Best Rigorous Poems
Words of Mass Destruction
Words like bullets do not have eyes, as they fly in our hearts and materialize
Deleterious breaths that we soon despise, words written in stone we idealize
Warring weaponed words that paralyze, wounding wandering words terrorize
Torpedo texts thrown to criticize, paranoid punitive parasites will pulverize
Like the Atom bomb, words are strong only use them wisely where they belong
Some create a lullaby or sweet a song, while others use them to do their wrong
Words of deception create no affection only intervene with the inflating infection
Annihilating in their corrupt convention, wary words that bring rigorous rejection
Of the negative neurotic neglect, wording witches and warlocks of their architect
Dehumanized discord of disconnect, vengeful letters lashing will always resurrect
Words can frighten as well as enlighten, some will delight in words that tighten
Words of corruption bring self-destruction, a raging ruction of a serpent seduction.
Nov.20.2017
Judgmental People And Haters
Sponsored by: Brenda Chiri
"That Place"
In that place where you were abandoned,
that place, they never thought, you’d come back from,
in that place where it is believed nothing grows
in the long night’s tortured darkness, deep down, well,
a spark lit something quite quiet, far removed and forgotten,
and now it grows rapidly, coiling inside,
snaking sharp-edged like mother’s tongue root
it transmits something alive, something like love,
its veins drawing back in again a loquacious life,
the moisture from tears, a necessary nourishment
from the lake of disbelief, betrayal, trauma and grief,
a bless'ed blooming in disguise,
the succulent luscious life those all important tears gift;
what spreads from the darkness and its erratic reach,
calling into it all embers of ethereal light? Now ultra-lit,
some revolutionary reincarnation arrives back from the dead,
it soaks the unseen light up greedily, for it is extraordinarily hungry,
to taste if but just a drop of sunshine in the glory of forever and ever,
this is what it dreams when it sleeps;
after the amen, hibernation,
it grows and it spreads robust, rigorous (not necessarily), yet,
like a beautiful irregular disease, there is no turning back
once the light kisses it and it has a taste for life,
it goes looking for some kinder heaven;
yes, this is accurate, I do believe -
from nothing something blooms
from nothing, the arrival, awake,
life lessons learned,
what is poor, and what is rich,
what is true and untrue
Candide Diderot. '24
The poet Marshall Mathers
whilst "Cleaning Out My Closet"
blasted with inquiry-
"Have you ever been hated on or discriminated against?
I have...''
Interesting enough
in these crooked times
it is impossible to make a man like you,
or your art,
especially with unbounding determination.
Nevertheless,
It sure is mighty easy to attain their hatred,
through no fault of your own.
When they protest or demonstrate against you...
finally you have arrived!
That's powerful!
Common sense says,
"Never drive in the rear view mirror!"
Though, it sure is helpful to take a quick glance back
periodically
to check out Jealousy,
back there
doubting and shouting and eating your dust!
Take a whiff...
Listen...
AHHHH....
The band begins to play ferociously!
Off-key.
Off-color.
Slander Slogans pasted upon your face.
Furthermore,
Suddenly,
Systematically...
like roaches with lights bright,
they disappear into the night,
back to the slums;
begging for crumbs.
Once you've been Blacklisted;
Swallow.
Digest the miracle.
Pure, glowing gold
the alchemy of their anger,
visibly discernable from the glossy pyrite
appearing with fake praise.
Heed the old adage:
---------------Keep yir' friends close, and enemies closer.
Their futile harm repels from the Teflon donning your heart.
Envy
burns bold, boils,
melts and cools, then cold,
forging the sword.
Adding to your arsenal.
Stumble not
upon bone fragments,
brittle blacklist bandits...
the Catacombs of those
who aimed to defame your name,
staking claim for their
shameless sea of debris
and Rotten Forgottens
which only bolster your begotten flame.
Remain steadfast, undaunted
TROUNCE THOSE TREACHEROUS TROUBLES;
________________________ TO ________________________
MARCH THROUGH THE RIGOROUS RUBBLE!
*Heads High,
Let me see those eloquent eyes!~JsL
~Inspired by written words of Marshall Mathers, Cleaning Out My Closet,
Shady Records~
SOLDIERS
Crossing the world; ground, sea and air
Giving our country great care
These mighty warriors helping us in times of need
Doing us all a very good deed.
Defending and protecting from foreign invaders
Traveling across mountains, desserts and glaciers.
Fighting along with our gallant flag
Proudly raising it high, never letting it sag.
A rigorous job only fit for the best
During their work they rarely rest.
Their relatives at home anticipating their arrival
While the fighters in the battlefield attacks their rivals.
Helping our nation prosper and grow
These soldiers deserve a great big bow.
Your love song lapsed into ancient French that April day.
I only understood the words of spring and heartsore
lapsed. Only love and heartsore, I understood your ancient
words of the spring-day song into that French April.
You fabricate my pauses into repetition, silence speaks
of ages strung to rhyme in love’s difficult service
you strung into pauses in service to ages. Fabricate of
love’s repetition, rhyme speaks my difficult silence.
We practice tedium of vows till language breaks apart.
As if art should aim at science, rigorous, quantitative,
rigorous language breaks tedium. Science vows a part of
quantitative practice till we should aim “as if” at art.
Till we lapsed into language. As your ancient ages only
fabricate quantitative French strung to that difficult
practice, science speaks of tedium and understood rhyme.
The spring in service of love’s rigorous vows. April
pauses, heartsore. You and I, apart. If love should aim
my words at day, repetition breaks into silence of song.
As a pilgrim* in this enigmatic world
granted freedom for wondrous exploration
I’ll journey along life’s varied avenues, or highways
cognizant of rough roads, valleys, and even hills to trek
trusting my God, the perfect Guide toward streets of gold.
My soul I’ll yield with submission
for triumphant driving of the Holy Spirit’s power
maneuvered by clear directions for kindness' gesture
while consulting the Scriptures, divine compass and map
pleading the Lord to help me overcome the wanderer’s snares.
I’ll fly with Christ in my goals
achieving for His glory and honour
fastening my desires to His sovereign purpose
soaring above earthly gains to seek what’s eternal
propelled by His guidance to rise above clouds of doubt’s turbulence.
Sailing against tempests
I’ll travel with my faith’s Captain, Jesus
anchored upon His steadfast truth and love
fighting selfishness-piracy; winning over apathy
for worthy reaching-out voyage, indeed blissfully blessed.
Midst pilgrimage
toward the celestial
I'll enjoy sojourning moments
sharing compassion and peace of the Almighty
with fellow voyagers who seek to arrive well, hurdling rigorous trips.
*1Peter 2:11 Dearly beloved, I beseech you as strangers and pilgrims, abstain from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul.
January 6, 2021
3rd place, "My Spiritual Journey" Premier Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker; judged on 1/10/2021.
Aggravated because I was a vulnerable target to your ever-teasing jokes, quirks and games...a victim to taking things too serious and getting my mind hyped up about the things you say and do! I took things to the next level it seemed...take hold of this oath of odiumless pathways of peace, prosperity and chaotic commotion all packed-up in one box, so use your 7 senses outside of the box - I am changing by the hour and I was sweet as a tangerine, but now I'm as sour as a lemon-lime...breathe into me, sea sky of lullabies and harmonies in unison...embrace the truth of handsome hideous me...sprinkle salt and pepper upon my distasteful flavor by your ripened words of rigorous radiance (illumination that gives someone an epiphany)...enlighten me by your thunderous lightning in the dead of night and caress me with hugs and kisses of dusk dawns , for I will adore you unconditionally and for eternity and beyond...I love you infinity, so don't blurt me around in the audience as if you're the notorious nitwit (comedian), laughing hard enough by his too-desperate jokes to the pony when his sides hurt in front of the crowd of what's-happening and confusion exchanged momentarily ...temporarily... Hardly...
Sounds, bathed in memories,
Glistening, shimmering, sparkly sounds
On rivers of gentle, feeling left out
By August sun, blazing tangerine, bursting
Buttery wonder through the reflections,
Stirrings of grace, melodies of praise,
Imitating the faith that warms,
Souls embraced by the sounds, alive,
Brilliant as the flames, overflowing beauty,
Zephyr laughter, cool as March,
Healing the nights from the stormy hearts,
Breathing hues of soft, dancing,
Embracing the song who flavors the moments,
Stardust sighs, singing in glorious,
And wild gusts of blushing stories, poetry
Gentling the grief, erasing the dark,
Storming through the still, arising to the soothing,
Sounds, tender blessings birthed by truth,
Summer bleeds melancholic threads
Through a past of penetrating, unsaid sounds
Breaking through the seas, across the sands,
Endless reflections of what is sounding,
More and more – like the rigorous insight
Into a spirit, so alive, so alive…
Soundless as air who drifts quietly,
Waltzing with the destiny, creating joy
Wherever there burns a distant prayer,
Awaiting the words, verses and visions,
Falling from lips, stilled by the lyrics,
Musical notes, silence and stillness, songs
Unheard but sounds filled with wisdom,
This is the soundless sense from a world of illusion.
My best friend walks beside my soul,
Not always seen, but always whole.
We talk in ways the world won’t hear,
In jokes and jabs and thoughts sincere.
We’re echoes in a common shell,
Two minds where one truth loves to dwell.
We share the heat of daily light,
And wrap each other through the night.
55 seconds still, no sound,
Yet louder peace is rarely found.
In silence, storms begin to slow,
We trade our highs, confess our low.
One day, the world will understand,
How friendship doesn’t need a hand.
Just rigorous, kind observation
A glance, a pause, a revelation.
I met him once not far, not wide,
But looking from the other side.
A mirror framed our secret blend
Myself, and still—my truest friend.
Whither those songs of patriotism
Of which they so freely spoke?
They new-breeds have been fully clad
In old and worn-out costumes
The rickety customs are on the thrive!
Surely we are in a new heaven:
There many things must be amiss,
The old chant-songs of undue death,
Of rigorous riggers and their thugs,
Of vagabonds, vandals and more!
Where are the voters?
Those sands of men whose presence
Have been acknowledged in today’s books?
Voters indeed: they were there!
Isn’t today like former days?
Bottoms Up[
I was looking around for a new winter sport
Something rigorous but not a dangerous sort
A good friend of mine suggested to me
“if you can walk, you can cross country ski”
So I shopped around at a sporting goods store
It was a nice discount I was looking for
Soon I found a pair that didn’t cost a lot
And I got a lesson right on the spot
The very next day; don’t you know?
The ground was covered with eight inches of snow
So I packed my skis into the van
And headed to the golf course, a sensible plan
Others like me had the same thing in mind
So I strapped on my skies and waited in line
The weather was great and the conditions superior
But in no time at all, I was on my posterior
I dusted myself off and started to glide
Just as two experts jostled me on my side
I lost concentration and didn’t see a bump
There I was again, flat on my rump
Never discouraged, I stood tall once more
Starting to feel the perspiration pour
But just as I felt I was starting to get it
Back on my derriere; should I forget it?
Never! I said to myself with resolve
This is a puzzle I can solve
Just then I steered right into a bush
And landed sans dignity right on my tush
Two ladies came over to help me up
I was whining now like an orphaned pup
“I’m sorry ladies to be so troublesome
But would you mind rubbing my aching bum?”
They left in a hurry as you might think
Actually quicker than a wink
I made it home with a sore keister
Hoping I’ll feel better come next Easter
Next day I saw my good friend at work
And squelched the urge to call him a jerk
And while removing our lunches from the office fridge
I explained my plans to take up Bridge
Breaking free from collusion
A watch tower stands tall a look out in the circular prisons
surrounded by wardens laying down prescriptions and rules
with us in the centre fragmented in dead ends and schisms
mirrored glass no one inside we internalise as obedient fools
At the gate high walls conscience barriers and road blocks
imagined barbed wire where we pay fines in constant delusion
monitored in constriction we fail to walk outside of that box
abide by dogma norms lack vision to approach our confusion
Afraid of cul de sacs dead ends stop signs for individual drive
we halt and abide arrested immobilised for society’s sake
accept torturous certainty admit to all guilt and as we shrive
cannot distinguish from needs what is causing us mind ache
Roundabout’s exits guarded by our very own straight jackets
we spin around like puppets on strings to our master’s delight
The ‘panopticon’ demands obedience and we cannot attack it
for lack of conviction rebellion introspection rigorous insight
Unless we break free from chains of what others demand
disregard our dreams our beauty default on individual virtue
the road ends at a four way stop where forever we stand
disunited abolished forgotten and constant imagined taboo
4th January 2017
Written for contest: At the end of the road
Here, this day, on this inglorious
Field
Thy vain struggles will count no
Valour.
All hope now abandoned,
Imminent defeat unconcealed;
Erstwhile countenance display
Such waxen, languid pallor.
Surround by your dwindling
Forces
Ye will but sadly find...
That the stout keep of your
Valiant fortress is all but breached,
Once strong foundations failing -
Wherest badly undermined!
For a rigorous examination beckons
ye;
Stood before impassioned jurors
Chosen from the feared and all
Powerful families of the ignoble
Medici.
Black curtains drawn back from
Deep reveals
That look out over the enlightened
Years...
Where conceals...
Hidden between leafs of peremptory
Decree:-
A blight spread upon these lands,
Inflicted from Romes insidious
Plans -
That cause stain upon the
Renaissance of a golden century!
When clapping thunder breaks and
Brazen lightening clashes
Still I would know ye again:
A pounding, frenzied reflex devoid
Of all Godly purpose -
Detached from any amount of
Blame!
For I have sought ye out, O lowly
Meretrix;
Heaping upon you with bondage
Enforced through servitude and
Shame;
And I, O lowly Meretrix,
I...hereby command thy name.
A fastidious Advocate of intellectual
Character
Shallst I elect,
He who be a practitioner of
Theological proposal unrefrained,
To represent you -
Raised from the rank files of the
Dead and slain!
A public gallery, wherest seated,
Ghostly phantasms
That I purposefully select;
And for a judge - A deathly one:
Ill measured, worshipfully detached,
Beneath it all,
And hopelessly arcane.
This "Innocent" fool, dressed in
Guise of highest ecclesiastical
Enforcer,
Perpetuated a medieval Inquisition,
Both protracted and prolonged,
That openly boasted and rejoiced
In its zealous slaughter!
Thereby spawned a terrible edict -
"Ad Extirpanda":-
Cannon law that advocates the
Use of "Legitimate torture"!
Know thee also, Meretrix, the Pius
Pontiff,
Heaven sent,
Who in his greater wisdom
Convened over
The council of Trent:
Four hundred years spanning
Across a Reformations fears;
Reaffirmed when Pope John,
In reflective reiteration,
Was heard to chillingly hiss:
"What was...Still is"!
TO BE CONTINUED...
A rooster stood there with his fluted crown,
Wondering which way he'd go out on the town;
He had an evil eye and with lust there was no lack,
As he gazed on the hens he was wont to attack.
His intent was to choose the easiest to find,
And with passionate wing he'd paddle her behind;
But the hens were wary of his stealthy advance,
For fear was there in each anxious glance.
There was no love for he was no friend,
And the attack was bitter right to the end;
There were scuffles and shuffles and bruised feathered wing,
With cawing and clawing and no chicken to sing.
He flattened her there in the cloudy dust,
While his passions were consumed with a rigorous lust;
And the poor little hen sat looking dazed,
While the rooster stalked off, proud of his ways.
I guess that's the nature of the nasty bird,
He's best in a soup pot where his noise won't be heard.
Good morning mister, of thy kindness to receive,
All groans of yester, thou does seem to reprieve,
With a promise to stir, tinges optimiste do contrive,
Pain’s sphincter lets laughter, it’s another reason to live.
Swaying pyjamas on sling, the autopsy right begins,
Stayed on the bed is a rolling, whom my kitchen concerns,
“Who took that mine bedding, and Ngwaci scantily obtains?
Wanna see me cast the ring, that thine blossom returns?”
The morning prescription taken, I am innocuously abased daily,
To equate with all good men, whose wives possess jealously,
For what woman with a noble token, shirks to lose recklessly?
Taught in the womb that lesson, it break suspicious smiles secretly.
So a frowned fellow I am, and not alone in this generation,
Often silent kicks boom, where behind the driver I myself resign,
Mister, let the news come, you know, cowboys pay to listen,
Devising to forget the theme, but slaughters make to mourn.
A day received with glory, all mine suffer classic deplores,
My stem with a rigorous forgery, in front of the boss affords strange chores,
The cold of June here has a story, then an undeliberate sudden Salsa implores,
My acquittal is my worry, nobody cares to hear the weather course.
Soon ‘t’s time the cycle to restart, wishing a fair friend had that control
remote,
All these woes at will to alleviate, yet as I am, they incur not the respite,
With some spreed daily to hurt, alone I remain, a man of living heart,
I choose to live life when I find it, even if minutes thirty like a concert.
I rise with and as clear as the sun, I return crumbled like muddy earth,
This manner of men taught me none, but the proverbial sways of youth,
What shall I do but a resolve one, tonight, where else to go but Unguth!
Limited of option, I have all mornings mine, even if not couth.