Best Resort To Poems
Forbidden fruit they had eaten
At the bidding of the snake
New ashamed that they were naked
They had to cover up, for Heaven's sake
"Adam, lets sew ourselves some fig-leaves."
"Sounds good to me, dear Eve."
God paid them no attention
Had he a trick up His sleeve?
Instead of random eavesdropping
The Lord did something eye-popping
He searched for Adam as if He had no clue
Then cried out, "Man, where are you?!"
Did the All-Seeing not know Man's whereabouts?
Did He need resort to a primal shout?...
Within God's question lies a lesson
to which some choose to adhere
God does not want man to eavesdrop
~ Do you hear?
December 11, 2019
Listening In Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Julia Ward
Into blind rage he flew again
His neck veins bulged, his fists he closed
His wife could not remember when
She'd seen her man calm or composed
This time she screamed; she'd yelled out Stop!
Surprised and stunned, he lost his voice
Tempting fate, she'd ruled out cops
She prayed she'd made the wisest choice
His veins relaxed, his fists now hands
His voice returned, he told her thanks
She would not have to make demands
Resort to feline's cunning pranks
He managed to suppress his rage
Thanks to his wife, he turned the page
~ Iambic Tetrameter ~
Beard looks weird,
that's a lyrical genius to be feared,
you wrote a 6 year song and got the facts wrong,
fired with the hair and safety still on,
I guess that scope's just a tele,
with sights and hopes on the tele,
Machine Bun Shelly,
initials, MBS, Caps empty,
Mostly Bull Sh……
a superficial sipping soup to his belly
or is it breakfast for a serial prodigy,
steadfast out selling cereal probably,
problems with his intellectual property
so he's just a prop to stop and see.
6'4 and standing taller,
picking on a man, his wife and his daughter,
who needs protection ay,
you're a big and bad ball-less brawler,
that's the shallowest level you can resort to,
and though it's none of my bees wax,
you did it to be witnessed and receive plaques,
but it was easy and witless like corny flakes,
the business doesn't need Autotune fakes,
forcing the rhyme like all you want is a smoke,
not literally you'd choke, that's such a weak joke,
clearly begging for your songs to be bought up,
as if we went from Shady please stand up,
to worshipping a hairband on a no flair brand corrupt
and yeah I admit some of it was good, generous, but look,
with 6 years to write it should have been off the hook,
this lame ass your best and you took as long as you could,
when your next hits out you'll remember when you last stood,
and you'll be mocked by the only line that was any good,
MGK can't stand up,
that'll get you like Cranbrook,
from Cleveland Ohio,
leave now and fly home.
Note the depth and the many double entendre in this,
written within an hour of hearing that diss,
MGK's peak, now for the diss-appearance,
I've heard you can't write your own lyrical sentence,
that's dense, how you ever gona go the distance,
now go into the distance with your spoon and bowl,
you had your 15 minutes so back to your hole.
Part 2: Picking the rhymes apart and taking a shot, on my page to read now.
* the second line is a double entendre,
a serious comment about Eminem and a sarcastic one about MGK, you know, cus rhyming beard and weird is amazing haa.
* Hair and safety clip on
* Just a tele, a telescope
* Initials - cus MGK initials but Eminem doesn't M&M
Often wondering is it a steak upon Our Plates that is important...
Perhaps a Hot-dog instead and more Money for a healing deportment.
To feed a Child that is suffering or very ill and extremely sick.
We ask often comfortably what often makes the wealthy tick?
As We read on The Internet that there are Children out there just wanting Bread.
The Children eating grass is in an Article that was just as this is read...
My Heart torn open,wrenched,concerned and burning with anguish inside.
My Own Home stemless, poor, and uncomfortably We reside...
Wishing We could just reach threw a T.V. Set to give a helping hand...
Just to pass Our Dinner to a child in a taunted hemmed Land.
My passion so large, words so strong, and My Pocket very small.
Never standing in the right position in Life to answer as Children call.
There are Children in Our World that are just eating grass.
Under seemly so by My feelings of disrepair as I pass My Own grasp...
This stench of Many Self willed that preform as Our stanza has not surpassed.
To reach for You now is more then an unbearable weep to comprehend.
A World filling up with Starvation and Our Children in it left to descend.
To reach for You now is an unbearable decision not yet made.
The Children Eating Grass just wore Me thin and They paid.
Sometime wishing I could just rob and empty an entire vault.
That Decision would cost Me greatly so I resort to prayer that will never fault.
To Be trusted with just This Message where I sit and grieve.
When Encounters of Love yet to occur and never to beckon Evil that is deceived.
By Charlene L.Wilcox 09-29-2014
I walk deeper and deeper into my own mind, looking for something while completely blind.
Nights embrace only makes me travel deeper, with the road only getting steeper.
Not knowing who I am or what I need, I will continue my 1 man stampede.
Searching for myself has become my addiction, staring at my hollow reflection is my confliction.
I resort to pouring my heart out in the form of text, pondering upon what sign will start my next quest.
The quest to finally know why im here,
The path im headed down is so unclear.
Casting the veil over my face by day, and removing it in the comfort of night, I will continue soul searching, until my purpose is in sight.
-Downed Jester
In this uncertain life you work hard everyday,
step in the hamster wheel you have mounting bills to pay,
careful not to resort to temptation you crave,
you think of the Que Sera Sera song sung by Doris Day,
You watch the news people are filled with rage,
hoping agains't hope that humanity will turn a different page,
feeling like that solitary hamster stuck in his cage,
people who have no problems resist you like the plague,
Things seem to go pretty smoothly then you have a rogue wave,
major health and financial problems out of the blue like a slap in the face,
you hang in there and keep swimming for your life trying to be brave,
just keep hanging ten on your surfboard knowing that Jesus saves,
Another day of waves of anxiety is the price we pay,
worrying about our country's future and our children's fate,
sometimes you feel like time is short and your just devil's play,
anxiety is the devils priority until were in our graves.
2-23-17
Rein in those opportunities to criticize
Think of all the good things to be said
Remember to see through others’ eyes.
Or sometimes simply resort to sighs.
In disagreement, merely shake your head
Rein in those opportunities to criticize.
Be a bigger person, even if you must disguise
Displeasures weighing on you heavy as lead,
Remember to see through others’ eyes.
If you announce your woes, it’s seldom wise,
Sometimes they are better not to be read
Rein in those opportunities to criticize!
Is it that you get joy when someone cries?
How easily you could’ve another’s feelings fed
Remember to see through others’ eyes.
For being disagreeable you’ll win no prize,
Hatefulness and sharp words are best unsaid,
Remember to see through others’ eyes,
Rein in those opportunities to criticize.
Written December 5, 2022
#54 on Top 100 New Poems List
Poetry Soup
December 11, 2022
#50 on Top 100 New Poems List
Poetry Soup
December 12, 2022
within Zieglerville, pennsylvania
genuine snow white hair
upon her noggin doth adorn,
perhaps she will divulge to me (in private)
after i croon (to said lass),
the melody of Jimmy Crack Corn
hmm...or, maybe this mission
perchance twill be doomed from the start,
and hence finding me forlorn
thenceforth, a backup contingency measure,
would warrant me to don my thinking cap,
and for extra ordinary reinforcement unfold
each Taj Mahal shaped ear flap
plus (for reinforced ironic steeliness),
aye also resort to buttress
any aural "stormy Dani yelling)
via walled in interlap,
which accouterment functions
as a double agent i.e. (or,
to be rather crude),
an audiological jockstrap
to vet or figuratively kneecap
any unwanted infiltrating leaping lap
ping "FAKE" distracting news
inducing madcap
mass media circus
driving this generic teetotaler
to pour himself a nightcap
essentially providing wig gull room
with very little margin of ear err, or overlap
against bigwigs to trumpet pap
pill low ma rendered free and clear
asper insidious (mama mia) paparazzi
charting imp pea ching fear
bringing out bare arms
most likely something internuclear
simply to discover visa vis authenticity
if cute employee
(sporting hair
white as the virgin snow),
which doth simmer and glare
blindingly, thus necessitating sunglasses
(I choose the Ray-Ban brand)
as recommended by cited
all time favorite pharmacist
who unwittingly (or simply because
my myopic eyes didst stare)
fixedly - drawn to such a darling (doll ling)
explaining any reason to go THERE
to CVS - that tis where.
safe haven for poets once existed
till destructive forces came on board
those who seek just to hurt others
end up harming themselves
several such people have inflicted pain here
though no one would call them “writers”
juvenile antics and hateful comments
are their only legacies
through profanity and threats
digging holes to poetry’s Armageddon
alienating those who won’t strike back
or resort to petty, personal attacks
they say, "You're the most despised among the soup clan"
spew lava-like proclamations
hold grudges for years when they don't place
in a contest where only quality work won
evil doers adopt numerous aliases
to favorite each of their own poems
but poets can easily identify them
as their “attempts” at poems all sound the same
if one who can’t write, gives you a contest win
what is it you have really won
their friendship? No, they don’t have friends
do you compare your poetry to theirs
who wants to share on such a site
where mean-spirited people call the shots
other places enforce rules to promote civility
let your conscience guide you to these sites
August 18, 2014
I think love is a lot like us.
In truth, it's hard.
At least for me. To reach into my heart and pull each thought
Like some sort of note, to resort to the most simplistic of notion.
It all seems so simple.
To walk up towards the one we love and tell them how we truly feel.
At least for me.
To be honest I don't think it's entirely the thought of being rejected.
But the actual declaration and the realization that everything that you hope and dream
stares back at you and it's not reciprocated where imagination meets reality.
At least for me.
Reaching back into my heart and scrambling around for another note.
The small things in an ocean of thought that could go wrong.
The sudden rush of thoughts that prevent such circumvention.
The first step of telling you that I love you.
At least for me.
Seeing your face again, makes it so much easier.
Knowing that you would never let me drown
Computer catfish anglers
Are out phising every second, day and night
Trawling the world wide web with baited hook
For innocent victims to catch
Internet sites such as Facebook and Twitter
Supply them with constant schools of fish
How easily they reel in trusting people with their deception
Can you be one hundred percent certain
A person behind the computer screen is for real?
Trolls don’t live under the bridge like in fairy tales
Fake profiles, false pictures and fraudulent names
Intended to disguise who they really are
Sadly some victims of their abuse resort to suicide
Hope these evil ‘catfish’ get caught and end up in court
Catfish Contest
Sponsored by Catie Lindsey
5/30/18
A poet, that's me I'm called Jan
Was NEVER a poetry fan
Now two books bear my name
Not for fortune or fame
I'll pen poop whenever I can!
If ever I am stuck for words
I resort to write about turds
Brown things that you poo
When you're sat on the loo
Poop poetry's not just for nerds!
The taste of a warm, clear liquid runs through my throat.
The bitter taste of love, feelings and emotions all in one clear bottle of venom.
How did it end to this, how did i end up doing this?
The taste gets bitter and bitter just like the flavor of you.
The fiery burn is hotter than hell itself, but i continue going on.
With every drink is another memory to forget, with every drop is another story to be forgotten.
The numbness of feeling no pain gets stronger and stronger, Every action, every word ever spoken completely disappear with just another drop.
I soon forget but that doesn’t make me stop, why?
Shouldn’t the void clear up now? shouldn’t the emptiness fill up with the venom, filling me up?
Shouldn’t the dark turn to a grey color and shouldn’t i be satisfied with the warm, fuzzy feeling of forgetting?
No, because how could you forget the emptiness, how could you forget those words, how can you turn an addiction to nothing more than a piece of forgotten string.
How can you turn love into hate, and how can you turn me into a person?
With the month of addiction, the month of trial and error how did i end up being hurt the most?
How did i end up turning into someone i’m not, how did i turn to the venom for forgiveness and hope.
5 years old, 8 years old, 10 years, 11 years old I swore to myself i wouldn’t.
I swore the poison would never go into my body, and become my only resort to the paradise called hope.
I swore i would never let substance control me.
But the ashy taste of cigarettes and the burn of venom became my best friend.
They became the only thing that let me forget, and let me feel something more than an endless void, a dark hole in my heart and vibrant colors in my mind.
They became the only thing to look forward to in the day, the only thing i wanted.
It became very clear to me that the venom i depended on was the poison you left me with.
The only thing i had left was the taste of the warm, clear liquid showing me hope..
Tribulations
ah well i guess we never will
have a need for the good old pill
goodnight sweet lady not to dance
or feel the taste of sweet romance
and often by the moons cold light
I saw her face record delight
But that was just the other night
Since then she casts no favour
So sitting here beneath the moon
I see her face but much too soon
My lady seemed about to swoon
No, she’s another raver?
So taken by the shortened breath
Left alone and desolate
Perplexed as anger burns and yet
Should I resort to strangers
The drink goes down the eyes do glaze
I’m in this queerest bar
A shiela sweet our eyes do meet
Soon heading for my car
We get undressed, though I’m depressed
The warning sign they are
She has no breast upon her chest
Oh no, it’s a bloody shirt lifterrr ?
Don Johnson 6-may-11
Oh the Cloud is wonderful
Every thing in it's place
Safe and securely held
There in cyber space.
Please enter your password
To proceed to the store
That may once have been correct
But now it isn't anymore.
Did you forget your password?
Would you like to change it now?
Follow the instructions
Which will show you how.
Enter your new password.
Now enter again to confirm.
Sorry they don't match
They must be the same.
You must choose a password
Not used in the last year
Enter new one in the box
Just down here.
I am a fallible human
My memory come and goes
Have I used this already
Who the heck knows
I resort to gross profanities
Want to scream and shout
Open a window and
Throw my bloody laptop out.
Jump on it and kick it
Break the bloody thing in two
Microsoft and Apple
I hate the pair of you
A deep enduring hate
For the stress and strife
Daily you have added
To my once simple life.
You have no compassion
So long as your PC's sell
If there is any justice
You will all rot in hell.
Your request has timed out
For you took too long
And too many times
You entered data that was wrong
I want to check my Bank Balance
They said it would be fine
Seven levels of security
When you bank on line.
We really don't have
Assets to any great amount
So I really do need regularly
To check my current account
It's all safe and secure
There in cyber space
Everything kept and recorded
In its own proper place.
Please re-enter your password
We will tell you where and when
Did you forget your password
and corruption, here we go again.