Best Shouters Poems
I am Peter Smith
My boss was Peter as well
A different surname obviously
I was distinguished by my surname originally
I wasn’t too keen on that: it sounded like you were after a fight
“Smith!”
It sounded quite disrespectful to me
The boss was quite refreshing and called me “Pete”
My family call me Pete, so I have no problem with that
It was not me being pretentious: I didn’t insist that I was called Peter (not Pete, Pete-y or Pete-o)
Surname identification then developed into “Im going to call you….”
Im going to call you Steve – you look like Steve Martin (i dont by the way)
Im going to call you Jones – like Smith and Jones (there must be some bond somewhere)
Im going to call you Myth – it rhymes with Smith (this is tiresome isnt it?)
The whole thing was tiresome
It never felt they were being horrible and bullying
But it just………..didnt work
I decided to try and overt their thoughts towards calling me Pete
Hi everyone, its Pete here
It was escalating now:
I would hear a name being shouted out about four times
Then my stomach fluttered as I thought that this was “the new name”
I tried to gently, but rudely, make a pun on the shouters name
A very clever pun, might I add
That just made them laugh
“Great! I can be called that and you can be called your name”
I was stuck
I didn’t find it offensive, but it wasn’t funny
At least get me a name which is funny or clever
I didn’t want to challenge them: “please stop me doing that”
More offensive names will be on the way and the slight bonding I have with them will be broken
It wasn’t really necessary either: it was only “a bit of fun”
Well…………..
I get it
I finally get it
It took a while
But now I'm showing my style.
To every home
With somber tone
My daily briefings
Broadcast my teachings;
I tell them all
To heed my call
So all may strive
To stay alive.
My change of tack
A stroke of luck
And just in time
The polls to climb;
For every day
I get my say
The ratings spike
With me on Mike.
Now the prime task
A real big ask
To find that cure
Something sure.
This virus sticks
All experts kicks
But as to me
Just watch and see.
I have a plan
Beat this I can
Wait for fine weather
To Covid tether.
Once that is done
They'll hail the man
Making things right
With wisdom and might;
Never a pause
Fighting the cause
Winning's my creed
I've proved that indeed.
Then all the vile doubters
The downers and shouters
Will finally see
Their champion is Me.
It isn’t the voice of Aristotle, Plato, Shakespeare or Anton Chekhov riding down red square. It isn’t the voice of Adolf Hitler rumbling underground or Dwight D. Eisenhower building construction in the town.
It is not the voice of Woodrow Wilson, Ron De Santis, Ragan or Trump shouting from the podium. It is not the voice of Barack Obama, King Charles the III, Hillary Clinton, Theresa May, Nicola Sturgeon, Hallie Jackson, or policeman Righty Righty, running around the town on his European motorbike issuing traffic tickets from left to right.
It is the voice of reason crying out from the slump. It is the voice the you hardly hear and it is a voice that you hardly can bear. The morning whispers and the evening shouters speed through the town shouting out a message where destiny is bound and Greek philanthropist with money to spear rebuild the culture to reestablish the age of reasoning. But not too many people embrace it.
It’s contextual and it’s deep, and it put the paparazzi to sleep in a cage beneath the ground constructed with a long corridor stretching across six countries border and the center of the post is about to explode it’s the voice of reason baked in a can waiting for the conscious one to settle the squirms.
I don’t know what you are hearing and what you are currently sharing, you can either reason with sense or you can sleep with cats, dogs and lions in the den. The tiger and the baboon are waiting for you and Giraffe with its long neck is watching you but the voice of reason is listening to you.
There are some sixteen century markings on the Vatican chart and it is written in tiny markings, you have use a magnifying glass to read them, it is the voice of reason speaking to you and it is the voice of reason telling you what to do. Reason with the voice; try to understand it and you will know which way to roll the dice. The voice of reason does not lie; It is the voice of reason on which you must rely.
Most effective teachers
are perpetually curious students.
Most accomplished chefs
have voracious appetites
for nutritional taste
and nurturing fragrance.
Most resilient lovers of here and now life
have known and felt hate and anger
for what they were and are not
what they could want themselves to become
cooperative truth and beauty passionately enough.
Most astute analytical thinkers
are complexly destitute theological feelers
chaos resisting healers
radically resonant bicameral dreamers.
Most muses
are trust and passion affluent
through healthy silent springs
of wealthy cooperative effluence.
Most ultraviolet nights
absorb enlightening sun-bleached days
in-between enchanted/disenchanting insights.
Most effective healers
are AnimaMundi contenting souls,
Earth patriotic
and Integrity matriotic
ego/eco-communicators.
Most Yang/Yin conversations
are c-squared dualdark enlightening
sacred wu-wei system
tipping pointer inner/outers;
not really just secular woo-woo awesome
wiki profit winning prophet shouters.
Most WinWin long-term therapeutic designers
are perpetual WinLose deep and wide re-assemblers.
Most effective speakers
are perpetually courageous
co-empathic curious listeners.
Too often
someone stretches the truth until it becomes the lie
and then defends its falsehood for all to hear and believe in
but some wiser ones sense the truth that lay hidden
grab it by its fallacies and turn the tide to see reality,
no denial, no deferment, no deflection, no delusion, no defense,
only a bastille of truth to be reckoned with.
Which direction do you go
holding onto untruths, errors, mistakes, missteps, outright lie
of the braggarts and the bullies, the loudest shouters in the room
or sweep away every lie to see the steps you're taking
to mold and secure the futures for our children, all children
knowing historic lessons of time
that what we leave behind - is us and what we believe in,
truth, justice, the American Way.
A QUIET JOURNEY TO HEAVEN
Some make a shouting journey to their home in heaven above,
Some go so very quietly to His open arms of love.
And Ray Britch was just like that, just quiet and serene,
No fanfare filled with shouting from him could e’er be seen.
But God is most impressed with the standards of a man,
And how he lived for Jesus and followed in His plan.
And Ray was so much like that, not loud and full of shouts,
But those who knew him closely knew what all he was about.
He loved his wife so dearly for fifty wondrous years
And gave his tithes and offerings to the church he loved so dear.
He loved that church and pastor and every member there
As he sat there so quietly in that padded special chair.
In just a ten-day period we saw two men pass on—
One shouting on his journey, one whispering all along.
But as they entered heaven and met there once again,
They both heard the same welcome as there they entered in.
You see, it’s not the shouting, it’s not the quiet tones
That get rewards in heaven when they go to His throne.
It is the faith they showed us in their unique own ways,
And for each one who gets there to hear the SAVIOR praise.
The works they did for Jesus are all that matter, friends,
That show we’ll see the shouters, and the quiet ones in the end.
Yes, one’s shouts were quite vocal, but the others’ kept inside,
And now at heaven’s borders, they both wth Christ abide.
And both will shout in heaven if YOU trust in Christ today,
Repenting and now trusting in His salvation way.
--Dedicated in memory of Ray Britch
Chairman Xi, like Chairman Mao
Vladimir Putin, shades of Josef Stalin
Kim Jong-un, plus Recep Tayyip Erdogan
Iranian Mullahs producing drones and bombs
Our world is an awfully dangerous place
Yet America's response is a first-class disgrace
Yesterday Congress' focus on International Pronoun Day
At New York's UN today, autocrats against Israel inveigh
At home, crime's way up, 'so' we end cash bail
Why not let all the thugs out of jail
To protect its citizenry, America's government once existed
Now it opens the borders, its explanations ham-fisted
Add to all this rampant inflation, rising racial tensions
Plus self-defeating 'green goals' and underfunded pensions...
The 'threat to democracy' shouters couldn't be more wrong
The reason it's real ~ America misguided is no longer strong
Let me see
Let me learn
Let me rock
Let me dance
Let me hear
Blues shouters
Like B.B. King and Albert
While I can still
hear
till the end draws near
Get offline. Meet me at the corner!
My words are like the wind,
whistling in unassuming;
Your words are filled with daggers,
attention seeking shouters;
Can’t come up with ideas of your own,
you’re too focused on yourself to think,
much less see anything else;
Are you just daft or do you
have a death wish?
Get offline! Meet me at the corner;
See I write everyday.
you write when you feel it suits you;
You have no connection to the Muse,
but that’s something you won’t admit to;
I said it before, you’re a one trick pony
and you’ll never change the game;
You can have your five minutes in the Sun,
open mics are merely a small piece of me;
My focus is the words, I’ve already won.
Get offline! Meet me on the page!
Dunk on people?
The one with a vocabulary holds the record;
Will your slang stand up on paper?
Your backboard sits shattered;
I could say it vaguely
but you’d choke on the metaphor;
Such fluid electricity
can’t be found in acrimony;
Are you just daft or do you
have a death wish?
Get offline! Meet me at the corner.