Best Spouted Poems
Gold Fever
History will not record the bloated weight
Of this pious and bigoted race
Or count the fat and flaccid wealth
Of religions idolatry
Those pages have been scrubbed clean
By prosperous forgivingness
And the cruelty of established political dominion
Will not tally the bodies of the oppressed
To them, faith and belief are merely a weapon
A system of abusive control
And a means of power continuation
A dictatorial right to rule the population
History will not record the inheritance of opinion
But lay blind at the doors of massacre
The Aztec, The Aborigine, The North American Indian, The African *****,
Pray in silence to The Church
Centuries written in blood and torture
For a message of verbiage and usage
Extracted and leeched from the poor and uneducated
Created the western dream
The long night of the witch hunt is not over
The Inquisition has saved us
With fake blood and wooden crosses
This elite of moral perspective shall save us all
We have paid the price in conscience
Superiority managed by white skinned indifference
Holy mother church has welcomed all
All into its iron embrace of slack jawed wonder
And what more despicable rule can there be
Than to dictate ones own spiritual journey
Spouted by the rote of political expediency
And the promise of heaven
Ingrained now this so called Christian ethic
And so much of the truth left distorted
Forgotten now are the ancient mystical secrets
Which united mankind to understanding
Idol of gold and crucifixion
Of cathedral and stained glass objectification
Gilt and holy water of sumptuous ritual
Of silken pope and luxurious self righteous invention
An aberration of human faith and belief
An unrepentant destroyer of “ Loves ” dream
The curse of The Christ as you continue to translate
The Word
And where the paupers fist crunches the dirt
Where dried and parched lips pray for rain
Where the desperate cry for a reason echoes
Where blood flows in feted anger
Where children scream in fear
Where hunger and despair debase and demean
Where there is no light
And in the dark only pain
If you wish to care for the souls of mankind
Preacher
It is there with them
There
Is where you should be
Shimmering over a glassy sea, a moonlight carpet beams.
My walkway high to a starlit sky of memories from my dreams.
There mighty Taurus, rip-snortin’ bull, lowers his horns for battle.
Naked on his shoulders Seven Sisters ride side-saddle.
Dazzling diamonds, blue-white ice,
blazing through nebulosity.
Merope mocked and mooned me twice,
twerking with faux ferocity.
“Begone now, mortal, from my sight,
who dares defile the very night.
Look down upon the moonlit glade,
bear witness to the mayhem made.”
Agape, the Pleiad sisters wailed while yonder Cetus spouted.
“The culprit must be caught and jailed,” the rueful Virgo shouted.
The heavens heaved, so much offended,
torn fabric of time could not be mended.
Then darkness fell like a clap of thunder,
were it not for Einstein’s Biggest Blunder,
the Universe was blown asunder.
Who once wrote “God plays not with dice,”
had not known anything of such vice,
said: “Reading erotic poetry can’t compete with cosmic knowitry.”
Submitted: 6/2/2019
“You may say that I’m a dreamer”,
With bold presumption in my youth
Beyond school age, but hardly saged
Turned loose, we hoped to use our wits to change the world…
And thought we would…and thought we could…
We declared to fight, what seemed so right
Those days as we leaned so hard against the wind
The plight of man’s predicament on earth, we mused
The breeze just caught our spouted words
And tossed them where it would
We feared our crystal world would splinter
Would shatter without our spin...
"Never knowing who to cling to, when the rain set in”
But that was then…
So naively in such innocence
Thinking we could see a world at peace
Hoping to make our dreams come alive
From thoughts we shaped on winsome days
Imagining, ….if you please
"It doesn't have to be that way!"
And now with logic’s eyes, I do remember
How changeless is a planet
Glimmering in search of answers
And still not wringing answers from the slightest sound
And words we spoke, with vigorous shape
Our hopes expressed, still looks for guidance…
Are uttered yet, by other voices…
“My words like silent raindrops fell,
and echoed in the wells of silence”
Lyrics From John Lennon “Beatles”
Elton John
Jim Croce’
Simon and Garfunkle
For Chris Matt's ---'Contest Favorite Songs and Lyrics'
Stop pulling your mischievous high jinks - currently, the wind of change stinks
Winds of change are not always good - they can be grossly misunderstood
Winds of change are just blowing smoke - spouted by a deluded bloke
Don’t believe a word from Blog bullies and blowhards - they won't change their ways
PS encourages creativity – poets CAN post ten per day
I got fed up of snide little digs about people who write poop poems
I am not stuck for turds - I'm saving my witty words for my next book
Times Are More
By Franklin Price
10/7/2016
We met at a great celebration,
Of a graduation, from a Texas High School.
Although he was dressed as a farmer,
I knew he was far from a fool.
He was sitting and watching the people,
Was leaning against an old tree.
As I walked past he caught my attention,
And here's what he said to me:
“Times are more like they are right now
Than they ever have been before”,
Quoted this wise old gentleman;
So apparent, that he knew the score.
He grinned at the end of the statement,
Of these meaningless words that he said.
To indicate it was humor he spouted,
In my confusion, I was more than just glad.
Has been many years since that meeting.
Still remember those words that I quote.
Were they humorous gibberish I heard then,
Or were they great wise words of note?
For the times in which we are living,
Are not the same as they have been before.
Maybe that old man I met then,
In humor, quoted what was in store.
An owl sat on our tree outside, and Dragon was completely mesmerized.
So Dragon ask what was his name, and Who was all that he devised.
Dragon said YOU, you silly bird; it’s YOUR name, which I want to know.
And again he got the answer… It was Who… Now, wouldn’t you know?
Now Dragon’s not a patient sort, so said… WHAT do you think of that!
Humpf!… If he won’t tell me his name, then I think I’ll call him Kersplat!
Who, said the owl again! Now, Dragon had began to become steamed.
Silly ninny! I named you the perfect name, ‘Kerslpat’, and he beamed!
Now, here Dragon realized that perhaps he needed to be, a bit more nice.
His words seemed limited, perhaps it wasn’t meant, as a mean device.
Now a crow came to the branch, and sat by the owl with a decisive bow.
The crow spouted, What? And Dragon ask: Are you here to help me Now?
What! came the answer from the crow, as the owl added another WHO.
Honestly, said Dragon! All I wanted, was to know your names, it’s true!
The crow’s hard of hearing, thought Dragon, as he suddenly realized…
Not everyone’s as fortunate as he, so he shouted loudly, as he theorized…
What’s YOUR name, he shouted! I’m tired of getting, NO good reply.
So he would call the crow What, and the crow squawked What! Oh my!.
Then little Whip Poor Will came and sat beside them, very, close and such.
When asked, he said Whip poor Will, so Dragon thanked him, very much!
Your name is Poor Will, but I won’t whip you, you deserve a gentle touch.
A Mocking Bird stopped by and Dragon introduced all his friends, as such.
The owl’s ‘Kersplat’, ‘What’ can’t hear, and ‘Poor Will’ are all my friends.
What’s your name little bird? For I’m Dragon, and you, I would befriend.
At that moment, I left the house saying Hello to Dragon and all those about.
The Mocking Bird sang: Dragon’s to Whip Poor Will, Mocks What can’t hear,
And wants to Kersplat Who! Blurting it out!
I dislike violence, so I sent Dragon to a timeout, in quick response, no doubt!
And I heard Dragon mutter, as he walked away, I now know what the term…
Bird Brain is all about!
Love is blind
To all the perils
That lie dormant in the mind
Beyond the limits of transgression.
A mortal maiden golden-haired
Priestess of Athena, daughter of the gods
By Poseidon with persuasive honeyed words was wooed
She melted in their alluring warmth and charm.
With guile concealed and flattery he urged her on
Her defences crumbled; the drawbridge lowered
To reveal the gateway to her heart
Forgotten were the vows of celibacy.
Beneath his touch her senses reeled
Her eyelids closed in expectation
He took his chance with urgent need and greed
Her virgin spoils were taken.
As trembling bodies rode the waves of love and lust
Tremors shook the earth, the ocean heaved; the wind enraged
Swept o’er the land and lightning flashed across the sky.
Such was the wrath of gods defied and disobeyed
Terrible and eternal punishment they bestowed.
The mortal maiden golden-haired
A repulsive hideous monster she became
Her fair unblemished skin gave way to loathsome green
Her bloodshot eyes in terror gazed, their previous lustre gone
Each lock of hair a writhing snake that hissed and spouted venom.
Condemned beyond mercy she fled to distant land
Where cursed and shunned she lived in great despair
Turning into stone whosoever fell beneath her vengeful gaze.
At last Perseus took her life. Aided by Athena’s mirrored shield
His scythe tore into flesh and bone; her severed head was lifted high.
Medusa’s misery and shame came to an end
Death – the final liberating act.
Than lady liberty
Than the lamp of democracy
Land of the free
Land of the brave
Land of so many freedom fighters
Letting us be masterful poets and fanciful writers
When things don’t go your way
There is still Free Press to sway
Rights over dress, we can always redress
So many flaws
Filled with humans we are after all
She is the descendant of Marianne
A republic in a new land
The left laments, lighting inflaments
The right closes their eyes to just causes
Of the forgotten on the wayside of strife
The middle road and the middle path
The many, stoically building the abundant bridges
Towards our great destiny lying ahead
Challenges exist, evil cyanide persists
The people together shall be of all colors
United under the strength of the American umbrella
Chavez spouted his propaganda
To his followers with no bananas’
Kept them poor
Said communism will make them more!
She had eyes evoking dread behind the lies and smiles
Into the two minds of what would be two separate demeanor's
The cries from the past forced upward to the front
I detested her for what she did
The assaults continuous and degrading
The vile devil had reached her soul
Black into the night with nails spiting from her tongue
How could she?
Could she? God why?
Didn’t she see I was dieing inside
No place to hide, no place to hide
She found me even in my weakest state
Exhausting my self worth
The pulverizing me into tiny pieces
The daily beatings that seem to never end
There wasn’t a place that didn’t hurt on my body
Sometimes I played dead just to stop the assaults
I know the black bird is coming I can see him now
“Help me, help me” “just stay still”
Maybe she’ll think she has won and my breath has stopped
No not chance hatred filled her heart of stone
The dreadful things she spouted from her ugly soul
My mind was bleeding pouring out into my hands
This small helpless child shaking for fear of her next move
Although I didn’t know it then as I do now
She was living in her own hell
Living out the pitiful past that was given to her
She could change what she was taught
But still how I grew resentful of her and her mouth of fire
To this day there are many people I ‘ve never told
How a whispered a sigh when her casket was closet
As if the sea calmed his tides to lie down in peace
As if the thunders began to sing sweet lullabies
As if the flared up volcano spouted jasmine and lilies
Serenity sits on his face when he sleeps.
In the stillness of the night, when the fierce lion gently hugs his love,
He sleeps like a king dozing in the tranquility of his queen's lap.
Like a feeble creeper that fondly cuddles the mighty banyan
He folds himself, as he sleeps like a baby in the mother's womb.
The nap-time charm on his face is a mug of morning coffee
The peace on his closed eyelids is the midnight's melody
The rhythm of his breath sets stage for a splendid salsa
Simple curve on his dreaming lips turns down the charm of Cinderella.
When he sleeps,
he glitters like a white pearl in the garland of black beads,
he shines like a daisy in the garden of violets,
his face resembles a magic wand cut and run from a magician's sleeve
he appears like a peace treaty that ends an incessant battle.
A good book in a nightstand
A mild balm on chapped lips
A peaceful hour of meditation
A plate full of delightful candies
A cosy bed in a cradle
A warm blanket on shivering skin - All have knocked my door,
Said that they can't wait anymore,
to witness on his face, the dance of pleasance.
I genially welcomed them to feel the heavens.
I let them all to see him along with me
Their hearts were filled with eternal glee.
It was cold.
Death's fingers
Resting on my forehead.
The nail
Scraping, scraping,
Skin scorching
Of pain.
"You want darkness
Or heaven?"
He cackled, losing grip
On the nail
Bludgeoning
For blood.
"Time's a wasting."
The wind stopped blowing a long while ago.
Death composed himself;
Pulled the nail out
'Til the roused red
Spouted out
And the cold resurfaced.
"You ain't scared.
This suicide?"
"Death.
If only you knew,
How much I craved
For this to end."
The frostbite quivered.
Death removed
The deadly weapon
From the skin.
"I'm a murderer.
Not a liberator."
Death.
His charm tensed,
As his tongue rid
The blood stain from his white digit
Forcing exit as a bitter belch,
And a satiated grin
Carved on his
Phantom tint.
"I'll be back when you have a purpose
Eh?
Ain't no joy for me when there's joy for you."
And he will.
Yes, he will wait.
Patiently,
Waiting
To grace my blood
With his twitching nail,
Edging icily.
For it will only take
The whisper of a smile,
A soundless breeze,
To summon even the remnants
Of his presence.
Smoke bellowed out the top
Of the trawler’s ships
As the merciless hunters loaded
Their harpoons with exploding tips
“There she blows,” a sailor shouted
It was a female whale that surfaced and spouted
The engines roared in hot pursuit
The Captain aiming ready to shoot
He shoots, it explodes, making a hole in her fin
She gasps her last breath as she can no longer swim
Her eyes expresses her agony and shock
Then close as she passes out and sinks like a rock
Divers plunge to secure their with ropes
But she is out of reach dashing their hopes
Then in the darkness she feels a thump
Again and a again under her she feels the bump
Her eyes open drowsily to see him struggling to push her up
A male dolphin she identifies when he swims close up
Endangering his own life he will not go up for air
She must breath first as he is overwhelmed with her despair
What seemed an eternity she finally surfaces and takes a breath
The he surfaces satisfied they both cheated death
He swims gently supporting her wounded fin
Til they reach the shore of an island call Baralin
The water is warm and shallow enough
For her to breath where the water’s not too rough
He swims out to sea where it’s warm in the south
And returns with plankton and kisses her transferring it from his to her mouth
Each time he does this, their feels grow strong
Of the love between a dolphin and a whale which will be remembered in loves folk song...
**For Elizabeth Wesley, Who wanted a poem of a dophin who falls in love with a
whale**
There once was a man most pious
Who felt his predictions had no bias
Of rapture he spouted
While the world simply doubted
He simply ensnared the more gullible of us
There once was a seed a little seed
A seed that was thought to be ugly indeed,
It went one day and hopped in the ground
hoping and praying for its luck to turn around ,
It wasn't long that before we knew
that seed was changing and that it grew,
it spouted up, morphed and stretched
it started to look less and less like a retch,
after a period it revealed itself and bloomed
Its beauty shined as it was released from its cocoon,
It was thought to be the greatest beauty around
That ever sprouted from the ground,
Now its happy and grateful for all its days
It's beauty shines bright in many ways.
We big, tough, well-thinking male bearberries blew and we snarled and we spouted and we blew.
But those danged dandelions obstinately kept their tops on, no matter how much we did fuss.
Come on fellas, I said to my fellow bearberries. Here is just what we’ll do…
“I’m not taking them!” I screamed at B.B.2, our leader, a passive little cuss.
I was talking about those damned tiger lilies, our groupies.
I am so sorry Tiger Lilies, he told them. It’s just us bear berries today. He shot an apologetic look to T.L. 1 and T.L. 402.
I am sick and tired of my whole life being video- recorded by those selfie-taking nut-buckets, I told him, indignant, and with an angry face.
They will clean your house, wash your floors, pay your bills, wax your car, and do your laundry, said B.B. 2.
I don’t care if my house implodes on its dirtiness, I retorted. Just keep them in their place.
I was talking about those damned tiger lilies, our groupies.
Tiger Lily 58 sneaked back into the Bearberry Lodge, where Tiger Lilies are never supposed to be.
We did not see her at first as she used her invisibility tablet to reach us; I felt her heat on the back of my neck, before I saw her.
She began to give me a really nice, warm, massage and sweet backrub which was the best I had had times three.
Wow! What is that? I asked myself, as I began getting tingly and happy all over, and down under.
I guess I was talking about these wonderful tiger lilies, our allies.
My dad had told me a long time ago that the best pairings in the meadow was always a BB and a T.L.
Who are you? I whispered to Tiger Q. Lily 58. I am your soul mate, she responded, can you please meet me at 2?
Where? I wondered, and she immediately conveyed that she would be at northern rise of Bunny P. Hill.
I will be there with my matching rings, I told her. Are you ready? Yes, she agreed. No one else will do.
I am now hitched to a wonderful tiger lily, and all my mean thoughts
toward T.L.'s seem pretty damned silly.
(And I don’t care whether or not the dandelions ever lose their
tops. They are of no use to me now.)
Dated: May 12,2018