Best Redistributed Poems
Inside my head is rather cluttered
Memories of past blur into memories of present
Looking back to see the many hopes and dreams of a child
Dreams shattered by reality only to be redistributed into new things
So many things learned that have become a legacy with no practical use
The joy of finding love to have love lost
Memories of being knocked down and then standing back up
Reaching out…
Sacrifice…
Compromise…
Honor…
Love…
Pondering less on successes and more on mistakes
Feeling love within my heart for the sacrifices so I may have a chance
Embracing forgiveness enabling other things like love, peace, hope, and joy
Having a heavy heart for all of those who lost someone who was close to them
Seeing others go through life without the tender touch of those who were dear to them
Sharing life with my best friend and wife
Having peace within my heart knowing that life is what it is
Edward J Ebbs - September 12, 2015
Written for a contest, INSIDE MY HEAD - for "OLD" poets
Categories:
redistributed, age, feelings, growing up,
Form:
Lyric
It took two days but I drank the oceans dry
Spat out the salt creating deserts beneath a cloudless sky
I ripped a mountain from the earth and deposited it on the moon
Blew down a giant forest with one breath, not a single leaf remained in bloom
Turned the sun down a notch or two and redirected its rays to lessen global warming
Swept clouds to where rain was needed and sunshine to where rain was pouring
Rerouted rivers far and wide so that arid lands might bloom
Capped all menacing volcanoes on the Earth and shut down their noxious plumes
Confiscated the wealth of the greedy and redistributed it to the starving masses
Ripped the guns from the hands of a million sociopaths and kicked their useless asses
Tracked down Greed, Envy, Hate and War and crushed them into dust
Released Love and Compassion from their steel chains, forever eliminating mistrust
If all this be a dream and when I awake I find I'm still merely mortal
I will still be heartened by the fact that "hope still burns eternal"
Categories:
redistributed, abuse, poverty, power,
Form:
Rhyme
The perfect year,
two equal halves.
One with leaves
one without.
Forest thinning out.
Bring indoors
swing sets, pools, smiles, thoughts.
Having enough and not much else is a lot.
The transfer of funds is a loving gratitude for work well done.
Not self-sufficient unless self
is defined as family, community and nation.
The world.
Universe.
Thus,
I settle my haunches like a bear content, snug into coming winter.
House will be warm notwithstanding the Muslim-Judeo-Christian condition
not to mention the Hindu-Buddhist vortex.
Searching space
for an entity
to unite us as humanity.
Carbon-based, earthbound
meeting, understanding and absorbing
the clicking, algorithmic logic
of passionately computing species, insects, machines, bacteria.
A world moves only as fast as you think.
If it moves faster you're not thinking, you're it, dead, chemicals redistributed
in an ever more painless process.
What are my feelings exactly?
Systemic joy.
Lovely the logic
we have invented and applied
identifying, specifying, classifying.
It can keep you busy
counting, praying
while all the leaves are falling.
Categories:
redistributed, christian, community, family, insect,
Form:
Verse
If an ape came into my living room,
And could talk fluently and converse,
I’d speak with him about sociology,
Or to her about avoiding the perverse.
I’d ask how to form friendships,
How to foster appreciation within,
Making hints at a lack of confidence,
Causes me to falter and not win.
I’d ask about the disadvantaged,
The weaker members who lack chance,
About how to elevate and free them,
Their everyday experience to enhance.
I’d inquire about surprise, revelation,
To learn from his posture to life,
So that I could educate the kids,
On ways to deal with strife.
I’d ask if he’s embarrassed to be,
The king ape with lots of women,
Or if he just accepts his role,
Without distaste or hesitation.
I’d ask if she redistributed wealth,
Fruit each time to the more weak,
And decide to vote for socialism,
Or for social democracy’s cheek.
I’d ask about his favourite girl,
How often he returned for more,
And stand up for personalities,
In every profession’s shore.
I’d ask what she thought about,
In the spare time of her day,
And just accept the relationality,
That makes secularism okay.
I’d offer him a coffee, with help,
And accept he did not want sugar,
And reorganise my meaty diet,
To become about veggies eager.
Categories:
redistributed, animal, home, love, relationship,
Form:
Rhyme
--Evil starts as germinated seeds,
noxious weeds of social infestation,
spreading and suffocating human diversity,
pushing all freedoms into extinction,
the loss of Liberty's creed,,
--Men-Women birth their offspring,
but raised by the State,
alienated offspring grow into bastards,
by design to this fate,
no-longer is Family an understanding,,
--Started in guise of education,
parasitic propaganda by subliminal indoctrination,
targeting children of all ages,
instructing apart from parental objections,
future groupthink masses of inclusion,,
--Religion, History, Novel books outlawed,
that promote ideas of Independence,
instructional manuals that's only allowed,
through State approved media correspondence,
making State approved "truths" unflawed,,
--The masses become Independent-less adults,
in a One World State,
populations regulated, mandated birth controls,
but elitists can freely consummate,
elitist offspring perpetuates State results,,
--The State espouses universal equality,
a mandate against humanity's will,
a law silencing humanity's opinions,
or voicing your opinions from jail,
the State sees as insanity,,
--Humanity becomes living taxed products,
feeding the machines of State,
their worth is what's produced,
fearing for failing to compensate,
you're redistributed, if you obstruct,,
--Populations are kept under intoxication,
by the State approved vice(s),
the willing are comfortably numb,
happiness of suffrage the price,
humanity's compliance made through addiction,,
--Outlawed are self-governed rights,
by State tyranny without impunity,
your lives owned until death,
because you are State property,
all controlled by elitist might,,
--Physical privacy regarded as hate,
pedo-molestation considered universally normal,
it matters not your sexuality,
to all ages so formal,
criminal when reject this fate,,
--Evil that's made a right,
guilt is replaced with ethics,
fundamental good is considered evil,
by the State centered civics,
moral evil in everyone's sight,,
--This is a living nightmare,
that insidiously penetrates humanity's soul,
a world never knowing Hope,
or escaping something this cruel,
the State of Evil despair,,
--Freedom, Liberty and self-governance,
does this sound that bad?,-
it's better than being property,
by a State grown Mad,
or take a standing chance.
Categories:
redistributed, fate, fear, freedom, humanity,
Form:
Rhyme
Mourning-raises and evening-out Set
Exploding and uniting vapors are my everlasting fodder
Orientating the sphere of existence around me
Golden locks beard my youthful face
Stolen I am, but gained, lost, and redistributed throughout the cycle
A vital ingredient for games of production, reproduction, and sustenance am I
A creator for, a destroyer of and a sustainer-of-all, am I
My kisses are randomly discharged into the vastness
Infinite amounts of livelihood is what offers I
Categories:
redistributed, dedication,
Form:
Free verse
With practised ease he scans the page
absorbing all he reads
objectifying everything
assimilating needs.
Redistributed word and line
subliminally home grown
presented as original
reference unknown.
The metal of another forge
he promotes as fire grown
this counterfeiting wordsmith
without anvil of his own.
Displaying mediocre wares
he prostitutes the art
successful in his larceny
oblivious to heart.
For words are words
and lines are lines
the plagiarist can’t see
the life expended searching for
originality.
Categories:
redistributed, on work and working
Form:
Rhyme
Water is uniquely ancient, yet it hasn’t aged a day.
It’s older than Dr. Leakey’s bones.
Older than Olduvai Gorge.
Water is older than life itself,
Unaltered by evolution’s chaotic ebb and flow.
Undiminished, though redistributed,
Surviving every mass extinction,
While continually redeeming itself through the sacred trinity
Of evaporation, condensation, and precipitation. STOP!
All the water that exists today is all the water ever was,
Lapped at by pterodactyls and mastodons.
Slurped down. Pissed out.
Recycled over countless generations,
And though polluted, can ever be made clean,
Giving blood, and sweat, and tears
Their most obvious property:
An aqueous disposition at room temperature. STOP!
Water raining down. Water drying up.
Raining down. Drying up.
I naively let it fill my cup,
Conformed to the shape of my emptiness,
Because that’s the American way.
All or nothing at all. Love it or leave it alone. STOP!
Now I’m a wallflower every social hour,
Where cup half full and cup half empty
Cut the rug like Fred and Ginger. STOP!
My cup is full, but my dance card’s empty.
There’s no one here to even tempt me.
Billy Idol sang a song about that issue. STOP!
Hard water. Rock hard.
Hey, Culligan man! STOP!
AND WE HAVE A WINNER!
Categories:
redistributed, allegory, america, life,
Form:
Burlesque
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If love were my teardrops,
an ocean~they would fill.
If love were my memories,
the earth would stand still.
Have you heard a heart breaking
and the awesome sounds of despair?
~To reach out for something familiar
and know that it won't be there?
If love could taste all the pain
that you have experienced before,
would you search for it again
and repeatedly ask for more?
Chasing those past shadows~
knowing the sadness that will hurl~
I wouldn't have chosen the pain,
but I wouldn't have missed it
for the world!!
Categories:
redistributed, sad love,
Form:
Free verse
I reached into the depth...
But could not withdraw Excalibur from the stone.
Yet I knew I was the one.
Why else my 'Grail Vision' in the sun?
The depths call me to reach further still.
And Mary's eyes bled.
Realizing for whom the tear's shed.
I know not what to do.
Vainity reaching to withdraw from the glue.
I stare blindly in the distance a 'bust' of my former self.
Passing the secret of excalibur being drawn by someone else.
And passing by the oracle of Ephesus, Medusa's eyes
She drew the sword stone in deep catching my contemplations of the mirror.
I could loose myself in her forever.
Secret Sweets. Stained Sheets. and shaking cold she wraps me in the golden fleece.
Covered in snakes, I melt into the secret skin.
Learning the name, I see my fathers before me distrought.
And see now the blindness of the Kingdom Oedipus wrought.
Sophoclese Tragedies and I am forever Oedipus.
Betrayed blessin' between whorish thighs and my camarades' lies.
Where is Helena these days?
Gone so long, I've forgotten her ways.
That's the trick-she sucks in your depth.
I am Horus, my seeds sewn in the west.
Innana's dead. I broke my maiden-named womb.
Long ago I allocated multiversic kingdoms for Osiris' perversion tombs.
And in the mysteries of deep misery.
I have witnessed my seed coming of age.
To lay thoughts like these out on a page.
Christ, Annubis, and I planned this on a street in Greece, A.D., B.C. I can't remember which.
I bare down frost-bitten from the North.
And my Christ of peace bore symbols from the East.
Our dog-eared down-home friend brought simpler lessons from an outdated South.
And we witnessed our births spread out over time.
Three wise men we were singing dark-hearted songs of a blackened Madonna we couldn't find.
So we relinquished ourselves to Daddy Darkest who knew best.
Redistributed seeds, we pushed ourselves to a static line beyond myth; where men like us no longer needed to exist.
Sweet Virgin, Return
I am old and worn thin.
Now, is your time to begin; A collection of stories your heart has borne, but you lay unblemished.
My daughter lay our bones to rest.
Cook them in your stew.
Reigns handover long overdue, but that's not the style you do.
Don't worry about ole Paw. Jimmy Crack corn.
May you be Princess Disarming Charming laced with meaning...
And I awake sleeping...
Beauty, I next to you.
Categories:
redistributed, faith, father, peace, me,
Form:
Free verse
the sky was cold and grey
when
yesterday
you told me where the Secret Penguin lay
in bygone years
they say he was a sight
the avian conundrum
in black and white
operating in ice-cold
frozen stealth
he redistributed the ocean's wealth
some say
he went down in a bullet hail
trying to save a hunted humpback whale
his misty memory
lives down under
he left us with much more than wonder
in the Antarctic wilderness below
his noble three-toed footprint
in the snow.
Categories:
redistributed, bird, humor, mystery, myth,
Form:
Rhyme
Administrator incommunicado
Acknowledging nymphomaniacs
Reclassifying philosophical
Ideologically Transcultural
Pronunciation Calligraphers
Communication demilitarized
Grandstanding orchestration
Carpetbagging adjudications
Redistributed improprieties
Abolitionists brinksmanship
Sarcastically realistically
Craftsmanship flabbergasted
Enlightenment librarianship
Democratically
Categories:
redistributed, perspective, word play, work,
Form:
Acrostic
The sky was cold and grey, when, yesterday,
you told me where the Secret Penguin lay.
In bygone years, they say, he was a sight,
the avian conundrum in black and white.
Operating in ice-cold, frozen stealth,
he redistributed the ocean's wealth.
Some say he went down in a bullet hail,
trying to save a hunted humpback whale.
His misty memory lives down under.
He left us with much more than wonder -
in the Antarctic wilderness below,
his noble, three-toed footprint in the snow.
Categories:
redistributed, bird, silly,
Form:
Rhyme
Sometimes I wish that we could
return to the days when we were little.
We use to lie on our backs in the grass,
the four of us; chewing on sour weeds,
watching the clouds change forms from flowers to faces,
until the airplanes disfigured them.
We sent all our dreams up to God,
where He hid them away
from everyone except us.
We were simple then;
when we were little.
Even now, you and I sometimes lie on our backs.
Waiting patiently on God, as our dreams are redistributed.
Wrinkled and worn with age,
we uncrumble them.
Still legible, we smooth them out
and share them with one another.
But, they sound silly now.
Probably because we're aware
that He'd already fulfilled them ...
long ago, back
when we were little.
Categories:
redistributed, age,
Form:
Free verse