Best Motorcade Poems
waiting
with diaper on
for this woman to get up
off the kitchen floor and
stop bleeding while a man
hovers over her with grimace
and clinched fist
waiting
for our first-grade teacher
to stop crying
over the P.A. announcement
that the president
has just been assassinated
in Dallas
waiting
on the spirit of Christmas
to return days after the news
that mother's favorite song "You Send Me"
had just been shot and killed
a few blocks from our home
waiting
in the backseat of a Packard
for the policeman to stop screaming
at my father as urban soldiers
toss fire from their hands
in our neighborhood just outside of Watts
waiting
at LAX for Wilt the Stilt
to come back and finish
signing autographs after
some idiot just called him a freak
waiting
for the bowtie and scowl
to let go of my arm so I
can shake the hand of
the Greatest of All Time
as he starts his comeback
with an exhibition bout
in East Los Angeles
waiting
with eighteen-year-old trembling knees
for that sheriff deputy
to remove his pump action shotgun
from my temple
waiting
in the delivery room
for the wrong woman
to have my child
waiting
at a motel
for the right woman
to find the time
to slip away
waiting
on the side of
the ninety-one freeway
for a motorcade to pass
shortly after the funeral
of a former president
shamed by the Watergate scandal
waiting
and looking
while holding onto
the entry gate at 875 S. Bundy Dr.
for some sign of what really
happened that night
waiting
along with F.E.M.A. and the Red Cross
for the distraught woman
to come with us to safety
days after the Northridge earthquake
leveled her million-dollar home
waiting
at the hospital
for my first grandchild
to be born while her father
who's been convicted of battery
is nowhere to be found
waiting, waiting
seems like I'm always
waiting
show down in O Town
Freedom
a ticking time bomb
***
It's five o'clock, she checks her watch, at last the work day's done
Her forehead pounds, a coke is found, she gulps two aspirin down
Walking through the parking lot, a cell phone to her ear
Three calls to make, six texts must wait, until she reaches home
A dreadful day, is worsened now, by a cocktail shade of smog
Too dazed by crazy sitcoms that seem to fill her life,
on an escalator going up or down, to nowhere in the strife
A contrail stream of traffic noise, is brandished against her ears
The snail-paced freeway travelogue, a prequel to the dialogue
that sails into her blue-tooth buds, enhances all that aches
The modem in her deep-fried brain is in a dismal state.
Just blogs of malware, here and there, is skyjacked by the haze.
She fails to see a taxicab, in the multiplex of cars
A screech of brakes, a near escape, it's not her first mistake
The rushing, crushing motorcade, can't stop to see her scars
The escapade, the glitzy parade, no shelter from the beat
The drum that pounds, the sounds that come, awake or fast asleep
The docudrama of her life has muddied up her brain
Dumbfounded, by the life she leads, is lost before it's found
Some think, perhaps the gods are crazy, (at least that's what some say)
I think, instead, it's not the gods, but folks who've lost the way
________________________________________________________
1/6/15
For Contest: "The Gods Must Be Crazy" Sponsor: John Lawless
I feel my spirit burning inside me
And years of fatigue draining out me
My heart is racing, my spirit is swelling
And my heart is singing a wonderful song.
I can still feel my heart beat and I can
still hear the noise in the streets
Motorcade after motorcade brighten up the streets
And the jubilant crowd waving blue
and white handkerchief high in the air.
I could see it from a distance
people join hands in hands
rocking to a spirited beat
as they watch the parade
floating peacefully through their street.
It moves from community to community
through rural towns and dangerous hills
cascading the untrodden green valleys
sweeping darkness and poverty away.
The trumpets and drums grew louder and louder
It pulled my great grandma out of the house
And had her rocking to the rhythmical beat.
I listened to the sound as it fades away
and the life in me was perishing away.
My fatigue grew stronger and stronger
And nothing I do could make feel better
I bore the penalty of sleepless nights
and the torture of guiltless sound.
I could hear my heart murmur
and the blood gushing inside
whoosh, whoosh, swish swish
the sound grew louder on every side.
It’s as if the world was walking with me
And something powerful was propelling me
I took one stride and walked boldly by its side
but something stronger than me was forcing me
to surrender to hope and succumb to the boldness inside me.
I fought relentlessly to deny this feeling
That was forcing me to get away
but something very forceful was beckoning me to stay.
I am here and I am still breathing
dying to journey to the mountain top
to appease the Gods and make my final stop
so I inquired of a special place where I could
be alone and meditate for the rest of my days.
The endless journey has exhausted me
but I was determined to go through it with dignity
my chins up, a smile on my face and positive words
to keep me ahead and on top of the race.
My blood suddenly felt hot and
And fire starts catapulting out of my belly
I found myself on the mountain top
Looking down on throngs of people
singing, shouting and dancing.
It sounded like a grand jubilee
But for me this was my final destiny.
©2015 Christine Phillips
I.
A hundred years of age—a birthday rarely reached;
He never got to fifty, and fifty years are gone
And more. That afternoon the TV set was on—
I wasn’t even five years old—and while we watched
A Fractured Fairy Tale, they broke in with the news
And straightway, all around, the very world waxed sad.
The shock and grief-- the tear-stained face my mother had--
Made clear to me this was no case of common blues,
And that something truly frightful had come to pass.
I didn’t fully comprehend it all, but saw that all
About me seemed to weep, and so I wept as well.
Since then, people forget; the world grieves less and less,
As history careers in its relentless path:
Unsolved equations in some inscrutable math.
II.
I see that day: the brilliant sun, the motorcade,
The crowds, his smile; his sandy hair was flying in
The breeze… then but a moment later, dying in
His lady’s lap. I see it in the films they made
Both then and now-- with eyes not five years old
But sixty: and mourn now, not as I did back then,
But with a comprehensive grasp. The evil men
Have wrought lives on; yet like some story never told,
The good he might have brought to life? Aborted, all:
And all the while we strain to hear some rhyming call,
And strive to hear reason’s trumpets bravely blowing
In vain: and hence I grieve for him anew, now knowing.
I remember the land of drums I was born
bedded beneath great hanging nets;
the sound of the conch and the horn.
My blue suitcase filled with stuff,
the red tricycle and pedal car
that made me race and made me puff.
I remember the hounds of revolution nightly howl
on the streets of my island home.
Now I reign afar in the land of my exile
as might a king given up his throne
I remember my first day of school so bleak,
a gingerbread house on Picton Street
where I first kissed a sweetheart cheek.
Hearken tales of men in Sherwood,
Nelly Stone in her rocking chair
reading The Adventures of Robin Hood.
The loud guttural yard turkeys’ gobble and flap,
and kids singing their songs of joy.
I remember the year, the girl, the songs
in all its virtue when I was a boy
I remember the front yard we would play
and the annex rooms we called home
watching The Riki Tiki Show at 17 Gray.
Waving at the Queen’s royal parade
down on Saint Clair Avenue
in the crowds following her motorcade.
I remember huddled around the old valve radio,
long siestas in the hot afternoon
till late beneath a corner streetlight halo
raving drunk slumped Blue Moon
I remember sticky chewy peanut brittle
with my cold Nestle chocolate milk
while gorging my tummy little by little.
Behold down-de-islands dashing
in a pirogue out on Grand Fond Bay -
the sea spray across the bow crashing.
Watching as darkness fell on high moon and tide
shining on bay and jetty so bright,
when as young eyes grew weary I would
rest at peace all through the night
I remember all dressed for Sunday School
and afternoons at the Country Club
splashing around in the swimming pool.
And at sea playing captain and sailor
on board a ship Panama bound
in my cabin with my toy boat and trailer.
I remember the ports and voyage of no return
into the yonder crossing the equator,
when old Neptune rose from the undersea
to bless our ship and navigate her
Written: September 1990
He came from a prominent family his achievements not denied
In school he was a scholar, in the Navy served with pride.
In the war he was heroic putting his life on the line
Which is documented in the movie titled ”PT 109.”
1956 he wrote “Profiles in Courage” which was great to no ones surprise
In fact its impact resulted in winning a Pulitzer Prize.
He spent 7 years in the Senate and was always highly respected
So he ran for our Nations highest office in 1960 he was elected.
Bay of Pigs, Cuban Missles, Berlin Wall, just a few situations to mention
They were all causing crisis’ he gave them his utmost attention.
22 November 1963 in Dallas, Texas his life was suddenly done
He was murdered riding in a motorcade by a bullet from an assassins gun.
A truly great American who served his country well
The shock this nation felt that day words could never tell.
However in his memory his name is on display
An airport, aircraft carrier, and many schools are named for JFK.
Libraries, museums, and universities all named for JFK
A Center for Performing Arts, what more is there to say
So this is my tribute to JFK it’s the best I have to give
He is someone I’ll look up to for as long as I may live.
Rest in Peace JFK!
Written by Ralph Taylor 05/25/10
Enter: Why, oh Why Contest
Sponsored by Constance~A Rambling Poet
George Washington chopped down a tree as a lad
Then told his dad that he'd been bad
With the stroke of a pen, Thomas Jefferson kick-started a nation
Touting revolution every so often with his Declaration
Andrew Jackson had a penchant for whiskey
Native Americans found him way too frisky
Abraham Lincoln was thin but brave
Reunited the nation and freed the slaves
As a child Teddy Roosevelt was always ill
But as President he led the charge up San Juan Hill
His cousin Franklin took over in the Great Depression
And then three times won reelection.
JFK and Jackie ushered in 'Camelot'
'Til in a Dallas motorcade he was shot
Ronald Reagan demanded the Soviets end their stall,
"Mr. Gorbachev, please, tear down that wall!"
Bill Clinton said, "It's the economy, Stupid!"
Before he was cut down by Monica and Cupid
And now Mr. Trump draw lines in the sand
Saying, "Let's make America great again!"
And did you know that Yankee Doodle preferred apple strudel
To a leftover dish of cold, wet noodles?
Hope you've enjoyed this reprise of Presidential history
Which to the majority of Americans is an absolute mystery
P.S. Rumors have it that Yankee Doodle is considering a
comeback run for POTUS in the 2020 election.
His slogan reportedly will be, "Make America
handy with Yankee Doodle Dandy."
The "Me-too" movement has already
dialed in death threats ...
He came from a prominent family,
his achievements not denied.
In school a straight "A" scholar,
in the Navy served with pride.
In the war he was heroic,
where his life was on the line,
which is documented in the movie,
titled "PT 109".
1956 he wrote "Profiles in Courage,"
its success was no surprise.
It resulted in him winning,
the coveted, Pulitzer Prize.
He spent 7 years in the Senate,
he was always highly respected.
He ran for the U.S. Presidency
and in 1960 was elected.
The Bay of Pigs and The Cuban Missiles
as well as the Berlin Wall,
crisis situations,
he gave full attention to them all.
An assassin's bullet took his life,
22 November 1963,
in a motorcade in Dallas,
that no one could foresee.
A truly great American
who served his country well,
the shock this nation felt that day,
words could never tell.
However in his memory,
his name is on display.
An Airport, Aircraft Carrier, and many schools
are named for JFK.
Libraries, museums, and universities,
all honor JFK.
A Center for Performing Arts,
what more is there to say?
This is My tribute to JFK,
it's the best I have to give.
He is someone I"ll look up to,
for as long as I may live.
Rest in Peace, JFK
Danse Macabre
Twin Old Glorys jitterbug above the hoods as silent heralds; the motorcade
congas three-abreast along the Stemmons Freeway sleek in shiny chrome.
Long honks and short beeps unite in harmonious homage
to the office that cradles a nation in her oval skirts.
Dallas, late November blue sky framing puffy clouds, is a cabaret
bobbing in frenetic throb to the glam life-beat of its honored cortege.
As they swing onto Main, the image bounces off the dark glasses of the austere
men that line the parade route like lampposts, and beams to an adoring world.
With a blast and a life-tearing flash, a keen emerges from the
back of the shiny limousine that jumps through the light
implanting itself into the intimate memories of a generation.
The suits whirl about in impotent rage as the surge of flesh
undulates forward in grief, back in terror and commences a final march
while a distant freight train avers its dolor with a mournful whisper.
As night falls on a blood-soaked plaza the wind whips up and
the leafy trees on the grassy knoll sway a spectral dance.
By Jay Herman
For Nette Onclaud's Let's Dance contest
~*~
~~**~~
In a black motorcade
the sad and soft parade
heavy hearts the last charade
the last act is finally played
one more curtain call is made
rest in peace shadow and shade
final farewell finish and fade
~~**~~
~*~
A tribute to Jim Morrison
Silently the slimy toad,
Squirmed his way down the shiny road,
And to his followers cried,
‘to Babylon where we’ll not be denied
Lilly ponds and fields of plenty,
tended over by noble Gentry
with cash and causes of great intent,
shall let us live or lives content’.
“Oh Leader! They all did cry,
What of our own pond run dry,
Shall we never taste lily pads so sweet,
which had tickled our toes and soothed our feet.
Shall we be forever lost, here on Asphalt
With lines embossed.
Where gutters are our only source
Tis’ a man-made Water Course”.
‘Be brave my tads and newts,
The warming Earth is in no dispute,
Be we small creature can survive,
Using cunning and natures drive,
To put right what has been done wrong,
By those who reap and have little respect,
nor foresight nor intellect.
We shall find a place to stay
And live to splash around another day’.
'Babylon my friends, it’s here
A great white house with trim pruned lawns and all
Obviously a place of a man of taste
A rose garden and a pond for sure
But hell, there is a wall around,
We cannot delve deeper into these hallowed grounds
So we shall perish, our plans betrayed,
As we’ll be crushed by that on-coming Motorcade'.
Saddle your horse and get ready for the ride; this will be your final day before you take off to the sky, the weather is too dry over here and we have nothing more to share; I have to reserve what I have for the others living over there.
Come and stir the pot with me and walk with me through hills and valleys, we will survey the vast landscape, lofty mountains and fine river bed. You will observe where the skyline meets with the earth and where the river is washing away the dirt, and then you will understand what I have been telling you all along.
Saddle your horse and come with me, I will take you through the route that leads to the top of the mountain and you will see the optical phenomenon that is baked beneath the earth giving rise to a meteorological vision.
I can see streams of light parachuting from the earth , carving out a circular spectrum in the sky with multi-colored dyes spreading all over the sky. It meets with steep slopes interfacing the earth and refracting around the slopes.
Saddle your horse and come with me, I will take you to the corner store
And show you why poor people are always asking for more. The cost of goods and service are real and grocers have to work out their own deal, a pint of oil is sold in plastic bags and thin slice of cheese is all that they have. The backs of chicken makes good curry and the necks of turkey is poor people’s luxury.
Saddle your horse and come with me and let me show you what life is like in the inner city. They are running up and down the street with guns shooting at one another for fun, the Don Man rides in with his motorcade and flick a sharp blade. He cut the box open and shower gifts to the whole community.
Saddle your horse and come with me, we will ride to the other side and you must tell me what you see. People are hustling and bustling in the street and men and women are dressed in suites and fine gown, their tables are laden with lamb, beef, lobsters pork and all the meat in the butchers shop, but wine, beer and whisky are pouring from the top.
The trees are laden with fruits and everyone is wearing a fine pair of shoes and they are dining in fine restaurant and having nightly party. You have got to correct this disparity. Saddle your horse and come with me I am ready for the next leg of the journey.
"We have the power to make this the best generation of mankind in the history of the world or make it the last."- John F. Kennedy
~
In three shots an assassin snuffed his life's worth
Noble a man's purpose with breakthroughs achieved...
Such vile demise made a country roar, 'Unearth
Truths about our leader's fall. We were decieved!'
And beneath red Texan sky... the whole world grieved.
One thousand days of service were not enough
For beloved JFK to instill reforms--
His vision of liberty decent yet tough
Igniting nations to advance honored norms...
Only to be riddled by dissenting storms.
----------------------------------------
The presidency of John F. Kennedy was shortened after his
assassination on November 22, 1963 at 12:30 p.m.
while riding in a motorcade in Dallas during a campaign visit.
Despite the official finding, many conspiracy theories arose--
from organized crime to the CIA to Cuban exiles.
Some 30,000 never-before-seen documents were released
to the public by the National Archives in 2017 and 2018,
with another release set for October, 2021.
John F. Kennedy was seeking a second term in the White House.
Source:The Warren Report Archives
----------------------
A Historic Event Contest
Sponsor: William Kekaula 9/20/2020
Cardboard box compassion,
canned love with a cadaver expiration date
Sub-contract the morgue delivery,
charge a mob fee that’s double the going vig rate
Profit from scapegoating the poor —
Brand X the Depression Era entitlement hate
Legislative death cargo transported,
collect a toll fee that’ll be triple the gouge rebate
Cubic Interstate road numbers
with a devil design ...
dark Transformer souls cast asunder
Route 66: a six-finger sign —
motorcade truck convoy plunder
Screaming eighteen wheelers
rolling over poverty pavement: cement blocks six-feet under
Shipping tax subsidies to the rich,
giving them nothing but the best of the best
Sending slashed welfare to the poor,
we receive only the worst of the crop rejects
Taste the tainted meat,
swallow the spoiled dairy
Dump down dignity deprived mouths
Gov’ment-approved dietary sewer —
rich grifter liquidity from piss poor stewards
Good Shepherd Jesus
fed the hungry poor faithful flock
with golden honey poured from the Rock
Bad Gov’ment hussy Jezebel
sour breast feed maggot milk
to bloated baby bodies that ghetto dwell
Being born Black Bottom dirt poor
in a harvest rich Egypt is so famine pyramid living dead
Federal Pharaoh money bow indoctrination says
it’s a raw propaganda feast for your malnourished head
Eat the putrid flesh,
drink the rancid dairy
Dump down dignity starved throats
Death-approved nutritional sewer —
rich excrement policies
from Capitol dunghill poor stewards