et la question de l'acceptation de Dieu, 
Avec les valeurs humanistes personnes. 

Il ya de tout dans la liberté, 
De pensée, de parole et d'expression, 
Et si vous ne pouvez pas accepter cela
Vous devez apprendre la leçon.


English translation:

I hate the ISIS Paris attacks on Friday 
They were vile, disgusting and evil,
In the name of god for religion 
With mindsets in oblivion 

We must justify democratic structures 
In defence, by killing all terrorists,
And question the acceptance of god,
With humanistic people values.

There is everything in freedom 
Of thought, word and expression,
And if you can't accept that,
You need to learn the lesson.


About the ISIS attacks in Paris on Friday 13th November 2015
Form: Rhyme

Gratuity Is Not Included

Service workers wearing fake smiles perform for the customer. Catering to their needs; pretending. Insecure bosses put the pressure on making it known that you are replaceable. Treated as a number, employees wear name tags. Told what to wear and that opinions don't matter. Corporate policies drive the machine and the answer lies in the picture book. Great emphasis put on consistency, resulting in robotic behavior that is rewarded. Individuality is highly discouraged. In matching uniforms to represent a company; divided into groups and stereotyped. A job well done is expected without acknowledgement but mistakes are called out from the other side of the window. Two faced co-workers throw you under the bus and get tongue tied when confronted. It's obvious that their own insecurities drive such behavior. The bigger person feels compassion. Walking on egg shells in their presence and justifying his behavior with hard work. Fools buy into the lies and carry it's message with confidence. Creating an image of someone they don't even know. Judge mental mentalities that boost egos at the expense of someone else. Ambivalence is rare in this word of mouth to mouth industry and your secrets aren't safe. Gossip queens give dirty looks and stick up their noses. Little do they know that they actually know so little. Often shocked when they find out the truth. I see through this transparent behavior and I don't get involved. I'm too old for the drama and my time isn't wasted on such issues. These attitudes are contagious and so easily adopted. Breaking the cycle and avoiding it's virus, calls for a man with life experience. Someone who has already been through this and been in the shoes that they wear. It takes an open mind built on a foundation of acceptance. This is an attitude that cannot be taught, closed minds won't listen. Lead by example, an impact can be made. Lowered expectations influence less judgement. People are born into a harsh world and at the end when the waitress presents you with the check; gratuity is not included.

Bloom

What does it mean to exist
Beyond minds of “hold my hand” tendencies
And Starbucks blonde-struck mentalities
Frank Sinatra melodies and guitar strummed
Dreams

Existence
Everyone
Is an enigma
Quantum physics never really clarified how
I can’t get it back
but
I don’t want it back  
Stuck between parallel universes and voting registrations
“Please wait until we verify your identity” 
Behind honey eyes, dilated to look like planets
Freezing under the Mic, under the bright lights
We all want to be rock stars with metallic pants
That men see themselves in night after night
Women have parties in their hearts
R.S.V.P invitations only

Oh, oh lord what is that you want from 
Realization, being dense
Or have a slight lack of common sense
It happens to all of us
We all make
Misses
And takes
Give, and go, and stop, and leave
To begin after wondering when the stars stop twinkling and Chinese men stop 
reciting poetry
With women in long sleeves long after dark
Twilight merges with the sunset to make something
We could never explain with words from Webster’s dictionary 

Have you ever thought about stepping out of your body
And breaking
Into blossom? Like Wright said so long ago
Blossoming to 
Existence

The Offspring of We

We protect the innocence of the humble
Whether city streets or the densest jungle
We dive into the harsh realities of society's poverty
And show its inhabitants the possibilities of luxuries
We breath new life into those thought to be casualties
And abruptly structure their mentalities,
as such to survive any catastrophe
We bring to the darkness the sun 
We
WE
We
We
I alone cant get it done
But a bundling of individuals using vocabulary as weaponry
Are breeding intellectuals that foresee better scenery
We.

A Dedication To the Champions of Life

This is a dedication to the ferocious mentalities
Of survivors of atrocious tragedies
The ones who grow stronger amidst unfocused realities
They apparently last longer beyond unchosen casualties

This is a dedication to the striving perfectionist
Proven meticulous like a practicing pianist
Never negligent like a lioness a protectionist
Of relevant ideas and thesis's a progressionist

This is a dedication to the pure hearts of gold
The compassionate reactions without being told
The negative distractions that never unfold
The positive attraction like lovers hands to hold

This is a dedication to the champions of life
Their fires they burn without fuel in the night
I seek to acquire these exclusive rights
I'll never retire for this I will fight

Oblivion Contest

Oblivion Contest
Sponsor: Rob Carmack

Unconscious while the universe fights against her,
    Not aware of the hell that awaits in the next room,
        Not established in her secure mentalities,
            Now all that awaits her is the wrath of gloom.

Misunderstood by her trusted fellowship,
    Everything she longed for burned to ashes,
       She contemplates on why he has left her,
           And all night memories, the picture flashes.

As morning awakes she's still in limbo,
     Tortured mistakes as she cries of regret,
          What could she have done differently?
              And the bad times she starts is forget.

Broken and torn, confused and forlorn,
     This nightmare became her reality,
         Why she wishes he'd stay forever,
             She remembers her forgiving loyalty.

All the times he has beaten and abused her, 
     The controlling insults from carelessness,
          Leaving her lonely and solitaire,
              Her friend came is visit, hopelessness.

Oblivious to the pain she starts to walk,
     Ending up on his wicked doorstep,
        He invites her in once again,
           She forgets the agony from his forceps.

Date Written: December 6, 2015
Form: Quatrain

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