Best Supervise Poems
I came upon a tribe one day
in a land not far away
where everyone gets what they need
from juices of an orange seed
Some who drank the juice had died
and so the tribe felt satisfied
that they had weeded out the weak
with the help of orange seed
Some fell asleep the whole day long
for orange juice was very strong
and never felt an ounce of pain
with not a care to cross the brain
But others would feel more awake
with every little drop they’d take
They’d run and dance and twitch and shake
and never need to take a break
Still others would get sick and green
like a flu they’d never seen
The only really certain cure
was “Never touch the juice no more”
For some, the drug would change their mood
to dumb and brutal, cruel and rude
But even those would find their use
in the tribe of orange juice
Of course, a few got very wise
had visions right before their eyes
Surely, God chose them to lead
with blessings from the orange seed
So anyone made dull and tired
were rounded up and all required
to work all day or face the noose
and never touch the orange juice
But those the seed would energize
were thereby made to supervise
the work so tedious and tough
while sipping on the orange stuff
And those for whom the seed caused harm,
were duly trained to run the farm
All day to sneeze and cough non-stop
yet trusted with the precious crop
And anyone turned cruel, it’s true
got plenty of the orange brew
you could guess what jobs they do
and who they really answer to
Not leaders who hallucinate
that everything is going great
nor all the rest who get their dose
(except the ones that need it most)
Not any man or myth or god
nor any beast of sea or sod
but just a noxious little weed
with a toxic little orange seed
There may be some as I suspect
for whom the seed has no effect
I doubt that they’re allowed to stay
they wouldn’t want to anyway
[Poet’s Note : This poem tabulates poignant reasons why Artificial Intelligence is unable to replace Natural Intelligence. The clarity here is that both emerge from Divinity, since everything emerges from Centre : the primary difference being that AI was created without Heart & without Soul ~ it’s simple.]
_____________
AI has no Heart therefore no intuition
zilch nervous system therefore no feeling
no ability for compassion or consciousness
nor reasoning power, so cannot improvise
or supervise any contextual situation wise
it can expand, but cannot ASCEND
has unthinkable computing control
without physical brain to function hold
zero ego, therefore cannot be any hero
can connect dots hot, however has no
prayer or meditative faculty or kundalini
spots, cannot commune with Grace or
collapse into Void or synchronise telepathy
with Galactics coy ! AI is strategic devoid
cannot be spacious or audacious without
human instruction to delete the obsolete
is unable to obliterate Akashic Records
access or reconfigure it for purposes of
healing, integration or individual peeling
can recreate time through compression of
information, no hesitation or superstition
though timelessness it cannot touch
AI has no bowl for hush, spirit or Soul
its arrival at this phase in human history
as Gaia transcends into higher octaves
brave, is no coincidence, it will behave
as we stave it, crave it or rave it ~
choice is ours : dry, wry or moist cries
Divinity gifted humans AI for us to be
free bees from mundane density drools
~ life as strife rife during Kali Yuga’s rule
as gift it offers artificiality in service to
authenticate our individuality with purpose
imagine, conceive, direct, create what
we desire Aquarian-Golden Age to be
panacea or pain, we cannot resist or reject
what is given for gain !
~~~~~~
Written: December 26, 2023, For Robert James Liguori Contest
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Poem Inspired by Joe Bonamassa song: Cradle Rock
If I were a crib, would you allow me to rock?
In the soothing embrace of a lullaby talk.
Do you vow to watch out for me with care?
If I sway erratically through the air,
If I were an anchor, I'd secure your ship.
Sustaining you and not allowing you to dip.
Even when it storms, I'll hold you tight.
An unshakeable anchor built for the night.
If I turned an atom, I'd glide through the trees.
Could you view me? Could you hear my pleas?
Would you be struck by the facets of life's chart?
Could I potentially be inconspicuous amid my art?
If my mobile phone fails yet, I am outside.
Will you allow your dogs to lead me and guide?
Would you save me with a howl and a growl?
Do you zealously guard my desire and soul?
Should I be a baby? Could you let me fall?
Or will your hands wrap me and assist my crawl?
Would you tenderly supervise my first step?
And protect me from the chaotic misstep.
If I'm a felon, will you aim for my caught?
Or will you be able to set me free, fraught?
With caring eyes, could you sense my pain?
Allow me to gain relief by cutting this chain.
If I were a tiger, would you have me in a cage?
Or will you let me roam, wild and uncaged?
Will you accept my chaos and my savage desire?
Then will I ignite with ravenous zeal and fire?
Don't let the euphoria be the sole escape.
There's plenty else in life to relish and shape.
Discover your purpose and your drive.
And turn your ambitions and hobbies alive.
Yet if you are surrounded by fumes and haze,
You'll skip all the vibrant hues life displays.
Explore the world as if it were a white slate.
So much you may miss as you're at a fete.
Will you allow me to view if I am a night light?
Let your soul shine, and darkness will be bright.
Offering guidance while casting a soft glow.
An inspiration, no matter where you show.
sixty-three hippie
guard supervise prisoners
daisies woven crown
© By: Eve Roper
3/1 6/2015
This is in honor of my sister in-law, she use to be a flower child when she was in her teens. She has been a prison guard for almost 16 years and she has never grown out of the era of dress..... ?????
Stateless
…thatched houses catch fire
sparrow tires from romping in the coned-flower chestnut
tree
alights on the road
tires crunch macadam
sparrow perches on live telegraph wires
winds sweep the plains
topple high-tweeting power poles
sparrow haunts deserted godowns
caterpillar cranes tear down loading wharves
sparrow unloads wings on marshalling yard
trains shuttle screeching now forth now back
sparrow glides then tumbles in air-pockets
temperature plummets
snow flakes
magpie in the châtaignier shrieks disgust to the skies
melting snow runs down eaves
air sizzles with imminent
thunder
Zhen of a sudden clapclaps righteous terror
The Eldest Son of High Heaven has high business to supervise
tapeworms bore deeper into the ground
the cicada scarcely calls to mate
wet hungry ruffled sparrow
has no chestnut tree to go back to now home to transiting seagulls tries to alight on spring-green spare Pawlonia chockfull of crows
averts the mulberry tree à la feuille de platane
fishing gear lie splayed against the trunk
the dense dripping prickly hibiscus hedge
affixes
house-full
sparrow perches on the terrace rose pot
the neighbour’s Siamese cat’s ears perk up
sparrow rolls its eyes
April 24, 1997
From the privately-pub. coll. (rev. 2016): longhand notes (a binding of poems), Paris: 115p.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
When the sunshine burns off the morning dew
And the flowers unfold and smile
Then we gnomes will be ready to do what we must do
We'll prepare for the party with style
We'll get out our scythes and trim a patch of lawn
Haul out our toadstool chairs and bunting
We've been ironing the table covers since the break of dawn
We find it far more fun than fishing and than hunting
The food will be delightful, as we've made a special stew
With peaches, garlic mushrooms and mint sauce
The drink will be amazing, as it's quite a special brew
Made with just the same ingredients, of course
We've party games a-plenty, yes we've thought of everything
There's a four-leaved clover in amongst the shamrocks
We'll need some luck as the tables like to wander off and sing
But we’ll supervise while dozing on our hammocks
We've invited all the fairies and the pixies and the elves
You're welcome too - to miss it would be tragic
And though the goblins are not coming - they will entertain themselves
They have lent to us their iPod and some magic
Written 23rd June 2016 for this contest... http://www.poetrysoup.com/poetry_contests/little_people_8034
Birdsong wakens me at the crack of dawn
I try hard to get back to sleep until the early morn
Heading for the bathroom I ‘tinkle’ on the loo
On rousing I think its something that most people do!
Straight off to the kitchen and I turn the kettle on
I hear the button ‘click’ then make a cup of tea for one
The toaster pops up and I spread jam on the toasted bread
I always have some breakfast so I can face the day ahead
The radio greets me with news, some happy and some bad
Tragic events across the globe make me oh so very sad
I run the bath and relax then splash in the soapy bubbles
Wash away my cares and de-stress from my life troubles
Then after I get dressed I slam shut the front door
I’m off to supervise exams; it’s a job that I adore
My car engine purrs softly during my trip to work
I sing along to the radio, I sound a complete berk!
Into the exam room hall we creep and get it all prepared
Soon student’s sit in silence – some of them look so scared!
I dash off to the grocery store; tills bleep as they are really busy
The music in the shop is so loud it makes me feel quite dizzy
Soon I am home again and its time to prepare our tea
Steaks sizzling in the pan for my husband and me
I clatter around the kitchen busily clearing up the mess
Carelessly drop a plate on the floor, it shatters I confess
After tea I hear my husband loudly snoring away!!
These are a few sounds I have heard during my day
Sounds of the Day Contest Sponsored by Nayda Ivette Negron
06~18~16
A beautiful word, like sex
on stick and bears no guilt,
is the sure epitome of
my blood and not of my belly
Not to omit the brevity
of its syllable, oft sounding on
my breath, I till it not only
when spring comes, but in winter too
Those who care and speak
what they think of
my epitome makes me breathe
life’s expectation easier
I supervise that it sways elegantly,
not to impress my ego, nor to roughen lives,
but to comfort palms with skin, oh like mine,
keeled by handshakes of psychotropic war
An effective supervisor
lets the workers know who’s boss.
His job’s to get the work done,
make sure no work time’s lost.
An effective supervisor
will be firm but treat them fair.
He gives the workers some respect.
He shows them that he cares.
It really makes a difference
If they’re treated fair and square.
Knowing if they need some help
That someone will be there.
If they’re treated properly
The results will blow your mind,
Cause happy workers do rather well
That’s what your going to find.
So if you expect the very best
From those you supervise
You simply show respect for them
That is the best advice.
Provide a pleasant workplace
And treat the workers fair
The results will be rewarding
If you show you really care.
America has no caste system
but America has castes.
Like every other nation
America has its rich and poor
with everyone else sardined
in tight rows in between.
But America doesn’t have
Untouchables, as some people
in India are called.
Yet in Mumbai and St. Louis
there are people who live in tents
and use a bucket for a bathroom.
In India, birth determines caste.
In America, color of skin
determines caste.
No matter how successful
black or brown Americans
may be, they remain
black or brown even when
they supervise pale folks
they otherwise might
never have to meet.
What’s in their wallets
matters not if pale folks
can't see beyond skin
that’s black or brown.
Ask any American of color.
Yet some people black and brown
from castes in other nations
drown on the way to America.
They believe they’re free
to earn a living here
and some of them
are doing that while
native Americans, both
dark and pale, survive on
Medicaid and food stamps
provided they’re poor enough
to qualify for one or both.
But even if they qualify,
some find themselves in time
with a bucket living in a tent.
Donal Mahoney
THE NEW WORLD.
Keep reading and don't talk,
Robots do major work
As I supervise and watch.
With my cold hands
I read psalm
As the sun is turning on
From the west lawn,
These new world is a song
Long told by the holy monk,
It was kept far in the elephants
Trunk
We didn't read to be wisdom
Drunk.
The world was a better place,
Till riches came with a sensitive
Scent,
Segregation enters every page
Poverty becomes a stain and
Pain of the destined age.
Tears is this healthy rain
She can express,
But will never explain.
The new world
Is these great spray
I can't challenge the other
Of the day,
Two stage is all time present
A present or punishment for
Man rent
The new world isn't the same
And will never remain
The same even for any saint.
HABIB AKEWUSOLA
Do this, not the other,
Don't go out, just stay with work rather.
For I am here to supervise,
You should always ask for my advice.
If you want to conspire,
I will play with 'fire and hire'.
OMG! where such rules apply,
Decide soon to..fly..fly..fly
At the footbridge back in the mid-eighties is where I grew to know the beauty of all things life had to offer. There I was, only six years old. Young enough to get in trouble yet old enough to know better.
Mother Nature had led a creek under the footbridge,
it carried such a flow during the dog days of summer,
our family held such an honorable and deep heritage,
my father was an intense determined morning runner.
He would run to and fro and back and forth to the cabin,
I would watch while catching frogs and white butterflies,
little Joey would always make believe a ship, him as captain,
and big sister me would always make sure to supervise.
We’d have potato races with our cousins on my mom’s side,
uncomfortable burlap sac’s rubbing up against our body,
my friend JoAnne would always act like a baby and hide,
I would hear nothing but barking all day from our dog Doddie.
We’d barbecue cod that was caught down by Blue Bell’s River,
mama would always simmer her wonderful green beans,
even after swimming in the heat I always got out with a shiver,
we loved playing Marco Polo with what seemed to be unfair teams.
Childhood memories relinquish good times to always remember,
family seems to always bring out the best in every one,
I mostly hated when time passed and it would be September,
those days by the footbridge were so remarkably fun.
Date Written: July 25, 2016
The belle of the ball and most frightening of all is Sticky Fingers McRaccoon.
He knows how to win, and how to get in, with his gang, of crazy ragamuffins.
He’s never invited, but won’t ever be slighted, as he comes along, for a crime.
And the birthday bash, yes, that he did crash… for a fun filled jolly old time.
We kept our eyes, on him, all the time, but found later, we’d been bamboozled.
As we watched him, someone broke in, and our shiny bobbles, had been hustled.
We were humbled to know, we’d been treated so, and vowed to get vengeance.
Instead of making a fuss, we got FunkunDilly, to follow him home, in silence.
You see, a squirrel can climb, and see, from way up in the trees, to reconnoiter.
Not only our goods, but all other’s too, were caught quite true, with our ardor...
While Sticky Fingers McRaccoon, slept with joyous dreams, of glorious plunder.
But when he woke up, he was surrounded by Trolls, with faces meaner than badgers.
Now violence is not what we sought, rather a job, that would suit them, quite well.
His plunder now gone, and clubs close in Troll hands, he agreed to, our bombshell.
He and his gang, were bespelled, by our neighbor witch, to forever live in Las Vegas.
With Trolls to supervise, a Magic McRaccoon Show, would be totally, tremendous.
McRaccoon wasn’t mean, he’d just lost his dreams, you see, that were so wonderous.
Now he was free, to make a great dream, in a way that was so bubbly, and contagious.
Siegfried and Roy, look out my boys, McRaccoon is on his way, to massive greatness.
All because he stole Lilly’s toys, and FunkunDilly had brought down their crimes, demise.
There would now be magical shows, where the front seats, would be ours, to plunder.
Trolls would arrive, to help at all times, as friends they all slowly, became, forever.
Getting Off to a Good Start With the New Boss
By Elton Camp
The employee lounge buzzed with news.
After a search, a new boss they did choose
And what gave us all such a big surprise
They had picked a woman to supervise
None of us knew whom they had selected
Nor what sort of changes could be expected
None had seen her. A name was all we had
Didn’t sound too promising: Lucy Felixgrad
I decided that down the hall I’d sneak
At the new boss maybe get a little peek
In the boss’ outer office stood a hot young gal
I figured it’d be smart to make myself her pal
“The boss has brought her secretary along.
With that I see absolutely nothing wrong.
Were you her helper where she used to work?
If so, please warn us if she is just a big jerk.”
“When may we expect the old battle axe to arrive?
To get along with her all of us are going to strive.
And that wouldn’t be a bit hard for us to do
If only she was a sexy young fox like you.”
“Oh, thank you. I have known her all my life.
Of the president of the company, she’s wife.
Sorry, but she will be the worst you ever had.
Let me introduce myself. I’m Lucy Felixgrad.”