Best Rawest Poems
you may try to make us feel inferior
strutting around with head held high and mighty
i wonder
is it for our sake
or just to cover up thy own inadequacy
fumbling your way around the factory floor
the bosses son soon to elevate to greater roles
i remember you
on your first day the rawest of incumbents
silver spoon still protruding
from your mouth
i gave you the strength needed
taught you everything
now I sit across from you
your eyes never to meet mine
no apology
when handing
the redundancy paper that says goodbye.
© Harry J Horsman 2021
How I'd relish standing Obama at a brace and show him how to salute!
He's shown zero respect to the Marines and I suppose he thinks he's cute.
No one salutes with a coffee cup in hand, not even the rawest, dumbest recruit!
Should a soldier, sailor, airman or marine do such, he'd suffer the toe of a boot!
He's been seen on camera saluting the flag with his left hand over his chest;
With hands over his crotch or no salute at all with neither hand on his breast.
If the president is interested in gaining the respect of those who keep us free,
I'd volunteer to teach him the rudiments of saluting as learned by this old retiree!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Earth, water, fire, air
solitary elements to exist;
while alpha powers from
celestial arenas persist at creation
in it's rawest form
Nothingness,
A blank canvas
Empty;
full of substance and potential
Awaiting a transformation that will be
a perfect reflection of beauty
pictures on a mantle
Earth, Water, Fire, Air
Homey eyes of peasant stew
A cozy-colored mossy mew
Stony cottage, snowcheeks bleu
The forest fins for frosted fruits.
The warmest thought speaks crumbly bread
A partridge purr puffs through my head
That grants the grunkest grue a ‘Get!’
To packrat out the paquerettes.
Don’t see the speech I say with sneer
As something to be had with beer
Don’t bucker bricks of buttered bleers
And sift strunk talk through quandarous weirs.
The clothes and shelter of your mouth
Has cleaned my frame as cold as south
For queeks are quay, oh when you quoth
And yokel twirls are yaws of youth.
Clearings clean, as cream is crisp
With cluffs of clementine in risp
The grout of your cuts, freed of lisps
Your watch turns wandering whelks to whisps.
Sweet as sneezes from a lamb
As cozy as a Christmas ham
To jaunt with you with bread and jam
Is all I am, is all I am…
A blanket for the rawest nerve
A babe beyond the laws of earth
A smile sways the swooping surf
And gifts sweet goods of grinning girths.
Your hair? An electric guitar!
With sprinkles of suburban stars
Might smell of smelting lemon bars
Each strand a sacred seminar.
That hark the realms of Everfar!
And halt the helms of Neverare!
That licks the lich that leavens scars!
Screams “Non septimo, sempris quar!”
I believe you’re Good, I mean you’re blessed
With holy elks that guard your breast
Whose rumps remain on royal chests
And watch for wendigos out West.
A soul of Greyhound bus views darkly
Hushed in cornfields crumps so starkly
With windmills waning wicks so barky
Olive Garden oligarchies.
Clearings clean, as cream is crisp
With cluffs of clementine in risp
The grout of your cuts, freed of lisps
Your watch turns wandering whelks to whisps.
Sweet as sneezes from a lamb
As cozy as a Christmas ham
To jaunt and jibe with you with bread and jam,
Is all I am, is all I am.
I wither away writhing with protest
As I toss the option to liquidate my hate
Paralyzed more often than just depressed
A language not meant to nimbly translate
As I toss the option to liquidate my hate
The richest pain begins to harvest
A language not meant to nimbly translate
While vile sadness rapes my inner sadist
The richest pain begins to harvest
Shrouded deeply in my darkest trait
While vile sadness rapes my inner sadist
Leaving it baron in its rawest state
Shrouded deeply in my darkest trait
Numbness freezes my flow of interest
Leaving it baron in its rawest state
Casual indifference is delivered unbiased
Numbness freezes my flow of interest
Prompting my defunct deflated gait
Casual indifference is delivered unbiased
When calloused logic educates the debate
Prompting my defunct deflated gait
Paralyzed more often than just depressed
When calloused logic educates the debate
I wither away writhing with protest
--4/10/2017--
Choose A Topic: Depression and Sadness
'Tis well-known that military blokes speak a lingo of their own,
But it has served them well over the years, it has been shown!
To a General or a Private, such jargon is totally sensible,
But to ordinary citizens, 'tis utterly incomprehensible!
"Yard birds" know all about "policing the area" and "kitchen police."
A seasoned "grunt" knows what it means to "clean his piece."
The "head" is a sanctuary for musing to a sailor or marine,
But to an airman or soldier, 'tis better known as the "latrine."
When on the firing line the Sergeant yells, "Fire at will!"
Guys aim not to kill Will but to improve their shooting skill!
When a Corporal invites his squad to a "GI Party" on Friday night,
There'll be no beer but you'll scrub the floor and do it right!
From the dreaded "Reveille" to "Retreat" (when troops must salute),
Bugle calls herald tidings quickly learned by even the rawest recruit!
Everyone scans the "Daily Bulletin" for the latest "scuttlebutt."
On parade, troopers snicker watching "second louies" strut!
Essential to national defense, the brass concoct acronyms galore,
And there are geniuses in the Pentagon always begetting more,
Word forms from (A)WACS to (Z)ULU and betwixt ad infinitum!
Ah! Those handy acronyms! How could we fight a war without 'em!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
What's that robed in gleaming emeralds rare,
Among the so-called dark-hued junkets plain?
So in blackest nooks glittering gems do glow,
Where prejudice would like them labelled vain?
Bravest arms that swift swords in virtue wave,
Cry for the very plunder their rawest valor gave;
Lying hands that didn't any valiant battles fight,
Claim the loot and push its owners out of sight.
Who is that warrior in harm's way yet unbent,
In peril's fierce path still going fast and stout?
See with what peerless conquest unparalleled,
The fitting patriot fags foes with fearless rout?
The country-loving martyr in clammy attires red,
Misses the full liberty into which his bravery led.
The country-hating bigot with faint fallacies bleak,
Takes all glory and dubs him an undeserving freak.
If Nature herself can't her succinct laws rewrite,
Don't tell me that Black is not as good as White!
Oh my dear friend, its time to vent it out. Forget about the control, forget about the petrol , burn yourself up in the luminosity of your novelty. Let your hands freewheel, let them dance on the tunes of your vehemence. Clear your throats and recite that unheard and unsung poem you once wrote in a closet for the artistic satisfaction.
Can’t you see the world in complete disarray, can’t you see the Beauty of Women been brutalized and vandalized. A lot of contemplation goes into penning down verses on Women’s mysticity, but those verses are like dead ducks in a plush milieu. Place them among your brothers, among the crowds, in the Flames of atrocities and believe in the substance. They have the power to rise and conquer. They have the depth of your Conviction.
Crowd is storming and buzzing but disoriented. Gather it with your fervent Voice. If you believe you are pious, share your last breath with them. If they don’t have a Face, you give them one. If they want to maul each other down, you calm their anxiety. Get over your block, come out of your closet. Leave the rodents and mice in there nutshell milieu, let them dodge ahead. You forge ahead.
If you know ‘The Vedas’, ‘The Upanishads’, ‘The Bible’, ‘The Quran’, then share them amongst the Juveniles. Embed them with ideals, enrich them with Values.That’s what Brotherhood is all about. Don’t walk gingerly no more. Don’t join that long grey line of Manhood but make your way into the Crowd.
The Stage is set. It was always there and will always be there. It was there for Mahatma Gandhi, it was there for Martin Luther King. They were the ‘Stand Up’ Guys. Forget about maneuvering your train of Thoughts. Spill out your rawest of emotions with rawest of expressions along with Tears of hope, a hope of a better future. A hope of churning out another ‘Stand Up’ Guy.
Form:
(dedicated to Naija, my countree)
Naija, I hail o
A house horrorful than
The Hammer house of horror!
Naija, I hail o
An animal dreadful than
The dreaded white shark!
Naija, I hail o
A den of animallike humans
Who prey on all preyables!
Naija, I hail o
The home of impersonation
At its peak..
The den of corruption
At its best...
The hearthrob of religious bigotry
At its purest...
The lover of insecurity
At its highest...
The house of crimes
At its rawest...
The sweetheart of deception
At its masterpiece...
The friend of political acrimony
At its baddest....
The all in all of things
Better left unsaid
At its various unsaid forms...
Naija, I hail o
A marriage of convenience
By the British
Now a kid
Of inconveniencies and anarchy....
Naija, I hail o
Where everything thought
To be impossible is done
With a malevolent frangrance!
To the amazement
Of all and sundry!
Naija, I hail o
Where few enjoy
And the most suffer
Yet
Tonnes of smiles
Flood every face you can see!
Naija, I hail o
Where I keep wondering
When will it all change?
Today, l went whale watching
I was left in complete awe
The magnificence of these beautiful creatures
Hugged my being to the core
Their amazingly huge yet graceful bodies
Playfully breaching into the air
Slapping their pecs in the water
To their own grandeur… oblivious and unaware
It was a truly special sight to behold
Nature in its rawest and purest form
To see such majestic creatures
Engulfed my being with a joyful warmth
I'm a writer of truth
I appreciate the nakedness of art tho
in it's rawest form where it starts
which is usually from the heart
So, I listen
Then
The words begin to flow
And before you know it
I've created a masterpiece in my mind
Because what the heart feels is real
So to deny it would be a lie
I think that's what makes it so personal
But if it's not shared
then it's unfair
to those needing to hear the message
So I write
and share
CRUELTY
The God of Peace will destroy the cruel ones
Why are they so cruel,
It is not fair.
Hardhearted actions,
Christians truly do care.
Cruelty and fear,
Are friends in the dark.
Innocents suffer,
Hatred has a spark.
Man's inhumanity to man,
The poor victims cry.
How vicious can one be,
We do not know why.
Cruelty is a vice,
What motive guides your life?
An opportunity to do good,
But you share a path of strife.
Tears flow down,
My cheeks are red.
Friends needlessly harmed,
Some wish they were dead.
Friends lost in this world,
This really should not be.
The rawest cruelty,
Hurts both you and me.
We live in a world,
Where cruelty comes each day.
Some plan their hateful deeds,
To some it is how they play.
Only heaven's open gate,
Can change this pain on earth.
Our Father who art in heaven,
Help us know our worth.
RAYMOND V. MORGAN
That gasp in the back of your throat
You know the one
Where it feels like you'll die
If you don't see him again
Yes, that's it; I just felt it
I can't wait to set my eyes on him
The next step is a big one
It can hurt alittle sometimes
Although, I may be wrong, It has been awhile
Since the last time I fell
In love that is
This part is the relationship is
Often the best..and worst
The constant wondering on whether
He feels the same, or if he is going to be....
You know, the one
The anticipation is intoxicatingly blissful
I don't think I will ever bore of the way he makes me feel
Any man you can satisfy even the rawest of a womens desires
And make you giggle like a the little girl you once were
Well, he has to be a something special
Girls, if you find a good one, a truly good one
Don't let go. You need to hold onto those,
Those tiny moments which take your breathe away
And turn your dreams into beautiful realities
Oh, at last he is back
Ahh, I can finally breathe again
I know it's a cliche
But I was, honestly, lost
Before he sarcastically sauntered into my life.....
Oh, that's my cue ;)
Night girls
Secrets of the Soul:
By Nishayel & Athina (circa. 2009)
The things we do to stay alive-
broken vision of a soul in the heart of the night,
What we gain can only be seen in our eyes-
a perfect deception, a perfect demise.
To question what the hearts body feels inside-
to melt into ice - which shadows of plight survive
It's hard to describe
All these feelings that I have inside
For they speak in such a language of disguise
to find in each truth- would be like
diving deep into our souls
and finding what we cannot describe.
Perhaps to be cherished in its rawest forms
'fore my mind, the light pulverizes it into mere rhyme
But I know deep inside
that my feelings are the motors to my rhythms
Listen!
Nights of everlasting beauties; insights-
light the moon's other sides; never in sight
Oh! The things we use to thrive,
are just the things we need to stay alive
Alphabets gather as words unravel
the passing and returning of moans;
lines of phrases inflame the arteries
of beauty, angst, love interwoven
by imagination's pining.
Tingle of words… fragrance of vowels…
caress of verses enter the soul, as if to dive
into the very basin of layered expressions.
On a fresh scroll baring my bones
and rawest of mood,
I enter a daringly new dimension
with a theme that reels my senses
that ink and quill ravage fleshed pages
As poetry makes the eyes hungry.