Best Regulate Poems
I love Guns
Guns make us safe
Guns are rights and freedoms
The more guns, the more freedoms we shall bear
Every man woman and child should be armed
So that we are all safe
All schools should be armed
Teachers, Principals, Janitors, arm them all
The finally we can relax
in total safety
knowing we are all armed
I say give arms to the amputees too
Gun control is socialist and fascist
We registers cars
Houses
Pets
Bikes
We have banned toys
We regulate all kinds of things
Yet we are free
Totally free
Because we all have our right
To bare arms
Ask Kim Campbell! she agrees!!!
Not only guns
They must be automatics
The more bullets you can empty out of a gun
the better
the more freedom you shall feel
Its called projectile dysfunction
And......... any man with a high IQ
Need's an assault rifle
Why of course to outsmart those ducks and turkeys
I firmly believe in a fair fight
Assault rifles to catch a duck
common sense to me
Quack quack
Guns have rights
Own a gun you have double rights
They are made to kill kill kill
Did I say they KILL?
Nothing more, nothing less
I need that right
Any child killed by a Gun
is only because we haven't enough guns
By the way
Children have no rights
Kill em all for all I care
as long as I have my rights
I am not concerned with facts
Evidence
Or the humanity of it
Is all about my Guns
Why
Cause I love Guns
More than humans
And thats my right
No matter how wrong it is
Forget about futuristic wars
between nations, race against race
country against country
tongue against tongue;
soon the populous will know no
borders, continents no boundaries.
“The New master”
Is awakening manoeuvring
stalking, his plan already activated
The twenty second century will
see his bidding become
formidable, the pocket, whims,
thoughts and desires
will be his to regulate, what
to eat, drink, lay on ride on, he
will control, no law will hold him,
he will be the law!
Politicians will become
his directors and producers
will guide his script, play his media
trouble shooters
his bounty hunters, seeking out
the moralist, the Salvationist,
no competition will be his aim,
manipulation of all things
one world
one God
one Board
one CHAIRMAN
“The ultimate ONE COMPANY”
© Harry J Horsman 2018
AMERICA, OH AMERICA
America, oh America, the mother of Exiles,
Mighty woman with a torch,
Towers high as a top notch
Whose flame is the imprisoned fire
With conquering limbs empire,
Astrife from kingdom to kingdom
Aiming to regulate the world's freedom
Fooled the world, psychopathic savagery
Comes a nightmare nation's can't win. Sadly
Inciting the world's pain
Just for a self-centered gain.
Why enforce anti-coronavirus vaccine
To reduce the world strain
And population via an epidemic never seen
Earth quacking, nation's unconscious
Micro chip initiative, a sociopathic barbarism,
5th Generation arising but the world is suspicious
Now terrorism unites the Christians and every Muslim
Illuminati illuminating ill-boding injuries
With unimaginable wealth and affluence,
Obsession for power and control influence
Implementing the Luciferean agenda,
On a mission of no retreat no surrender,
Initiating a Bill through the Gates,
Deaths baits? Well, we will willingly wait.
Bill's Billions breeding bioactive vaccines,
Satan launching his arsenals and machineries,
Forby mendacities leading to deadly advancement,
Deceitfully enforcing a One World Government
Suggestively and opinionatedly by Pope Francis
Preparing the ground for the Antichrist menace.
"In God We Trust" means God's own country
Now oridinary a slogan to all and sundry,
Deviated from the Godly path of ancestors & esteemed,
No more the dream the dreaming dreamers dreamed.
America, oh America!
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © 8th April, 2020.
Cheese curds make my day.
My wife has a daily habit
Of caring for all my needs.
She keeps her eyes wide open
To see what she can see.
This week was no exception
As she neared the dairy case.
Greeted by one of my favorites
Now staring her in the face.
You see. . . I love cheese curds.
I even love their squeaky sound.
When she finds real fresh ones
I can eat them by the pound.
Several months ago,
A nearby dairy closed its door.
Never to make great curds again
No. . . never “curds” no more.
Shullsburg, Wi. was the next place
We’d make the day long drive to.
When we’d go so far fetch,
We’d always buy more than a few.
But it goes against my “system”
When those curds are in the home.
I’m always “digging” in the frig
I can’t leave those curds alone.
But as sometimes life will go
Our local grocer now has in stock
So we can buy fresh curds
Without driving a "million blocks”.
She announced as she returned
From the weekly trek she makes.
“The store had some ‘new’ curds”
To mention curds is all it takes.
I quickly fought open the package
To taste and hear that sound.
I scarfed down several chunks
Before in the frig they’re bound.
“Oh my !” is what I shouted.
These curds are really best.
But at my age, I must control
The quantities I now ingest.
For my old system can’t tolerate
All the cheese I’d like to eat.
So I must regulate the flow
Save my curds for just a treat.
My son, however: doesn’t seem care.
He can mow them down full feed.
But I know “our kitchen tender”
Will supply us all we need.
So “Thank you” Homestead Dairy
And all the folks involved in that.
I’ll be up to see your operation
Maybe get to see you “stir the vat”. :o)
A parting note to all Christian readers,
I’ve a thought about life’s end.
With all the banquets talked about,
I trust my curds “someone” will send.
Written by oldbuck to commemorate the discovery of a “local” supply for fresh curds. Curds and crisp bacon are two of my favorite foods.
The middle class here can't be saved
When 0.001% act so depraved
Their wealth without end
These royals* still pretend
Did not come from us—their
enslaved**
*The Royals: CEOs, Banksters, Revolving Door Regulators, The FED, Congressmen for sale, Lobbyists, Board Members of Big Corporations, Major Shareholders who vote for these Board
Members, Corrupt Managers, Dishonest Used Car Salesmen, Presidential Candidates with more than two Residences, Elected Presidents (and their lackeys who pretend to regulate but look the other way)
**The Enslaved: Workers, Career Regulators who are trying to protect the public, Honest Hard Working Citizens, Students--some with oppressive loans, Immigrants, Soldiers, Police, Firemen and Firewomen, Parents, Children, Orphans, Disabled, The Sick, Small Business Owners (who don’t hire lobbyists), Volunteers, Health Care Workers, Welfare Recipients, Inventors, Investors, Entrepreneurs, Actors, Artists, Journalists who do in-depth investigation (not like those with FOX News, ABC Radio or many other of the outlets where they mouth the status quo), Non Profit Corporations, Charities, Teachers, Transportation Workers, Waiters and Waitresses, Dishwashers, Servants, Farmers, Managers, Ship Hands, Cooks, Unemployed
Author' s Note: Have been at Occupy Wall Street 8 days in the past two months--which is why I haven't been here--plus I have to work. Miss you all, but it's for a good cause. I am very briefly seen on Conan's feature: Triumph the Insult Comic Dog at Occupy Wall Street if you are looking for some humor with a little umph.
"Black Dog Barks"
I feed the beast pieces of my heart
Black Dog Barks
prowling inside my parametres silky soft paws
Black Dog Barks
I feed the Jabberwock pieces of my mind
this is how it begins torn and bloody
I feed the Jabberwock pieces of my mind
the mirror smiles back and says, gracefully
“You’re fine”
The mirror smiles back and says, malevolently
“I own you now, you’re all mine”
Black Dog Barks
Prowling inside my parametres silky soft paws
this is how it begins bloody and torn
“You’re fine”
This is how it begins bloody and torn
murders all inside, revelry unholy
I smile and walk out into the cold Sunshine
Black Dog Barks
“It’s quantitative”
Science looking for signs
reflection of stars
sparkling irises silver violet
wrapped in a cutting sea of ebony
walking barefeet on glass inviolate
dodging sharp teeth and fins
the mind bleeds fast
Black Dog Barks
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
“If I had a Heart”/ Fever Ray
https://youtu.be/EBAzlNJonO8
Iris.
The colored part of the eye which helps regulate the amount of light entering the eye. When there is bright light, the iris closes the pupil to let in less light. And when there is low light, the iris opens up the pupil to let in more light.
Iris.
https://www.vincentvangogh.org/irises.jsp
https://www.notablebiographies.com/Tu-We/van-Gogh-Vincent.html
https://digest.bps.org.uk/2018/01/03/heres-what-the-evidence-shows-about-the-links-between-creativity-and-depression/
I declare today
That my body is my body.
No government entity, private citizen,
Or business public or private
Has any rights
Or permission to use,
Abuse,
Regulate,
Deregulate,
Confiscate
Obliterate,
My body.
Law makers and religious shakers
I petition no takers.
My appendages are mine
I choose their destiny
I choose their function
Their purpose
I choose.
I enter no contract
I obay no edict
My flesh is mine
I enter in consensual unions
Without compromise
Without permission
From the state
From the clergy
From any finger pointer or tongue wager.
I declare today
From a starting point of now
Until my end
That my body is my body
I will defend my flesh
My growth
My every carbon
From those who wish to dominate
Regulate
Seek to enlist the state
I am not a part of any collective thought
Nor am I unionized by fear
That wilfully drives to steer
Anything that can be bought
By sanction, or divinity, or code.
I declare today, all days
That my body is not yours
No one shall limit
My abuse or use or purpose
I will not obey
I so declare today.
She drives that wobbly car
Stacked to the roof with goods
Squalor taunts her thus far
As she hides under hoods
Her babe cries behind bags
Baubles of plastic sneer
Purpose chokes on ball gags
When spending serves to steer
Tears well in her bright eye
While she struggles with rent
How will her child get by
On cash already spent?
She bats those long lashes
As she stands at my door
Wounded bird with gashes
Maybe she’ll need to whore
I long to comfort her
To regulate her pain
Emotions tend to blur
When yanked by Cupid’s chain
So foolhardy with joys
At discovery’s gate
I shed some unused toys
To help her mournful state
I’ve learned to live on crumbs
With circumstance’s ebb
All billionaires and bums
Depart this fateful web
Conjured visions of us
Tease my eroding mind
Intentions won’t cause fuss
When paid forward in kind
Yet her concept of friend
Surely differs from mine
Manipulations end
Alliance once divine
Wounds either kill or cure
What I am meant to be
Yet one truth shines for sure
Love keeps consuming me
When the gut says no; know that it’s forbidden
When heart repels the idea is forbidden
When mind think bad it is indeed forbidden!
When eyes look with hatred it is forbidden
When ears hears wrongs it is forbidden
When ways become to forbid one
Forbid the evil that tempts your innocents
Drift from the darkness that follows your shadow
Forbidden is the soul that plans nothing but evil
Get rid of the weeds that cripple your seeds
Stumble the block that rumble your rock
Bid to twist the bitterness into better
Forbid to be bedridden before you get ridden
Get rid when it last to let you lust
Forbid when it posses you and make you obsessed
Forbidden is the goal that aims nothing but hole
Forbid friends that frame your failure
Delete the deeds of those who deal with your defeat
Abide on your bid to forbid their beard
Reboot to release the strength to forbid the failure
Abort the abnormals to assess their assets
Research and rehearse before you react
Repent to repatriate their repel
But never regret to regulate their replay
Their bid is to beat you in your own game
Hence bid to forbid their forbidden bid
Best business needs the bold bid that bet the rest
Wrap and wrestle their wreck and leave them wrecked
Believe that a bit of bid that they get can get rid of your reach and forbid you to abide but leave you to abstain
From the best bid you are about to obtain
Be obliged to your objective to get rid of the obstacles
That forbids you to obstruct your oppressors
Don’t omit to offer your official bid that beat the beast
That bullies your battle
Bold on to build the gold that hold all the folk in a fold
Until they mould to mourn their forbidden moves
Remain content to your bid just to lift yourself a bit
And see the rest getting forbidden to face you!
The world persuades us to go faster
never to settle for an average speed
but eventually faster puts us off the road
proving nothing good comes from greed
The fast pace of life takes enjoyment
far far away taking out the good
the beautiful scenery you've missed
flashes past you as it has stood
Where are you going in life?
do you actually know at all?
to know the sense of all this
watch out you've missed the call
As well as the sense of your way
there's also why this is to be
going so fast too difficult to stop
no matter your machinery or the fee
Learn to regulate your pace
in common with life's expectation
what's life really doing for you?
turn your throttle for real motivation
(Quote:
Slow down and enjoy life. It's not only the scenery you miss by going too fast - you also miss the sense of where you are going and why.')
- Eddie Cantor (1892- 1964)
light penetrated dark, sound birthed
the Word ~ p o e t r y
a superlative emitting that which changes
emerging when ripened as verse
speaking to people faraway
unlocking alphabets from minds
to glide, fast fly, jump or slowly crawl, landing
at destined places, swords or aces
I am Poetry ~ weep or whimper not for me
existentially dancing, enthralling, glancing at
blank paper to be embroidered in ink
ruby red, black or olive green
free flow I from fingers fragile, artistic or sturdy
regulate me only for joy or exploring expansion
perhaps for judicious judgement
I, P o e t r y ~ sequins of Love convoluted or rayed, in service
purifying emotive sentiments conditioned, romantic, missioned
Heart is my home where rest my letters, forms
cadences, couplets, epics
in non-bewildered intelligence visioning dreamscapes
divine, liberated from bandages, buckles, bondages
alive is my Supersoul breath giving voice to electrons
protons, neutrons which fleetingly capture
essenced life through observed elixirs
as Poetry, I witness action followed by pure
stillness ~ transcendental whirlpools in orbits
my limbs reach language lyrical or plain
burnished and wise
cherishing recitals in sacred spaces
I activate thoughts and visions remaining
supremely unattached attuning words
for Grace ~
undulate imagination in perfect waves
misty, clear or intricate, intriguing, unblemished
gratifying, swivelling, sizzling in my own
fire or ice
I, Poetry, consummated
voice the W o r d
There is a place called tomorrow
Where this set of politicians
Who claim we elected them
Will all be gone
Even the last trace of their names
Will be no more.
No need naming names
Or pointing fingers at them
You and I know them well.
In that place called tomorrow,
Even their distant seeds that dare
Shall whisper those names in fear.
There, our government will be
Occupied by those we actually chose
To represent our interest as a people
Not marionettes brought forward by any party.
A government that will clearly
Define our economic system
And regulate it with sound policies.
There is a place called tomorrow
Where every Nigerian life
Will be held sacred as it should be.
Where there will be
Dignity of labour and
No man will be enslaved again
Where all the hinterlands
Will be linked to the heartlands
With love and respect
For man and the environment.
In that place called tomorrow,
Our enterprises and agencies
Shall wear a human face
Not bureaucratised in
Bureaucratic bureaucratese
So that resources can be explored
Rather than exploited
For commerce to thrive.
There is a place called tomorrow
A place where we will look
At the children’s faces and see
Joy, laughter, beauty and innocence.
Not pain, hunger and criminality.
Where everyone will be
His brother’s keep
So that together we may conquer
Insecurity or the fear of it.
In that place call tomorrow,
Families shall gather together again
To eat breakfast and/or dinner.
I desire so much that day when
We all would have realized that
We were first humans
Before we belonged to any tribe
Or religion
Before we attained any status
We were first humans.
So everyone will be respect
For who they are
And not necessarily what they are.
In deed there is
A place called tomorrow
Where all we desire will be
Yet it is in us fight
To make that tomorrow be.
Can anybody tell me how they get over that synonym,
Missing.
I am unable to regulate my soul,
It doomed my thoughts, defeated
my entity, dictated the pleasure's
off me, to feel the Moment.
Missing, is my unique enemy,
has haunted me since my
children left our home,
dominated my shadow,
conditioned my brain,
provoked my tears,
drowned my vitality,
created my vindictiveness,
refusing to be optimistic,
allowing it to torment my
darkness, dictated my pain,
captivated by this unique
synonym, I sense it's tantrum
everywhere, how can I omit it?
anyone can help me? it was always
there, but I was not helpless,
I am today. Now
I was born with a heart, I cannot find it,
I am a bought slave with my own purchases,
how weak have I gone down the ladder lately,
how desperate have I allowed to be taken
for granted by the word Missing, why?
is aging doing all that? have I become
so wounded by giving up my strength.
When I was younger, I had ways to accept,
to understand, to not allow it to take over
my few remaining years, I was healthy,
strong, had aims, was in love, made love,
I used to go out, now left alone.
Deserted.
I used to visit my children, I felt alive,
healthy, even old it did not affect me
the way it does those days, loosing hope
of wanting to survive, it engulfs all my
existence, become so much stronger than
I am.
Missing, I am its slave, worst, intentionally,
allowing it to stab me, it blocks all my doors,
it imprisons me. I am in prison. Now.
Can someone come and get me?
I am not drinking, cooking, put make up,
dress or go out, paralyzed, under its feet,
no life, I beg like a beggar, I get no answer,
it destroyed my brain, my thoughts, my surreal,
destroyed all my tissues,
negative thoughts are born nowadays,
weakened my system, my strength
is drained.
I am a mother, Oh universe, it leaves me
breathless, weak, make me strong, I am hungry,
feed me, I am judgmental, forgive me, no patience,
angry, I am destroying myself, carry me to the ocean,
drown me intentionally before I become selfish,
I stopped being there for my children, I am helpless,
I need help.
It destroyed who I was, made me despise who I am,
Now.
Therese Bacha
31/5/2013
I Am Alcoholic
Unable
to regulate my soul
my thoughts
are doomed
IT
Defeated my entity
dictated my pleasure's
I am Alcoholic
I sense it's tantrum
everywhere
I am helpless
Constantly
yesterday today
NOW
Tomorrow
Anyone
help me?
Alcohol
My unique enemy
haunted since years
Deserted
by my Mother
IT
Dominated
my shadow
conditioned
my brain
Provoked
my tears
drowned
my vitality
allowing
it torment
my darkness
dictated my pain
Captivated
ME
Consciously.
I was born
Unwanted
with a heart
I cannot find it
how weak have
I gone down
The ladder
How desperate
have I allowed
IT
Be taken
for granted
by a bottle
NO
Bottles
I became
so wounded
Giving up
my strength
My life
To a glass.
Why?
Mother.
Therese Bacha
29 June 2013
Dark clouds mingle with light
Above the sandy windswept shore.
In solitude I ponder the
Gentle restless waves--
I regulate my breathing to the
Rhythm of their ebb and flow.
I surrender my soul
To serene surroundings
As I let its beauty enter
To restore my shattered soul.
The deeper I breathe in,
Then slowly exhale—
The greater swells my soul
With sweet serenity
Until I feel my spirit rise
Above the clouds to embrace
The welcome warmth of the sun.
*Islay, is in Scotland. My poem is about
Lossit Bay, on the West coast of the Rhinns of Islay
For Carol Brown's contest "What's Your Pleasure"