Best Should Know Better Poems
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S Sizzling Sol:
heartthrob of the
starlets
each wants him to
shine on only her
young Luna
waxes
poetic
hoping
to win him
but Terra,
who should know better
is blue-green with envy
at being thus eclipsed
[yalto form]
// Syzygy: The nearly straight-line configuration of three
or more celestial bodies (as the sun, moon
and earth during a solar or lunar eclipse) //
Battle of the Sexes
A Collaboration Between: Pandita Sanchez and Eric L. Boddie
As beautiful and smart as you are,
you always seem to take it too far.
I know some of it is just;
but there is still so much that never needed to be discussed.
It could be that you too often misunderstand me,
overcomplicating and seeing life differently.
They say men are from Mars and women from Venus,
so things will never be simplified between us.
Tell me, what am I to think -
I mean, your mood changes within a blink;
so much emotion can sometimes get in the way,
you like pushing buttons - what's that shade of gray?
One minute you say that I’m too emotional;
then when I prove to be your equal, you call me irrational.
Is it just that I’m way too much woman for you?
And, perhaps, you really don’t have a clue?
There you go again thinking you are all that;
that's the reason we are always off track.
I love everything about you, but I tire of the stress;
and I can't calm you down unless I get you undressed.
See that's exactly what I'm talking about -
resorting to caveman tactics makes you believe you have clout;
but you're no longer a boy, so you should know better, Boo,
you're wearing me out with your commitment issue.
You see, I just can't ever win.
So don't stand there trying to pretend
like you are faultless in all of this;
but the blame always hits me - it has never missed.
While I admit that I’m not totally blameless,
I’ve been the one who‘s always willing to do more while you do less.
In fact, like Rodin’s ‘Thinker’ you just brood over our problems;
but I’m the mover and shaker who actually tries to solve them.
You know what? I am done with all this…
I mean, you know I am addicted to your sweet kiss
which, consequently, makes arguments hard to resist,
all because there is not a feature about you I want to miss.
So please just let me say -
the indifferences need to end, and let's start anew today.
Well we don’t need to be arguing all the time sinking into quicksand,
if like two adults, we address concerns before they get out of hand.
But in spite of what our differences may be,
I know we love each other to the nth degree;
and in the end, we know we’re worth it, and we’ll see,
man and woman, we can work it out together, Baby, you and me.
i would love to have the chance to ask the dog star are you Sirius?
John Tirious won't tell people his daughter's name it's Miss Tirious
if i were fuzzy wuzzy and lost all my hair i'd be furrious
when songwriters erase are they "decomposing" or "delyrious"?
[i should know better than to dabble in such puns, after all i am a groan man]
January has pocketed frosted dreams
Firmly tucked away, hidden under her black ice
Her treacherous blizzards torment the foolhardy
Many driving too fast on her hills should know better
In a heavily prayer-scented car
A risk-taking older cigar-smoking woman twirls around on the ice
Finally landing with a splat, slamming into a steel embankment
Her days on earth over now
bitterer than any rejected suiter, the incredible storm picks up
The woman's Ford is covered in mounds of wet heavy snow
This is a desolate road, people do not see the wreck for hours
Nine One One is called, but it is too late.
This smoke has words that escape me actually
The EMT says, as he reaches the scene
I see no smoke, his unaware partner replies
Not seeing the haze that is taking the lady’s soul to heaven
Got to hold it together, try to keep my cool,
Even when dealing, with imbecilic fools,
Should know better, but they freak me out,
When in the wrong, they just scream and shout,
My problem is, I won’t back down,
Especially if right, and dealing with clowns,
Should I be the one, to hold my tongue,
Guess it all stems, from when I was young,
Always had to, stand up for myself,
Show any weakness, get beaten up, no help,
That’s my dilemma, remains with me today,
I’m wiser now, still can’t turn the other way,
Hold your ground, never let bullies off, scot-free,
Face them down, no good cowards, you’ll see,
Only seek easy targets, to punch below the belt,
Fight back hard you Lion, watch their bravado melt.
By
David Kavanagh
As we did the month preceding
This the next department meeting
Time and time without a reason
To be present or to listen
For there’s nothing on the floor
Beneath us different than before
It was the last time that we met
As everybody knows and yet
Again we sit around the table
Top our seats but still unable
To understand why we should read
Another memo from the Dean
Of students who have never met ‘em
Or her or maybe better, them
For whom the Chair is working under
Standing in the room, we wonder
How’d it ever get to this
Friday morning’s foolishness
Of faculty who should know better
Than to debate what doesn’t matter
That they’ll only misconstrue
The points they’re missing when they do
Interrupt each other speaking
Words better spent in classrooms teaching
Hurricane
By Edmund Siejka
There were warnings of a hurricane
People had been through this before
They knew what to do
Why some of the houses on the water were worth over a million dollars
They would ride it out.
The hurricane came ashore and slowly marched inland
South of Merrick Road
Cold grimy
Water was everywhere
Sewage and fuel coated lawns
Soldiers patrolled areas hardest hit
Boats were strewed in streets and yards
Neighborhoods sat empty for weeks
And politicians worried about their future.
Spray painted signs warned
“You loot
We shoot”
Heat and electricity were luxuries
Cash was a valuable commodity
Most people were patient
Some were not
But no one seemed to care.
Families returned to their neighborhoods
Tired, cold, and hungry
Water logged furniture lined the streets
Making two lane roads impossible
The only ones to show up
Were utility workers from out of State.
We don’t respect nature
We build where we shouldn’t
We pollute when we should know better
We use up resources like there’s no tomorrow
And then we’re surprised when nature hits back and reminds us that she is after all
…….Mother Nature.
... you really think so?
I'm flattered to say the least,
but I honestly know not
where these words originate.
Do you think inside my squishy brain
is where they congregate?
I like to think of it like an office building
where the files always fluctuate.
Sure would suck if aliens landed,
skipping the "we come in peace" spiel
and just went straight to "ANNIHILATE!".
Knew I should have martian-proofed it
when I had the chance -
why must I always procrastinate?
But perhaps I'm taking in too many
possibilities here
(like eyes when they dilate).
Are you getting tired of this rhyme yet?
Do you wish to take time to stipulate?
Consider I did you a favor
not using big friggin' words
like amalgamate.
Never say never, right?
Hope by reading this nonsense
you're not running late.
I should know better
to realize you might well have
"A very important date".
But don't mind me I'll just by typing away
with ridiculous musings.
It is my fate!
Pity not where I am
at the present state.
I'm having oodles of fun
in this land I helped create.
My deepest apologies
if it looks to you like I hibernate.
Feel free to come by anytime,
for you see, beyond this point,
there is no gate.
But for now I really must be going!
For this is about the time...
... where my imagination starts to deflate.
NOTE: Inspired by Richard Lamoureux's comment on my poem, A Kick in the Stones.
Does it make you happy? Or perhaps
it excites you? To want the
unavailable and to love the un-
lovable. To feel the way you feel for
those that feel nothing for you. You’re
such a foolish child, you should know
better.
Who raised you? Who taught you
such ways? What is it that lures you
in, that makes you crave the
uncravable? What scent do they give
off that keeps making you want
them?
You should know better. Lord knows
you deserve better. Open up your
heart to something bigger than
yourself. Open your mind to a world
unseen. Leave it all behind and
reinvent yourself.
Those scars you keep poking at won’t
heal unless you let them. The pain
will never subside if you keep reliving
the horror. Hush child, don’t try to
justify your actions. Is a few minutes
of happiness worth a lifetime of hurt?
Is one moment worth a thousand
scars? Leave those foolish ways
behind.
She sat there wondering if one
moment could have changed
everything. If things would have been
different. She wondered, if it were all
different.. Would she be able to love
right? Would she be able to see the
good in people? To see the good in
herself?
Scars and hurt caused by an
unknown being she’d never crossed
paths with. An unknown being that
changed her past, her present and
future. An unknown being that
prevented her from loving, from
feeling.. From seeing what’s right in
front of her.
They say people come and go and
leave you in all sorts of ways. Some
change you for the better and others
for the worst. But what about those
that were never there and yet still
somehow they managed to make an
impact on your life? An impact that
could be easily be rectified had the
earth’s forces been kind to this
foolish child. Can the unknown being
be held accountable for the actions of
the girl who’s path he never crossed?
Indie Goddess™
A SATIRE
This is a thank you letter,
Dear Church of Everyone else,
Thank you so much not,
This is your thank you letter,
To stickybeaks who should know better,
Thank you so much not for your sage advice,
You should look at yourselves once or twice,
Thank you so much not for your learned input,
I should tell you where yourselves to put.
Thank you so much not for you advice,
You missed the salient bit, "This is my life!"
I do not have to participate,
When me you aim to manipulate.
Thank you not, Church of Everyone Else, as well,
Do please go to Hell to dwell!
(Your assassins failed again!! Life's too short!!)
Roy and Zenia had six kids I say
And all of their names began with J,
June, Junior and Justin
Joyce, Jackie and Jacquelyn,
Why in the world would they think this way?
And Jacquelyn, we think should know better
Did the same dumb thing, but no matter,
Candace, Carla, all C's
Celeste and Cory
When friends mocked, they think that they flatter.
So Candace want to keep up the trend
And she named all her five children M,
Malika, Makela
Makeva, Maesha
And Makai is the boy at the end.
Well Malika she just had a son
Amari is the name of this one
So I hope she’ll be smart
And don’t follow this art
If to her some more children are born
by: Acquah Vicki
Raphael:( A BALLAD )
The name rolled off of his tongue so gaily,
He seemed to be fulfilled by just saying
" RAH PHA EL". Matthew's
wheels were spinning
this was the one who
would save him,from
the wild and crazy life on
South Beach as a waiter.
Blond Blue eyed slim statues
man from New york-
Found the dark and tan
gorgeous Greek
a fantasy and a treasure
that had now become his reality.
Every thought of Raphael would
delight his eyes with pleasure.
He walked on his tip toes almost as
a ballerina when he spoke of Raphael.
Raphael, rich- Handsome and happy.
Matt waited each day,joyfully
to jump into Raphael's
sports car and parade in front
of Coconuts and Mangoes.
As Raphael zoomed up,Matt
was with wings, He took off and
was about to hoover, when the signal
was, "do not come any closer ".
Raphael waved him off.
He soon saw why and
much to Matt's surprise
watched the undercover
unload the Porsche' with
what they had discovered.
I, as Matt's surrogate mother--
witnessed Matt's moon-lit eyes wane-
I shared in his pain. Thinking....
" New yorker's should know better "
Still, I held him as he cried.
He survived to tell the tale.
Off into the distance Matt did stare
as one last time he spoke
the name,"Raphael"
Judy, Judy, Judy
Thoughts of – thinking, I have to wonder ?
Time is slowly slipping – empty of – away.
Turning moments, lost – into hours- many a day.
Lost forever – only thoughts of what might be, stay
with this one, who had – once upon a time – only to pray
for all that he desired and desired to see
become part of what he wanted – wanted to be.
A cool wind of enlightenment, blows from a silent mouth.
No warm breeze will I come to know, from the south.
For the barrenness of silence is all that I get to hear
as I wait for a sign, a word, feelings that I fear
are not meant to come my way – for me to be had.
All these thoughts, questions, feelings do make me sad.
I should know better, no fool – they say – like an old fool.
B. J. “A ” 2
May 13th 2005
Bedyet
It’s not time to go to Bedyet, I’ve frequently been told,
By people who won’t travel, be they four or nine years old.
And others even older won’t visit the Bedyetter
They leave it late, refuse to go, although they should know better.
Have you been to Bedyet, you really have to go
There’s something there for every one, I promise. I should know!
I’ve been myself, so many times, I know the places well.
And you should too, and if you’re quiet and listen I will tell.
The folks who go to Bedyet have heavy hooded eyes,
With droopy lids that seem as though they’ve grown to twice their size.
Their hair it seems disheveled, with whispey random curls
Not at all they way we choose to see on proper boys and girls.
The Bedyetter are fliers, they cross the colored skies
And when they fall they safely land as if on rubber thighs.
And each of the Bedyetter, from babes to those full grown
Can tell a tale that’s better than the best you’ve ever known.
The Sandman’s a Bedyetter, a busy chap is he,
He visits every dreamy head before the morning tea.
And when you get your cuppa you may feel a little grain
Like sugar on each eyelid, and he’s the one to blame.
Some of the folks in Bedyet have mouths that open wide,
With long and breathy smiles, and teeth moving side to side.
And arms bent at the elbows that seem to point the way,
For others that will follow them before the end of day.
The children there are dreamy their thoughts just run astray
And they don’t seem to hear too well, no matter what you say.
I even heard it said that some have let their faces droop,
So far down to the table that they wind up in the soup.
But all will wind up cozy when you travel to that land
And though you don’t expect it, things always go as planned.
Just pack yourself off early, and always floss and brush,
And take yourself to Bedyet and join the rest of us.
Father you were my first love
a collection of feelings fused into a human being meant to love me.
Father you taught me how to love
nights filled with endless practicing how to please you.
Father you showed me love is pain
the beating my mother took filled the air with her cries for help.
Father you told me I was your good girl
words I became accustom to being whispered "Who's daddy's good girl?"
Father you told me I came second
becoming an older sister was a relief and a painful responsibility.
Father you told me I should know better
the first time you laid your hands on me without saying "you're a good girl."
Father you broke me
the time you called her "your good girl."
Father you killed me
the night I heard you go into her room.
Sexual assault is an issue needing to be address more because it happens too frequently not to bring it up. A lot of the time it is someone the victim knows. Help me bring awareness.