Best Overhaul Poems


Pay No Attention To the Man Behind the Curtain

Blissfully ignorant and supine,
Lost in the economy line,
voters don’t have a clue
that liberty is through.
Apathy dictates all else is fine.
People keep telling me how foolish I am,
but frankly I don’t give a dam.
I’m going to tell you what I see.
You don’t have to agree with me.
In hatred’s name Moslems prayed at the mosque,
boarded planes and three thousand we lost,
Soon we elected a Moslem president,
his books words and actions self evident.
To prove he was islam’s extremist hero,
He allowed a triumphant mosque at ground zero,
Freedom of religion is what they subtly called it,
by a government that continues to overhaul it.
The American people look on as if still numb,
singing his praises as if deaf and dumb,
while a pseudo democratic uncle Sam,
in a forced health care plan,
continues to turn out liberty’s lights
by destroying other religion’s rights.
Thus the American people’s democracy,
is morphed into a dictatorial hypocrisy.
While blindsided by a frantic economy,
we apathetically lose our autonomy.
Allowed by deaf and blind voters in a loud voice,
Fooled by not freedom but license they call choice,
sly appointment of people who fulfill the plan,
A long range one by the “new” Uncle Sam.
a champion of abortion, killing future contenders
him and Herod; another of the great pretenders.
“Enlightened Americans have one point two children per family,
because of abortion, birth control and contraception
Moslems have seven; which is the anomaly?
We Americans treat babies as an infection.
Laugh if you wish; I’m just exposing the path,
You “enlightened” Americans: you do the math.

Premium Member -Brain Drain

I took a visit inside my brain today
To check what was happening
It has been a little sluggish of late
Like a cloudy day not a clear day in spring!

It was dim on entering
So l turned on my lamp  
It was really quite foggy 
Felt a little damp

The memory section caught my eye
As there were countless empty spots
A bundle of wires nearby 
All tied up in knots

The vision section was labelled
Though extremely hard to see
From a distance
I think it read:

h E L p M e

The emotional section was out of control
Eratic movements up and down
Huge highs , deep lows
Overstressed and unwound

My brain it seems is in great need
Of an overhaul and mending
Overwhelmed , l swiftly exited my brain
Service and repairs left pending
© Deb M  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member To Weak To Cry

When I think of the plight that children face all over the world
I just want to cry
Hunger starts and ends their everyday
As many of us continue to waste away
The scraps that we toss could save a child’s life
I’ll tell you the human race is nothing nice
We have no problem spending trillions on war
As children starve to death outside a millionaires store
They put locks on the dumpsters to keep them out
To greedy to give what they are throwing out
I watched a show just the other day
That showed Children just wasting away
Right there in their mothers arms
As I ate my giant bowl of lucky charms
Pirates raiding off the Somalia Coast
Because their children’s eyes are hollow as a ghost
If my Children were starving these words are true
Captain Hook wouldn’t hold a light to you know who
I think in the overhaul scheme of wrong and right
Mankind in general has lost all sight
Could you imagine kissing your child’s last breath?
The rich get richer as they starve to death
So as you all tuck your kids into bed tonight
Kids all over the world will lose their fight
They will simply lie down and die
To hungry to fight to weak to cry


Shelters that feed the Hungry are in every
town, when was the last time that you gave
something. No person is any greater than the
depth of their compassion. To give is to receive
for there is no greater blessing in this life. Keep
what you need and give the rest and the Lord will
make sure you never run out. God Bless, MJ
Written for Sami's contest


Premium Member Basketball Brain

Imagine if I possessed stunning good looks
Along with an adorable personality
I'd have to beat the ladies off with a stick
Love it if this was suddenly reality

Hollywood would continually be bugging me
To make millions from my glorious kisser
Certainly be renowned the whole world over
But dear Cathie, I'd surely miss her

I'd send for her as soon as I bought a mansion
Overlooking the beautiful blue sea
Would say farewell to my bevy of beauties
So honoured to have had a piece of me

This new cyber world allows for such musing
I could actually be of the opposite sex
Now I've really got you wondering haven't I
So you never know what to expect

Well I must confess I'm a ten year old genius
With a brain the size of a basketball
Eat gigabytes of data, morning, noon and night
And spit out gobs of wisdom to all

Imagine if I possessed stunning good looks
Dream on you old geezer, dream on
A major overhaul would certainly be necessary
And I don't think you've got that long


© Jack Ellison 2013

Myrtle the Turtle

Myrtle the Turtle

There once was a turtle named Myrtle.
She could speed through a maze and climb a hurdle.

While she was small, she was a friend to all.
And remained safe from a kitchen overhaul.

Years passed as she raced for many children.
Through mazes designed in childlike fashion.

Lined up building blocks, her corridor defined.
Faster than all the others, her speediness shined.

She heard cheering children as she plodded fast.
Quicker than lightening our childhood flew past.

Playing on the floor so much laughter roaring.
A turtle named Myrtle beget years of adoring.

But then the day came when she was big and fat.
Myrtle somehow disappeared; imagine that!

Fear and distraught brought a terrible rouse.
Frantically we searched running house to house.

Never discovered though we searched with quickstep.
Three children sat crying on their front porch step.

We thought she had been taken to become turtle soup!
It was a devastating day for the turtle-loving group.

Surprisingly, later, in a nearby pond 
Where a neighborhood boy with our playmate did abscond.

We saw Myrtle, our turtle, and her baby turtles, too.
She had escaped turtle soup and made freedom's debut.

© August 3, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen

The Bullied Heart

A 60 second embrace, held too long
A kiss on the forehead, felt so wrong
Add more bullets to my long list of regrets
You are one of a kind, I’ve thrown all my bets

Not too shabby for a drunk
A carnal request I wished I should not have dunked
The refusal was clear
My humiliation, felt worse than fear

Now I stir myself with sadness
Hoping this is just a mental illness
Feeling pathetic must have been the new cancer
Funny how chemotherapy can’t find a cure

My brain needs an overhaul
Looked away from the man who stole
Stealing my heart is a clichéd understatement
Losing my self is appropriately my new predicament

So I have to ponder
While Crouching in my white tee on a corner
Why do I worry of things I can’t change?
Don’t you think it’s the only thing that’s STRANGE?

Fell for a schmuck with a crowning smile
My poor choices, his firm denial
Cupid must have missed his arrow
Or was it destiny who’s missed a sparrow?


Time blurs images of the past
Past leaves traces that shadows can’t cast
After this I have to close my eyes
Waiting for the next wolf to worship my dice

A game of catch, I’ve reached for air
The wrong signs lead me to nowhere
Let me say you are so good to savor
But damn, breaking you now makes me better.


Premium Member Me, Acrostically Speaking

A lmost always late (unless it’s for a movie);
N ight owl though I am, I love the sun.
D imples when I smile; to dance or drive a ragtop are two things I find groovy.
R ational and “real,” I tell it like it is to everyone.
E xuberant at carnivals or joking with someone;
A ware of all my flaws, and one of them is having too much fun!

D iligent and dedicated - words that well describe me.
I n things I love to do, I give my all.
E nglish is my forte. I’ve taught since 1983.
T hankfulness I feel, though now at 56, my bones could use an overhaul!
R egret I rarely feel. Most things I do - I know I’d do again.
I ntolerance, injustice and ignorance I hate to see.
C onscientious since a child I’ve always been.
H appy, kind, forgiving, and easy-going. Now you know more about me.


Written by Andrea Dietrich
for kristen bruni's contest:
"Love Me Why?"

Premium Member A Soul Will Be Saved

And then the day came
                That I found my self lost in the void of my own emptiness
And as suddenly as a tree bust into flames
      After being stuck by lightening
My heart sank
              I felt so lost and alone
The walls ran red with my blood
                     For they were all I had left to beat
And my busted knuckles bleed with the vengeance of hate
I cursed the Lord above as the gooners burst into my cell
AND WE FOUGHT
        Overcome and beaten
Hogtied and broken
                  I refused any medical aid
For my hate drank the pain
             And I wept
               ALONE
As deep as the peace of a deer lying in the meadow
I felt the Lord Jesus Christ come unto my soul
And to this day the thought of him
      The depth of his mercy
             Makes me cry
   For I have been forgiven
I became a man of living example
The future holds limitless opportunities for me
                         I bare witness to the darkness of addiction
                          For I have been delivered from the ashes
                            Set free from the chains that bound me
My soul is my Lords as my heart is my wife’s
My life belongs to anyone who is willing to learn
As I ready to embark on the journey of education
My excitement grows with each passing day
Because I know the Lord Jesus Christ
                       Will use me as a lantern of faith 
         And those who teach me will also learn from me
      For my knowledge of emptiness is as vast and barren
          As all of the great deserts spread around the world
            Compiled together in one 6’-2’’ 240 lb. frame
        The depths of my scars are like the Grand Canyon
          Amazing to see and impossible to comprehend
                   This is my story this is who I am
                    My past will never be forgotten
     Because it holds the possibility of higher education
            In regards to the overhaul journey of life
           And hopefully some where along the way
                          A soul will be saved

Premium Member A Plea To My Mirror

Mirror, mirror on bathroom wall
bring back the face that I recall
when I was young, full of vigor
and was happy with my figure,
before all of me needed a big overhaul.

By: Joyce Johnson
For contest:  Reflections of a Florette   9/5/14

Forlorn

As dawn it roosts, to the early lids of my opened eyes,
Never ever has been a happy feeling pleasant comprise.
Quinquennium back I can clearly remember,
The morning’s plea scalds my thoughts like burning ember.

My blanket festooned body, on the bed it stirs & moves,
The immensity of my drumming head, ever hopes it improves.
Rise as I to the early morn’s sunshine,
 Try to smile and reminiscent, it’s surely futile to whine.

And so I sooth my dreary mind,
Impel the mind to elude dismal thoughts & unwind.
Alas! I’m timorous, those dull & dismal thoughts befall,
My mind ,now I know I need to overhaul.

To edify my mind I have to seek,
Muse must I, think ponder reflect every day of the week.
Tall happy positive thoughts I must now contemplate,
For these are those that will bring me peace and joy once they ruminate.

When I close my eyes to tardy nites,
Am gonna be happy at morn the thought itself excites.
A long dark shadow of doubt it always looms,
It’s foggy dawn and my dull thoughts they resume.

From dawn to dusk I carry on a low,
Pessimistic spirits, they make me slow.
Explicit thoughts are sought desired,
A sound body and mind are always admired.

Forlorn, behold it in my mind’s eyes,
Set tone the work ambience my passions cries,
Throttled are my dreams, dismayed are my desire,
And Brutus knife it’s uncouth edge stabs the back in holy attire.

In a Quinquennium span, and time it ran,
But my spirit at first light is like a weary man,
Now I cognize to him his destiny a bloom,
And to me my destiny untwined from his , so not to doom.


Must alter my retort to suit me fine,
And joyous days will transcend me to cloud nine.
Aghast I am for I have lost, 
The crusade within me and am weary exhaust.

Forlorn I am to the day’s time,
Often mull are they my thoughts, that are all slime.
Forlorn I am to the nite’s time,
I know it’s time to clean up my heart’s grime.

Forlorn it will be till I inversely think,
From insanity, I’m now on its brink.
Forlorn ,I want to say good bye,
For many eons before I die.

Am I Dreaming

AM I DREAMING
Momentarily, I stop and freeze 
every worldly movement and 
activity. As I consume myself 
into each one of them I ask 
myself, ‘am I dreaming?’ my 
mind moves to and fro the 
realm of imaginations and 
thoughts laboriously 
endeavoring to overhaul its 
wondrous question, ‘am I 
dreaming?’ 
I slice myself off reality, while 
floating in space my mind 
engulfs reality and all earthly 
entities and puts them under 
ratiocination I still hear a voice 
whispering from within my 
head, ‘am I dreaming?’ 
I then start to analyze all 
environments and focus only on 
those preponderating. I look 
and penetrate my eyes through 
impenetrable penetrations, and 
I begin to see, ‘is this realistic?’ 
I ask myself. 
I see blameless bloodshed, I 
see sin in its whole ugliness 
pouring out of people’s mouths, 
I see envy in people’s eyes, I 
see extravagancy, and I see 
impoverishment and its twin: 
penury.
I stand still and maintain 
silence, I hear a roaring noise, 
and I ask myself what it is. It is 
heavy blustering winds both 
from east to west and west to 
east acting as a transportation 
medium for sinful noises, I hear 
ill words from the east, I hear 
blasphemous voices from the 
west, and I hear 
misconceptions.
I hear and see offensive insults 
and figures respectively, they 
shake my whole body vigorously 
and I feel like waking up 
abruptly because of the terror 
and horror in my dream. Am I 
dreaming? 
Alva kanyika - 
[email protected]

Premium Member Mill Treasure

The Mill wheel wouldn't turn until Spring 
Money was needed for refurbishing
Built in nineteen hundred and seventeen
It was advised they replace everything 

A treasured part of local history
Host to all the town's social memories
The wheel itself was pieced in artistry
Workers heard tales of hidden treasury

Whispers ran through the town from door to door
The Mill required complete overhaul and more
The expenses were beginning to soar
They scoffed at hidden treasure folklore

A deep freeze stopped all construction for weeks
Influx of needed money appeared bleak
The refurbished wheel was installed - now leaks
Ice melts, revealing secrets - wheel creaks 

A puzzled technician on wheel repair
Opens up a toolbox, gasps, stops to stare
The bricks of gold have answered their prayers
The Mill has been replicated with care!

Lost Love

Deep in solitude
I hope to reduce the magnitude
Pain in my heart makes it protrude
Of my so called dove
That made an intrude
I fell n love-
Am sure it was a ditch
Now I am in need of a severe stitch
After this unpolite breach.
I was torn apart
With the hope to convert
Eye saw she was the one 
But now she has won
In causing me torment
No option but to lament
She moved on so quick
I must be so dumb and thick
Not to read between the lines
Or see the changes in trend
I always tried to ammend
But everytime, the rules I bend.
Deep in my soul
I feel in need of an overhaul.
To me I thought you'd stay
But now you leave me to stray.
I think about how you think
Clearly so shallow
After the things I swallow
From your verbal vommit
Yet to my heart I permit
Anger, avoids to emmit
But she claims I am wrong
Yet daily I sing our song
And hope the pain will not prolong.
Juggled my emotions 
I am strangled in my devotion.
I hope karma
Will come- ah!
And my tears
Will turn to spears

Premium Member Oh the Female Form

Is it just me or do all old guys drool
At the sight of every young chickie
Could it be I'm a perverted old geezer
Or normal but no longer picky

Once thought I was quite sophisticated
With very discerning tastes and all
But the older I get, the less picky I am
Probably need a complete overhaul

Don't go calling me a nasty old pervert
Females were meant to be admired
I'm sure they're totally aware of this fact
By some of their provocative attire

Sure not complaining, trust me on this
Wouldn't have it any other way
Just to ogle these beauties walking by
Brightens up the dullest of days

Not a pervert, just a healthy old male
Enjoying the finer things in life
The female form in all it's perfection
Counteracts all of life's strife

© Jack Ellison 2014

Premium Member Advice On Bible Reading

... It is not a bowl of Halloween candy
with a sign attached, "Please take one".
... It is not a test that you at some point put down, saying,
"At last I'm finally done!"
... It is not an assignment for the gifted
that requires you to pass with perfect scores.
... It is not the bread one eats to feel satisfied,
but apart of your very core.
... It is not an accessory to ones beliefs,
but a carpenter's tool, refined and always there.
... It is not a Get Out of Jail Free Card
to be pulled out whenever out of thin air. 
It's a complete lifestyle overhaul
should you choose to take that leap of faith.
You can't just dip your toes.
You take a step, you go a mile,
is that not the way it goes?
So please, take note of these Bible misconceptions.
A believer or not I just had to mention!

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace