Best Scavenges Poems
Scarecrow Addict
Gritted and dusty
Powered by flack jacket eyes
Bootsteps through grey puddles
Flotilla of cigarette butts
Trash kicked aside
In a desert of litter
Seeking the soulless of death
Chattering on split lips
The grimy irk of air
Festoons the rink and rack
The floating black
Sucks unbidden
Horses into battle ridden
Scream through his lungs
Broken weapons
Filled with empty bullets
Enemies in their colours run
Demon angel
Of the iridescent metal
In the bars of sculptured hell
For the hot choke of alcohol
Has squandered his nights
And burnt his will
The vengeance of mirrors
He cannot defy
He has become
The man with the gun
And rabid dog bark
Is the music
The fang gangster rap
Chews on his pride
Coughs back and spits
Too many drugs
To fill his hate
As he seethes through the alleys
The ricochet sound of poverty
Slaps hard at the cold
Whistle through the doorstep
The vicious snide crack
Scavenges his chest
Scarecrow buckshot
Trammels his lungs
And coughs up plastic
Iron girders against shattered walls
Where the whole world threw up
His sick
Chokes on the disgusting chuck up
Of need
So full of promises
But still lets in the freezing winds
To whined up urine stained
In the pallor
The colour
Of his sky
Bandit warrior and loser
This brave young man
Watched this driven and ploughed memory
Eat away
By iron vice drag
Devastate his pale haired wench
Leaving blood trailing on her breast
Pimped
She was
And hate in grey battered uniforms
Drove the callous on
And lifted him from the reeking cans
Of his desolation
Bled him through nights of sweat
And cold turkey chewed regret
The plaster wet billboard and pealing advert
Have no idea
What they have unleashed
Brittle as long dead bones
And screaming head
No longer hates
But still sneers revenge
In tattered loose rags
He staggers from the vomiting pit
Emaciated wolf
The grinning scarecrow eyes of merciless
And the jagged teeth of candle lit
The reek of vendetta
Hangs ever about his lips
And woe betide the gun smith
Woe betide indeed the needles
Wet prick
Nothing left to fight for
Other than
A long dead
Lover
Categories:
scavenges, urban
Form:
Free verse
Bring all your revenges to the table
Sit them down and serve them well
Crystal cut glass, French Champagne
And listen to the stories that they will tell
Place guilt across from regret
Whilst heartbreak and sin reacquaint
Thoughts starched up cotton napkins
Dine with both the sinner and the saint
Lies like locust swarms spelt in sentences on the menu
Anger boils over erupts spoiling the setting
Ego attempts a humble hasty intervention
But memories x-ray sharp prevent forgetting
Tensions trek arduously around this table
Whilst fear scavenges for dirty little secrets
Elusive emotion makes an elegant appearance
Upping the ante, everyone taking side bets
I thought I heard someone call my name
It was coward hiding behind the door post
How could I not go to his aid?
I really must leave and assist him, after all I am the host
Categories:
scavenges, character, emotions, environment, imagery,
Form:
Light Verse
An expanse of pregnant clouds gather
I hesitate mid-step in petrichor air
anticipating a breakthrough, a rumble
the rain.
A lone desert tortoise roots for water
as he subsists on tiny droplets
he hunts for pearls of condensation
collecting on sparse foliage
scarce puddles of liquid gold
that form in the early morning dew.
Searching for rain in the desert wastelands
a lone bald eagle scavenges for food
to feed to her young fledglings
who eagerly await her return.
The desert languishes, barren and lifeless
waiting in anticipation at the dawn of day
day after day, month after month
until today...
As now, I look and wait, fresh rain appears
heaven sent, it's moist jewels escape
from the sky, falling down in heavy droplets
upon the thirsty ground
bringing new life to a dry and weary land.
Rewritten on 1/11/2017
Categories:
scavenges, life, rain,
Form:
Free verse
Outside Jesus Town
Old man dusted off his hat and whiskers
Polished off a tumbler of red wine
Continued baking in the California sun
Outside the town of Jesus, just east of it, before the mines
There to finish his raw sculpture of a sandy rusted man
Bent over, sitting on a worn out stool
The desert followed the old artist
It is everywhere
He blended in with it
Black hat and shirt were not the best apparel for the heat of day
They are the only clothes the old man owns
He scavenges the dried out lands for metals
Rusted iron is the best to build the sculpted figure
A monument to life out there on prairies
Where heat and art and wine take part in nature
And pull it all together from the dark
The white bearded man with tumble weeded hair
Stands contemplative just east of Jesus
Planning his next rusted man
But blinded by the noon day sun
Created on 12/05/14 for- East Jesus – Poetry Contest
Categories:
scavenges, art, character, clothes, drink,
Form:
Free verse
A sleeping beast
Or winged messenger from God
Lays its quicksand of the truth
And I am spat like a petal from some nameless bloody heart
A constant question of the proof
I scratch in complacent deals
With my fellow’s skin and drone predators
While living in the fields
A cauldron drips
These poppies fix
A soldiers boot
Addiction is
The needle spent is where I live
But faith can be
Such a fickle masturbation of sentiment
Did I nail myself onto the wood
In scarlet scars through shrinking palms
Sacrifice my history
So they could write a misshapen allegory
So they could rest their scraps
In painted psalms of papier-mâché
None of it was me
I was not born to be
An asset
Of their delinquency
Did I lay myself out in love
To hang there torn upon the cross
A plush riddle in comforts upholstery
The benediction of their ease
The filthy placebo of their greed
In the ragged bones I fall to earth
In the moist illusion of the dust
With this wretched taste of famine in my throat
Am I the benediction of their greed
The filthy placebo of their disease
A nameless child who scavenges
For every single breath
As I lay here in the dirt
And in the gluttony of the church
And so for pities sake
Just one more obloquy of prayer
In the chronicle of remembrance
Or sleeping angel
A winged beast sent from the savage eye of God
Lays in the quicksand of the truth
Spat from a stinking petal
Of some cringing bloody heart
And I will gather here a while
The meagre scraps of dust and earth
A constant question of the proof
Categories:
scavenges, timegod, prayer, god, riddle,
Form:
Free verse
Used to be the Mafia.
Glory to shameful violence.
Off balanced dodgers,
No reconciliation, by Story.
Oh, thank Jesus.
Oh, Thyatira
As time now diminishes?
Now urban dump sites,
Steps into focus.
I can't bare to mention.
Oh, Laodicea.
The place or time, it scavenges.
An untouchable and lofty perch.
Oh, Jesus, Who were the pharisees,
At your contention?
Why are rotten cotton balls,
Running up and down my spine?
A simple act of cunning?
A spine of stained glass?
Oh, Satan
Lean on our purity.
Lean on our purity.
What we have.
Oh, Ephesus.
Oh, Whoever.
Is it too much to ask?
For equal time about covetousness?
As if it never was.
In telling others how to run their lives?
Thank Satan.
My answer.
Why bother?
I know your incapable .
Oh, Sardis.
I'm far from right.
I know it.
Astounding homework abounding.
My dearly beloved canary.
Words so softly spoken.
Echoes a fading token.
For we challenged Davids scrolls.
oh, Pergamum.
But why? Heaven knows.
Dishing out the dread.
Confirmed by those found dead.
What glory in it?
Never confirmed in advance.
Oh, Smyrna.
Always after the deed.
Oh, New Millennium.
Oh, how my canary blossoms.
Discrepancies forgotten?
A beautiful and melodious chirp.
When the astrologers walk into Church.
But Why?
Advance your pulley.
Garnish your ear plugs.
Grease your train, in your yard.
Turn it all around.
Always your.
{Don,t get it yet!}
Nonsense!
Covetousness!
Nonsense!
Righteousness!
God has his secrets.
Fueled by our ignorance.
Seven to twelve.
God loves lofty odds.
Hows that! Summation.
Oh, Philadelphia
Love Jesus, The Church.
Revelation.
Beginning or end? Oh all.
Categories:
scavenges, religion,
Form:
[Psalm of obsession]
Sleep with the remembrance of Death, and rise with the thought that you will not
live long. - Dwais El-Qarni
He huffs and puffs
impatiently,
anxious at seizing
a moment unknown
of mercy
He scavenges on me breath
in every nook
He fossicks after me soul
in every cranny - as
He pounds verily hard
on me footsteps and whilst
His nostrils unravel me
existence upon horizons dreary
[Time possesses nay reprieve]
His, ain't a pogue,
but a sledgehammer
trademarked of fatality.
Patience oughtn't be
His becoming, 'cause, either
He do or die ...
DEATH,
i've realized,
will have to do - for, if not,
none will be left to inject
mortality's folly upon me:
DEATH
rather
DIE
me.
He runs on a velocity
terrifying than the throbbing
of me heartbeat;
the pursuit
grows desperate every time.
He endorses that
i speculate of Him
a fore i taste Him.
lately,
D E A T H
stalks me shadow
as of a nocent marauder
devoid of mercy ...
irrespective!
Categories:
scavenges, death,
Form:
Pastoral
Predetermination of Lovers
Proactive on the lips of such sensual passions
Scavenges through follicles design
To written archangels of expression
Such are the hungry beats and pulses that evolve
In contemplation
Of Amours encounter with her skin
Countenance and coveted demonstrative
Spills a wet lust fervent
Fever pitched by the wisp succulence
Clamorous and pounds its ranting quintessence of want
Desirous burns, inflamed in whispers
And craves never ending
To lay upon the flower pillowed head
And crush the blooms of reticence
Till breathing cries in a desperate pant
Such are the embers longings for her
That there ignition turns to a mockery of fire
And a mans soul can capture the essence of the sun
Predetermination of the telling caress
Holds the nudity of speechless inquiries of sighs
Rampant
Rampant palmistry of luxuria, grabs !
A mouth-to-mouth pleading of sustenance
On surging floods in beckoned waves, has !
As this keel of heat rides in sweat
Savoured on the incremental words of flesh
Swims the boundless oceans of love
Exhausted to the tasted need
Divulged and disintegrated to unity
Laboured to the inch, of the light, in her opening eyes
Sees distant gasp, focused releases
Breaks upon the spinal tidal arches
A salutation vulnerable to the ravages of aphrodisia
She devastates the tenderness in me
To build a more touched hyper-intensity
On the quivering ends of our fingertips
Leaves the escaping whimpering to linger on sound
Sleeping on the quiet unknown bed
Of lovers
Categories:
scavenges, love, sensual,
Form:
Free verse
He is a porcupine
Armed with lethal quills
You massage his butts
Butts from which comes atomic bomb
He fumes and shoots himself
Apparently a terrorist attack
He is a wild domestic bird
With a spiky beak that pecks not on faded pupils
Eyes of a wild cat
His hands bleed with honey
He tastes it not
He is a scorpion of the plain
He stretches his wrinkled tail
The tail which is lethal
The tail which does not retaliate
It only stings his back
His face is the mighty warmth of the Sun
Warmth that does not melt ice
His face grows kales and cabbages he tastes not
See stalks of sugarcane on this dry spell
Do guard this gezira from the iceman
He spits beer and spirits
He indulges in them
And urinates with his belt
His mouth is a heap of tusks
Which earns him no sterling pound
You iceman with coded language
You are the cradle of dismay
Your footprints are mass graves
You laugh when he removes his trousers
And orders it to enter his wallet
Are you a wizard?
You call him a jackass
To cry beer and spirits
Before he scavenges on his own carcass
Yet you fracture his bones and suck oil
You wizard must die of asthma
Categories:
scavenges, anger,
Form:
Epic
She's a mom from a poor family.
Everyday striving in a sidewalks.
No shelter,no roof to shed.
Her life is devastated.
No food ,she scavenges day by day.
She got pregnant,a man didn't stay.
Until one morning has came.
She'd delivered her son in a banquette.
She feeds baby on her breast,
So poor, she can't afford an expensive milk.
To feed a baby she all adore.
She is frustrated to give him ,
A better life, the safest home.
Until one coldest night.
The wind blows so strong.
Her baby suffered for an extreme cold.
She was baffled and nowhere else to run.
Taking her baby,found a tree to hide.
And was amazed by what she found,
the li'l life she fed on her breast,
no longer breathed, a cold cadaver.
The life she used to cradle, had left,
and gone in the midst of the night.
Tears fell down on her cheek,
and she mourned for a baby ,
She had given love and breath.
Based on the painting :"Mother and Child" from Stephanie Deshpande
Contemporary Figurative Art for the Contemporary Free Rhyme Contest of
Cyndi MacMillan
Categories:
scavenges, baby, death, life, love,
Form:
Free verse
Poverty.
Hardship and suffering
all behind society's eyes
raised by the ghetto
slums cracked lights out
scavenges for life
its gone.
The same face in all places
no father figures
can't support, gone
moms fiend for crack
the silent killer
hard to take, reality hurts
the youngest
nothing lives within him
unloved, felt like a colorless weed
wants to develop
a beautiful rose
society wont let
its a cruel world
only the streets
resist the temptations.
Death laid outside his doorstep
waiting to grab the innocent beneath
Gang life sleeps in his thoughts
trying to fight the opposition
a deadly current war.
Getting older
need to make ends meat
but how, never given a chance
selling drugs only option
need to feed his children
and in his mind
nobody cares
people just stare.
Treated as the fungus of earth
and all this money
soldiers dying, the devils agreement
army of weeds, never stop regrowing
power making more poverty
not spent on the poor
only used for wars
its sad.
A war on drugs
to fight them off
but they made them
dirty tricks, crooked
and deceived
and still we don't change this
mankind has the say
not the rich.
Children screaming, not heard
tears not felt
like a raindrop with no splat
it always keeps raining
in his eyes.
People so caught up in the power
like a wolf fighting for its food
wraps around the minds
changing ambition to greed
Just share
then i think things would be fair
for all the bad acts
its countless.
Going through his mind
all the times he cried
number of life's he lost
early deceased
in the penitentiary
trapped left to die
a fly under a glass.
Certain peoples cause
an act with no redemption
soon to burn in hell
tried to deceive us
saying they were against us
causing pains and misery.
A secret war
an epidemic
propaganda in its finest form
defying the innocent
minds controlled
eyes turned, no notice
no justice.
It goes on and keeps on growing.
Categories:
scavenges, black african american, child,
Form:
Free verse
The cold man,
the starving youth
walks the destroyed roads.
Through the fields of corpses
he scavenges the water
while wishing to fill
the withering cave inside.
The warm soul,
the hiding one,
moving through the solemn life.
Denying those who taunt her
she lives a troubled life
and all she really wants it to
tell the world her story
This is to all aspiring.
Categories:
scavenges, confusion, daughter, faith, hope
Form:
The beast roams and scavenges
Searching for a carcass to feed upon
Sadly, he is well fed on souls that have no care
Filling his pit of a gut
Licking our wishes from his chops
His stomach rumbles with unsettled dreams
His breath a stench of hopeless rot
“What is this unspeakable horror?”
‘Tis what is whispered in the dark
His name by evil as the thoughts and deeds
Committed
Attracted by greed, vanity, and lies
Pray that he has not caught your sent
Categories:
scavenges, angst
Form:
Free verse
The innocence of daughters plucked off their souls
Orphans spread wide, agony on streets
Scavenges merry on rotting heritage
Nation's sweat burning, humanity's creativity scattered in ashes
Men were not teary, nor deterred by their transience of life
They match, hoping to wreak the bloodthirsty beast
Of vengeance and wrath
They carried the future's hope in the search for peace
Categories:
scavenges, appreciation, conflict, hope, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
A hero that fights with swords forged for battles
Swords forged by a blacksmither called Eris
Swords which were handed to Jeffrey
A warrior known for his victories in battles
Battles which were fought with glory.
Souls which went straight to its glory.
A hero cannot control his dentiny
Its destiny which controls a hero
A hero hunts for its prey with arrows
Arrows which are fetched with wood and stone
Stones which are turned into sharp shaffs
Designed to hunt for its prey
A hero sometimes scavenges for its meals
sometimes its prey runs away from a hero
Sometimes a hero starves for days
Wishing it had a meal to eat.
A hero doesn't rest until it known for his victories
Victories which become a part of a historical legend.
legends which become a part of history.
Categories:
scavenges, fantasy,
Form:
Ballad