Best Socialwords Poems
What is a hyphenated word?
A written impression?
An expression of discourse?
Defamation redefined?
At fault when it is labeled as hate?
What are words when they change
to play a different game,
to make it more palatable,
yet,
the meaning remains unchanged?
The use of hyphenated words,
politically correct hate.
Author Note:
The use of hyphenated words such as the N-word has become an acceptable alternative in
discussions related to racial slurs. I fail to understand how this is tolerated when the word
has the same meaning and should have the same impact as unacceptable under any
condition.
the tongue is just another muscle
gives strength to what we think
amidst life's daily hustle bustle
helps thoughts to words interlink
so the father with his mother tongue
speaks to progeny generations come
lessons learned to offspring young
good ways to live, his rule of thumb
still would wince at his tongue lashing
flinching, blinking, cowering and meek
if shouted anger from lips came flashing
'stead of old man's jokes, tongue-in-cheek
but before I become too tongue-tied
some tongue twister squarely knotted
I'll place my tongue-in-cheek aside
to address these words I've jotted
and tell of my admiration for tongue
no forked tongue falsehood to relate
some silver tongued notes clearly sung
of glossa tongues and hooks and baits
that lovely lingual muscle hydrostat
can do things fit for moans and groans
I can hint, alluding to this and that
of things we tongue like flesh and bones
I think you'll agree with my observations
presented to you, from my mind sprung
and think of your own tasty applications
many things budding the tip of your tongue
© Goode Guy 2011-07-04
Do you read my words as you hear the cashier say "Did you find every thing you need today"
-If you didn't it doesn't matter, she only speaks to keep her working status
Or perhaps you read my printed soul like my boss my printed file
-He needs to know my whearabouts to improve his management style
Actually, your comments where very sweet, like the preacher who wants me to come back
- He has message for me but first he must bribe me to hear it
I'll comment back on you, Ooh! a point for me too!
- Well written! What a lovely morning to share with you!
_ Ditto... and thank you for your cut and paste point sytem
Can you read my words like a lover reads his beloved's heart?
-Seek my shapes and definitions, the essence of my love
Can you read my soul and tell it back to me, or hear my truth and let it fill your heart
- or are my doubts true, my words a reflection of inadequacy?
Tell me you felt the coolness of the night wind on your nape,
- or heard the whispers of the night I remember,
Tell me I took you with me in my labor room and
-you felt the pains ripping apart my identity as the heart beat of my son emerged,
Tell me you felt my Mothers tears as she tells me goodbye and I like the coward I am
-run and tell it to the pages of words she will never read....
Do hear me? I am not the rhetorical cashier, or the minister to bribe you with a comment
-Most people don't truly listen but wait for their chance to speak
In life, I carry with me, love,
Love that has swayed a thousand racial differences with pace,
Angered by humanity's crazy racial crave;
I die in words to rattle discrimination in race
Of human of many paintings but in one hole do creep.
Was the painter too foolish to paint White, Black and Grey
Or in his ancient mastery something significant did slip?
That made Him paint White and Black instead of only grey
Human I believe had lost it all
In his quest for color dominance and power,
Hatred infiltrated and in us grew tall
And gently, it marred our love beyond regaining tower
Detest now in us lingers, but my words do pray
That painter's wisdom might to us drip one day
For the contest:"Along the road of life,I carry with me"
Let your words always be sincere
Not abrasive words bent to inflame or cause dissension;
Often, man spews forth words as heat seeking missiles,
Enlisting the tongue for their launching pad;
Forgo the rhetoric that has no usefulness
beyond invading the silence of my space;
I thought I had the element of surprise
on my side, as I looked longingly in her eyes
Tempted to reveal the whole spiel
She spoke with unequivocated zeal
...elegant fingers fondled a wineglass stem
Knowing the control she had on men
Furtive grin as she relished her hold on them...
Sparring in Stained-wood and polished brass arenas
Lighten by neon signs, three stools between us
Asking as I wrote, what words I conjured
Her initial inquiry left me feeling honored
But as fast as the fascination manifested
a more sinister motive was then suggested
It was my intention, she says, to deceive
Acting involved in the words I conceived
Reeling in interest as I pretended no notice
I laughed at her silly suggestion of motive
Knowing all the while it was her presence
giving my poem a direction of essence
She turned to leave and find another seat
I watched her, bemused with her tantrum retreat
My pen-hand scrawling the last of those lines
I slipped the finished product under her wine
Reading it, her full lips mouthed the words
Smiling, she now knew her assertions absurd...
I left then, fumbling for the keys to my car
Keeping with my rule "No love at the bar"
Walking off, pleased with my choice to exit
Every part of my body language said it.
She knew I gave her a different intimacy
an unabashed version--peering into me
I don’t say because I don’t want to say
Talking is a game I don’t want to play
I don’t say because my words last
I don’t say because you don’t ask.
It’s the silence I give that says the most to you
I don’t wasn’t to chat, don’t want to boast to you
I don’t want to talk, or take your time
Why don’t you ignore me, pretend I’m a mime.
I’m not looking for sympathy, pity, or gossip
I never even asked, so right now just stop this
I don’t want to talk back then, tomorrow, or today
How about instead of talking, I just don’t say.
It’s the words that you drabble that I don’t give, I don’t take.
For me, it’s simple silence that I would rather make
So if you ask me whatever, I won’t tell you, okay?
Don’t talk, don’t listen, don’t ask, don’t say.
My heart fights to be kind.
It is what you will find.
For it is the way of my mind.
Even if you may be unkind,
For this makes my soul, unbind.
Even if you ever make me unwind,
All my words will be placed and lined.
However, your mind may be entwined.
My secret is to keep my mouth blind.
With strong English words inclined.
No foul language will ever be mined.
For I would rather be so defined,
Not looking forward to being maligned,
Then be gentle and kind to all humankind.
"I heard an angel speak last night and he said "write"
Hearing this made my heart sing and my soul contrite,
Each time I visit the resting place of so many bones.
Angelic statues look upon me, those of granite stones.
Recalling the words they said to me was so intense.
Dreaming was not a factor, for I was indeed awake.
Angels spoke to me and said write a poem from hence.
Now I pour my soul and spirit into words without forsake.
Angels, the army of God, guard the Heavens above us all.
Nearer to God, we all know they are, answering his call.
Graves are the resting place we visit our loved ones on earth.
Even though we know their souls traveled with loving worth.
Listen in the quietness and your ears will hear them speak.
Seek behind the shadows, be not afraid, and do not be weak.
Prepare to listen to beauty of nature that visits each day.
Every flower and tree holds the power of eternity’s way.
All your saddened heartaches will disappear, upon your listening.
Know the fervency I have found, in Angels eyes glistening.
Written by
Cecil Hickman
date:06-14-2011
written for
Sponsor Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~
Contest Name Angels In Cemeteries
It seems that all I hear is bleep
Hatred not meant to keep
Bleep bleep bleep
All those words stuck in your brain
You want to have them stop saying those names
Like bleep bleep bleep
When bleep isn’t even a bleep word
All the bleep words aren’t absurd
Its just bleep bleep bleep
All I hear is bleep bleep bleep
Stop the bleeping bleep bleep bleeeeep!
Listen with a sharp perception,
and if you disagree, put your opinion on hold,
until I have finished speaking;
don't point out my stubbornness on intention,
and make me feel I'm really so old...
in a land where expressions are not restricted,
and words are spoken with a freedom so rampant:
take in consideration what I'm saying!
And this debate between two controversial minds,
is being attended by an audience of different ages;
let them decide who can make that change in society
and be elected to the Presidency of the wealthiest Country!
I admire the boldness in your speech,
the great effort you put into each;
and if they choose you, " I'll be glad to honor that...
and will they prefer me over you: I'll happily shout to that! "
They have been exposing our most horrible mistakes
as we shamelessly and viciously have attacked each other,
shouting and ensuing rage in front of a Nation much in dire;
even the clowns in the circus have a reason to deride,
to imitate us for our insulting and inappropriate jokes:
when their Nation is engaged in war, and facing turmoil,
and while the impatient troops are anxious to come home...
by air and by sea and be safe in their impregnable fortress!
Our fateful day is only days away and our supporters cheer,
on November 4, 2008...whatever happens, whoever is chosen by sunrise:
let's not hold every grudge, but quickly forget those words thrown at each other;
they need us, and they'll be happy to see one of us in sheer glee...
our hands are of a different color, but we almost fight for the same cause:
let's shake them in a friendly gesture and ask God for guidance!
Yes, our people we'll keep the peace and the Country will prosper indeed...
while the triumphant trumpets will claim this victory across our jubilant Land!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
Black clouds surround us,
As we lose our sense of focus.
Loud thunder shakes us,
A darkness we must endure.
A scorching fire burns our feet,
A shivering breeze colds my seat.
The sharpest of blades slits my wrists,
The hottest of blazes stings my fists.
The deepest of oceans causes my drowning,
My darkest of actions causes their frowning.
The sound of a whip,
Less frightening than the words from my lip.
The slice of a sword,
Less deadly than my mightiest of roars.
The vibration of thunder,
Less extreme than my need to plunder.
And my power of fire,
Less painful than their words to me, "liar, liar, liar".
I wish I could speak the words I may not speak
Word I hold up inside,
They cripple me ever weak.
I wish I could have a listener, not a judge.
As I carry this cross, This path, Oh so long I ever trudge.
Feelings I can't put in speech,
I spell them out on this sheet.
These words I may never speak,
I use it to my advantage,
Make my creativity rise to it's peak.
Once there was a man that thought he could write.
Within his mind, he wavered a terrible fight.
Only he knew; weathered writes that could define.
Not of madness or failure or even that of wine,
He studied persons that flowed around his state.
Not criticizing or judging, learning from the wait.
His thoughts and words sometimes thought raw.
His mind hiding secrets though never to fall,
His findings revealed; a secret everyone held.
Without a secret, no life would be compelled.
Each human has a Devil and Angel that hides.
Which one wins the battle to which all confides?
When the words fly outward from within his soul,
Holding reprimands of dysfunction without any goal.
Was he a writer, poet, philosopher not so trite.
What feelings drove him in his positioned flight?
His mind wondered in and out of existence defined.
Within his mind, he wavered a terrible fight combined.