Best Scrip Poems
Every flower has its own color
With annual observation,
this we springtime discover
Give a womb kernel cede
of acknowledgment
To the spectrum birthright
of each other
We are all one,
tho’ from a different umbilical mother
Notice the bloom of time,
come rain ... come sunshine
First eclipse dawn —
tyranny tares grew with the
the golden amber grain —
The face of nightshade oppression
had a dark tone
Steel magnolias was the fetter fragrance
of the pyramid rule chain
Pharaohs, (of no melanin discretion)
who wore the ornamental godhead,
sat atop the pinnacle
While the slaves were downtrodden fed
at the bottom below
Their crowning achievement
was to erect great tombs
But papyrus thieves in the temple
stole the toil of the ruins
Skin for skin,
this is a-fertile sowing season true
Each summer solstice empire
passes into autumnal decline view
Every bird has its own color
And the length of each wingspan
differs from one another
Take an umbilical hover,
acceptance flight
To the spectrum birthright
of each diverse other
We are all one,
tho’ tear delivered
joyously from a different womb mother
Notice the migration of time
come swaddle skybound ... come burial ground
Last obscure sunset
was the Legion silo bane talon —
The thorny wrinkles of oppression
had a pale monotone
Caesars, (of no pigment distinction)
who wore the prickly spiked laurel bled,
sat atop the carrier chariot
While the plebs were commercial shackle led
to the amphitheater above
Their crowning achievement
was to deify great destructive bombs
As scrip crooks in the palace
pilfered the taxable gift of the palms
Skin for skin ~ Epidermal blend,
this is birds of prey a-nesting season true
Autumn equinox tech empires
passed into cold war, nuclear winter view
The nature of wisdom
teaches cross-pollination pure acceptance love:
Tho’ each fruit has its own color
Why then, doth this root of affinity divides us?
This is crystal clear!
Yet, what is the color of water,
of which thee Mist of Life doth bring?
It is snowflake known —
Tears of repentance
is from whence salvation doth spring
With the Nepotism in my planet, essentially in my land, life compels
And factual morals are forgotten. Ancestors way of living are forbidden
By the rules we live in today.
What’s happening in our society?
Flash is made to capture, to imprison,
Not to poison and abolish every tale we ever had.
I sense discomfort when I glimpse defiance of young in open, forgive me but i
Feel pain when I see the future walking in distress; giving their lives in return for a good life.
Give them credit, but our lives were much easier before.
Simplicity is no supplementary.
But not everyone who’s involved wants to,
Pleasure is the case, dissatisfaction is the face, eish did I say it’s the pace?
Wait a minute
Facing my demons with abstemious eyes, doesn't add up, I need a fluid to go through
The night, where’s my pint to nip the tank of my thanks.
I’m jaded, guzzle, gulp facilitate
Slurp!
It kills me to be unable to maintain my being,
Without sentiment awkwardness,
But little voices say…
‘Just be intoxicated, without any guiltiness’.
My hero dies in vein, my mother stress in pain, and my friends suffer in shame,
I didn't do it, but the hunger for more led me to desire more.
Everyone’s scrip end is thrilled, but in one way or another,
there is a season for everything.
Life goes on, I’m a young woman. I’m different, I’m a lion and
I’m in control.
I may not be the most courageous, boldest, and smartest,
But god gave me a voice and a pen,
I refuse to be the statistic, the common, and the everyday indict,
I refuse to be them, they, us, and we, I choose to be “I” alone.
I am a woman, a lion,
This is not the time to point fingers,
This is the time to raise my left arm and say I am a woman,
stray the shy of my spry.
Heroes always live, but
Hero die in this one, because this is war.
A Note to Self
You and you alone
can make the change
in your life to make it
brighter!
Self
Self you need to try a different angle
Years of trusting the wrong person
Has left you frazzled and depressed
Enough
Enough self-inflicted wounds on your heart
Cease the long waiting to exhale
Stop blaming others for your misfortune
Change
Make a change for your heart’s health
Flip the scrip this one isn't working
You and you alone can change yourself
For Poet ~ Destroyer's contest: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QpiWkSa19eI ~~India Arie - "Get it together"
I'm not the greatest of all-times, but when I'm done,
I'll be an all time great in this lifetime of mine
Like the late great who came before my time
I will breed a new lifeline, that will breathe life like march of dimes
My story lines, will bring truth life; like troops who fight
Overseas, for rights of those who believe that death is life
Now that ain't right!
As the rich is getting richer, eating fillet me-non, while we barely feeding our appetite
Night after night
Survival has waged a war that gave us no choice but to battle and fight
Although, we'll be all right
They say we a dying breed, but that ain't right
Instead we're the light to a lying greed
That will enlighten life to a brand new seed
A man of God indeed
Freed from the Son that bleeds
Like the summer breeze
He's the sum that equals the amount of air I breathe
The air that please
A satisfaction like the birds and the bees
My word's words are the keys
That will fornicate with the mind and give birth to a seed
A seed of social change, that'll change our social economy
So shall our comradery
That will bring comfort to a struggling society
A synonym...similar to a civilization seeking for unity
Unifying the physics of theory
That seeks to explain the synopsis of a dying philosophy
Similar to the Cosby
X-cept my scrip-tic will speak more about our reality
Like life's calamity
And everything else in life that's destroying us systematically
However, I've discovered a system
That can mathematically destroy ignorancy
And turn our state of mind intellectually
I elect that He (God) selects me to be
And be that man who may lead this community
So that they (My Peoples) may commute with me
En-route to a destination, destine towards our destiny
Like we were destine to be
We were meant to be "Great" like the late great that came before we.
Because we are...
The reflection where perfection gave birth to the definition of greatness
Where great means Competent, Skilled, Well Informed, and Tremendous
Our potentials are endless
And only we not even the enemy can put an end to this
So it's time we put a stop to this
The biggest enemy of self
And that's envy and jelousness
Cause after this is Heaven or Hell and that's all there is
A promised made sealed with a kiss
Knowing this
Is the next best thing since "In the beginning"
In the first chapter of the first verse in Genesis!
Looks like dem old ugly chains
got a new modern face
Beauty upgrade ... high-end cosmetic tech;
low-cost dressed in labor modest,
minimum maintentance convenience
From da delta plain sugar cane fields,
to the glamorous Silicon Valley hills:
Ancient bigotry of blood biochemistry
required some thinking ahead
Remove dem outdated iron appendages
from da carbon-based legs
Loose dem fettered bodies from da plantation
That warm-hearted gesture
was prompted by the cold realization
of mechanized industrialization
Machines worked tirelessly better than humans,
with zero margin error for rebellion
From da poppy-white numb cotton field chores,
to the black-site, laboratory rat maze corridors:
Modern slavery has been plastic,
guinea pig perfected;
Darkly spirit heavy iron chains
got replaced by skin light bar codes,
and microscopic nanobyte pain
in the nether layers of the epidermal
From plantation to implantation ...
total body control to full mind control
Invisible chains is a better option
From forced emancipation to voluntary enslavement ...
necessity of convenience shackles the soul
Grateful servitude is a Dead adoption
Go sing illusory freedom, spiritual songs
in an unseen force-field:
Laser etched number scrip plantation
Eat, drink and be merry, ye bonded bones ...
harvest a bountiful yield
Give curses to the marked implantation —
corrupt binary code command subjugation
The Mephistophelean workplace
is a future-now,
internal space Gulag situation ...
an augmented field mule muzzled occupation
With plenty of open-air, coffin acerage:
rows and rows
of furrowed thought manipulation
Dem New Age lobotomy slaves
be toiling on a grave condition plantation,
whose dirt cellular
cubic dimensions are:
Six-by-six-by-six injected damnation
Sending the tending to an unfriended ending,
yet somehow suspending from rending a newly offending recommending.
Logotype monotype linotype,
overripe stereotype,
teletyped an unripe heliotype.
Guttersnipe snipe,
stipe snipe ripe,
a wipe type a tripe,
unleash a withering hype.
Dip snip,
nip lip,
slip skip,
rip the apple pip
over a battleship Chip.
Clip,
airstrip,
blip,
scrip,
gyp,
flip,
dip.
Unsip, blue clip,
A warship, weathering stick.
To miche an itch,
to stitch a witch.
Rich a quitch,
Hitch a flitch.
Gabrilowitsch,
the grand son of a *****!
Pitched a ditch to flitch a niche.
Made a rich hitch lich.
The Thia tie thy tried to untie an unshy,
Spied a sny sty,
He ascribed a bribe tribe,
to dib drib, lib and sib.
A death pale,
dwaled and engrailed,
enjailed and bewailed.
The cocktale turned into a,
ginger ale stale.
A hobnail.
A pale kale.
The whale waled
a veil of wail.
The stale air,
railed the quailing sale.
Dipped the snip,
to pip the tip,
and baled the avail,
to the flailed snail.
Attract extract reenact,
saddle backed and subtracted,
the tact the pact
an unmistakable fact.
Swag the unsage,
the wage of the tutelage.
A coffee break
a bit of a cornflake
cupcaked the cake of the devil's flake.
Draked the fake fruitcake,
and hake the jake on the mellow lake.
Mistake the overtake.
A pancake sheik,
cried spake of a toothache.
Ack Ack!
Back, Bootblack Jack.
Pack the Pontiac rack,
sack the Hackensack,
hijack the leatherback.
Offtrack the outback,
rack the sack,
smack the stack,
stickleback the tictack track,
to the umiak Union Jack.
Twack the whack yak sack,
A mystical one eyed zodiac.
Bready a speedy,
deedy the weedy,
Reedy to leedy.
Unheedy indeedy.
Leda, Vida, Theda.
Sketched an etch,
itched a hatch.
So speechless,
breathless,
toothless.
The socialist,
the communist,
the theorist
the terrorist.
Bedded the bedding
in a dreadful beheading.
Weeded the weed,
leading the lead,
tended the teed.
The ready read,
the reedy reeded.
The seedy seeded.
The end is Ending.
Goodnight to our Rome with all your garrisons
and your streets that have become
as loveless as empty barracks.
For you I will never weep.
After all,
your Senators
Who made the deals
To keep the last
Last
And the first bored
and lost in ennui,
govern the burning ruins
of the human city which evicted the cobbler
and used the electorate as a weapon
With unforgiving recoil
Which guarantees
that
the bottom will stay at the bottom
and dance to the music of the
midnight carousel.
2
Now that the middleman has been cast
To the prairie grass
With his own middle cut away
His fate was decided over lunch
The legal apparatus has fallen from its hinge
Leaving only the greatest felony
Unnamed.
And who are our neighbors
When we’re sentenced to the
Four year winter hotel?
Will they be the nameless ghosts
Evicted from their bodies by those
Who are afforded the right to escape the tombs
With kept wives in cheap furs
And Upper eastside penthouses.
And in all those apartments
All the beautiful people
Wash down oxycodone with fine wine
While bitching about the junkie below.
“Send the cops to clean up the drug
Problem,” they cry.
“All addictions should come with a ‘scrip.”
It takes a truly trained country
with few alternatives
to put a knife to its own throat
or hand it over
to an orange buffoon
with a poor hair cut
in a loveless room.
He always
lines up his bets
on what con will turn the American heart
into just another dead
theater
where it was all the show of shows.
And when the decision is made
The worst one is chosen.
The decision has certainly been made.
For what other country
Choses a landlord so crooked
All self-respecting cons
Walk past him
Never stopping at all
For fear he will pick their pockets clean
For he is the biggest con of all,
Who now has to do a sometimes honest man’s job.
Those he loved the least
Ignored all the papers
Who for once
Didn’t celebrate
The game of chance
But cried out
With the urgency of a siren
During an air raid
to pick the other.
While he spoke as one of the mob
His heart was that of a landlord
Looking to evict
All his useful idiots
From their lots.
For now he can expect nothing in the end
But to stand on the stairs
Or escalator
When all your Senators approach
smiling
with drawn knives.
“Et tu Sessions?”
Today I questioned reason with rigor.
I tried to find an explanation for my being.
A rhetorical question with mystifying vigour,
that opens doors to new ways of seeing.
The first thought drafted a blatant visual,
of characteristics found in a mirror tall.
Vanity, greed and desire, all perpetual….
Concluding that the biggest always fall.
So how do I define my self in my humanity?
How do I portray my existence in flesh?
The answer therein stews false piety,
offering another creature caught in mesh.
Then who am I, should you ask?
Our content in consideration akin.
Thought, emotions and thirst locked in cask,
or just a random soul rapped in skin?
Maybe a stranger to this time for a joke,
searching reason in the scrip to this play?
Awaiting the night to croak,
companion of death where it lay,
concealed in its pitch-black coat.
In the distant horizon my answer float.
That means that for the moment all to see,
is that in the here and now I am where I should be.
Crack-ed craniums, splintered personalities
Neural pathway of coping escape
led to a padded place for shattered identities
Disposable souls, which fell thru the cracks,
became ill weeds of society —
Concrete tares of bipolarity
They took the sweet powdered poison
to counteract the bitter, enamel poison
Given a double dose of reality,
powerful mixture of medicinal tears
and venomous spittle toxin
Crack-ed heads feel the gavel force
of the baton hard bosoms
Rx prescription labeled: Menace to society!
Judicial pathway to incarceration,
it leads to a padlock place of moral paucity
Addicted to the cellular disconnect quick fix;
the hallucinatory solution
is bar code,
ethnic substance controlled writ scrip
And as those hard hearts palpitate
to the crack-ling sound
of the spiking high conviction rate
Place that razor blade conscience
on an arrest collection plate,
and parcel mercy
Package it with
profiteer consideration
Case closed on another skull crack-ed;
put a penitentiary bandage on that open wound,
head trauma years of degradation
Take this double dose of reality,
and inhale the pipe dream of an aloof nation
Give a stitched number name to the next gurney-strapped person,
subject to haphazard fits of vial mood alteration
Put them in a concrete compound, (where puffed hope is err gone)
with the other wards of mental experimentation
Ayes bear witness to the mad, doctored conclusion:
A lab rat, paper maze demise,
brought by guinea pig desires —
Cash cage scruples exhaled by the lords of illusion
10-02-21
Alter-ego Alias ergo Alibis vice versa Non-status quo Persona-non-Grata Ad hoc de facto In situ in loco Per se errata et cetera Habeas corpus scrip ex gratia Compos mentis Amor Omnia
Hypothesis:
Hurt is
Whether you want it
Or not
Experimental Design:
In whatever a day is
And while appearing sane
I will work my way through
One bottle of drugstore scotch
One nickel bag of back alley weed
One 10-year-old’s scrip of Ritalin
Results:
Scotch hurts
And I want a dime of weed
And a grown-up’s scrip for Vicodin
Conclusion:
Hypothesis proven -
But damn
I don’t care anymore
not all Barbaras are home wreckers, ladies
I heard the oldies and the goldie's of the sixties and seventies
Betty Wright and Peggy Scott sing them very fine
Beautifully at that, but ladies I'm here to tell you
That all Barbaras are not man stealers
I'm tired of the looks and stares
the avoidance and shunning
whenever I see you with your man
You or even him, may think I desire him, but
I'm here to tell you, I don't desire all men
they may flatter me, and
I may blush, or even flirt, but
rest assure ladies, your man is safe
because I'm not trying to score with your balls
because I got a man, can't you see that
yeah, yeah, yeah I'm aware their are married Barbaras
that cheat on their husbands, but I don't, never did, and never will
so keep those emotional trips away from me
I am so stuffed to the hilt with all of it
I can't swallow another bite of your insecurities
yeah I like men, I love them
it's a natural part of my makeup as a straight woman, but
I don't sleep with them, just my own
I don't love them all, just my own
so for the last time keep those emotional trips
away from me before I flip the scrip on you
This poet decided against
becoming a measly minced meaty morsel
undetected inauspicious augury
assigning adept
aqueous ace AOL amphibian,
who surreptitiously crept
to the secret crypt (guarded by
foo fighters and amazing dragons)
said gendarmes did except
special fluid scrip as egress into
heavily fortified
(with USDA recommended allowance),
thus when the configurative motley crue
including thyself (a bono fied doo
bee brother - long given up for lost,
which "FAKE" oracle
misinterpreted by a goo goo
doll, and cross dresser named Hugh
played being took a vow el,
and hence consonantly knew
all along, i dwelt peacefully
in a soundcloud loo
immensely spacious with ooh
dills of survival trappings
purchased from Peru
laborers treated by free pact
guaranteeing a socially
conscious shopper to rue
painstaking indigenous stoop labor,
now stamped imprimatur could allow,
enable and provide means to shoe
each formerly eczema dappled,
cracked bare foot
ah, a glimmer of hopefulness
(upon this crowded house of a planet) view
which youtube snapchat ting
reddit as joyous outlook
sans linkedin shutterfly,
twitter ring tender flickr ring shoots
communicated an instagram message
of hopefulness kickstarting optimism
versus the initial thread of this poem,
which to set this got off track
(hinting at goal to be
a paperback book writer wannabe)
rather than ending up as a byte size snack
for a limbering beast, into whose tumblr
of one jagged razor sharp teeth
like daggers lined up along a rack
of reinforced steel maw,
which bang for the bite did pack
leaves no room for bing a survivor
as fierce jaws clamp down
worse than getting steam rolled by a mack
truck, but subjected to thee yield,
whence thousands of pounds
per square inch of pressure
on par lambasted from Donald Trump flack.
He always loved knives.
Blades flicking sharp like a snake's tongue.
"Knives never lie," he said.
The moment depends on honing.
A ritual all its own.
Scrip.
Scrape.
Scrip.
Scrape.
A soothing sound.
Oil glistened and carried steel to the end of an Arkansas stone.
He would flip it over and slide it back,
and forth,
and back again.
"Mind the angle," he would say.
"No more than a nickel thick."
All his life he believed a knife truer than his name.
From birth he knew by instinct.
The cold hard reality of an edge.
But his dark eyes held silence like the oil on his stone.
Miserable and alone.
His left hand gripped the table top.
Wrist up and ready.
The knife in his right.
Waiting unsteady and above.
About to fall.
He said, "this requires the sharpest blade of all."
E.G. Maynard.
46 & 2.
3.
It’s mortuary time to a-tone deaf clock in
to the pawn fate
of warlock plans that bewitch angle bend
The hourglass is turned over again,
wearily watch the
sands of your inhalation dwindling
In a despot time of greed,
second-hand puppets do the dying
Ag coin commodity bleed
Feel the avarice reign,
those tempestuous profit tears falling
Be the fodder battlefield fed,
pleb body debt chained
Intellectual properties acquired
in the gold piece accord
Condo hearts time share expired —
Mortgaged souls
got swept off the board
In a weepy eye time of need,
first class haves
deafly ignore the poor pleas
Cadaver cold tongues
toll the hell bells rung
Burning that pulse promissory scrip
with pirate-pierced, profiteering lips
Feel the ageless pain of bosom misery
in this modern time of ancient greed