Best Shoved Poems
Within reason
lies a house full of ordinary
a chest of bland memories.
You end up with
a pocketful of might have beens.
Within reason is five square feet of grass
and the proverbial white picket fence,
nothing else.
The word 'important'
never makes it onto the page.
Nothing"within reason" was ever found
that didn't already have its place.
When u abandon
Reason
you also abandon
Impossibilities.
the brother of reason
The one needs the other
two heads of the same dragon.
One breathing fire and brimstone
the other living without hope.
They never live separately
they are siamese twins.
The ying and yang of yesteryears.
They had a reason with a hint of possibility
They had something,
something maybe,
at best something insignificant.
But imagine what waits
when you eliminate 'impossible.'
In the darkest dark
within the scream of 'don’t',
inside the insanity of abandoning reason
it is there you'll find
that decaying flesh infested with worms
it is there where the round wheel was found.
You use a black shovel
through the bone
into the skull
through the brain
along the heart
into the gut.
There lies that fine line between insanity and genius
but THERE is where you have to go.
To get there you abandon reason.
Abandon the dogma shoved down your
throats all these years.
Glide on the wild side.
Show your body hair.
Expose your fangs.
Lights, camera, DANCE!
And so it is, that both the Devil and the angelic Spirit present us with objects of desire to awaken our power of choice. There is an invisible strength within us; when it recognizes two opposing objects of desire, it grows stronger ( Rumi)
She is an angelic Aphrodite,
with thorns and thistles
in her myrtle heart,
disguised as a martyr
veiled in burgundy blues,
a savior in need
of a lion armor.
As the tainted world
lured her to be the
temptress of twilight,
blindfolded by
paper butterfly wings,
handcuffed by
porcelain pearls
and lilac lace;
she finds herself,
searching for blood
diamond truth to
uncloak what grows
beneath the orchid sun.
She never promised
that her peaking rays
of spring would
silence your storms.
For she strolls obliviously,
dressed in onyx winter,
as she tastes of
sinful summer evenings,
wearing a crown of
sublime sunflowers,
too piercingly divine
for unprepared eyes.
She has constantly
been shoved deep
into an estuary of emotions,
where turquoise ripples
fade into blazing blue
wisps of nothingness,
among dimmed stars
in the soul of midnight.
If only she knew,
not every spellbinding
gaze meant "love" woven
in threads of
a thriving future;
there’s always
blistering agony
brewing beneath
constellations of
fluttering gems,
though she questions
the silver light that
radiates from
the moon in her mind.
Soul progress
back field in motion
The guff
Chose, chose, live grow leave! GO!
Leapt from heaven's gold
Jump started into a human mold
White clapboard poverty with tiger lily blooms,
blueberry rake poverty woolen looms.
Riffs of Emerson, Whitman, Longfellow dawns,
mothers’ hazel eyes, father Davidesque form,
chosen to drive twixt a Jew and a screw.
Magnet of lunacy...
Tumbled like an agate into the stream of life
part of the dream lesson
scream lesson
Abuser of power, one who had once roared,
Eve shaped now, weak and mewling
between the weeds of woe.
Care taken by lovers torn.
Watched over by pedophile uncles.
Befriended by lewd Father of sons.
Adult child, searching amongst the Word
for the Word is God and GOD …
There are so many words
Root ripped scenes from beauty to horror
Shiksa* taunts seep in with the smell of borsch.
A pumpkinseed amongst the pricks of Brooklyn
A wild rose planted in the asphalt soil
Doo-wop ditty
Jew’s bop to a Dago harmony,
bagels, bialys and the French twisted strands
of great grandma’s hair.
Clipped, stripped of family shoved whole
into yet another new mold.
True believers, ah yes, fanatics all.
The struggle to survive whole healthy
dipped in, dripped in, a bath of acid and thorazine.
Polish priests pedal platitudes to the sisters of St. Joseph
behind the gilded glory of the Church.
Raped by trust and betrayed by lovers,
a rose married to a prickles thorn,
so empathy is gained, and a healer born.
Metal must be formed in a crucible of fire
A healer can not be born without tasting the pyre.
Looking back again, back into the past,
it was written in sand, all those questions we asked
on those last days of summer, something was wrong
as the leaves started turning, and shadows grew long
There was dust on the tables, and the clutter remained
where never before, .... had it not been restrained
You were known for your grace, now your pride was at risk
Quickly swept, polished fine, brushed away with a whisk
This just wasn't you, having bricks without mortar
You were never unkempt ...now a life out of order?
You would never have allowed such things out of place
Something so small, would have been your disgrace
There was something to blame, something was strange
Even small tasks, we noticed, had changed
Another piece of a puzzle, fell into place
Your trace of bewilderment, when a name was erased
Your memory lost, and a world gone absurd ...
Then, once it was you....alone and disturbed
Lost and afraid, but mostly confused
Forgetting the day, many things you would lose,
or someone you loved, so much undefined
shoved back to blind spaces, your words couldn't find
Dust motes collected where never before,
would settle, make home, in your mind evermore
Without any warning, without any sound
until you were gone, and the years fell around
Dreams that you had, were drawn in the sand
into the traces of dust of a far away land
_________________________________________________
Inspired by Isaiah Zerbst's Contest: "Pick a Title"
10/31/14
Ever wrote a sequel
To a poem about
The road of dead bodies
that you drove upon?
I dont Think So^^
O. Yeah im laughing
At such a radical idea
Thats not registerd yet
Into naiive-Like brain cells
Yeah! Am laughing^^
Wish I could just throw
My smile on that kid
That lay stone cold
Hand over ears even in death
Died of the noises...
Not laughing anymore?
Thought so
I just laid there staring
Right ontop of him
Dead silence...
I panicked
shoved my fist in his jaw
I felt his bone crunch
Now he doesnt have a screaming face
Wow....
You think thats deep?
The guy right next to the kid
Was his dad
They kept him alive to watch
As his son burned
then became death
and soon a fossil
And when they chunk this place again
He will be dust
...His father
He was right there
...To watch
Now read those last three lines
Again
In Slow Mo
Read it and weep
Maybe the tears could drown
A father who is still there to watch
And spare him of the "Madness"
"Well,if its what you want to call it.
I mean you can call it unfair
Inhumane
Insane
But its just Mad-ness"
I shook my head
Knew the day’d be messy
Some poor sap
Was marrying my Aunt Bessie
She’d slept with half of Brooklyn
Flaunting her exploits all through town
The mayor, the banker, the deli clerk
Even the birthday party clown
A wedding gown, so fitted
Her bellybutton showed
Boobs shoved up high enough
To violate building code
Minutes before the shindig
She pulled me on the roof
Snatched a flask from her garter belt
Downing one hundred ninety proof
She wanted to call it off
No way she could comply
To promise for all her life
To only screw one guy
I told her she could do it
Like many other people do
She finally calmed down
And made her wedding day debut
She stumbled down the aisle
Tripping on her gown
Her daddy kept her steady
‘til the pastor stared her down
She blushed but pulled together
Long enough to give her vows
After the ceremonial kiss
Everyone went to carouse
Letting loose at the reception
She danced with all the boys
Twirling, flashing, grinning
Making all kinds of noise
I’d like to say things ended well
That monogamy she would master
But before the night was over
She got naked with the pastor
For Andrea's "Show Me the Funny" Contest
Spring sneaks through our path in the wake of
hints still left from winter. Snow white pillows have been shoved
and scattered. Timeless treasures of floral engagement blooms,
earthy perfume plants still entering into our world.
Twill nightfall's and an ocean of abstract wildlife
settle for the night or feed under the moonlight.
The early starlet sun rises with hints of scarlet blush
and the pop warmth of tangerine glowing gloss.
I crawled out of my warm sleeping bag and small tent
reborn from a good night's sleep; into a picturesque
cool, and crisp morning on the craters rim
to a view of the cobalt blue lake and hot spring.
12/26/2018
Just An Old Man
Just an old man I came to know
his mind still busy, feet were slow.
Tired feet lounged in old, worn shoes
he had lived, lived and paid his dues!
An old man, one I always loved
one who taught me to fight when shoved.
Showed me to be kind when one could
how to work hard and saw firewood!
An old man, long ago I knew
taught me to say, yes sir on cue.
Suffered to give more than he had
to raise good sons, not to be bad!
An old man, one God took away
taught me true love and how to pray.
Gave his kind heart and gave his all
to teach me to stand proud and tall!
An old man, that never forgot
to aid me, were I on the spot.
Old man that gave, not being asked
in that bright light, this soul once basked!
Just an old man, so brave and true
wore the old, to buy me the new.
An old man, one I so cherish
I pray to meet, when I perish!
An old man, one I hope to see
that good son, he raised me to be.
Just an old man, one that loved me
pray I, to one day be as he!
Robert J. Lindley, 9-24-2017
Rhyme( A Tribute To My Father)
NOTE: Greatest blessing in my life was to know, love and be loved by this brave and kind man. He passed away in his sleep on the morning of his 68th birthday.
I have labored on writing this tribute poem for about 9 weeks now. Leaving it, coming back,making changes.
Always trying to improve it, as nothing seemed good enough.
Then I finally saw the light, my father tho' extremely intelligent was still a simple man. One that believed good triumphs over evil, that people are only human and thus they should not be judged against a perfection yardstick.
For weeks I sought perfection to honor him, one I so dearly love.
Then he seemed to say to me this morn-- " son, when love is true it is already perfection, regardless of how its presented."
With that in mind, I finished this poem today. And hope you may enjoy it and think beautiful and loving thoughts/memories of your
father, be he now living or passed on as is mine..
From a mouthful of this morning’s eggs,
I pull bits of char from yesterday’s breakfast.
‘I had no chance to scrub the pan’, I plea with myself-
But I still smash it over my skull
like a cartoon.
Every morning I wake up
feeling last night’s feelings,
thinking last night’s thoughts,
about what’s happening 10 years ago,
and what happened tomorrow.
If you add up every
simultaneous
suffocating
moment
I fight through-
just to say:
‘i love you’
It would stretch for longer than I’ve known you,
which is longer than I’ve been alive.
There was no ‘today’ in my broken egg.
No difference between coming or going,
to an automaton in purgatory
who saw life through the pinhole eyes
of a cardboard mask won at a birthday party
I never asked for.
The sky looked like the ceiling of a small, dark closet.
and flowers looked like plastic bargain bin decor
coated in lead paint, the kind left on roadside graves.
I used to count those as a child,
on the way to destinations
I still dread my arrival to.
If I were brave enough to show you my awe and my terror
of loving the one who revealed
the world as something real, all this time-
I would sink face down in dirty bathwater
choking on wet, laughing sobs
until my fingerprints wrinkled away
and tear at my clammy skin
until my soft nails bent backward
and paint red bruises all over my trembling body
that would spell out a primitive language
neither of us had the chance to learn.
This is my best guess:
‘i am just a bad thing that happened
a book of false memories and blind feelings.
You are a very fast reader,
You’ll soon reach the end of me.’
I remember drawing a map in crayon
of every ditch I saw myself lying in
strange, unnatural positions.
Like I'd been struck by a car,
and someone shoved my body away
so I wouldn’t mess up the next one.
I planted a lily
A long time ago,
And was given the chance
To watch the plant grow.
I'm sorry to say,
That chance I refused.
A delicate flower
Should not be abused.
It needs to be nurtured
With plenty of sun.
Not shoved in the darkness
Where damage is done.
I planted a lily.
I hope you can see.
That without my presence
A flower's set free.
I am standing naked on a crowded street
But nobody seems to be noticing me
I am less embarrassed by my nakedness
Than by my invisibility
They all seem to be looking right through me
Or staring down at the concrete walk
With iPod plugs shoved deep into their ears
Nobody can hear me talk
I try flagging down a taxi
But their “Off Duty” lights are on
On the black and white checkerboard
I am the sacrificial pawn
The Queen moves in every direction
The King is rooted in place
I try catching the eye of a policeman
But he has mirrored glasses upon his face
The world is swirling in circles
The Bishop runs off with a boy
My wife no longer lies with me
She prefers her electrical toys
The teacher wakes me up in class
Why am I in school when I’m fifty-five
I don’t remember being captured by the Rook
Is it possible I’m no longer alive
The King has no more safe squares to go
Laying him down is his only fate
Tangled up in a sticky spider web of life
I’m stuck in a permanent check-mate
Written: November 26, 2023
_______________________________________
In ephemeral moments
Whispering remembrance,
Of gilded blooms
Once shoved
Embedded into priceless papyrus.
I dwell in visions that have faded away
Life is thwarted by shaping it
Beyond vibrant hues
Stardust tumbles down
Blisters of emptiness
A silence that pervades.
Alone, holding only gray
Sorrow tightened
A heart's wound is reopened
To beat uncertainty.
Into an intricate mind
Tones of gray scale.
Let's play pretend
Pretend you are the hero and I am the damsel in depression
You sold me a magic future you'd crafted out of fool's gold
And I fell into the shimmer
A siren song in rough seas and
I sang merrily we fall
What adventure novels did I neglect
While chasing a happily ever after lie
Though you were a tragedy in your own right
You were a rum drunk pirate
On a pain soaked ship
And I haven't the heart to call you a villan
I should have known
when you said you didn't read much
That you'd be the chapter I wish I could tear out
page by page
And burn like witchcraft
Turn your memory to smoke and ash
The boy who would not grow up
And the girl who could not make him
I forced you to see your reflection though
Not in a rippled tide pool
But exactly as it was
And you could not hide from yourself then
Let's pretend I'm the fairy godmother
and I'll grant you this one year to the midnight
Tell me
Did you think I'd ever find the courage to leave?
Let's pretend
You never said the things you did
And I never cried behind a steering wheel
Trapped screaming prayers to St. Anthony
To find the me I lost chasing you
Let's pretend
I didn't instead find silver spoons in snowboard boots
Or empty liquor bottles in full laundry baskets
Or the patience before I lost it and transformed as though by dark magic into someone spiteful
Let's pretend
I never wanted to make you hurt
The way you made me hurt
And let's pretend I never tried.
Let's pretend
That water is not vodka
And that I am not as stupid as you made me feel
Let's pretend
Like the time you shoved me into the wall was the only time you were a rough sea to me and it was only because you were weather worn
Let's pretend
I was in love with you
and not the role you wrote for yourself before I found out your true character
Let's pretend
We aren't as complicated as we are
And in my story you can be a sick evil pirate
And in your story I can be a vile gypsy witch
And in our story we are just sad, frustrated kids,
In a dark love,
In over our heads,
No breadcrumbs to lead us out,
In a Grimm fairytale
Made for morals
Not happily ever after
04/22/2021
She wailed her way into the world...
An avatar they said, Goddess Lakshmi had taken birth...
Her parents' pride, her brother's delight...
She loved and shone her brightest light...
She smiled she laughed in her radiant sight...
She didn't notice the prying eyes...
Pirouettes and piques, with aplomb she leaped...
Fell back on the earth, for a second it hurt...
Not losing her stride, among the cries...
She walked ahead, with her head held high...
Its a man's world, she was warned...
Not true she said, and walked along...
For she was proud of the woman she was...
She did not know of the waging war...
She had no right to dress as she pleased...
Her shorts were labelled as a tease...
She committed a crime when she refused his friendship...
She was punished by a splash of acid...
Pushed and shoved, groped and cut...
She burnt she bled, he simply fled...
It was her fault, said those in power...
She ate noodles, she should have called him brother...
She shouldn't have been out, late at night...
Well, he was justified in playing out his might...
She should have brought a car in dowry...
She wouldn't be laying, a lifeless body...
She gives life, akin to God...
Yet her life is an irony, unwanted... abort...
Lying about the scar on her face...
She tells her friends she fell down the staircase...
For she didn't know how to confide in them...
Of the scathing beatings, by the husband she'd wed...
Killing in honour of the holy mother cow...
Raping the honour of the woman of their house...
They'd given her wings, asked her to fly...
She flew away, and then they pried...
How dare she fly away so high, she was permitted to fly awhile...
Clip her wings, draw a ring...attach her to their pendulum strings...
Stamped her fate, sentenced to a cage...
Live like a prisoner, you deserve it, they say...
Yet they fold their hands in prayer...
To a Goddess, for their share...
For their share of golden glory...
While her life becomes another cover story...
(a Salute to Howard Moss)
Although it is not yet warm,
we have shoved to the backs of closets
snow-boots, gloves, and woolen scarves,
locked tire chains and ice scrapers
into trunks of automobiles as if
tomorrow the first bloom appears.
Oh, stiff wind blow, hold back snow,
whose flakes unwelcome gust
while hearts claim lilac scent.
Oh, pale moon, come, lend your light.
Oh, songbird, drop your sweet notes here,
while old men's hats sail past
and girls push down their skirts—
with both hands—as purses cling
on hunched shoulders and hair-strands
blow against cheeks.
What is this howling wind
and who brought this mournful song,
this wild, feathered up-surging
as if tomorrow the world upturns.
We've shoved our gloves,
our boots and scarves behind
the racks in backs of closets,
locked away the sacks of salt,
and scoured the ground for signs
of hyacinth buds or crocus flush,
while old mens' hats sail past
and girls hold down their skirts
as purses sway and hair-strands
whip against their cheeks?
And though it is not yet warm,
there is the mystery of spring.