Best Meretricious Poems
THE ROSE
T~hirty-two steps through the yellow-green grass led me to you.
H~aving to choose which one; my heart with no doubt chose you.
E~very rose bloomed quite differently, though nothing meretricious like you.
R~ed is known to be the favorite color to man; color blinded; my soul desired you.
O~f all the roses, my senses were captivated and comely to you.
S~ome men may pick more than one rose; but, I only want you.
E~ven mother nature so pulchritudinous can't compare to you.
Pace, G
IN-U-SCRIPT
05-06-2012
Meretricious Spirit
This spirit is modern society’s cancer
Replete with rank, flashy vulgarities
Pervading our social fabric and soul
Unbridled, unbowed, unapologetic;
It can be a curse to mankind itself
Engulfing some people in moments
Of childish deception and insincerity
Which challenge our human civility;
Petulance, at times, can be seen to
“Rule the Roost” in certain personal
Interactions to make each of us seem
To be less than who we truly are in life;
Always follow your life’s passion and
The spiritual heart and tenor of your soul,
For they shall be your true moral compass
As you face the daily slings and arrows of
This life as mankind’s fabulistic tendencies
Seek to tarnish one’s very spirit and worth
In this thing we all call—our mortal coil!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
October 11, 2016 (Didactic)
beauty acclaimed
symbols
of love locked out
palettes in
meretricious effect
dedicated
to
the sensual
with intense
ethereal brilliance
singleness of heart
rejoicing
in the truth
of
beauty &symmetry
in
illusion
of
a gilded tapestry
bold&novel
image of woman
a creative
anima
celebration
art
for
arts sake
in epic
themes
is this what we all seek
to be one with nature
well I offer you this peek
this a contrived feature
what it shows nature meek
fauna, flora. many a creature
a love for all life a tet a tet
with nature a dialogue
it will tell us it is not malicious
not with intent. a prologue
to times, I think meretricious
the season's loss of wolog
attributed to climate change
the earth tilting it is the cause
climate warming, we are to blame
if it was just a sort of menopause
it's not and worse it won't change
so let's all take the time, enjoy
natures music while we can
the birds, bees, all life, its ploy
modesty a word invented by man
humans in the northern hemisphere
wore clothes for protection, the plan
religion introduced bodily fear
look around at animals, their coats
did it also suggest we cut our hair
why do we slit our own throats
metamorphically of course
but human life is but a metaphor
freedom once, but we lost its source
in nature, we will find it's core
it is called harmony, peace
a life we once lived long ago
we all hold the key for its release
together turn it, let's make it so
nature waits to see us all smile
to live with her, not ignore
we know it's been awhile
to live with nature as we did before
Since the beginning of terrestrial time
Early man began to repetitiously rhyme
He looked to the stars in the naked night
Grunting out rhythm in his figurative fright
Even then he had to imperially impress
To woo with sounds to their hearts caress
Over time the worshipful word came about
Waging wars with wounding words no doubt
And then when man faithfully fully rose
He began to write on pensive pages prose
“Oh, heavenly bodies that capture this alluring night...
Help me for I am drowning and can not look away...
As I feast upon her face, for she walks on moonlight
with Angels...
Her azure eyes penetrate my very soul...help me divine
night, for I am drowning in her beauty...
My heart is in exile...”
We poets in this world of love and sorrow
Try to bring peace to the meretricious morrow
Love thine enemies and put down thy sword
Pick up thy precious pen and thus be adored
There is more to words than what we know
As we ink our way with a felicitous fluid flow
So every poet must take their parental place
A wonderful world of words we may embrace.
June.17.2017
The Creative Collective Anthology Series - Contest
Sponsored by: Geraldine Taylor
And now a treat for my fellow poets...I encourage you to watch the video from You-Tube...you will find it intriguing, amazing and informative...if you do not want to watch the entire video...fast forward to the 10th min and watch 15 min from there...I assure you it will amuse you...thanks and enjoy.
Fake indifference
Strength from within
Let the ******** begin
Feigning ignorance
Pretend happy circumstance
Did you plan this? Was it your intent?
All you are is a plastic apparatus
Philosophunculist
You invent - drastic fiction
Completely spent
Of all sense – covered in dents
Your rent will not - stop your eviction
Delve in a cesspool of thoughts
Awaken! Panticulation!
Meretricious offense
Wild and vagarious
Outrageous Hindrance!
Deliverance
Auspicious pontification
Kills me
Inch by
inch
Too Much
Marginalized
Masochistic & Meretricious
Deaf, dumb, and desensitized
These roads are haunted
We become Superstitious
As the hills grow eyes
These actions have consequences
An open mouth full of flies
The putrid smell overwhelms the senses
Fervently escape your time to die.
These are the destined of the masses
They will not rest in their graves
A pandemic, global panic, supply stashes
Spreading terror with their mutant plague.
CORNERSTONE
See,
That stone,
By nadir marred,
By murk furred,
By haze cocooned,
Like a straw,
By gale of fate buffeted,
By tongues of skeptics, for
Eras a meretricious folk christened.
By tunic of shame decked,
Like a serf,
By dearth for myriads
Of eras snared.
Has,
By mettle
A pearl become.
By the hearth of cruel fate,
A gold with an ineffable glaring
Light become.
And nigh and distant tribes
On it’s glaring light
From the beset of darkness
Hasten to belay.
And their erreneous ethos
Their lips dither not to recant
For the stone, a cornerstone
Has become.
The melodic motions resonate,
as the embryonic evulsions ovulate
Sensuous symphonies create,
thrusting the White Knights to migrate
Reverberating echoes of ecstasy,
within chimes of chemistry
Upon procreation of pleasantry,
rituals oscillating rhapsody…
Of the erotic erections elated,
through meretricious minds have mated
Vestal visions have consummated,
of the seductive streams lubricated
Amidst sonic ringing of celestial spheres
the arousing of titillating tears
Penetrating promiscuous pioneers,
lasting libidinous music to my ears.
Feb.13.2019
Music to my Ears
Sponsored by: Silent One
Placed 1'st...Thank You
YOGA
As old as time thou art.
A rock of ages.
Hidden, the wisdom of
The ancient art. But
Through thee unraveled.
A pathway to purity,
This mystique, with eyes
Closed, deep breaths
Mind on nothing, to
The beyond my soul
Levitates to harness.
And my burden darkened
Psyche, thy energy, like
The swift current of the
Sea sweeps away.
And the nether world
For tranquility I no more seek,
For my soul, by thee like
With hyssop had been
Purged.
In the utmost serene
Plane I lay.
Greatest of all mirth
And sublimity I find
When my eyes I close,
Deep breaths I take.
Transcended, my fragmented
Psyche, by cares of this dark
Terrestrial realm, integrates.
For on an apogee of purity
Of the beyond it anchors,
Where a verdant pasture
Of serenity it relishes.
A pearl, but meretricious by
Skeptics christened thou
Truly art.
(A REPOST)
Close up, on the smooth couth
meretricious pod, vibrantly
violating my optics violently,
even through the microscope.
Its swarthy stare is maliciously
resplendent and evoked from
parsimony.
Nature's beauty is suicidal.
pulchritude through lens,
but a spike to the neck.
Even in risk, identified ignorance is ignored.
veracity is a voodoo doll,
if you toss it out it re-emerges like
a comet
relentlessly.
the microscope aggrandize on its perilous magnificent shock.
like an arboreal boat it is shielded but
pops in agitation, adjudicating what
personality to adorn.
It feels like a placid charade,
for toxicity comes with respect
and beliefs, adherence.
just like a horse belch loyalty
and a den of destruction
her seeds swell calmly in hot dosage bean.
opulently lethal.
I see her dancing high on the bed of pleasure
through the microscope, with feets enveloped in predicament and her lips covered in crimson ichor.
A queen, so clean, a routine as green.
Go back with me
into that unborn time
of listening
to beating from within,
and muffled sound beyond the wall.
Choice cannot contaminate the mind,
itself a pinnacle of knowing
then with pure impression as its food.
A blessed state!
and sought by teachers of the soul
contemplative...
passed on as vision,
pure enlightenment, and grace/
But now acceptance of surprise
becomes the clarion to action
though the self preserve the choice,
and if denial wins the day
another trembling artery is lost
forever...cut off and shriveled
from the fountainhead within.
Thus it is the servant begs of passersby.
Alredy destitute from
cornucopic flow, he reaps the famine
of self-emptied self,
drained not from sacrifice
but from the blinding flash
of meretricious glory, hot and dry,
and swallowed in the black.
It is a bicephalic monster we engage,
bemusing us with schizophrenic battles
of the servant and the self.
Creation of demand, supply the axiom,
and sanctified with new explosions
from the womb.
And only chaos casts the shadow of our beauty,
and in penumbra, irony.
Now then, so late...so clear...
There is no servant but the self,
and but for inspiration,
no outside.
But for the self, no grace at all.
There is no distance to your God--
the stretch is inward,
and the destination is a miracle
encircling all. N'est ce pas?
~
Trepidation although is apprehension
Rankle causes much irritation.
Enmity what a deepseated hatred
Meretricious always vulgar when stated.
Embroil involves a hostile reaction
Nemesis our inflicter of exaction.
Denial is often refusal to grant the truth
Obloquay utterances of discredited ill repute.
Ululation allows lamenting loudly
Salutations express good will proudly.
Tremulous leaves one timid and fearful
Ideology aspires our cultures tenfold.
Dread is a profound fear and terror
Ardor is a passionate zeal we conjour.
Literacy's our strongest armor from birth
Ostracizing accomplishes nothing on earth.
Fallible teaches were all capable of erring
Tenuous at best foster's very little for sharing.
Obstinately stubbornly adhering to the course
Resurrecting our voiceless thoughts of remorse.
Tenacity well preserved, lends one true to themself
Unequivocal doubts of blatant misunderstanding oneself.
Rigidity prevents us from participating in life
Empowerment allows passage to surrender our strife.
Mea Culpa, but I Plead not Guilty.
Safe at home,
it was an ordinary day.
I was on PoetrySoup,
reading poems, page by page.
And then, the house shook,
I ran outside,
and to my surprise a light,
shining down from the sky,
lifted me off the grass.
Darkness
is all I remember next,
no couch, no text.
And then a Vogon voice
cooing in the black
uttered syllables full of malice
sending shivers down my back:
“Vogon Voigon, Vogon Voigon, Diip’L Diip’L Space
Goyn’gone, noi escase ynda Diip’L Space
Fingletipslytch, noilbedrytch, brub brub brub
Vogon Voigon, Vogon Voigon, Diip’L Diip’L Space
k’Rrak-tothruut, hutdryl-buz riz riz riz
moiff-braq, braq guud, shreemy ynda Diip’L Diip’L Space
Vogon Voigon, Vogon Voigon, Goyn’gone Goyn’
gentle-nittle
gentle-nittle
expoi
expoi
noi escase”
I needn’t state my fear to you,
nor how my heart turned cold.
I’m sure you understand
how the Vogon stirred my soul,
blended it.
I tried to stay resolute
insouciant to the Vogon’s noisome use
of minatory morphemes, but
I felt them creep in,
crepuscular,
prowling the twilight of my consciousness,
their vowels
staring at me like eyes.
The Vogon vowels, Vogon vowels, Vogon vowels.
I tried to shut my ears,
tried not to hear
the rhadamanthine trenchant chant,
but my wrists held fast in adamantine bonds,
my ears as unreachable as acnestis.
My thoughts,
my words,
were blurring,
becoming more obscure.
My paranoia pulsed
as my metanoia pushed,
my will to resist seeming fatuous,
as I slowly succumbed to a meretricious delight
in the vile Vogon’s exerable verse.
I would like to tell you that I escaped,
for I am back at home,
on my couch
writing poems, but
there is noi escase
noi escase
noi escase
from the Diip’L Diip’L Space
February 9, 2025
Vogon Poetry Contest, sponsor: Sotto Poet
In the night I wake to find you
Not in bed, only a pillow, which I wetted it
Once, with tears of wrinkled time
Lingers silently, beside me
Oh God, not again, I thought
My sleepy round eyes try to search
In the stillness of the night, where they
Slowly deflating like a worn tire
I keep my fingers crossed that you’re
In the kitchen drinking ouzo, your favorite
Yet, my mind is bursting in paroxysm
Of unusual, silent rage
But then, I heard sound, a familiar music
Wafting out from the blue room
As I peer through the half-opened door
The dim light helped me see you, the real you
Lying, in contentment, with your admirer
Her eyes perfectly closed, and your soft falsetto
Makes her enjoy the warmness
Of your blood in the cold winter night
She has your smile, and she’s just like you
Full of secrets, but only not yet spoken
Why do I find, every time, without you near me
That I am this meretricious rose