Best Monopolized Poems
We’re monopolized by the Saran-wrapped food,
the plastic cutlery,
absorbed by the clutter of the food tray.
Numbed by hours of jiggling,
the carting of torpid bodies through interminable distance,
we’re wedged now into boredom, uncomfortably numb.
Anesthetized – we fear nothing.
If the aircraft stalls, few will scream.
We’ll keep decanting small bottles of vin de table,
butter buns.
As the aircraft plummets
and drops like a stone to certain death
we’ll still be struggling with condiment sachets,
coffee creamers, with small, molded cruets
oblivious now to anything less important.
"The Mortal Wound of the Civilized World"
Shift upwards
speed fast
the choice, Is
Gears chosen by the
energetic heart
fuel the freedom
The point of attention
the “I Am”
an expression
of the same
consciousness
that you are "Is"
we are living
yet contained economies
numbed and played circadian
pinned and
framed
to our walls
day in
night out
repeat
by remote control
thinking we are free
true ignition evades us
until the game is over
We are caught up
in the mortal wound
of the civilized world
humanity
monopolized
bored we are
we are
the board game
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
A curse. It's what she was ascertained to be.
A plague which has been put on the burden of the residents of the world.
People discarded her as mere trash for they considered her as an ill-omen.
Misfortune embraced her when she didn't even know the real meaning of life.
God called her parents to his abode and left her with an odious, monstrous scar which blemished her chalky, innocent, baby-like face.
What was her fault in all that?
No one can obstruct God's Will.
Her scar hindered her joy, her happiness.
She was a mere victim of fate.
Left desolated, isolated up to no good, where no one was here to even ask her about food, where she spent sleepless nights hoping that someone will come to sing her a lullaby.
Longing for a melody, tired of being lonely, wishing that there will be someone, somewhere who will care about her, about her desires, her dreams , her wishes, her hopes.
Left in the darkness where she could not even see her own shadows, where it was even more painful to face the life, when survival has been a desire charred in the fire with wistful hopes.
She lingered, hovered as she cried over days and nights when her tears became colorless like diamond dust but who stained her clothes like thick crimson red blood.
The little lady waited for long in certainty that God is here, he exists, he'll help her.
Nevertheless, these dreams of hers were suffused by the dust that time left on its way.
Loneliness monopolized her life as it ruled over her and even bleaks of light was altered into ashes as it hit it.
Survival was solace for her, which seemed to be hardly an oblivion.
It then came when a cherub entered her life filling it with lights, blue like the blue hyacinths, yellow like sunflowers, pink like lilies, red like zinnias.
She flourished amidst the white, fluffy sky as she was lifted up to the crystal clear sky.
She came out of her shadow, up to somewhere were even a slight faint ray of it was changed into creatures of light.
The Seven Deadly Sins held a conference deep within
my fragile, mortal soul with destruction as their goal.
Pride took the role of lead, but was monopolized by Greed;
Sloth paid no attention; Anger interrupted the convention;
Envy held a jealous hunch; Gluttony moved they break for lunch;
Every member knew they couldn’t trust, any suggestions made by Lust.
As the sins hemmed and hawed, Faith and Hope built a wall
around the deadly caucus, among all the raucous;
Love put a lock on the door, holding the sins in evermore
as Empathy and Charity, planted seeds inside of me.
Even though I know that they’re there, and I carry them everywhere,
As long as I remember lessons I’ve been taught, their discussions will come to naught.
Written and posted on 1/23/2016 for the Deadly Seven contest.
Sweet Jane,
The essense of euphoria, cloud
of confusion
Fooled by your seductions,
indulge in delusion
You betray me,
Trading blissful thoughts you
gave me, for Will
My best friend I knew forever,
and still
Eyes Bloodstained in pain, and
raging until
Sweet Mary,
You carried me away from fury,
from Ill,
in the moment,
Take Me
To the time I spent with you,
dimes I spent on you,
In anguish, when the pollute
clears, I can see and hear,
but only to know, the time I've
wasted
years we've embraced,
Monopolized my night and day
for your own snakish
intentions..
What Trickery..
Though, instead of resistence
and bickering,
I kiss your wet lips, as you dry
mine
The Stress lifts,
Self-realization hits,
the cause of anxiety, and mass
ambition
The Irony,
Our relationship seems to be
teeming/teaming with irony
You Stand for rebellion, but you
enslaved me
Through, at first through lustful
gazing,
Set akindle blushes to your
face,
and to my amazement,
Through pre-adolescent stages,
and justifications,
Became an arranging of a
forbidden engagement,
Between a boy and lady,
Manipulative of love and time..
A Boy's mind..
..One last time...
I Say,
After I set Astray,
To count the days, before I
greet,
Mary Jane.
For Christmas I got half a glass of Coke; nothing else was given.
If I wanted something else I could spill it and get a spanking in addition.
My parents washed my underwear for my birthday
That’s all I got, and I liked it that way!
My slip-n-slide was a roll of trash bags and a hose
There were cinder blocks to hold the rolled out bags down at the end of slip row.
So we had to slide carefully and roll off fast.
We put shampoo and soap on it so it would double as our weekly bath.
My four sisters and I had one pair of boots to share,
And if I was lucky I got a boot to wear.
My bike had no pedals, no handlebars, and no seat,
But it had two wheels I could push uphill both ways through the snow, at least.
We had only four channels, and when the President spoke he monopolized all four.
And I only wish I was your age once more.
The cliff tops were bare, rocks lay scattered across the beach, the nearing harbor holding all in its silence. Along the bay the ripple of a kayak hovered on a waters edge. All was quiet, or so it seemed.
Overhead clouds rolled and arched a landscape in blue, held by a shimmering backlight in grey-orange hues. Up there, amongst the rocks, movement issued the break of day. Columns of fledged juveniles headed out to the shore on surrogate wings so new in all their mottled grey glory. Clumsy at first, innocent of death, they practiced their art.
Many years ago, decades ago, before our monopolized greed, these wings could learn their craft on broken hills and rock face to a sanded shore now desimated by poisoned or starved waters. How the human spirit lives on.
Year by year, in urban habitat, overwhelmed by our desire to regenerate, encrypted in a culling desire, no co-existence, just hate, a lack of education, a provision of landscape in need, forcing extinction to deaths lonely door again and again.
Today I watched the bonded pairs high up on the roof tops, a tireless nurture, their weakened bodies, their empathic care. I look down through the alleyways, broken wings fall or on discarded earth or through my town, hiding in corners. We are the invaders, not them.
"The world is now a comedy
Human beings are the comdians
Oh I see I see in this life
Oh I see I see in this life
Human beings is the reason why
Every human beings cry
Thank God men are not God
It could have been worst
If men where God
The world would have ended so soon before now
If men where God
The air will have been privatise
The Sun will have been monopolized
The rain will have been hidden from
So many
Our forest will only be for the rich
Our land will be for mafians and their kabals
So every day I wake up
Only one thing so strong
I hold on to
The supreme above all men
Above every human being
Thank God men are not God
Yet I see I see I see
"The world is now a comedy
Human beings are the comedians
Oh I see I see in this life
Oh I see I see in this life
Human beings is the reason why
Every human beings cry
Thank God men are not God
It could have been worst
If men were God
We all are going to be nothing but skeleton and
The world will be a horrible paradise
The man with the plastic bug in his head
monopolized my dreams last night
in the place that the horsefly of my dignity
finally surrender to the impresario without a fight.
Seven days and 7 hours transplanted in my memorabilia
reminding the rustiness of the purple child
flatterers danced beneath the clouds of melancholy
and morality spreader the master plan inside my mind.
The disinheritance of my immortality the final day
discouraged my desire to see the forbidden love
restored my will to escape
manipulated the deep of the uncertainty above.
Released from the plastic bug in my head
try to cover my yellow child in the purple sky
laughing,singing,whispering,playing
seven days and seven hours before he dies.
You won’t find it in your local mall
It is nothing that can be bought
You won’t find it in your school text book
It’s not a thing that can be taught
You won’t find it through a telescope
It is not on the horizon way out far
You won’t find it with a highway map
You can’t drive to it with your car
You won’t find it in any church
Or in whatever bible you choose to read
It is not monopolized by religious folk
Or the property of any creed
You won’t find it hung on a museum wall
It’s not a piece of art
You can only find it deep inside
Of a happy person’s heart
It’s love for your fellow man
And not the kind confused with sex
It’s kind and pure and non-judgmental, too
The one thing I’ve found to be the best
LOVE
LOVE IS EXQUISITE
LOVE IS SEEKED BY MANY INCLUDING ME....
LOVE
IMPROPERLY FONDED
I AGREE
LOVE
STILL LIKE A KID IN A CANDY STORE I FEIN
FOR A LOVE RUSH FIX ON THE DAILY
MAYBE I CANT IDENTIFY, EVEN IF IT WAS LOOKING ME STRAIGHT IN THE EYE
LOVE
I ABUSE THE WORD QUITE OFTEN
NOT GOING TO LIE
I'VE SAID I LOVE YOU TOO PLENTY OF GUYS
ITS SAD I KNOW
BUT HEY ITS THE UGLY TRUTH OF MY LIFE
LOVE
PLEASE DON'T JUDGE ME ,
MY NEXT LOVE RUSH FIX IS ALL THAT WAS RUNNING THROUGH MY MIND AT THE TIME
LOVE
WHAT IS LOVE?
AM I BLESSED TO SHARE IT IN THE RELATIONSHIP THAT I AM CURRENTLY IN?
MAYBE NOT CAUSE JUST LAST WEEK I LET ANOTHER MAN IN
LOVE
MAYBE ME & LOVE SIMPLY CANT SEE EYE TO EYE
DUE TO FALSE PRETENSE OF PREVIOUS UNTRUE LOVE
LOVE
JUST RAN THROUGH ME. SIMILAR TO A STOP & GO.
FALSE LOVE TREATED ME JUST LIKE A PIECE OF MEAT
LOVE
WHATS A WOMAN TO DO WHEN SHE HAS BEEN MENTALLY ,
PHYSICALLY, EMOTIONALLY, VERBAL ABUSED
BY THE MANY LOVES SHE ONCE BELIEVED WAS "TRUTH"
LOVE
IS IT REALLY YOU?
LOVE
ARE YOU THE ONE TO SET MY HEART FREE ?
CAN YOU FREE ME ,
FROM THIS LOVE RUSH ADDICTION THAT HAS MONOPOLIZED ME?
LOVE
ON THE 365 I SEEK
LOVE
THIS UNHEALTHY LOVE RUSH CYCLE I CANT QUIT
LOVE
WHERE IS MY NEXT HIT?
LOVE
ARE YOU MY LAST FIX?
According to Truth As Beauty EarthOccupier Rob Brezsny,
the original intent of “virgin”
unfolds as “complete unto herself.”
And so it is,
I pray and primally celebrate
waking into each of Earth’s days
a virgin,
once again.
Holonically complete,
one of Earth’s human language seeds,
bowing down as notnot up, yet
east as not yet completely Western red sky dominated
by fears and angry climatic stressors
both internally complete
and externally consuming and producing
ecstasies of Earth’s great transitional
epic re-ligioning intercourse
including, yet not monoculturally monopolized,
culturally creolizing
humane transliterations of organic
trans-parent transubstantiations
polypaths toward holy polymorphic symbiosis,
erotic lover days toward night
greeting exotic fragrant virgins
of Earth’s deep learning erotic
mindful body re-ligious incarnations
growing into full sacred virgin maturity
Then decomposing to rejoin Earth’s virgin trusted soul,
revolving hope’s fully active EcoOccupation,
complete unto EarthMother re-associated
panentheistic virgin
AnthroMind Truth/EarthBody Beauty
passionHere and pleasureNow.
A beloved friend enticed my senses
Appeasing whines with tasteful tunes
Awakening amour at heights of suspense
To serenade me as spry I shall swoon
Euphonies swallowed my bones
Delighted be I to ever have found
Divine obscure ways to atone
Ghastly memories quite profound
Triumph has monopolized tribulation
Along hollow skylines nimble she fleets
Colloquies spewing frost shan't stand elite
Taunted be grief by elimination
Loneliness,
of individuals,
like me,
of families,
like mine,
of uncommunioned communities,
and nation-states,
like ours,
Loneliness leads insufficient capacity
to prophecy everyone's collective interdependence,
and thereby remains partially blind
to Win/Win optimal health/wealth outcomes,
which could not be monopolized
by experiential loneliness
felt internal sadness
monoculturing.
By inviting risk to shift,
nudge,
notice personal/political Lose/Lose depreciations,
bucket lists of long-standing tensions,
causing unhealthy cognitive/affective dissonance
unresiliently stuck in slow ego-depreciating mortality,
absence of furthering resonant appreciative-inquiry belonging
within this
and each
and every
timeless Win/Win left-brain fragmenting
ego-prominent compassion-nest
self/other-perpetuating cooperative polypaths
implied within each unprophetic deeply pre-ingested
re-ingesting healthy/wealthy moment,
Trans-rationally spiraling not not ego/ecotherapeutic self-care,
a dynamic healing enthymematic ZeroZone
away from repressive solid OneNest walls
of silently atoning loneliness,
onelinest
healthy hoping toward impressive implicit webs
for pregnant metaphoric
meteoric Earthiness,
EarthTribe 2020 nest.
I reminisce, I miss
the sound of our giggles as we lay -
my sisters and I – on our beds
whispering into those sweltering summer nights
until inevitably, my stepdad
yelled up the stairs at us to go to sleep!
I would put my face right up to the fan
which loudly whirred inside the window
at the foot of my bed.
Those were the nights of easy sleep
and easy dreams.
Little was my stress; large was my joy.
And oh, those summer days
when we awoke to no more school.
My siblings and I rode bikes around town,
or sometimes we walked miles -
while sucking on popsicles - to the city pool
where we’d splash around carefree all afternoon.
Friends also monopolized my adolescent life.
Oh, those fun slumber parties
at which no one ever seemed to slumber!
Games, the music of our time,
and chit-chat about boys consumed us
late into the night.
Picnic reunions with church folks or with relatives:
always the sight, smell and taste of homemade meals
I recall: the wonderful homemade potato salads,
fried chicken, burgers and hot dogs on the grill,
Mom’s homemade Sunday pot roast with mashed potatoes . . .
I could go on forever.
But back to the night I go -
of those hot but lovely summer firefly nights
where sleep and dreams came easy
I reminisce, I miss.
March 28, 2021
for the contest of James Edward Lee Sr.
Now for A Brian Strand July 8 Poetry Contest