Best Slaving Poems
"The Arabian Nights"
Underneath the oceans' veil.
A mystery lies within.
Beyond Orion's belt, I shift my mind to sail.
Within, every constellation hides the secrets of sin.
Allowing me, to the time frame the world of yesterday.
I found portals with no way out.
Covering every bruise that my body had on display.
Drawing along the mist of no doubt!
I tie eternity into loopholes with no end.
Singing a song that lacks the strength to be strong.
Trying hard to swallow words that have no end.
Babbling at my tongue, when one's heart is wrong.
I hide in the light, away from the darker mist.
A sprint sensation lurking down-under.
Anthologies wrote only to exist.
A place that strikes louder than thunder.
Eyes that port and slow everything down.
Mysteries behind, a deadly desert storm.
Slaving under the 3rd crown.
Candlelight's guiding a new wedding form.
Executed in a thousand tales, of romance.
Knocking at my door ending another dream.
A sensual marriage with regrets, and loss of chance.
Dancing streams with no means.
Avalon, closing over an Arabic Night.
A story cradling me in bed.
By morning dawn, I will no longer see the light.
Waking up to another Arabian Night.
. by;p.d.
NOTE~ I read the book 5 years ago.
"ARABIAN NIGHTS."
Categories:
slaving, adventure, cute, death, fantasy,
Form:
Couplet
Tears do Fall
...a sad sonnet...
My tears do fall as they cowardly crawl
To rivers of disbelief with banks of grief
My heart a slaving stall building the wall
The love I seek near windows bane belief
In distant dormant dwells my heart repels
Admits the darkness hides my tearful tides
Loves empty wells with superstitious spells
Where sorrow divides the banished brides
For a silence slaved stands a soul depraved
In a desolate domain where demons deign
A captive caved within a mind that’s mazed
Of a vaulted vain amongst a drowning drain
Will the tears bathe my final grassy grave?
As they nail and engrave will my spirit save?
May.18.2018
NO 440 ANY FORM, ANY THEME
UP TO MAX OF 20 LINES
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Categories:
slaving, first love, lost love,
Form:
Sonnet
If I ruled the world,
I'd round up all the men.
Send them to Afghanistan,
...And nuke the place again,
and again.
I'd collect and burn,
All the world's monies
And make sex slaves,
Of all the honeys
I would kill all the ugly ones
Well save one or two
So when I'm drunk I'll say
'**** you look good to scr3w'
I suppose you wanted everyone,
To live in peace on the earth?
But believe me, if I ruled
That would be all a myth
But I'm sure after fifty years
Of all that sex slaving
Everyone will be related
And there would be no misbehaving
Because I will make sure
Brother does not kill brother
And to women, the children
Will call all of them mother
To me, you guessed it
They will call me father
So I don't need riches or power
Or greed, just lust
I don't need gold or diamonds
Only women with a 42DD bust.......
**Requested by my Cousin Michelle**
Categories:
slaving, funny, cousin,
Form:
Rhyme
Black lips vibrating for the right mix
Black lips kiss with a passion, Black fistfight for our past and future sons
bloodshed lies spilled
Black lips start to peel
slaving for a meal, time standing still, life flying by
black lips begin to cry, no more lies, no more corrupt minds
Cut all ties with evil spines, attempting to take the soul of the Black lips, with a quick fix
gripping tight on the crucifix
hundreds of years running
hundreds of years of being a fugitive, accused of living Black, black Lips Start To fight Back
Activist, these Lips Never Fall back
These Lips were in Defense, and Now It's Time to Attack
never double back to slavery
black lips keep the bravery
Are some going to hell? maybe, you cannot save all beings
it's human nature, even though God Created everything
Going through the struggle
black lips start to sing
I'm blessed in the name of the King, All Through Summer, Winter, Fall, and Spring.
I Will Sing
"I'm Blessed."
Categories:
slaving, black african american, blessing,
Form:
Rhyme
Nomads of the Rising Sun
~~a homeless home invasion~~
We are nomads of this earthly plain, dining with dust and riveting rain
Dancing with demons dictating pain, making stronger our ball and chain
Under siege upon night, undercover and cold, a blvd sign in city’s light
A penal colony in punitive plight, the surreal scenery of a selective sight
Our breaths keep us warm during the semiconscious soporific storm
Weathering away a contorted form, slowly scared by a slaving swarm
Hunger keeps us alive, descending decomposing death, will we survive
Sleepless nights in overdrive extending hands as they reach to thrive
Sadness creeps with the falling snow, tears drop in the moonlight glow
Kept company by a lonely crow, eating crumbs discarded long time ago
Depression dives in deeper, for I am your brother, are you my keeper
Wounded soul sleepless sleeper, don’t want to be a wandering weeper.
Nov.10.2017
Depression and Sadness
Sponsored by: Craig Hawkins
Categories:
slaving, depression, poverty, sad,
Form:
Rhyme
I was working for Jack Daymond, a farmer,
who farmed livestock, potatoes and vines.
I s’pose he had over two hundred cattle.
The spuds and the grapes grew in lines.
Oh gawd! Jack had me slaving ‘til sunset,
keeping his farm spick and span.
Jack kept his eyes on the produce,
while I was his cleaning up man.
And that meant me days were all busy,
spraying and killing off weeds,
grubbing out hundreds of tussocks,
before the darn thing set its seeds.
Sometimes old Jack was a good bloke,
he’d jump in with a fine helping hand,
and we’d spend our day in the paddock,
destroying the weeds on his land.
We were digging out plenty of thistles,
in the north paddock up near the creek,
and we worked like a couple of Trojans
clearing what should have taken a week.
Then a voice loudly filled up the air.
And it was quite menacing too.
A bloke in a suit was striding to us,
declaring his strong point of view.
“Mr. Daymond, I am here to warn you,
that I represent government’s need.
It appears that with government water,
that your quota you far did exceed.”
“I’m here to check your irrigation,
and make sure you’re not being unfair.”
Jack Daymond replied “Do what you must,
but don’t go in that paddock up there.”
The bloke in the suit became snaky,
standing over poor Jack with a leer,
“Don’t tell me where I can or can’t go,
See this card that I am holding here.”
“This card is a reminder to you,
I have authority over your land.
I am allowed to go wherever I wish,
have I made myself clear? Do you understand?'
Jack looked down at the card in his hand,
and knew there’s no sense to rebound,
so Jack nodded politely and joined me,
grubbing thistles from out of the ground.
It appeared that Jack had been beaten,
and in silence he’s taking it hard,
between thistles he gazed to the paddock,
at the bloke who had shown him the card.
But then a grin formed on his face,
we heard yelling like never before,
for the bloke in the suit he was sprinting,
and it’s something we cannot ignore.
Jack beat me on reaching the fence.
With the bloke in the suit in full flight,
and hot in pursuit was Jack’s Jersey bull,
with a look that was all sheer delight.
As the bloke in the suit got beside us,
with the bull behind him by a yard,
Old Jack cupped his hands and yelled out -
“Your card! Your card! Show him your card!”
Categories:
slaving, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
For them.
To her the word love refers to a boy.
Something she yearns for and misses dearly.
The day they met was cold and fraught with January chill.
“Oh, that does seem so long ago.”
That is the untarnished memory she replays over and over again when events in her life go array.
Back then it was tangible and real, their lives together had not been succumb to so much misery and woe.
They have triumphed, failed, and even caused each other more pain than can be imagined; But through it all they always walked the path together, holding each others hand.
She loves him unconditionally and for that some people cant understand but love needs no excuses, certainly not for them.
She adores him for working so hard, slaving to the man trying to base a future and a plan for them, but she feels guilty that their small American dream over the years has always led down a dead end.
With today’s hard times she knows they are not to blame, but still her idol hands carry burden with them.
A plot of land, a small farm, and a home to call their own so they may grow old.
that’s all the pair desire.
He loves her to, a thought that at times is unfathomable.
He admires her dreams, even if they are bigger than the world and never distills fear in her that they wont one day come true. She thinks ill rationally and believes in things as a child would, but this merely makes him smile at her spontaneous outlook.
To him she is like a wild bee, searching ferociously for something.
At times he doesn’t think she will ever find it, that’s why its so hard to see her cry.
Life hasn’t been fair for them.
It’s a tragic book that just keeps reading on.
But they muscle through living on their dream and knowing that as long as they have each other, everything will be alright.
And as they drive home to their house with no walls, catching glimpses of each other in their ratty car they don’t feel so alone.
Behind those blue eyes, she will be forever nineteen to him and to her, as she gazes into his brown large pupils; the boy she knows has grown into a man and at that moment they know, one day all the sacrifices they have made will pay off.
Categories:
slaving, inspirational, life, love, day,
Form:
Ballad
Within my psychedelic psychosis divided by hell’s malignant mitosis,
Navigated by narcotized neurosis absorption through opiate osmosis…
Within my lunatic leverage of will, I needed to miraculously madly mill,
The negligent neurons of my ill amidst a faltering fragment of my spill.
My eyes that bear the bevel upon derelict distortions of a devious devil,
Laboring the leprous level of the seismic seizures that I neatly nestle…
In the abyss of my lacrimal laugh, I stand segmental with my satirical staff,
Decorative deceptions on my behalf as I stare at the world a genuine gaffe.
No real resolution to ponder for the quicksand of mind quivers yonder,
A sinkhole of a weeping wander amongst sacrifices of a slaving squander…
Thus in my sanctimonious seclusion within my catacombs of confusion,
The universe disperses diffusion along with programmatic parallel illusion.
June.06.2019
Eight Word Challenge
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Placed 5'th...Thank You
Categories:
slaving, identity, mental illness, solitude,
Form:
Rhyme
...Then, of course, there is the idea
that people are nothing but groups,
whether lumped by skin or income
there’s nothing further from the truth.
A group is but an abstraction,
it’s the one where the sovereignty lies.
Think individuals can’t effect change?
Just ask President forty-five.
Or Guttenberg and his printing press,
Mr. Gates and his software codes,
a single man nailed to a cross,
be he a God or man, who knows?
One person can change the whole game,
even in the ‘collectivist’ lands,
the politburo’s evils exposed
by that brave heart Solzhenitsyn.
Did they all accomplished nothing,
slaving for their dreams alone?
They gave us a host of changes,
while the socialists just give us bones.
The Nazis in their cruel madness
left ten million souls undone,
but Socialists, they take the gold,
slaughtering one hundred million.
And those are just the ones we know,
the real number’s much higher still,
all that death, and what has it brought?
No paradise, and it never will.
At least the Germans, after the war,
had the sense to learn from their mistakes,
Socialists refuse to move beyond
their ideas of murderous hate.
They just hide out in schools and claim
that they’re only ‘misunderstood,’
tied identity to failed ideas
so they can never see they’re no good.
To refuse to learn bloody lessons
strikes me as insanely perverse,
in truth they’re not as bad as Nazis,
they’re orders of magnitude worse.
Categories:
slaving, corruption, evil, how i
Form:
Rhyme
Athena
the dutiful daughter standing behind her father
in lightning thick with aegis assurance
read to protect her family
and counselling them times of need
Athena, the grey eyed goddess
who watches carefully with graceful wisdom
coercing ignorance into obliteration
solutions fly into her hands
for her to dispense and she desires
Athena of the City
philosophizing with the common man
trading amongst mortals
companion to heroes in distress
strategic with the broken soldier
Athena the virginal queen
modesty made attractive
purity prioritized in beauty
who ran through rape's smitten fires
with the strength of civilization in her hands
Yet even you, Pallas Athena,
illustrious among even immortals,
are not without your faults
Even you fear death's decay
dragging your name into Lethe's depths
You weave with Fate's spindles in faulted pride
as your equals fall beneath your altar
spinning spiders slaving in cinders
and gorgons grazing beneath your Parthenon
made golden by their angered gaze
Are you not jealous as well as just?
Is not your immorality made irrelevant
in the light of your immorality?
One does begin to wonder
If your wisdom is mere intelligence
Your knowledge mere luck covered stupidity
Your duty and honor merely a fear
To be seen as a vulnerable beauty
Your prized purity mere pride
Your longevity simply a lie
Perhaps all the exists of you
Is a memory wasted with the false belief
That your good outweighs your transgressions
Categories:
slaving, allegory, philosophy,
Form:
Ode
The doctors have been slaving
but they have worked in vain
A thirteen year old boy has no future
A tumour gnaws at his brain
But his mother is smiling .
She calls his friends over
and begs , Please help me
Help the final days of my baby
To be all they can be
Still she wears that smile.
We play the games boys play
Our friends play too
Though he may be dying
To himself he is true
and still his mother smiled.
Whenever he giggled
He did so with delight
Then home to hug mother
As day turned to night
Still she wore that smile.
His days growing shorter
His time almost nigh
We'd sit by his bedside
Still not knowing why
His mother wore that smile.
In the arms of his mother
Our friend passed away
I love you, I love you
I can still hear her say
He closed his eyes as his mother smiled.
He now rests in forever
Where only true love can be
The smile of his mother
Was his last memory
Now I understand why she wore that smile.
Categories:
slaving, memory,
Form:
Narrative
Bob Cratchit, while slaving late alone
Tricked his boss by posting a framed clone
Of Ebenezer loaded with Yuletide cash,
Which was really the miser’s hidden stash!
Andrea Dietrich's A Christmas Character Clerihew Contest
12/09/2014
Categories:
slaving, holiday, humor,
Form:
Clerihew
Boy those wheeler dealers sure work hard
just look at Ed slaving away sorting things.
First he sorts out the electrics and switches
then he turns his attention to the mechanics.
Strips out the callipers and replaces them
a new exhaust is also on the cards.
Back breaking work as he takes off bright work
and then sands it down ready for re-spray.
Off to the paint booth where its masked up,
now first a stabiliser to stop leakage.
Two coats of primer, now finally the colour
a gorgeous chocolate that really pops.
The last job is to change the wheels
back to Porsche originals chocolate coated.
Down to the track where she revs and revs
then like a race horse our Porsche flies.
Mike is well impressed at Ed's hard work
wow it is an eye stopper he cries.
A new owner to be found who will love it
Mike works his charms and so has a sale.
Yet another classic saved from the scrap heap
Our 928 Porsche is restored like new.
With a growl it eats up the roads
putting a smile on her owner's face
written 12/04/2015
contest PD and Skat's For Women Only
Categories:
slaving, car,
Form:
Verse
In Bluebeard's castle I kicked open all the windows
With a dead man by my side
Countless women, locked up asunder
Were freed when that castle crumbled
But I still had to wait out the ending
With the stench of my years of slaving
Taking the dreading, the sickening
Feeling of constantly weakening...
As if the mothers of all the men
Of such deeds understood and pitied
Their darlings or... They
Granted me a proposal and a payoff
For all the blues and the grizzly days
And I saw one day of blue skies.
Stalked yet in my dreams
Their heads kept growing--but
My one day is better than their eternity
Because I wake up and shake off
All those fearful days.
Categories:
slaving, recovery from..., day, proposal,
Form:
Free verse
Am I the one you dream of,
Am I the one you prayed silently for with closed eyes at your bed side,
Am I the one you magnificently created of her figment,
Deeply rooted and knotted in that dark part of your past.
Do you think you can create, recreate those vivid but vague images of her carbon
copy through me?
Am I the one you want to smile like her,
Caress, embrace and erase your deviant discrepancy.
Have you visualized the slaving, the hard work she put in?
It seems I am the one you want to prolong the epidemic of your rage
Am I the one you really care for
Or am I just a coaster to absorb that water from your glass
Am I the one you pictured walking towards you on that cool Sunday evening
In that small chapel on the side of that Hill.
Am I the one you will share and tell stories about,
The one who will inspire you to become greater than you.
Will I be the one you run to when all hell breaks lose?
Am I the one you place above all other.
Will I be the one to conceive and bear seed just to please you?
Seeds that resemblances you and in essences are you
Will I ever be that one?
The one you have morphed within the cavity of your brain.
Categories:
slaving, analogy, conflict, desire, how
Form:
Vaasokht