Best Outsourced Poems
Lecherous Luther was wont to grope
He ceased to function at the end of a rope!
Here lies Cletus as stiff as a board
He slipped on the ice and busted his gourd!
Here rests our dear Ruby who failed to duck
She was beaned on her noggin by a hockey puck!
Egbert the boxer took a fatal jab to the jaw
He died on the spot for failing to yaw!
Interred below is Purvis rigid and prone
Alas, he choked on a chicken's bone!
How we lament the loss of Naomi our sister
She was whisked up and away by a Kansas twister!
Dudley kept in shape by regularly joggin'
Alas, he tripped and fell crackin' his noggin!
Phineas was laid to rest for his eternal snooze
He died too young because of his fondness for booze!
Wilfried didn't heed the warning regarding the curve
He met his doom in a Lamborghini for failing to swerve!
While breaking a bronc Tex was abruptly unhorsed
Perhaps the task would've gone better outsourced!
Categories:
outsourced, death, fate, humorous,
Form:
Epitaph
"Got any rivers you think are un crossable?
Got any mountains you cannot tunnel through?
God can do what no other power can do".
The lyrics to a song by John Wesley, a great revivalist
and accomplished song writer, speak to the practical SIDES
of our everyday LIVES and remind us that we are not ALONE.
Though at TIMES driven by stormy winds, and far we have ROAMED,
Our strong faith REMINDS us that we have not reached our HOME.
Figuratively, we all have crossed rivers once thought IMPOSSABLE
and tunneled through gigantic mountains once deemed UNTHINKABLE.
How many times have we completed missions and asked, "Did I do THAT?" Or what about the times you climbed mountains taller than Mount ARARAT?
Do you remember the time your job was OUTSOURCED to India, or 10 years ago when you went through a horrible DIVORCE? Although it hurt you to the CORE and left you bruised, SOUR, and SORE, you overcame all of that and MORE, because you were blessed with God's POWER which did for you, as Mr. Wesley said, 'what no other power could do'.
072520PSCtest, In Honor Of John Wesley, Kim Rodrigues
Categories:
outsourced, christian, god, song,
Form:
Rhyme
The TFL Shaman- A Journey Home.
Raindrops trickle down the misty train windows,
Obscuring views of coloured graffiti,
Works of passion sprayed on to embankment walls.
Bright colours splattered onto neglected structures,
Wild Statements of art,
Arising from the urban ashes of creativity.
Serious and distant faces find the protection,
In-ear plugs and Smartphones, from a carriage,
Painted in soulless grey and from fellow travellers,
Silhouetted against stark Fluorescent lighting,
From contact that might demand a human response.
Hopeful eyes, searching screens for some outreach of love,
Social media, this agency of sometimes silent desperation,
Of outsourced spirituality,
Paper castles and empty rooms,
Designed to steal us from the very now,
This very now, that would wake us,
From a digital nightmare.
Suddenly the sunlight slips through dark clouds,
Transforming the soulless city grey
Into instant beauty,
Sunlight bounces of wet sparkling windows,
Shafts of white light scatter across sky and
Concrete Landscapes, highlighting and making special
For just a moment, the ordinary.
And against a quietness,
Only disturbed by the rumbling train,
Comes the faint voice of a passenger singing.
Awkward feet shuffle as people turn away,
But as she sings, this TFL Shaman tears down a hidden vail,
And for a moment we stand exposed, real,
Scared others might see our pain.
Next stop, Chadwell Heath a soft voice says.
The doors fly open, and the TFL Shaman steps off,
Her glowing Red hair lifting gently in the breeze,
Her Shopping bags cutting into her small hands.
Outside In the warm summer sun, a blackbird sings with all its heart,
Falling silent for a moment, and then sings again.
John Roberts
Categories:
outsourced, blessing, forgiveness, journey, mystery,
Form:
Free verse
No worries in being unemployed
Working for the Lord with continuous praise and joy
The Lord Boss perks always being under God’s care
He is the Lord for all to share
No worry in a job being outsourced
The Lord being the superior one with the only force
Yet the spirituality is a feeling beyond compare
I don’t mind working overtime
Because I am involved with the Lord’s blessings combined
God’s power that will stay with me
It is something my fellow Christians shall see
I don’t have to think on man’s corporate name
Because God is the one with the name and is fame
My health care under God’s complete control
If I get sick I will be the witness of look and behold
My Boss being the Lord and not man himself
Man thinks only about himself
God is not like everybody else
My Boss being the Lord knows how to teach and extend knowledge
The voice of Heaven in have you heard
Opportunity being a privilege
Promotion in fairness served only by the Lord
The value of compensation needing no charge in praising our Lord
Just stand back and watch as God helps to preserver
He is the protection when the enemy wants to come near
A Heavenly Boss I appreciate, and as a servant I will always participate.
Categories:
outsourced, appreciation, bible, blessing, business,
Form:
Pastoral
Coping With Hard Economic Times
By Elton Camp
Each new generation was richer than the one before
But it looks like that will never be the case anymore
It seems young families might as well expect to see
What economists now describe as the “new reality”
Their parents came to have a house and a nice car
It will be hard for most young folks to go that far
The jobs that are available have become very few
And of a type that only minimal wages are due
Benefits largely have become a thing of the past
As have pensions that an entire lifetime will last
Many jobs that were available to Americans before
Have now be “outsourced” to some foreign shore
Most manufacturing plants have now been closed
So China can dominate the market, unopposed
Even if people, more are quite willing to pay
Little is found that has been “Made in the USA”
Categories:
outsourced, angst, jobs,
Form:
Rhyme
Villanelle: Wander not into a land where the indigene’s indolent
Wander not into a land where the indigene’s indolent
Likely as not the country will be run by interlopers
Open-heartedness is often a cover for self-bemusement
The first signs crop up when lax morals make him relent
Shuts an eye to alien antics on his wife and his daughters
Wander not into a land where the indigene’s indolent
When foie gras vacation rather than who runs government
Or the long weekend pont makes the migrant caretakers
Open-heartedness is often a cover for self-bemusement
Fanatics from dictatorships money-minters from the Levant
Drugsters* outsourced from banana republics’ carpetbaggers
Wander not into a land where the indigene’s indolent
And lo! Ere the cock crows every face in the pram’s sun-burnt
In one generation one-third pray through tongue-twisters
Open-heartedness is often a cover for self-bemusement
In two generations three-fourths take over government
Pimps drug-addicts loafers wage war with spiritual gangsters
Wander not into a land where the indigene’s indolent
Open-heartedness is often a cover for self-bemusement
* drug-pushers, drug-dealers, drug-addicts and their bankers
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Categories:
outsourced, abuse, addiction, conflict, confusion,
Form:
Villanelle
Our Smoldering Factory Town
free trade, a brick around
It’s gurgling, swollen neck. Surrounding
gray quiet smolder, evokes,
Once thriving factory smoke
A Crumbling horoscope
once paid it's worker's, soaked
in quiet desperation.
We are it's rusty antiques
sinking ships on outsourced seas
a swollen, bailout casualty
a fallow field, a dustbowl breeze
While children sew our sneakers
In bananna sweatshops, cheaper
hands can make, children's fate
wont matter, they'll dig deeper.
Categories:
outsourced, political,
Form:
Rhyme
Amend them errant, wavy ways,
put a cease crease in those idol traditions
Don’t give servile salutes to the droopy god
of billowy doctrines
What price will be paid
for giving homage to carnage superstitions?
Acquiescence of pagan silence ...
wrapped cloth around the pursed mouth
Complicity bandits are making solemn,
stolen moments oaths
in the pulmonary pulse inner sanctum
Sworn statements of allegiance
are wavy by nature
Unstable, irrational reasoning
will sway to and fro with the economic breeze
Bellowing winds are shifting
on the sienna, blood-colored horizon
Nothing is seen amiss tho,
as mercenary valor is uniformly outsourced —
a quiet necessity of paper bought bravery
And the people are told
to go back to a peaceful, covetous sleep
Folding of the hands,
closing of the eyes
Return to a deep REM knee bend,
with prosthetic lungs limping
Green dreams of profit frogs jumping,
pocketbook tea got a war blend
An open casket of lies,
half-mast loyalty be the making of flag demands
Pray to the idol image
that is always pendulum swaying
Folding of the flag,
bury the truth in a pitch black body bag
Purchase a toe tag,
return to sender when the death sales lag
Categories:
outsourced, allusion, patriotic, truth, wisdom,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Guy in Guantanamo
Catherine’s wheel spins round the revolution ever since that day her lover died
when both lost the plot and their passion and she cried her grief into Bedlam
Guy jumped to his death to avoid torture hanging in quarters and disembowelment
gonads stuffed into his mouth like hot chestnuts did not appeal much I suppose
He had been a sparkler cracker Jack out of that ordinary box a hero martyr terrorist
criminal but one woman’s arsonist is another one’s flame hot passion crusader of love
Same smoke screens for religion and dogma today with mouldy gunpowder exchanged
for suicide bombings and some misguided faith merely faithful to death and destruction
When lighting a bonne fire today and caught on the ‘right’ side of evil trading life for
collateral damage oiling power in the name of wheel’s fortune and hegemony’s axes
Medals glory decorations await the champion wielding drone’s buttons for the sake of
remote controlled ‘democracy’ but when found reading the Koran Guantanamo beckons
Legality outsourced to Caribbean delights with water music suited for rackets and rockets
of massive destruction and Monopoly played in the board rooms of walled streets where
Playing with fire one does not hear Catherine’s pleas to have mercy without victor’s justice
and as of today I still do not know whether we celebrate Guy’s death or his disorderly guts
Effigies sizzling on feu de joie do not sit well with my statutes and statues of liberty when
hypocrisy measures with double standards and when two wrongs surrender what’s right
15th November
Categories:
outsourced, devotion,
Form:
Free verse
Little Santa Helpers
Santa has outsourced his services to child labourers from Bangladesh they
fit zero-sized through chimneys much easier and the leaner they are the
better they share full of joy in the globalised feast of winter communion
Detached they are from ‘wrongful’ beliefs and so much happier for their distant
faithful relation to Christmas plus they are used to half naked toil with
loin cloths draped in native design and fig-leafed in the wider scheme of migrant
extortion minimum wage wasted on them but they might get some
tips from little children on other sides of divides if those can catch them in glee
But then there are milk ‘Ho Ho Beer’ and biscuits by the fireplace laced with
incense and Prozac not licensed for young ones maybe but the booze as willing
sign of cross-culturalization is surely inclusive and a Peace offering sponsored by
‘Alcohol Without Borders’ while the odd trace of Ritalin keeps ordered control
Santa is not really burnt out but neo-liberal delegation is the vogue of the month
and post traumatic stress drones and hoovers on his sick note nevertheless
as his bonuses and shares float on Panamanian waters and now he needs a lungi
as well instead of the red coat extra large without doubt as he burps in the sand
The Bangladeshis meanwhile chirp in silent frost bitten nights but at least there
are soot and ashes no sunburn sometimes carrots with broom sticks thereafter
almost a year of ‘social’ benefits homely rest recuperation free time for Mohamed
They scrub brush and sand their dehydrated skins by the Ganges until they come
to accept the ‘Terms of their Trade’ bow to diversity’s splendour and discern what
is dirt and what their skin colour and it’s the latter that keeps them employed
28th November 2016
Categories:
outsourced, abuse,
Form:
Free verse
Winter of revelations
Rationed sunlight
Daylight savings and economic depressions
Lost jobs, welfare schemes, divided families
Drugged teens, abusive deans, suicidal dreams
Mortgages, republicans, Obamanomics
Global villages, borrowed monies, bailout packages
School dropouts, Outsourced to India, Made in China
Yes you can, yes you can’t
Middle East, jihad and Jerusalem
Hollywood, Bollywood, Dream factories
Greed, Excess, Blood and Gore
False prophets, Vigilantes, Moral Custodians
Culture, pluralism, clash of civilizations
Cornered hope, common man, is it so in heaven?
Hope floats, twilight zone, will thy kingdom come?
Categories:
outsourced, political
Form:
Prose Poetry
Mary had a little lamb
She roasted it with mint
She didn’t want to do it
But sadly she was skint
The shepherdessing job she had
Had been outsourced it seems
A shepherding consortium
Had shattered Mary’s’ dreams
The company contracted
To administer the flock
Were highly recommended
As solid as a rock
So Mary’s job had gone for good
It didn’t make much sense
One little lamb one jar of jam
Her only recompense
Insomnia, a side effect
Now kept her from her sleep
She tried all kinds of remedies
Except for counting sheep
So, taking to the bottle
Her body old and tired
Off into oblivion
She finally expired
Categories:
outsourced, animals, food, funny, work
Form:
So corporate outsourced your job today...
It's a miracle you lasted this long anyway...
Change is life and life is change...
Keep repeating that on the firing range...
Where you gonna go, and what exactly are you going to do?
You going to be trapped in your cluttered mind;
wading through the convoluted residue?
You gonna hide from your mortality?
You gonna waste away?
Don't forget to update your resume...
Categories:
outsourced, leaving, loss,
Form:
Free verse
Never before
World ignored
An honest reward
Thats been solidly deserved
Have you read this book before?
Im the ingnorent source
I feel lost and sore
As if my feeling have been outsourced
Between the here and the never more
My defiant mind
Leaves lines hard to find
With in this twisted plot
Lost inside a much deeper thought
War that must be fought
Though I fear at the end
We will find only rot
Incomplete sentence
but all the intensity
one can handle, doctors orders
take one at a time
water may help to swallow
this rhyme
goes like a lame venom
soggy smooth
leaving you with frostbit lining
rust crusted, flame touched, hard felt,
torched tipped adrenalin rush.
I have a felt tipped sole
and I feel as though somethings
wrenching my intenstin,
caroding my dreams
lost new findings of my famous failure
seems my words fall into a category
to be defined as caroded comprehension
built and thrived on empty ambitions
though force fed lines
taught by the sole
read by the mind
brought to these hands
so you might find
some type of understanding,
under lining this torture of mine.
left to the basics
how would you fill in the blanks?
could you redefine this rhyme?
my mind boggles, and rips and tares,
to find a tear to cry
wouldn't it be easier
if i'd just talk
She says she can't understand
it's as though
there's too many words just floating
I don't speak in word
I speak in verse
so I feel Im left drowing in my floating words.
praying hoping someone finds relief in me
I write on
words
Categories:
outsourced, on writing and words,
Form:
A shell explodes out of the barrel
Of misfortune's gun with a deafening bang.
Unexpectedly pink slipped as he was
Slowly making his way up the corporate ladder;
To use the demotic vernacular, "Laid off."
Poor fellow. He never saw his hard luck coming;
Confronted with a disconcerting reality,
It has rendered him a melancholy shell of a man.
Poof! His dream job vanishes at one fell swoop;
Outsourced overseas. In his wistful eyes,
Utter dejection. His reversal of fortune, cruel.
He doesn't quite know what to do with himself.
It's a tough pill to swallow; he's struggling
To adjust to his grim circumstances.
Sudden joblessness has taken a toll on him.
His saturnine feelings are tough to conceal.
His indigo-hued mood clearly shows on his face.
He's teetering on the precipice of depression
And withdrawn from friends and acquaintances.
A shroud of uncertainty now hovers over him.
His future couldn't look more gloomy.
With his stellar career gone
And mental health dangling on tenterhooks,
Where does he go from here?
Eight Word Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
Date written: 05/26/2023
Categories:
outsourced, confusion, depression, feelings, jobs,
Form:
Narrative