Best Ointments Poems
When silence speaks in broken dialects, to harmonize hurt,
I ponder, would the sky unravel synonyms for serenity,
amidst piercing thunder that strikes through raining regrets~
upon flowers, swaying forsaken, to butterfly ballads?
But will oblivious eyes, roaming the blackness of selfish spheres~
where prayers are abandoned as meaningless metaphors,
ever feel the darkness we carry, when tears no longer flow in lakes with swans, to be seen?
It is in melted muteness, we reveal realness of suppressed pain,
as childhood fears scribbled as forbidden secrets~
rewind on repeat through holographic lens of life,
mirroring bloodstained fingerprints etched across linen of chastity…
So tonight, when blue moon in my mind ascends in insomniac stillness,
listen to the sulfuric sins scattered as flashbacks of an onyx rose,
as vandalized veins scream in helplessness,
awaiting a sculptured sunrise that bleeds balmy ointments for burnt blisters,
while I remain, in mists of misery, weaving prose,
to erase tattooed torment that stole starry symphonies within my soul. ..
She remains a partial gift
some have none, yet some have much
for her scales, sideways they tilt
yet we crave her soothing touch.
With jars of scents, ointments and creams
ourselves we paint seeking her face
fanciful, our grotesque masks seems
yet she stays mocking our ways.
But true beauty in these things lie;
the morning dew on thirsty leaves
the new-born sun that's up so high
even in Nature's smiles on lonesome cliffs!
the new normal
I'm isolated, waiting
at home with my wife
adapting like others
to our normal new life
a few days, no problem
a week, it's a breeze
but, nobody said
there would be days like these
at first it was easy
cleaning, watching tv
I dusted, did windows
even cut back a tree
i worked in the garage
got my records in line
i found about ten
i didn't know that were mine
i've written a little
tried to keep myself sane
watching tv is trouble
watching people in pain
my hands are all bloody
they are rough, dry and raw
they are the worst looking hands
that you ever saw
lotions and ointments
I rub them all in
my joints all are aching
like that man made of tin
we cannot have fires
open fires are banned
we can go on outside
we can't move, we can stand
my wife's in the kitchen
busy counting the rice
she's doing it right
she's counting it twice
yesterday morning
she worked right till night
she sorted the pasta
and she did it by height
the walls have been painted
right to the door lip
she did it real nice
she used a q-tip
i've sorted my hardware
all my nuts, screws and nails
i've got some in jars
i've put others in pails
the floors are all washed
the cupboards wiped too
we're adapting quite well
i hope you are too
when the weather gets nice
i'll go cut my grass
i'll use a ruler and scissors
to help make time pass
this is the new normal
it won't change for a while
so, stay at home please
read this, and then smile
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The Little White Box
The alabaster box was made of precious stone.
For its flawless beauty, and honor it is known.
The contents enclosed, in this little white box:
Is sealed in perfection, as if it had locks!
Upon its opening scents saturate the room.
as a bouquet of roses, or expensive perfume!
In the hands of a woman, she was shameful we’re told.
Was an alabaster box, filled with ointments of old!
The ointment was rare, and treasured, behold!
And not to be wasted, yet, thought to be sold.
Now this woman stood at Jesus’ feet.
She wept like a baby, as if in defeat.
Image the tears, flowing from her eyes.
While washing his feet, between deep gasping sighs!
She dried off his feet, with the hairs of her head.
Her grateful affections could not be misread!
She broke open her box; the ointment she poured.
Anointing his feet, for she was restored!
For much she loved and forgiven for much:
The hand of Jesus, her heart did touch!
This little white box paints a pretty sweet picture.
Of a valuable treasure only found in scripture.
In its perfection, like a sleek stone:
Clothed in great honor, flawless he’s known.
He poured out his Spirit, as if it was ointment.
Expressing his love on the Day of Atonement!
The Alabaster Box was purposely chosen.
As Jesus’ Deity, through it was spoken!
She gave him the best, for Mercy revealed:
As his beloved, her fate was now sealed!
Yes! Liken unto that alabaster box:
The King is real strong and solid as rocks!
He is cloaked in majesty, draped in white.
His priceless fragrance, does always invite!
Written
1-6-14
There’s taxes on underwear, dresses and ties,
and taxes on ointments your grandmother buys.
There’s taxes on food at your local D.Q.
and taxes on food even good for you too!
You’re taxed on most services; and you are taxed
if you get your most private areas waxed.
You’re taxed every year (it should be a crime)
on the same house and car that you bought just one time!
The plan for which all your work’s taxes went in,
when finally used, you’ll be taxed for again!
You’re taxed more for smoking! You’re taxed if you fly.
Your loved ones get taxed on your stuff when you die!
Rich brats have their loopholes and still get ahead.
But most of us won’t find relief till we’re dead.
Inspired by Carolyn Devonshire's "Taxing Times" Contest
mr. buffet can’t believe that
so much “inequality exists
without people really getting upset” &
as he & some of his richest friends in the world
start to give up some of their moola
to cause that they see fit,
the fact remains that
enough are not upset---
it is time to get upset
it is time to get in the streets
it is time to do more than occupy
it is time to refuse to settle for the
crumbs
it is time to get more than
upset
it is time to get this empire to
squeeze more than blood from the stone
it is time to stop ignoring people who
are sick of being ignored
it is time to listen to ALL the voices being screamed
at night time & in the day
it is time to indict those who run the empire
it is time to squeeze the rich dry
of what they have gained from stepping on the rest of us
it is time to stop pretending that putting bandages &
ointments on our wounds is going to heal
the gashes inflicted by the history of classism,
racism, ethnocentrism, sexism, homophobia &
flat out violence to those who may seem a bit
different
than the rest of the abiding, ridiculous, flock,
baaaaaaaaa-ing the whole time
whilst breaking their backs for the banks of others
it is time to put an end to all that has been
unsettling the majority
it is time to put an end to all that has been oppressing
the majority
it is time to break down the walls built in front of those
just trying to survive,
smothered in the belly of the most threatening empire on the
planet,
who wields the club upon the domestic population as well as
the international---
it is time &
you know it,
to be more than
upset.
This is the Cannabis song,
they've turned something good.
made is seem wrong,
It's illegal why?
Come on politics,
don't be shy
So many uses for this wonder drug,
Wonderful for clothing and sometimes rugs,
Fords model T car was built from hemp- the very best,
Mayflower sails were too they passed the test,
1619 Jamestown settlers had to grow the crop,
It's absorbent fibers make the best cleaning mop.
clothing more solid and sturdy,
Eco-friendly for the fish and birdies,
replenishes soil with nutrients it once dropped,
known as the most efficient rotational crop,
artists for many years used the oil as paint,
use hemp money to pay for that date,
hemp oil could end the gas crisis,
Piss off Shell, Chevron, they don't like surprises,
Lets not forget the physical effects,
One of the best ways to let your body rest,
ointments for sore muscles and lotions for skin,
once it's ingested, ooh feels like a wonderful sin,
The many Cannabinoids help with cancer,
better than chemo not guaranteed to end the disaster,
Certain strains provide mellow for those with epilepsy,
imagine being the kid who just cant sleep,
take a dose once or twice a day,
they now see the sun's shiny rays,
Cant leave out the repair of brain cells,
the ones that alcohol beats up then bails
Why is it illegal you ask?
Politics wear the greatest masks,
Constantly paid off by corporate interests,
Wanted monopolies to bring them pocket book bliss,
Pharmaceuticals, DuPont, Randal Hearst, now Alcohol,
Couldn't stand the competition this “drug” brings at all,
To ensure the public wouldn't be informed,
Made GOV medical testing illegal and provided propaganda ****
So many other details,
but this must end sometime.
For some great information on cannabis
visit the http://NORML.org website
Like a stalking hoarse,
Have endured shrewd days and night,
Like the physician ampoule,
Ready on my skin to pour.
flights from ignorance left these
Strawberry marks,
Eyes glued on the object
compelled to the hard brown wooden logs in art,
And the iron in room "G02".
Friends and enemies unrelenting
awaits enticement,
numberless distraction as obstacles on my path,
beckoning to the banquet of misery,
as this dangling reputation slowly pace along undeterred.
ego gangs gauged and chokes to loose the prize
avalanche of invisible darts piercing from home and abroad,
but I, a pretty piece of flesh,
Stand aloof to watch a drama
With the ointments of the supreme being
Within my bowels,
Those that see the seals, demand the cause,
Of quietude in this world of madness.
As I stood aloof to watch the wretch mirth turns to mourn
Ah weary watcher, like you, I am a mere voyager,
on the route where the delight of the peasantry
Is wept into oblivion
There are dangerous curves
As we advance,
there are dangling arrows,
The old serpent is not dead,
he hides in ambuscades
The road becomes deeper and deeper,
The shades of the precipices fall bleaker and bleaker.
The clouds gather overhead,
Doleful voices
The way hardly discernible in this gloom
The path is dreary,
our feet too often wobble,
Heart ambushed by fiercest lust,
Yet, Firm stand I.
Not in my natural element
Melodies roll off a tilted tongue
hits from years long gone
you speak in words rhyming
the past with a longing pride
I look down under and lose it all
our song, played behind a hidden dawn
the jackrabbits scurry when I near
I can still smell her deceit in your fear
Fly away now my hyperalergen
ointments bought in an open market
fail to impress me, no longer undress me
with hidden eyes meant for another's side
sorry my broken sparrow
your delicate heart breathes life
but I can't love you, eventhough
these tears say otherwise
you have a wife
@please stop the soupmail cloaked one
we can never be
INCONVENIENCE
Home :
Take one cube of gravy essence,
stir it fretfully, if I still dare,
into boiling, or at least hot-ish water;
such senior movements made with care
Care Home :
Drizzle ointments, yea, and potions
onto wrinkled tangerine skin
of arthritic hands, hips, knee-bones,
prey to crocked aches, and pains within
Hospital :
Please do ignore me gaily, while I toy
with food, well, pap, served up each day;
don’t tie me into bed, I’m already tied to head.
I pray, sometime soon that I’ll be on my way
Thereafter :
Finally to discard this worn-out old suit
trade incontinence for what seems the same,
but with new ability : to bawl up a storm,
and minor inconvenience - this fancy new name
Alan McAlpine Douglas
(Challenge words : cube gravy fret with drizzle tangerine prey arthritic toy tie)
Lotion cream balm an ointments
reminds us of who we really are
accessories fitment's an garments
never need lavish nor spar
classic cupboards organized
maintain visual distain
to relax an feel stabilized
everything is perfectly attain
or maybe not quite a start
funny how time seems to fly
then wonder how far
th' reason of existence apply
like driving all night
without an aim
And who's to blame??? Riding supernovas trail across the celestial sky ~
Escaping the realities of which always fill these, my weary eyes....
Wishing to make a heart smile and or to brighten anothers spirit; inside
Bringing hope in a world cracked to be broken unto its cerements core
Wherein the majority of life truly do not live at all; not really!?
Painting with pastels dipped into fragrant oils amid these sanctums
Ointments, to cover the sores within this lingering mask of death....
Trapped aneath its box of misfit dreams; as lights continue to fade away
In a hand full of sand upon this shore; existence, slipping into the sea?!
Tainted; lives struggling everyday to grasp but another breath of fresh air
Gathering a morsel of food upon their empty and ofttimes, poisoned plates
To awake without a dream that none of them have ever seen; these....
***************************************************************
....“Supernova Skies” *
The mirror stands cracked,
Neglected at the corner,
The broken glass wearing a coat,
Of a fine film of dust.
She no longer dares…
To look, nor does she care.
Her face, heart shaped,
Her eyes, bright and brown
Her skin a light shade of chocolate,
Her hands gently as if afraid, run down her face,
As if in fear they will hurt her skin.
Her face is rough,
Like the plains in the barren quarry,
Gingerly she touches each part,
The tears fall no more,
It’s part of her this skin
That strives to bring her loads of pain.
She walks the streets head held high,
She no longer cowers,
She stands straight and tall
Her heart threatens to tremble
As her peers point and giggle,
She can hear their words,
Shooting daggers into her heart,
“Look at her, look at her skin! Can’t she do something,
Aaargh some people! I just lost my appetite nkt”
A sad smile curls her lips,
She no longer pouts,
She knows she has done her best
The medicines, the creams, the ointments
Washed with peroxide but no, no change
Her skin remains stubborn
So she munches on, smiling to herself
She had a choice to live happy or in misery
She choose to happiness even the way she is.
Send me elixir back and bless me with the rain
The fruits of the sacred tree and the ointments of pain