Best Straddle Poems
COCAINE Is Her Name ( Addiction )
COCAINE is her name. They call her COKE for short.
She came into this Country, without a Passport.
Since then - she has made a lot of scum rich. Others
have been murdered and found in a ditch.
She is more valued than diamonds and worth more
than gold. Use her just once and you too - will be sold.
She will make a straight A student forget his books
and a Beauty Queen forget her looks.
She can make a known speaker become a bore. She
can take your Mother and turn her into a Whore. She
can make a Teacher forget how to teach. She will make
a Preacher - not want to preach.
She can take your rent money and you'll be evivted. She
will murder your babies or, they will be born addicted.
She will make you - rob, steal and kill. When you are under
her POWER - you have no will.
Remember my friend - her name is BIG C. If you try her just
once - You may never be free. She has already destroyed
ACTORS, POLITICIANS and many a HERO. She has decreased
bank accounts, from millions to zero. Shooting and killing is
a common affair. Once she's in charge - you are under her
SPELL.
Now that you know - what will you do? I tell you my friend
it's all up to you. The day you decide to sit on her saddle - the
dession is one that no one can STRADDLE. So pay close Attention
and listen well - because if you don't - you can wind up in HELL...
05/08/2013
Note: Just hoping to make a difference.
For S.K.A.T."S contest
I’m sick of hearing from old Bill that I’m a whimpish sort of bloke,
Because I don’t care for rodeo’s and can’t relate to outback folk,
That I prefer to travel in a car, when I go from A to B,
When I should be riding horses like Billy does you see.
I’ve never been upon a horse; in fact I’ve never patted one,
But at times I’ve been a victim from the damage that they’ve done,
When they’ve thundered down a racetrack with double-digit odds,
To leave my pockets empty and the good luck with the Gods.
So it was just a whim and foolishness that struck me at a guess,
That could have left me comatosed and in an awful mess,
When in a flush of inspiration of adrenaline attack,
Without a lesson or experience, I climbed upon a horse’s back.
I threw one foot in the stirrup and threw the other one to straddle
The horse’s back now that I’m on, while sitting in the saddle,
But with the motion of a gallop at a steady rhythmic pace,
I started slipping from the saddle and I quickly lost me place.
In fear I’m grabbing for the mane, but I couldn’t get a grip,
So I threw me hands around its neck, but then began to slip,
And I could see the ground below me was aiming at me head,
So I grabbed its nose to stop it, but it bucked on me instead.
It was futile hanging on now so I made a desperate move to jump,
But instead of reaching safety, me body lurched and I went thump,
For me foot’s caught in the stirrup so I’m bouncing in the fray,
With the horses pounding hooves close to just a foot away.
Now limply hanging upside down from the battering I took,
In me haze of consciousness I saw a crowd had formed to look,
Then me missus ran to save me when she took off like a rocket,
Over there at K-mart where, she ripped the plug out of the socket.
Love and hate are closely connected
Emotions both strong and intense
A fine line divides these extremes
Oft times we straddle the fence
It takes what seems like an innocent event
To shove us one way or the other
We're up on top of the world one moment
Next moment afraid we'll smother
Controlling emotions is difficult at best
Bombarded by outside influence
Always requiring strength and dedication
To maintain love's continuance
Lost without love's sweet guiding light
Through sad time and times of joy
Love must conquer the uncertain heart
And never allow hate to destroy
Love and hate are closely connected
Emotions both strong and intense
A fine line divides these two extremes
Oft times we straddle the fence
© Jack Ellison 2013
The girl and her smile straddle the rainbow
neon hair the fluid cascades of northern lights
seafoam cloak the ripples outgrown by the shore
she adores the breeze adorned with gems
emeralds fly from silk strings in the wind
kites made of ruby and sapphire and pearl
sit on a picnic checkerboard in envy-green grass
betting on play-dates with zephyrs
—dice cubes roll beady-black-eyes at their folly
she chases books as they sail from trees
fingers stretch to net helter-skelter hummingbirds
she leafs through slices of fruitcake
each nutty page a silver frame of insane;
crows croon Crosby tunes
two baby paisley owls drive a car
the car does a hop-scotch down bourbon street
field-mouse-flowers meow
the moon jumps over the cow
…she sings “the world needs more bumblebees!”
as a two-masted schooner scries water for its soul
the palm of a leaf offers a diamond ring
palm trees pull up anchor and hover the sunset
she laughs as nuns ride upside-down the roller-coaster rim
her dreamcatchers sticky and tricky as spiderwebs
as virgins lose the reins of sugar-cookie-horses
tilling confetti seeds growing puppet gardens
where Dali wombs and peacock plumes bloom
All of our righteousness are as filthy rags
I do believe that's what I read
We all fall short of the glory of God
I know that's what my bible said.
But there are some of you that don't have a clue
You think yourselves an exception to these rules
You think you are wise and perfect in God's eyes
When in reality, you're nothing but fools.
You judge all of mankind making yourself blind
To your own faults, or you pretend to have none
You curse all men who are submerged in their sin
While forgetting the things that you've done.
You're in church every week and when its your turn to speak
You speak loudly, for you love to be heard
You should keep it in mind while impressing mankind
That your actions speak louder than your words.
It is church goers like you when you do what you do
That causes God to quickly take offense
You skillfully dodge all blame and hide in God's name
However, there are many ways to straddle the fence.
Now don't get me wrong for I do not go along
With the things that men are doing today
But I can't throw a stone when I've many faults of my own
I just tell people about God the right way.
You and your kind who are so stupid and blind
Build yourselves up by knocking others down
Because they're not like you and don't do what you do
You say that they're lost, and will not get a crown.
You sit in high places and walk about with two faces
Seeming godly, if only in your eyes
You tell your sisters and brothers that they're better than others
But I know that this is nothing but lies.
Think what you may but come judgement day
When the Master has completed His reaping
You'll stand in His glory and we'll know the true story
For He'll reveil the secrets that you're keeping.
When God sees your mess He will not be impressed
By what you have or what you think you may know
He'll take just one look, see your name not in His book
Then it will be off to hell you will go.
You could change this sad ending if you stopped your pretending
To be perfect and all holier than thou
Stop hiding your evil ways and do as God says
Then you'll be saved, but the time is right now.
By Benjamin Macieo Davis
Theprinceofpoetry
She calls herself Bunny Boucher, but she was born Veronica Chermak. She’s tall and leggy with a body that looks tidy, yet lived in. She’s high and tight, but flexible like a strong rubber band in a tricked out pinball table. She reminds me of that actress Tracie Lumbar playing the actress Fern Hall in that old movie Iguana Sunset. Her topography leaves no room for global climate change. Her tropics are seductively torrid, while her poles remain perpetually cool; makes you want to straddle her equator with your meridian. She’s been to Mussel Shoals, Shucked Oyster, Bearded Clam, Moose Knuckle, Camel Toe, Beaver Falls, Cottonwood, and Rabbit Patch, just to name a few of her more well-known hangouts. Some would say she looks Greco-Roman, but I’d describe her as looking more like a Hellenized Phoenician who emigrated from Trans-Alpine Gaul, or maybe she looks more Etruscan, with a hint of Minoan when you see her by moonlight. They say she’s as pure as bloodstains on a purloined letter. She traded in her Biblical name soon after she left her home in Mississippi and never spoke of it again. It may be just routine housekeeping, but who could blame a girl for sweeping off her back porch. She recently had a front end alignment. They say her rearview mirror never lets her down. After arriving in New Orleans she passed her bar exam at Vaughan’s on Dauphine and kept the circuit judge disrobed till way past last call. She’s a sexy banshee when she’s in the catbird seat with her cherry basket swinging from a bungee cord. Last I heard she was sharing a dump with a couple Guatemalan dancers. Her room ain’t worth a dollar, but it cost a pretty penny. She pays the rent with a pickup truck full of contraband. She says she needs the space, but not the distance. Like most women, nobody’s ever been able to figure her out. But there is one thing I know for certain, her smoke may sometimes offer you a tempting indication of certain possibilities, but her fire has never been known to lie.
escape woman
my charred sweet bramble
to your
mosaic of cloud and blood
crib of wound and balm...
festering then healing-repeating.
at times the flesh must protect the peel-
escape woman-straddle the moon
nobody there to harm you
to judge your feral necessities
just a big blue spinning eye for you to cuss at
and devour from afar
but you'll come back down to earth- for certain.
strong as twilight hills,
a blue bird song taming black bird refrain''
you'll come back, to retrieve your soul
from the heart of mossy stones
as the parched blue eye blushes a red rain
that special hue of mad moon woman revenge-
For now just straddle the moon
ride the mend
the horde will hang themselves from the rope of truth
{absolute}
a truth their children are fated to wear
as a chronic rash called
mad moon woman
wisdom-
My brother is an osprey
with an eagle arrogance
And - although he adores a forest
I have the ‘sauce’ on him - he
abhors pine bathroom spray
His eyes are fire opals of mirth
His laughter - the dusk of an
endless Summer heat
His legs - straddle the valley of death
I picture him in a strong canoe paddling through
a river of garden flowers
his spirit rising with swift wings-
and the will to fall
Suzanne Delaney
I think I get it:
You want me to swallow your acidic avalanche.
Those billion frantic snow globes
of brilliant-clownish confusion.
You want me to rebuild your burned-out shrines.
Atop broken blue glacial climbs.
Straddle boulders of swaybacked hope and jagged stones of regret.
You wish me to inhale the barbs of shadows
and the velocity of your death.
You want me to embrace the fire of your ID.
With paper arms and gasoline fingertips,
lasso your run-away mind.
Make a bouquet of roses from a wall of
rock and ice.
I know you'll get this:
I can't embrace your avalanche,
while I'm digging out from beneath mine.
"The Key"
There is nothing worse than feeling that you are entirely alone in this existence.
Some will embrace the isolation like a Godsend for a while,
and that “while” will extend into years that straddle decades like a beautiful lover that you have become addicted to;
Some will bury the dead and walk away to save themselves
from the ceaseless haunting.
There is nothing worse than feeling that you are entirely alone in this existence.
When the crossroads touch your feet, you will be totally alone, this is a fact.
The practice in making perfect your existence, and yet not fully attaining it,
is a necessary contradiction casting you like a stone across Life like an Ocean
crashing back into car wreck shores.
There are many roads
to write your story
Home.
Yes, there are many roads.
This is a fact.
Yet, you park in idle fascination of the mundane.
très poétique.
The key,
however,
has been with you always.
Love
in ignition,
unlocks all,
starts everything;
this is your covert mission.
Shifting gears
out of neutral.
Candide Diderot. ‘24
"Neutral gear isn't really a gear at all. It's the stage where no gear is engaged. Though cars with manual transmissions need neutral to start their car, many drivers with automatic transmissions are at a loss as to what exactly neutral "gear" is good for..."
Across the moor
To Wicken Fen
Where brume swallows all
Into mire, of the life,
At river‘s end
But, begins
The serenades of dawn, unto sipid dew
And they gather into warmth
Upon and onto rising shines,
Of morning plume
She mist
Of the brittle heath
You may slip away
But, what does awaken, nymphs of lore
Poised to face this day
And in trust
Beauty charms the wind
Upon what was last
Of once a virgin wing
Over forenoon lust, a blush
Swoon those marsh lily eyes
And perch upon fragrance of Lady’s slipper
Thus, the dance romantic
Of the Fenland Damselfly
Round twiddle round and through
As Adler to the willow
A maiden’s flight in sapphire circles
Alluring danseur fly a ready
Hasten, beset to follow
Bestride, thus straddle oft
Atop the grain shallow reed
Softer cross the moss of peat to settle
To end nature's pretense
Sow and plant its seed
Here aloft the glisten, venery ends
Vixen drinks in insect life
Of instinct passions by danseur prey
A finale at river’s fen, resets the stage
Once again to the "Dance of the Damselfly"
I thought about my older brother when I wrote this
One morning I woke up
and my bed was now a king size,
No more chow lines
and my wisdom[wife] was puttin' in kitchen work
and I was blessed to gaze into my queens eyes,
She prepared a good breakfast & I swallowed my feast
Then I hit the rain closet
and came out smelling like Hugo Boss
and I'm appreciating my new attire,
Praise God no more D.O.C. suits, kites
no more roll calls or pass the wire,
So I put on my armor, ready to face the outside world
with my best battle cry,
" I'm Free "
But I remembered I was on parole
and somedays it's like being up manuer creek
solo with no paddle I,
Use my survival tactics
from studying the boulevards theatrics
and with confidence I straddle my,
War horse for the rough ride
plus I sharpen up my weapon of choice,
I know victory is the key
So I illustrate it through voice,
I don't gallop as I eagle eye the hood,
The change lets me know
I went from platinum status to wood,
I briefly reminisce on when the time was good,
The hawk's present
so I pop the collar on my 6lb coat,
Chip getters & the thick chick sweaters
stalk the block and hounds quote,
Each others psudonems, some issuin' the news,
If you part of the society
that lives by the ' Quiet Code '
you stay true to them
I hear the ghetto winds whistlin' the blues,
See city life plays a cold tune
and ' No Love ' is the bass line,
So when my mind rewinds
I realize that sometimes prison V.I's[visits]
is your only source of face time,
That's why I have much love for my peers
doing much time on tiers,
See hard time & yard time keeps your mind on clear,
And you must conquer all your fears,
In this, frigid world that's been gelid for years,
So for all my loved ones who couldn't be here,
I toast to the ' Most High '
and spill liquors and beers,
Because i'm back in the outside world
But am I really free?
Reliving Upside Down
by Odin Roark
The Jungle Gym geodesic glistened,
Afternoon showers dripped,
Languorous droplets fell,
Saturating sand below,
Just like then.
Bench of parents
Reflected memories old,
Stroller wheels struggling,
Obstinate sand as obstacle,
Giggles and screeches
From canopy covered pram,
Bumpy ride for my brother,
His laughter, sheer joy.
Fathers,
Mothers,
Sitters and nannies,
Attentive to children’s every move.
So many eyes saw me
Atop the dome’s iron lattice,
Hanging by my legs,
Seeing the world upside down,
Shouting, “Look at me, Grandpa!”
He didn’t notice this day,
His sudden slumped body,
Dropped the half eaten sandwich
To the ground.
Part of me wanted not to upright my view,
That safety of abstract vision so foreign then,
So understandable now,
So strangely comforting then,
So painful now.
I now straddle atop the bars,
Thinking thirty-three years haven’t made it easier,
Save the bench now replaced
The sand succeeded by concrete,
The tenders and watchers now often of different purpose,
Staring at me not knowing
I’m anything but a nut case.
Some of us just discover
Life’s remembrances
Sometimes prophesy what is to come.
Some, like me, will realize
Their whole adult life is programmed upside down,
Its sophisticated induction lures escapees
Into free-for all playground-workplaces
Where capture so often comes by way of
Pills,
Powder,
Liquid
Needles.
I smile.
Swing down to the ground,
Throw an embrace to Grandpa’s bench,
Look up and shout…
“Reliving upside down moments of love is okay.
Really…
It’s okay.”
Winged Lessons
by Odin Roark
Sitting astride his backpack,
A roadside nomadic looked up from his book.
The sun oppressing,
The sand distressing,
The bird noise progressing.
“From where came your right
To straddle fence wire and incessantly complain
With pompous cawing at a resting traveler,
As if he didn’t belong?
Who made you judge and jury for speeding cars
Trying to avoid your missile-like whitewash
As they chase setting suns
And see me only as a roadside shadow?
What do you know of windblown highway ditches as nightly shelter,
Or roadside memorials of white-cross remembrances,
All kinds of lives suddenly stopped?
Rather than making all that commotion,
Wouldn’t you be better off listening a little more,
Enjoying the fluttering quiet of those beautiful black-opal wings,
As you swoop in on sign posts and rusted-out abandoned cars?
What’s with your nasty disposition, anyway?
And why aren’t you carrying on like the raven you are,
Instead of the your noisy lessor specie, the crow?
Oh never mind.
Just shove off.
Let me have some peace
While I work through Poe’s take on your gnarly purpose.
Better still, just shut up and listen.”
‘And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!’
“See what I mean…
Maybe this Poe fella is trying to explain
Neither one of us is gonna live forever,
So…”
Our prez is now Donald J Trump
Who has promised to clean out the sump
Well he's certainly no wussy
When groping a pussy
What more to expect from a gump?
In charge of the Vice, Michael Pence
Said some things that embrace little sense,
"Global warming's a myth"
But's now taking the fifth
In attempting to straddle the fence
We all recall general Flynn
Put in charge of security spin
A trained atomiser
No more Trump's advisor -
His deal with the devil's his sin
The billionaire Betsy Devos
Making plans for a school albatross
Hating free education
Backs private castration
And kids will be bearing her Cross.
The Congress approved Jeff B. Sessions
Ignoring his racist obsessions
He seemingly cares
More for foreign affairs
While forgiving Klan's toxic transgressions.
Chief strategist Stephen K. Bannon
Develops the Great Again Canon:
The Goldman Sachs Bankster
Turned yellow rag gangster
Flings crap from the New Order cannon
Says EPA ruler Scott Pruitt
"Instead of dry facts, we intuit..."
(His work as denier
Keeps profits much higher)
"... If everything dies, well, just screw it"
The war whoops of Mad Doggy Mattis
Awaken the death apparatus
With boundless expense
For a doomsday defence -
Armageddon administered gratis
The magnates no longer need lobby
Or fight regulations thought snobby -
Now set in the saddle
They're herding the cattle
And pulling the strings as a hobby
Now the Don can start wielding the axes
Truncating the tariffs and taxes
The Mafia boss
Is dismissing the dross
And poverty's pain as it waxes