Best Ransacking Poems
I felt home
In its presence I felt warm & home
With no contact, I feel touched by just staring
Distance meant nothing for if I could see I could feel
Its light made our nights as we lay calm watching the moon's revolves
While mama tells a story of its uniqueness till we fall asleep
*TheWriter'sWriting*
My Haven
Ransacking the celestial bodies
None could be a match
The geoid shaped always have my attention
Its an art entailing artist
It was awe inspiring
@AmazingPen
I felt home
Patience & commitment is a needed mama advice
You can't see what it entails clearly without paying attention
So, we would lay quietly listening to mama stories as it leaves us in amusement
For what we saw was far more than our imaginations; it was a gift
Sometimes it was a woman carrying her child while cooking, other times it was children playing
*TheWriter'sWriting*
My Haven
Beautiful sunlight
The breeze of clapping seas
Dancing around in wavy form
Swaying of trees in unison
Never did I know of the sadness its bringing to my feet
@AmazingPen
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Poetic Duel
Which is it: you can't get started unless
you're riding some current bigger than your reporting voice
or the best time to write is when you don't have much to say
and without plenty to say about everything you'll get better right away.
Form is very often a betrayal of reality
or, although we are initially drawn to poems by their passion and urgency,
we are convinced by the formal means invented
for their impelling motives. Every accidental crack or dent.
Not just mildly disquieted but actively repelled,
running for the River Styx, the doors of Hell pell mell,
there must be a crack, deep and unmendable, in the poet
that the poet must forever try to mend. Or not.
While mortal poets imitate, immortal poets steal.
That's plagiarism. Fortunately the public feels
less strongly about poetry than television,
communism and aging gracefully through meditation.
Now I'm being silly. My silly indefatigable lusting,
silly sadness, silly arguing and silly trusting.
All I do not know about our nation's history, wars
and what showering the people you love with love does.
Ransacking apothegms, algorithms
and selling the loot as memes,
dissemblings. Or bearing fardels
with the warrior's skull.
Black, endless eyes, the wind
Flapping. Pitching star to port,
Anchored cradle.
Grappling, a hook and cries;
treasures engulfing desires.
Ransacking, a pillage, flames
licking wood.
The bottle, no message; only
a Ship.
The year was Ten Ninety Five,
Christianity by decree.
Off to the Holy Land men were sent,
to set all Christians free.
Peter the Hermit was first to go,
church unsanctioned was the start.
Whipping followers into a frenzy,
with holy words he would impart.
But Peter's quest would be doomed,
for he behaved badly upon the way.
Thieving and ransacking homes
while persecuting Jews in the fray.
He had not even left English shores,
when racism whispered in his ear.
If they were to kill enemies afar,
should they not start right then and there.
The Jewish peoples had lived in quiet,
amongst the Christians until then.
But to them Peter would soon become
vicious foe and never friend.
Jews were always looked down upon,
but hadn't been opposed you see.
But Peter lacking funds for the crusade,
slaughtered Jews for their prosperity.
A tale that has been repeated,
time and time again.
Look into the future now,
as the world goes insane.
For Peter and Adolf were akin,
so like in thought and threat.
To kill for profit they undertook,
preaching violence was their mindset.
On Peter waged, his opposer's,
would feel the blade of his sword.
As Peter marched with certainty,
to defend against Muslim horde.
Across Europe they marched,
until Constantinople was in sight.
Alexis didn't know what to do,
so shipped them to Turkey in the night.
Peter took up residence in a Castle,
home of a Turkish King.
But King Arslan realized the danger,
that this crazy monk would bring.
So one night he ambushed them,
as into the castle they crept.
Not a single crusader was left alive,
from Turkey the threat was swept.
Thus ended the People's Crusade,
the next wave would soon arrive.
To the land of milk and honey,
where Christianity would now thrive.
There's freedom in blankets of void
Petulant perception provides but a wash cycle
I'm driven from miles high to sink back among
Notorious ransacking nothingness
I hear the lips clapping
Smacking on ill digested words
The movement and oasis
Triggering fog mirror chase
The grand rent payment in the sky
Where life is as dull as television programming
A nauseating mess of mistaken identity
Trading for each other's improvement
When does it end by barrels of day
When thinly gripped outstretched pointlessness
Careers from the balcony of hope
And lands plummeting in apparent falseness
Word Painting In Black and White
Cubed ice dismantling the plank bridge with pliers
made of syrup spilled with a dash of grief and brawn
the reptilian doughboy mixes up another cosmic batch
of truth cookies designed to mislead with wishes of
the big power grab all manifesting inside the largest
television set ever devised with a flat screen as big as
a flying saucer that has at last come down to earth
so large and compelling my eyes were sucked out of
my sockets for five seconds of blind purgatory something
I thought of as an impossibility what with the moon landings
in the last century and all the heart transplants with
a dozen doctors dedicating a day of grueling hours with
silver forceps and scalpels designed to cut and close
as with all relationships between a tight skirt and a mustache
on the floor by a black vent kissing with fingers touching and
moans muffled by the hand of fear there on the green carpet
in a mad darkness by the black vent and the trees with lemons
invading from days and decades earlier when young women
found the tile smooth and electric with sharp tingling sensations
on naked nubile skin rubbed down with cold creams made of fish
ransacking a thousand anchored ships with knives made of pearl by
old pipe-smoking hippies who make love all day with sprawling girls
looking for hot thrills inside gardens made of stone and bootleg love.
Fierce fighting raged, but surprise was gone,
the Americans rallied and pushed hard,
the Indians fell back, out of the ravine,
the patriots driving them that far.
Hand-to-hand combat broke out brutally,
with knives, clubs, and rifle-stocks,
Iroquois would wait until patriots fired,
then while they reloaded, charge with tomahawk.
Herkimer saw his people being killed,
so he ordered them all to pair off,
one man would fire, the other would load,
now It was the Indians who felt sharp loss.
The killing continued, on through to morn,
until a thunder storm broke over the field,
the fighting quieted but neither side budged,
neither side put down powder or steel.
But as the storm passed, back at Stanwix,
the garrison heard of Herkimer’s plight,
they charged out into the near empty camps,
putting the few British still there to flight.
They plundered and pillage all that they could,
ransacking and stealing their supplies,
when word reached the battle, the Indians turned,
now it was their turn to be surprised.
The broke from the field, ran for the camps,
but when they arrived they saw it was too late,
the garrison had retreated back to the fort,
with their spoils behind a barred gate.
At Oriskany, Herkimer held the field,
so by the standards of the day he had won,
but neither side had gained that much from it,
despite all the bloody work that was done.
The patriots were too savaged to continue on,
to damaged to hope to lift the siege,
they retreat back east, to Fort Dayton,
to see to their wounds and their needs.
St. Leger found himself in a terrible spot,
supplies dwindling, his camp ransacked,
to make matters worse, mad Indian allies
started slinking off, not to come back.
Not long after another relief column,
led by a general who’s name won’t be said,
marched for Stanwix, convincing the Brits
they had little chance of not being bested.
St. Leger ordered his forces to retreat,
back to Canada his troops did go,
and the British plan to split the colonies
suffered from its first heavy blow.
Herkimer didn’t live to see that day,
his wound quickly became infected,
when the time came to amputate his leg,
it was botched up, and quite freely bled.
At least the brave man got to die in his home,
and his name is recalled in glory,
he remains a hero in upstate New York,
for his courage at Oriskany.
i never knew
love could hurt you
through and through
ransacking your very core
shattering the truth of trust
the weight of a single teardrop
can take the strongest to their knees
i never knew
passion can be a two-edged sword
one side shining so brightly
it blinds all rhyme and reason
the other merciless in its swath
your body and soul cut to pieces
no longer recognizable
i never knew
that being left behind
devastates everything
all that you hold dear in life
vanishes like winter snow
the pain of loneliness
has no equal
i never knew
the lover in your arms
once beckoned by the call of destiny
will leave as surely as the morning tide
must flow from the bay
that which is not to be
can never ever be
but now i know
IRISH
SCAVENGERS
The night sun buries his face to earth,
Slowly suspending his daily harvest -
Piles of colour and heaps of brightness
In oast house and warm barn.
Rays of darkness
Speed across the twilight
Sky, steal into small corners of the loft,
Scavengers ransacking the day.
Greens devoured by omnivores;
Nothing left but black.
Pulled together
by a magnetic avoidance of loneliness,
fueled by an insatiable ardor
to evade a shortage of love.
Mutually splintered souls searching
for a place to embed and
implement a façade which conceals
mutilated minds.
Spurious attempts to disarm
the timebomb which is his mouth.
Futile efforts to escape
a mental cage
inflicting frightening fingerprints
on a shatter-able soul.
Cautionary writings on the walls
of his guise,
demanding subservient devotion.
Loud lashings from his slick tongue,
contradicting confessions of love and hate,
whilst ransacking an insubordinate mouth,
by extorting an opening through
quivering lips.
Transient,
insincere apologies
fall on deaf ears,
between briny tears plunging
down an anguished face,
debunking the reverie
that this is how love
is meant to taste.
A dismaying omen
predicting the dawn
of the end,
disguised as a single round, white dose
of insentience
aggressively shoved down
through tortured glottal wails.
Convulsive crying gives way
to comatose disposition,
displayed on a cold cement altar -
a sacrificial lamb laid out
for torturous vindication
of his deprived need
to strip of honor,
by forcibly desecrating
incontestable,
incapacitated remains.
An ungainly desperate last resort -
running with lead-like legs from a known enemy.
Flashes of head- lights and white painted lines,
don’t hinder a final attempt
at liberation or eternal rest.
Flashes of cold, dim swells of pain,
preferred,
over the clinging clutches of oppressive
maniacal hands,
lunging at the opportunity to subdue.
A harsh awakening -
in his lair.
A morning after like no other.
Hues of black and blue on
pale, dehydrated dermal layers,
serve as confirmation
of an undeniable recollection
of hair-raising anamnesis.
Painful retrospection
inciting an unrelenting
concluding confrontation -
never again
the victim will I be.
When ignorance led to disaster.
And citizens became a throng -
Angry hearts knew not love’s master.
When ignorance led to disaster.
They beat man-beast; death winds blew faster.
Hatred misplaced was very strong.
When ignorance led to disaster.
And citizens became a throng -
One gunshot in air fury flying,
Her sweet voice sang a distant song.
Berating, they went ransacking
One gunshot in air fury flying,
Goodness found left hatred sighing.
No calm for rage’s deadly throng.
One gunshot in air fury flying,
Her sweet voice sang a distant song.
The angry mob knew evil’s master.
Enchanted legends made hearts soar.
Pure love returned his life made fresher.
The angry mob knew evil’s master.
His broken curse knew her love’s shower.
The beast, a prince, renewed life – adore.
The angry mob knew evil’s master.
Enchanted legends made hearts soar.
INSPIRED BY: The Feature Films for Families movie, “Rigoletto”
(The mob scene and related events.)
© July 26, 2010
I'm on a treacherous journey down a barren mind,
a cavernous abyss of unintelligible revelations,
void of any comprehensible inspiration.
I am perpetually staring at a blank canvas,
continually foraging for that illusive phrase,
ransacking my hollow coffers of recollection.
Parchment decomposes from abandonment,
as does the ink drying in the quill.
There is rumbling from within,
fermenting familiar reminiscences.
Might this evoke envisions of my opus,
or the rancid sustenance I have consumed?
Bewitched with irri-
tating glows,they ransacks the
purse and 'ijawo'; those rats!
Breaking news;
The Headline: "3 husky rats
ransacking the purse of the nation."
The news: As noted in the
headline of today's consciousness-leaking
news. We'll have to say this with
Annointed regret that 3 hoodlums
With pointed teeths had just robbed
the nation of a frugal amount
of papers. Hence, the federal
government had just concluded to
Deep their anxious hands into the
weeping purse of the nation,with regards to
buying a distilled insecticide
to eliminate the husky hoodlums.
Hence,the federal government has
taken '4 billion naira' to carry out
this operation,respecting the uninterested
interest
of the masses. Here is the news.
N.T.A 7:00pm. Deola......"
Prophesy has come to
pass. 'Ekule Ole' and cray fish
not worth than #5,000. When
mingled and moistured can
conspicously carry out the opera-
tion successfully. Then why
'4 billion naira?'- won't accept this
offer if to me offered.
Such amount for rats?........
Hmmm....these rats!
Who are these rats?-
Rats with two hands,two
eyes,two legs,a nose.
Rat whose glottis is active.
Full of themselves,claiming rights
Graced with deceptive life swimming
and vividly drown in ocean of lies.
These rats!
Leaves their abode at
mid-day,travels to other
forests to hunt riches.
Hunt?..... No!, squander the
riches they've gotten from
the purse of their masters- suffering
masters.
After showcasing their wealth
In those forest. Then,they'll
saunter back into
the waiting cupboard and steal
'Meats from pots', 'Eat some part of
the bread- they're already satisfied'.
They'll resume their usuall relay.
And return the same circle.
Maybe you know those rats.
Those rats on Agbada-mehn!
Driving luxurious jeeps,living
in braw duplexes bewitched with
fumming air conditioners.
Those rats that are always hungry-
contending for post and Ranks.
Buying different PARTS for their
Draining CARS.
Hope you know these rats.
I think we truly need to
eliminate these RATS with
Iron insecticides,pushing them
into the ocean of remonstration
and patriotic regrets. Those
RATS should go through those famished
Bullets!.
Or what do you think?
Hmmm.....these rats!
17:01:09:13:11
The awful feeling tightens my vocal cords
that praised another god who never denied pleasures;
I abandoned faith and despised kindness:
it's time for God to show anger through ransacking,
taking away all favoritism and getting
a payback for disobedience and unclean living.
I've tasted death and cried with a constant sob,
did I merit such a punishment? I nodded and accepted
whatever God sent me and the woes were shame and agony;
ah! The day has come and I am stripped of all vanity!
What's the purpose behind this? There are people who rob
and murder inflicting pain on others; I pursued goals
not so pleasing to Him and gave in to the Deceiver
who stile the holiness I geld sacred and it cost me despair
and restless nights, until this violent storm stroke and battering waves
made me wreck before I reached my harbor: why was God so merciless?
Rebelling against the Almighty, it's not appreciating sacred life;
if our youth is a factor of rebellion: what causes such antagonism?
Fighting for freedom without imposed restrictions on anyone
is feeling invulnerable and ready to brandish deadly weapons
on the ones who are faithful and are showered with blessings...
as they bow in prayer and show devotion to Him who rewards them!
Rebelling against the Almighty has the harshest retribution ever felt
by a mere mortal who battles with His will despite the faintness of heart!
Palindrome Poem...Reverse Verse about our Perverse Universe
(flip gravity.. what goes down must then come up - sorry..read down then back up)
"In this place we all call home
Monstrously Machiavellian
Doesn’t have to be
Islands of strangers
Ominously Orwellian
Tribal totems & talismans tome
Demagogic
Or
Pedagogic logic
Instead could still see
Rangers free from dangers roam
Embraces spaces for all races & faces
Riffs not tiffs with what ifs
Fracking probe..ransacking the globe
Attacking our cerebral lobe
Saluting high falutin polluting.. evolution?
The earth burns as it turns..on its axis
Heed the greed creed..poleaxes
Pay your taxes?
Plead to feed those in need
One man struggles while another relaxes
The solution…revolution?
Oceans just toxic potions
Due to noxious notions
Wary of the lairy scary Dairy Fairy
Much as I try.. won’t lie
Can hear that guy..Jamiroquai cry
Emergency on planet earth!
Red herring or derring do or die
Demonstration or veneration of deforestation
Placards do the hard yards versus lanyards
Deny or defy.. scorched turf?
What’s it worth?
Torched by the debauched
Wince..since birth a serf?
Log in to your singed noggin
They’ve binged..impinged
In the middle of a fiddle & diddle riddle
Damn it this is our planet
Taking the piddle
Avarice hubris bliss
In this place we all call home"