Best Peons Poems
~Seven Dwarfs~ (limerick sequence)*
There once was a dwarf named Doc,
Who saw patients around the clock.
He hadn’t gone to medical school,
Yet his patients he could easily fool,
For his meds were always chalk.
There once was a dwarf named Sleepy,
Whose wife was extremely weepy.
She wanted to travel
But couldn’t unravel
His hair from the bed canopy.
There once was a dwarf named Happy,
Who ate only fudge and taffy.
His tummy got big.
He looked like a pig.
So he switched to chocolate frappé.
There once was a dwarf named Bashful,
Who’s wallet was always cash full.
Too timid to spend
For fear he’d offend
The peons whose homes were trash full.
There once was a dwarf named Dopey,
Who’s mind was mightily mopey.
His speech was so slow
His belle didn’t know
That he wanted to elopey.
There once was a dwarf named Grumpy,
Who became a little rumpy.
He ran ten miles a day,
But much to his dismay,
His butt just became real lumpy.
There once was a dwarf named Sneezy,
Whose allergies made him wheezey.
He wanted to play the romantic lead,
But instead did the voice of a dying steed,
In a film by Martin Scorsese.
*the real ending to "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs"
I have a duty to the form
for in the past it was the norm
to insult the queen and king
with lyrics for peons to sing.
A mix of words to sting the beast
that fed upon an unearned feast
and fueled the tattered shoeless class
inflamed old fires from their past
turned the battle cry of words
to bloodied hilt and blade of swords.
So did the ballads turn by fate
extol the virtue of the great
as shoeless peons tilled the field
reaped not the bounty of their yield.
The jester's danced for headless king
who silenced those who dared to sing
the jester danced, the dance a ruse
protecting fate's poetic muse.
And in his cryptic, mocking schemes
rekindling lost battle's dreams.
10/6/2020
A Poet's Duty Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Beth Evans
Trump wants to build a wall
Between Mexico and us
I can't help but wonder
Why he's making such a fuss!
Cartels were building tunnels
Underneath our border fence
When Trump was groping females
And Pence sought common sense
Though Congress say Trump's thinking
Is reasonable and sound
We know they'll find the workforce
From los peons underground!
Of
splendid
thrones of
gold
Of
treasures
manifold
Of Sultans
and Shahs
Of Emirs
and Rajahs
Of
jewelled
caskets
or lavish
banquets
Of
sparkling
crowns
and
flowing
gowns
Of kings
and queens
Rulers and
emperors
Of their
subservient
stewards
and
obedient
butlers
Or the
servile
knaves
and
stalwart
squires
Of the
peons and
minions
pages and
pavilions
Of castles
and palaces
of
abounding
gold and
silver
in
ostentatious
regal
splendour
Ah the
fanning
maids in
waiting
Yet to me
one thing
worth
more
noticing
The poet
minstrels
who came
to sing
from afar
for the
queen and
king
For I'd
rather be a
poet for
kings
so to my
tunes
swayed
the
kingdom
than I be
the king
of mere
subjects
and be filled with regal
boredom!
So I could join ranks of
troubadours
and sing for the king
some folklores
For words are the heart of imagination
Inviting to poetic fascination.
(form Troubadour) Ars poetica
We Bend but Never Break
Stand your ground the Monarchs cry
defend our power, do not ask why
Know we rule by our divine right
murder so easily with our might!
Bow down to kiss our Godly feet
we are the best you will ever meet
Know your place and all is fine
now pick the grapes, stomp the wine!
We stand above the shining light
ordering peons to slave and fight
Get cracking , do as you are told
if lucky, you'll work until very old!
the refutation......
Stand there in your deep disgrace
vainly thinking to be a better race
We searched and found freedom's call
you bow or else you will fall!
On bended knee beg for our help
bark, bark , you surly little welp
Learn your place to stay alive
tread water or else take a dive!
We stand in great defiant cause
no longer obey your stupid laws
Obey meekly and you just may live
that's most you get , more we'll never give!
Robert J. Lindley, August 3rd, 1974
Written when I was 21 years old, so full of piss and vinegar!
Youth has the advantage of - energy and eagerness....
century later in a watery grave
souls of the elite as well as peons
float about the wreckage
boarding in Southampton
Dad carried jewels to sell in the States
I, just a teen, came along to see the sights
Dad’s money purchased rooms on the top tier
artistically designed ball room was aglow
bright lights, sumptuous food and fancily-clad dancers
in my youth, I cared naught for such things
down the stairway I flew to see the lower class
strumming guitars and telling raunchy jokes
but the joke was on me it seems
suddenly, the boat hit an iceberg
on the lower level I was trapped
screams were heard above
as passengers sought seats on lifeboats
not enough room, fear ignited
ship took on water; we felt it first
still trying to find a way to the top deck
once there, I saw Dad had left me behind
lights were still on as the boat tore in half
on the bow I stood with a small crowd
as into the icy waters we dropped
tried to swim; the sea was too cold
on my maiden voyage, much like the ship,
I succumbed as screams faded
my spirit so lively, it could not die
with 1,517 others my soul was held captive below
New York was not our final destination
Dad made it to the Big Apple
no family with him as he made his financial deal
what he earned fell short of what he lost
century later in this same watery grave
souls of the elite as well as peons
float about the wreckage, praying for release
*Entry for Tracie’s “My Heart Will Go On” contest
Written March 29, 2012
Moronika ...
there are whispers a-floating
People say you got a low wattage bulb,
your thoughts be dimly glowing
The ideas you think of
covers a lot of six-year-old territory
Temper tantrums are your cake-and-ice cream first love,
pineapple upside down behavior cherries
Moronika ...
rumors are spreading, spreading around
Tabloid talk of the town,
enquiring minds hear tell you’re a moron
Insult that stings like angry bees,
got you buzzing madder than a wounded Klingon
Bruised pride hurts a lot indeed,
no loyalty serpentine bites from seditious peons
Moronika ...
intelligence suggest three cans missing in your six-pack
Empty top-shelf drawers,
half-pint wit in a ten-gallon size zeppelin wide hat
Living in a mansion of fun house mirrors,
reflections of yourself are so distorted
The blank television picture is getting clearer —
uptight smarty pants fitting over a loose petticoat Id
Moronika ...
got dense popcorn thoughts
that never puffed
Moronika ...
the whispers are a-floating:
the twin air quote balloons you bought
were helium dumb and dumber
Please, you have put my progress on pause and caused me prolonged poverty-Put the keys to my persona back on the dresser,need my personality back- You have put my purpose on pause, and caused me to get pulled into your pool of problems, I do not want to swim in gossip and drama. You have Pitched me another curve ball of your pastimes.. Waiting for me to catch your worthless, purpose of profound pity - This is my ditty on your pretty agenda based, passive,pretentious piety. Unreal humility, has programmed your potential, which produces phony plastic products that are non essential. Pardon me if I have come to certain conclusions; Since I've allowed your inclusion into my own illusions. I now protest what I detest,of what I thought I saw in you ..As my mind has been reasonably restored, I reserve the right to say who belongs in my life. So I am closing pages on peons who have put my purpose on pause. New perspectives on my prerogative... Peace!
I blink my eyes and then the world is gone.
Open once again to see some peons upon the lawn.
They came to hear the Lion yawn and swipe a wife by dawn.
That's why I keep my pride and believe,
to conceive that it's respite is my reprieve.
But you yuppies be just mere pawns in the grand scheme;
placed at rank 2 file C.
I treat myself to treats I don't need to ask the priest.
I fill a lady's niche when God's dead like Friedrich Nietzsche.
I'm an autonomous man, the world needs me.
Due to greedy deeds, I lost the lot of you to petty thievery.
Now standing orthogonal to the bishop you orthodox Cis.
Tearing holes in the fabric of time while mother nature sits and knits that.
Amidst a scrimmage over minish mishaps, fisticuffs and misfired mitts with whiplash.
Hexed by wind and turbulent syntax.
As activists vehemently flail at the fascist crux; only to be met by impasse.
Making my attempt to love exclusively an outward expression;
a barrage of affection bombarding the good intentions of a meta-man’s vision.
Otherwise known as fortified Freudian defense mechanisms.
To deal with ideals in an asymmetric system.
Oh but I pray praise that I am what I be.
Hallow thy be virile amongst a creed of faulty seeds.
Yet I’m an enantiomer, a Chiral Beast;
my courage can never be superimposed upon the fear of defeat.
Finally granted with the Coupe de Gras when disagreements meet.
As if graced by chance, I advance with the apex of a Sword’s vertice.
Striking clean from the left to then evade your deceit.
I take a seat while a woman cleans my wounds with peace.
Ahh but even in victory, the warrior’s woe must be debriefed.
Born in the gullah cypress shade
of South Carolina
Dirt poor
Rich coffee bean skin
Teardrop-shaped pearl eyes ...
midnight black forest feminine
Uneducated and illiterate ...
Living swamp school books
was her God-given natural wit
Wisdom which breathed from the dark soil
Trampled upon by educated elephants
with lazy literary tusks,
whom never once had to truly toil
Pay the peons in euro peanuts
was the turn-of-the-century attitude
Race the stallions and mares
without benefit of schoolhouse shoes
Granny love
how often was
the horse buggy whip laid upon you
Uneducated and illiterate ...
opposites were u and i
Born of the same branch,
my soul extend to her an olive leaf sigh
Uneducated and illiterate
was you,
but papa swore
it would never be I
Granny you were the wisest woman
I ever knew
for twenty four years til the day you died
‘Cause, Priests and Prophets Must Pray for The Reign…
and for Pre and Post-Op-Apocalyptic–Novocain ! …
Yet… It Doesn’t Matter, What Distress to You
On the Planet, however Polluted or Profane
It Doesn’t Matter, What Distress to You
Wherever the Delusional -Dimensional Plane
It Doesn’t Matter, What Distress to You
Or Danger-Plot, Prison-Door or Deepest Pain
Or Present-Defeat, or Darkest-Hours-View
even Thru Dying-Breath, Devout Prayers Proclaim
to Be Delivered- New, True, and Pulled-Thru
to Claim The Prize of Life-Perpetually-Sustained
… For Particularly, By God’s Unpronounceable Power
Thru His Son’s Unparallel- Principal-Purchase… Dower
God’s Dependents and Dreamers Will Prosper-Gain
The Prophecy, The Promise, The Paradise-Preordained
The Perfect-Future and The Victory-Parade
… The Distant, Destiny of Eden – Never Been Doused Nor Degrade
Then… It Won’t Matter…So, Please Dismiss The Paltry-Strain
The Days of The Deformity and Damage-Train
Will Be In The Past … Departed-Detained
Disaster and Disloyal Will Lay In A Destroyed-Plain
Damned For All Of Time –Proliferate-Blamed
A Suppository-Prophylactic-Puddle-Shame
Patience-Persevering…Demands Punishment - Prediction-Sang…
… Final-Draft …Stop-The-Presses!... Poll-Loudly-Refrains
When You Really Discern and Pragmatically-Attain
The Divine God and His Son’s King- Domain
Publicize Their Progenitor and Predominant Names
and Preach and Deify Like-Doting-Platoon-Swains,
with Pedestal-Passion and ‘Plum-Plumb’, Persistence-Ingrained
For On Position-Comparison, We ‘All’ Pale-to- A-Feigned …
…Puppets and Peons and Dim-Witted-Parasitic-Great Danes
and Dopamine Defective, Demerol Addicted – Darwin-Poisoned-Sprains
Disoriented-Drivel, Droll-Drooling-Inane
or Just-Plain ol’ Dire-Derelicts-Insane
(and now… I have a P D Q,… for Me and You… Migraine)
Oh… May They Accept This Poor-Placard-Crane
Amen… Again… Amen
Future held such initial promise
But shallow dreams disintegrated
Coalescing into shallower reality
Despite my youth, pain cripples me to geriatric apathy
General interest long gone, death has become the single concern
A welcome embrace, a welcome friend
Tardiness is expected, as well as encouraged
Release me from these eternally shrinking walls
Allow the peons to continue their superficial pursuits
Never meshing well into the fold, I yearn simply for permanent isolation
There is not enough joy to justify the agony that life forever guarantees me
Nihilism and anger, desires for maniacal retribution, the only feelings I've ever known
Clouded over now by perpetual physical torment, my formerly hollow shell continues to exist without capacity for optimism
Yet without hate, there seems nothing left
Shall I forever be adrift?
Memory, oh sweet memory,
Lost in dizziness, but found.
Excite my brain to joyfulness.
Pain is sometimes lethal.
Memory loss is just one warning sign of this war.
Add to that: headaches, depression, oh, the mental pain.
Numbness, insomnia, heart palpations, and more, begin slowly.
From whence comes your sweet deception?
My bones ache and I cannot breath in life's memory.
Lost in my own fantasy with dizziness.
Imagining a chemical warfare against the masses.
Common folks like you and me but subjugated peons.
Mushy brains found among the young and innocent thin.
Excite my brain with your pondering, my muse.
To you, I owe this mysterious inkling.
A powerful infiltration, a plan concocted by the enemy.
Chemical warfare on the home front, disguised as pleasure.
Marketed among the unsuspecting –
Aspertine is thy name oh great deceiver
In the name of sweetness, mental acuity dies.
Freely given to the soldiers in Desert Storm, diet soda!
The Plan: Conquer a great nation from within.
Infiltrate every aspect of life in a well-laid plan.
Thus, food and drink may lead to a nation's folly.
Slowly slipping away our freedom to be US.
Quietly. Unobtrusively. Ingeniously. Irreversibly!
Joyfulness, visit me; remove this pain for it is great.
Chemical warfare kills.
Sometimes, we close our eyes.
But we must not.
Lest it becomes lethal to our free nation –
© March 17, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Et cetera Free Poetry
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi
RELATED LINK: http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2011/11/06/aspartame-
most-dangerous-substance-added-to-food.aspx
Potential commander-in-cheat
Has a PhD in deceit
If courts say he's free
We'll see an orgy
With pee that D.T. could excrete
Pepper the pink and red poodle with her nose in the air
Walked down the runway without a concern or care
She knew the peons were watching her swag
But barely gave them even the hint of a wag
These dogs are beneath me, I am the great one, she thought
Pepper the Perfect did what she needed, did what she ought
She marched down that runway in an elegant way.
Not caring about the mongrels who were watching that day
Her reds and her pinks were made by famous fashion designer Glee.
He only designed for a few actresses and film stars as important as she.
Pepper had given him his start, and she did this as a favor to him.
He had asked her to smile, but that would have cost extra with vim.