Best Placated Poems
Place parsed pennies, purposely upon pretty porcelain palms.
The wanderer, restrained her raised ranting wrists!
She fell to her Humpty Dumpty position,
unable to ever be put back together again...
Each of us witnessed her fall,
yet we failed to gather those colourful leaves.
I believe we could have laid them at the base of her wall.
She sees the trees as he increases her diseases.
Deepening predatory penetrations as he pleases!
Cracking, fracking, hating, taking, and breaking.
Bringing about disappearing, as pain stains, her shamed awakening!
If we could have, would we have, mournfully watched?
Or instead, would we have held her wrists,
pulled at reddened panties, excruciated her sufferings?
Instead, we placated horrific tugged observations,
waited, pretended to see nothing,
drank our mocha-chino from starry cups!
we sat and licked our lips to the calming sound of muzak,
preferring voyeuristic aristocracy.
Oh how she cursed his kissing and biting,
the sucking of her Texan black gold!
All the while he praised her caged loins,
filling a billion barrels with her oil...
Until the time her flame set fire to his cursed wanting!
Until she summoned the winds from the east.
It was time to birth the spawn of his treachery.
Lava poured forth from mountainous risings!
He must suckle upon her displeasure,
until like creosol, his noxious presence,
combines with his own wasted wood.
Thus preserving his monumental failures,
encasing them within layers of his strangled death!
A voice called out from the West, "Where is the foolish man?
Who is left to sing about his great accomplishments?
His peculiar monuments have been laid to waste,
not a single brick remains in it's place."
No one is left to excavate the woeful forgotten.
She "Mother" seeps into the soil to reclaim his blood,
her womb is once again fertile.
She asks "Do we wish to begin again?"
The start of a great pause stings her ears!
She looks and understands,
"It is no longer good.”
I spent a day with you,
gazing into your
sad green eyes—
I could see that
you were placated
with the thoughts
of death—with
being without—
with being
unheard.
I am afraid
of entering that
void alone too—
but we all must
and will.
But I
sit near you and listen
because I am alive
and we are ever more
alike.
Maybe I am scared
of the inevitable deterioration—
maybe I am terrified
to make you feel
rattled by my absence.
Because I know what it is like
to feel utterly alone—
to feel like everyone is
tired of trying and
fading around me.
I wish I can take
all that is lost within
you away and dry
those watery eyes
that have seen so
much and now so
little.
I wish I can take you
to where it all made sense
and everyone around you
breathed easy and laughed freely
and hoped truly.
But all I can do is
spend a day with you—
seeking to see some
trace of relief in those green eyes—
and remind myself that
this day will never again
return… and that we are all
one step closer to the edge
of the void among the
forgotten.
When the apple dropped on Sir Newton's bean,
He cursed naughty words making quite a scene!
He was somewhat placated,
When to him 'twas related,
He'd found gravity, wholly unforeseen!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
A festered quelling of song
Tasting broths of ritualistic intent
Evermore
Nevermore
Can epiphany’s silent facade
Hold me down
Ever
Again
A war of hellos
Goodbyes
I miss you
“Please, come
Home”
The laughable oddity,
I’ve always been here.
They say home is where the heart is.
Yet, it soars thru Heaven’s misunderstandings.
With many peculiar eyes
Tearing in humbled curiosities
And placated heat strokes
Unable to fathom my reach for tomorrow’s message
Life lessons, tuition free,
Unto serenity
Unto serenity,
I awaken into a catharsis for the colors of song
Rather than the backhanded colors of skin
Because our finite heartbeats consist of one rhythm,
One skip
One shade
…
Yet, the time has come, for this heart
To muster up oxygenated infernos
Before I pave incipient paths
Less traveled
Warning
Warning
…
Warning
©Drake J. Eszes – 5/8/2014 (I of III)
“Now something…has kept me here too long. But, they can’t leave me, if I’m already gone.” –R.A.
A Passel of People Participated from all Portions of the nation.
The Purpose - To Promulgate the Pickle Pickers and Packers Association!
Parsimonious President Dill Presented a Pretty Powerful oration,
To Pitch a Passionate Plan for their Prestigiious organization!
Picker seminars Provided Pertinent Particulars for Participants,
Pertaining to the Proper Pampering for Perpetuating Pickle Plants.
Packer Panels Propounded ways to Perfect Professional Panache,
For Packing dills and gherkins Perfectly so that they dare not smash!
A blue-ribbon Panel Picked the Pickle Princess in all her Persnickety Pomp.
A working Party Picked the Pickle Prince and his Pompous aide-de-camp!
A Patron Provided a Plastic Plaque for the Pickle Picker of the Year.
A Packer won a Prize as top Pickle Purveyor, the Pinnacle of his career!
A quorum was needed but a Passel of People were Pickled in the Pub.
The President was Perturbed, not easily Placated, there in lay the rub!
A Plethora of Pixilated Pickers and Packers Presently repaired,
Protesting that they were Prepared to vote, not in the least impaired!
It was Paramount that the Proceedings not end on a sour note,
So the President Proclaimed a Positive quote for all to Promote:
"We must Project Professionalism and Perfection in great number,
As we Proudly Proclaim the Palatability of the Prosaic cucumber!"
Incense burns fiercely permeating us
With sweet smells calling us closer to it
Stare straight in the flame and be mesmerized
Fascinated and placated
Meditate and self-medicated, sit
Enjoy the soothing atmosphere and wait
Light one, two, three, as many as needed
A big room we light four; intoxicated
Like drinking wine in front of the sunshine
We all fill our senses with ambience
Surrounded by multi-colored auras
Uniting us and strengthening all of us
In fundamental bliss and peacefulness
We clasp hands and walk into the abyss
Brutust Iulius Trois Page 07
Brutus called his captains into conference
we are done with creeping along the shorelines
prepare now to sail out across the Aegean
the winds are with us and Troy awaits!
Imogen seeing Hesione, ceased weeping
Hesione, were you happy with your lot?
was Telamon a better fate than Neptune's dragon.
So you are returned home having reclaimed your veil
So Priam is again Podarces and the serpentine Cetus awaits.
With the dawn the Trojan fleet finally sailed out.
Guardian dolphins leaping alongside in sunrise
Sped on by Aeolus, the windy son of Neptune
For Neptune had been placated by Brutus
by his offerings and by his vows
happy to be headed homeward the Trojans sang
composing happy ballads about Brutus
his triumphal return of the Trojans to Troy
of the golden lives he was leading them to
so the sunny days of the crossing passed
The fleet of Brutus sailed past the foggy isle of Tenedos in the last hours of night.
gliding over Neptunes's golden palace, the Aegean glowing with Salacia's lights
raced they toward the ness, the headlands of the Helespont
Suddenly from the fog came, Alarms, cries, clamor, the clash of iron
Sol's opening eyes revealed a Thracian pirate attacking a Phoencian
Tossing bodies overboard feeding the lesser cetus the sharks of the sea.
With his own battle cry Brutus took what was to hand and threw it.
as Nauta the helmsman steered into the fight
Tossed like a weapon Hesoine's amphora burst upon the Thracians
spearing them with shards as her black ashes coated the sea
clogging the gills of the lesser cetus who dived deep
deep and away from all of the disturbance.
As the ships came together the Trojans boarded the Thracian trireme
swords slashing stabbing slicing as they bloodily slayed the pirates
Imogen left behind looked away looked down upon the water
only she saw Hesoine's ashes transform into a sea dog
a great grey seal that swam to the beach of Cynossema
finding shelter beneath the shadow of Hecuba's empty tomb.
“How come they all have Toothpick Legs?”
She wonders aloud,
face furrowing into a deep red frown.
“And mine are so big?”
“Genetics. Look at me and Mom.”
OK, I’m a blockhead.
Seven-year old angst understandably not placated.
“Your legs are beautiful and strong.”
Seems I’m getting somewhere now.
“Adventure legs are what you have.
You run so fast, the boys can’t catch you.”
“Well, one.” She corrects me.
“Look at the amazing things you can do.
Ski, surf, run, bike, skate, anything."
Her cheeks turn just a little scarlet.
Silently, One day, someone will love you,
adventure legs and all.
Like I love your mama.
After a ski day, she drew a prone stick figure.
Curiously, I ask, “What’s that, honey?
Why is she lying down?”
Big smile, with a hint of mischief.
“She can’t snowboard very well.
Toothpick Legs.”
4/2/16
I write to tell you of my life
But you compare meanings with dictionaries
And understand words
Think of this poem like a lover's fight
You told me if we quarrel I must not leave the bed
So I take it I must wrestle you until you yield
If you only bring your senses to words
You are like me, too sophisticated that morning
And too naive to understand
If you will enter into life
You first die bruise and broken
For why should find life if already you are alive
Is this not what you do to me everyday
If I was not a poem I would not even care
But I know I am written to be read
Deeply; to be profoundly understood
I resent dictionaries always sabotaging my imageries
I resent you imposing on me your twisted histories
How many have you had
Is there no private to abort your the incongruities of your womb
A poem must be read without suppositions
Without hesitation
It must be penetrated and rewarded with convulsions
I vomit in revulsion unless I am placated
For the ejaculation of truth,
That is deep semen from complex tissues
And feelings that for life are complex roots.
Its' truth,
and it's in the dark,
but with the spark we can wall off like a plaster of farce,
any indecent start,
with incandescent sprawl to remark.
As if it were all the placated thing that does the hard lard-
I never needed but grew to embark!
Outcasts spell me neededly' as I see whats seething-rot with grease on things.
I'm pleading eagerly,
for the right stage for the print of my priest-
but wonder allowed if i'll have to keep repeating and easily wondering about the joggy' facts,
the eccentricity of my real badge-
the maps toggling themselves to distance innumerably far from my wrangler in park,
and the truth that's so dark.
Let’s stay at Oinkington Inn the easily pleased relative said.
Her husband looked at brochure and said I’d rather be dead.
The pigs are lovely, she replied. There is nothing to dread.
He told her to go to her family reunion with her cousin Ned.
The sows and hogs were truly placated and fine.
We visited them near an old abandoned crystal mine.
You should come next time to the reunion, she said.
Best part is, a sow ran off with my mean cousin Ned.
Magnus can’t run wild
since he bolts
once given liberty
of tether.
I identify with his struggle
as he pulls with vigor
to center the fray
in frolic
only to get denied
with a plaintive yank
at the limit of
influence,
placated and sequestered
in a panting pen
without regard for
dignity.
As I unclasp his
durable chain,
he licks my face
then jets off.
Enigmatic is the soul
Preponderance found within great luminosity
Intrinsic of mind and body
Placated by the serenity of prayer
Harmony instilled through revere of faith
Affliction bound by His word
Nirvana the ultimate reward
Yearning for it's final resting place
You say you want a revolution?
Just what would that do to our evolution?
Bring change and revelation, what type of a solution
to the foolishness we embrace and true reality ignored pollution?
Take our guns away and the right to bear arms, settle scores
while sending foot soldiers, boots on the ground fighting someone's wars.
Build satellites, drones, bombs and smartphones to do the dirty work
stealing lives of innocence while terrorists survive to hide and lurk.
Protect those who have something to supply like diamonds, gold, oil
while people of a nation slowly die in poverty, starvation and diseased spoils.
Set up funded foundations controlled and contrived by the rich placated
and keep the monies donated for the poor and devastated.
Watch gamers play foolhardy glints of survival hunts and war-craft
never once recognizing the reality exists in the real world daft.
See your children on the tablets and i-phones texting
unawares of human contact. communication, love and touch vexed.
Hide from the gangs and random shootings on the street
bury the innocence stolen from our living free each day fleet.
History rewrites the story every decade, every century, every day
and we the people - seek change, compassion, love and understanding ways.
Peace - never lasts for we are a warring people
restless, unsatisfied, looking for something in the eye of the needle.
You say you want a revolution?
It's already here, wanting absolution.
How did it start?
How will it end?
It is the darkness in the human story from the very beginning of time.
Paint it black written in blood and tears forever flowing in the climb.
Betrayed
You stand still like monuments
As umoved and unshakable as a grave
You utter words of unfathomable promise
Your stare bores into me
Drilling into my soul, piercing my heart
But your lips curve into a snide smile
That mocks and jeers me.
Fear envelopes me
My heart, I felt it twist
My knees wobbled
Causing me to collapse
To shatter like a thousand broken pieces
But your hands cradled me in a strong embrace
"I will never let you fall".
Your whispers awaken in me
A speck of emotions long lost
Laughter grazed my lips,
A twinkle, a little spark lit in me
Rupturing a tumult of feelings
My heart missed a beat
Your genuine smokey eyes
Compelled me to trust
Your soft lips and tender caresses
Encouraged me to surrender
To lose myself in your gaze
In the hollowness of your eyes,
In the echoes of your voice
As you laughed,
As you whispered, 'how I love you!'
But it was all a lie
Placated truths of entrapment
Laid out from a wretched web
Weaved over years of friendship
It was but a blunt sword
that would cut through my heart
When my back turned.
And for what?
A few dollars and a cent!
I wish you knew of my sacrifice
How you constantly remained in my embrace
How I cast all aside to hold you close,
To keep you happy, content
But you broke my trust
Just like yesterday's leftovers
You cast into the dumb the love I freely offered.
And for what?
A few dollars and a penny!
As my heart breaks
And tears cascade down my cheeks to form banks on my chin
As my mind numbs in denial of the fallacy we've become
I will surrender to my pains and pangs
My anguish and aches
I will absorb the hurt,
The disappointments and throes of your betrayal
But remember;
The days when my love was enough
The moments when you were thrown out
but I held you in my grip
The times when I bore witness of a great person you are
When no one else would
Remember my dear
Of the many times you stumbled
But I caught your fall
And when finally you do, know
With each tear I shed
With each heartbroken sob
I wish you a karma tenfold.
Moliehi Koeshe
© 2018