Best Shylock Poems
It is a business truth
And transformer of lenders into Ruth
Who have been infamous Shylock
Or a hesitant safe with lock ...
A borrower to soften his voice
And watch its magic
By far more helpful than a cobra’s poise
Or Insistent Logic;
A lender’s lost key to his savings booth
Quietly warranting a hammer or Jaguar’s tooth
The voice of the badly broke
When penury has begun to choke
Should be often tender
To the rescuing lender
The broke an unconditional blender
For the service lender has to render.
Categories:
shylock, business, change, cheer up,
Form:
Rhyme
Is dance a metaphor for sex?
You’d think so if you knew my ex
(at least the barflies all believe
she’s hoarding something up her sleeve).
But what makes people want to dance?
An aural frenzy? True romance?
Would Hamlet, Shylock or Macbeth
ever dance themselves to death?
Strasbourg is the kind of town
that’s unassuming, buttoned down.
These people don’t let down their hair:
rarely reckless, somewhat square.
The year before a reign began
(that’s Charles the Fifth – the Habsburg man):
to celebrate Saint Vitus’ Day
a Strasbourg woman’s new ballet
was launched in Rue des Hallebardes
(a strange event in all regards).
Right outside her Strasbourg home,
a stone’s throw from Strassburgerdom,
one Frau Follea hit the street
(and man, that chick could move her feet!)
We don’t know what her motive was:
perhaps she did it ‘just because’.
Did she deserve the looney bin?
No - other folks were joining in!
With twisting torsos, poor and posh,
the city streets were soon awash.
Without the need for record player,
the followers of Frau Follea
bopped and boogied through the night,
as hot as Rhineland anthracite.
Did scruples sting at morning mist?
Did conscience prick them to desist?
Did people halt their hellish dance?
Not one mosher! Not a chance!
On they conga’d, rocked and rolled,
oblivious to heat or cold.
More Alsace dusks, forever amber,
reverberated to their samba.
The local grapes are full and juicy:
the people step a mean watusi.
There’s such a thing as civic pride,
but this lot cha-cha’d till they died!
Housewife, beggar, baker, barber
were parties to the danse macabre.
Was their motive pleasure? Fear?
Penance? Sydenham’s Chorea?
The reason for the quick-quick-slow
I don’t suppose we’ll ever know.
Categories:
shylock, dance,
Form:
Couplet
Moneylender
You were rejected by your fellow man
A pound of flesh to heal your wounded pride
A just reward for squelching on a loan
Your hatred toward these men-- I understand
Burns deeply in your heart and it resides
You were rejected by your fellow man
They bully you, so now you take a stand
Measured by Scale of Justice you supplied
A just reward for squelching on a loan
You make an honest living, better than
The ones who cruelly mock; cast them aside
You were rejected by your fellow man
Losing your daughter, ducats and your land
Upon the law of God you have relied
A just reward for squelching on a loan
To write you off as evil was the plan
They persecute and fool you with derides
A pound of flesh to heal your wounded pride
A just reward for squelching on a loan
Categories:
shylock, dedication
Form:
Villanelle
"if you prick us,
Do we not bleed?
If you tickle us,
Do we not laugh?"
Your crime filled eyes
Stare upon me
As if..
As if I were the devil.
Your hateful smiles,
Evolve into meere sneers.
Your fingers point,
Your smiles spit,
Your mind mocks,
But you choose no different.
"I am a Jew"
I suffer,
I'm called 'dog'
An yet...
You run to me
For money.
"I am a Jew"
Your society
Is my jail.
I'm imprisoned
By your rules,
Your religion.
"I am a Jew"
You hate me
Not for my looks,
For my house,
Nor my words...
And most certainly
Not for my money.
"I am a Jew"
Mistreated....
Misunderstood....
Alone, deserted
Even by my own daughter,
With no where to go
No one to love...
And only Christians to turn to.
"I am a Jew"
Categories:
shylock, daughter, depression, education, faith,
Form:
Free verse
IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE : Part XXXI
IF you pull a long lagging-behind face
You deserve your copycat status in more than one way
Marco Polo brought back cracker-power not to powder face
Noble Savage Injuns and Indians shuddered and gave way
Now if you pull a long WOG face
Aping the Colonial Master in every bourgeois way
No use straddling neck feet dangling front of face
Giant still supports the Dwarf while striding away
If you still will pull that long sullen " heathen " face
Thinking how easy the tidal wave you'd turn back anyway
Vasco's galleons rained broadside thunder balls on village place
While your loin-clothed turbaned ancestors scurried in fear
If you then pull your long self-satisfied face
At your hosts' Midas touch riding main fleets of Raleigh
To stud Crown lapis lazuli rubies opal spice and maize
Needs he as much now you to beg fawn and yeah-say
If you must then pull your long infra-dig face
Hankering after titles prizes rubbing shoulders in hallowed hallway
Colonial caste of mind gives exacting the Shylock pound of flesh
Smites your integrity dignity breaks spirit robs merits if " I YOU DARE ! " say
© T. Wignesan - Paris, February 8, 2019
Categories:
shylock, anti bullying, cinco de
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
now the sun made love to the moon
in a transgender afternoon
will be like you, will be like me
blame fimininty, blame under Y trinity
for the crescent got pregnant by a star
how Islamic them flags hailing Ishtar
sue blindness with no guts won't go any far
a lonely baby monkey riding an intellectual donkey
contstantine sat with christianity to dine
I'll give you the bibile don't take my kingdom we'll play it subtle
gods anagram is dog, eventually truth isn't to dodge
shylock laughed from the eye shaped window gotta love the attic, gotta love the lodge
there a twelve month old lonely boy, hovering holding a radioactive toy
oh red neck cowboy
in the east they're dancing eureka
gotta love rock, gotta love amerika
a middle eastern dream on a flying carpet
it's raining oil, it made them souls way murky than slimy soil
red china sat with north Korea gotta love the boogie cafeteria
iran humped israhell up her stars and stripes skirt in syria
but who knows that fake khomeni sealed the fate to bloody rainy
now the boy is a four dimensional old man
poor out of time you ran
the nomad looked at the stars, covered the jet turbine with his purple purple turban
ivy league ethopian NBA player, forgot his jewish core under the suburbs layer
Hitler never lost, his whores name written on paper without a clip
from the g string to the g thing, Hong Kong Singh ting
tsunami origami, that haarp is a reddish yammy
in the fourth earth there's an entity with a heartburn, send cern
heads up, it's the final u turn
Categories:
shylock, age, america, confusion, corruption,
Form:
Lyric
*Image of Philanthropist by Pixabay.
Shark-Thropists
Loan Shark
treacherous jeopardous
sponging laundering doctoring
endowments championships extortioner shylock
fundraising equilibrating compensating
charitable magnanimous
Philanthropist
2022 August 13
Categories:
shylock, blessing, dark, poverty, success,
Form:
Diamante
The undertaker prepped him voguishly
Like there was a party six feet below
The earth where anosmic maggots
Were tamed by steep fragrance
He is dead, he is dead
Of what use is a tinseling treasure
To the naively rich sands?
The gold plated casket glitters
In the mourner's eyes
How classy is death in its house?
A gang of aggrieved groupies
Hallowed to a one time
Shylock-baron unleashes its ruckuses
At the swanky funeral
They teemed tiny shell
At the casket and in a tick
The casket transmuted into
A gold plated basket
He is dead, he is dead
The bullets ran its errands
Through and through
But death was poker faced
The deceased wife face streamed
Down tears...The triumphant groupies
Prod the remains for mockery
Until wee in the day
When the police came for a sweep
The shylock-baron was in a feast-
Romance with the houseflies...
Until the groupies dispersed
He is dead, he is dead
He who dies once is lucky
But he who dies again has lost his soul
And would be damned
What was his crime?
That he was having
More than he needs.
Categories:
shylock, farewell, strength, violence,
Form:
Free verse
C'mon Gimme A Botox Smile!
'Pon bing asked by spouse, while she didst dock
and pooched herself abed
handily at nine o'clock
to see "handsome" pedigree dentastix
dog face of yours truly, me no Kid Rock
yea just a chip off the
ole likeness ice sculptured block,
a sharp pain inexplicably
shoots thru left shoulder blade
generating painful electric shock,
especially after said missus
threw smelly sock
afflicting this muttering chap, where deadlock
partial paralysis analogous to rigor mortis
holding frozen designated
bleep within his flesh bound paddock
(as pop sic hull), non dominant side
of mine body hard as bedrock
(spoiler alert, I write with right hand),
despite best college try, could not extricate...
hell no, this ain't no poppycock
yea, this longfellow felt bewitched by a warlock,
which affliction froze botox smile
engendering gladness to celebrate bajillion
years of blissful wedlock
believe that and I will another truth,
how this lame rhyme stir, he makes buttock
of himself, nonetheless an
oar regional non Jew bull ant debtor,
sans courtesy Shylock
still prone to bouts of flibbertigibbet
ranked as more than schlock,
(no doubt, ye beg to differ)
with mine chock
lot of badinage, basically self mock
curry verging on persiflage, he
freely types what occurs within raw bitstock
of ma noggin akin to babbling
stream of consciousness
initially intending to divulge aftershock
when wife coos this kook
spewing wry verbal
(barley comprehensible) feedstock
as she mimes deadly smooch
inflicting plastered smirk ad hoc
showing pearl white dentures
aiming to entertain, while listening awk
chilly (inspired to contrive
potschke and pastiche) rendered
(if still alive) by P.D.Q. Bach.
Categories:
shylock, funny, giggle, halloween, hilarious,
Form:
Free verse
It’s coming can’t you feel it
Something, absolutely wrong
They’re preaching greed and hatred
In the lyrics to their song
The precipice we’re perched upon
Hums! like a ticking bomb
As they herald their New Order
Their Future Babylon
Iniquity in every song
They share the Devils creed
The Puppets spilling secrets
That their Masters want revealed
Biblical immorality
No longer lies concealed
They sign their souls to Satan
Playing out the cards He’s dealed
The Forever 27 Club
Laid open to them all
Each soul is worth the same to Him
The writing’s on the wall
Janis Joplin, Morrison
Winehouse and Cobain
Jimi Hendrix, Robert Johnson
Made a Faustian exchange
The Beatles, Sergeant Peppers
David Bowies ‘Quicksand’
The Great Beast, loyally lauded
Crowley’s led them by the hand
They herald each new master
They applaud the righteous wrong
The Crossroads call at Midnight
Gathering soldiers in their song
Bianca, Cookie, Shady
Sasha Fierce and Luke the Drifter
An exponential family
Ri Ri, Lola, Twisted Sister
As Above, then so Below
Both egos need their names
There’s no-one who they seem, it seems
Duality’s the Game
The Boss don’t like these dizzy heights
Come shake hands with the Devil
The Devil’s in the detail
Hell and Heaven, on one level
Cos Lucifer, He ain’t greedy
Though He likes to thwart Gods plans
Shylock seeks his pound of flesh
Satan, only 21 grams
The sacrificial lambs line up
Like Isaacs only child
A soulless congregation
Cos there’s No Church in the Wild
It’s coming can’t you feel it
Something, absolutely wrong
They’re preaching greed and hatred
In the lyrics to their song
The precipice we’re perched upon
Hums! like a ticking bomb
As they herald their New Order
Their Future Babylon
Categories:
shylock, bible, corruption, evil, holocaust,
Form:
Rhyme
No thing in this beautiful world is equal to any other
So, some genius (nincompoops) tried their level best - to equate;
I don't know whosoever has asked them to equate
I can bet, there must be some amount of hate - factor in it
To fit - their desired result out of it - like Shylock
Even being a student of science, I am saying so
'Cause I know, equality is just a hypothesis
Yes, I know my words may annoy you all
But, think - preconditions being the same results always differ
Do you and your siblings are equal?
Can any factory produce exactly the same product from their machines?
The answer is, "No" - those are almost equal but not the same
Can my love equates with my beloved's love?
Why hundred odd Billionaires have all the riches of billions of people?
What say you? My friend - Equations never equate
We all are unique
And that's the beauty
12.03.16
P.S. : Sorry, if my words hurt you any, I do not meant to
Categories:
shylock, analogy, conflict, confusion, humanity,
Form:
Free verse
He penned plays in verse with great ease
But just his rivals to displease
Greene called him upstart crow
And reading him, even Marlowe
Raised eyebrow
Playwright and actor in theatre
Shrewd observer of human nature
In shylock he portrays minority psyche
Callow youth's indecision,
In Hamlet’s to be not to be
His songs as fresh as morning dew
Telling secrets of life in lines a few
'Friends, Romans and countrymen'
Remains, till date, rhetoric's rare specimen
It's true, he had jealous rivals and adversaries
But, then he had equally great contemporaries
Eventually he surpassed established wits
And outsmarted even University Dramatists
It’s true,
Lear-Othello-Macbeth are pessimistic plays
But aren’t his sonnets sanguine as sunrays?
Categories:
shylock, life, philosophy, uplifting,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
Baker And Miner
"You worked a lot with yeast
"not much with rock or stone.
"Will you bake rock to a feast
"to nourish flesh and bone?!"
"Do you have the magic wand
"to turn dross to pure Gold
"Or, the portent arm or hand
"to fire my Furnaces so cold?!"
"Will you be able to bake rock
"to buns and bread so fresh
"And not the Merchant Shylock
"after a pound of man's flesh?!"
*
"Miners they sound the same
"heads are as hard as rock!
"They pride in the drab name;
"gold and silver, their idle talk!"
"The world is not run on stones
"or life ruled by silver or gold.
"We build the flesh and bones
"frail bodies to be bold."
"While both of us use hot fire
"as a major tool of our trade
"You were never Jesus's desire
"He cursed mammon with a tirade!"
*
Life has been made so pure
each, by holding a special place
A strange Trade is not impure
or strange face or rare Race.
Each person plays one's own part
just as a link on one chain
When one link is snapped apart
Chain gives in to every strain.
The worst of all Sin is Pride
others, subservient in nature:
If another one you deride
you "diminish your own stature."
Categories:
shylock,
Form:
Quatrain
is this is what we've born for
is this all in vain or is there's something more
how many times will i tell the same tale
my horizons are turning fiery while your smile is turning pale
where's that divine telephone booth
I've gotta call and you've gotta pour some truth
it's getting all hairy this body i carry
I've gotta make a stand but I've gotta know where i stand
and if I held your hands will you understand
to hell with your world when fake unites and truth devides
to hell with your fear didn't you know no one will make it out of here with two lives
I'm laying the passed on answers and you're killing me with your usury dancers
i think you got it all wrong i think you're listening to the wrong song
and if i cried lungs high under them red skies
I'm counting dead babies oh shylock and his rabies give me some justice gotta make this pain dies
neon lies them organ trafficking rabbis
i never feared darkness oh the unknown will Lilly on the red mountains moan will she feel my drowning sighs
mosques churches idols and temples
egos runs in boiling veins and the pious essence trembles
the specie went political analytical
oh if this is what we've born for well the apocalypse is going poetical
i won't compromise I'll smile and wink to your lies
it's getting heavy this body i carry
Tamer Hossam
Categories:
shylock, allegory, art, discrimination, humanity,
Form:
ABC
Joyful O joy excelling
Feeling filling lips exalting praise
May the heartens live in malaise
Gnash under the ravishing heat like a praise
To him to whom they live to relive
In destiny thwarted, forgotten to have ever lived
All ye praise to God to whom they disbelieve
His eyes see through the seething darting eyes of Lucy
The morning light, what a sly
His vain beauty lies a fly praise
That housed his beautiful ambiance holding His praise
To whom he disbelieved
What a Shylock
How 'tis to see the fanning seething heat
Ice cold laugh Lucy enjoins his own
He knows he only needs more of them
As a company in his quest for destruction
Categories:
shylock, sad
Form:
Prose Poetry