Best Syndromes Poems
Why vote for governments
That uses you
That abuses you
Confuses you and refuses you
Why vote for governments
That doesn’t respect or defend your rights
And fight with all their might’s
Why vote for governments that are not contrite
And feel their evil doings are alright
Why vote for governments
That steals the meals off poor people’s plate
Yes I know you can relate
You lobbyist and you rich conglomerates
You leaders brought this world to this state
You closed equal opportunity gates
You email-gate, water-gate, racial profile, hate!
You collaborate to devastate by inaugurate debates
And brain washing mandates
You empty and launder it
The treasury’s financial reserves hey wait!
You vaingloriously defend your scandals eh mate
Yeh! You really forced me to explashiate
Against fractured cannibalistic nature politics
Syndromes of “eat ah food” government’s historics
Past and present, you categorize and polarize
Our society for your sooooole benefits
Eh why vote mate?
©Copyright August 27, 2014 by Brian Pierre-Alexander
© All Rights Reserved
West has supported us
sinserely and honestly
planting seeds of democracy
and sustainable society
in our crude land,
but hearts of our people
still attached very strong
to old illusions,
and Kremlin genius
very artful and virtuoso
manipylated and played with our post-soviet nostalgias and syndromes,
pushing us back in USSR on and on.
We have hated our freedom, alas,
and greed for instant hot money along.
Humiliation not the word,
tell me, experts, how long
this tragicomedy in 1/7 part of world prolong?
She wears nice clothes and waits for the next thing to happen.
No more hospital beds or quarterly syndromes to cry.
Now that you’re gone - she's divine and she's fine.
Rags and traps are washed from the tears you drop.
And she wears them in a ballroom as a beautiful red gown dress...
Before you tell her to stop.
Waiting for the dark man to dance with her.
Oh, what a beautiful and sorrow pain that flows.
Fresh, new, assimilated.
Lovely ballerina.
White lily.
Timid young man.
They’re in love in the starry night.
Admiring the sky together.
Wondering if this time they’re right.
Bright eyes.
Sweet smile.
And their affection can finally climb and shine.
Inspired…
It feels good to me,
To be alive in oneself, to be set in actuality.
Free from worldly expectations and corporational thoughts,
Able to set goals for oneself, let loose from wrought.
Distraught, and set into motion by the world’s needs,
Told how to live one’s life through social media and news feeds.
Agreed fear of change when change is the preset,
To reset, everything our parents raised us to become.
To change us into a social class clone.
Indifferent, numb...
Overcome, Victory!
It lives again, in every man’s heart,
To revive what has been torn apart.
Like water, rushing to bring alive the right,
Insight to be more than staying up on these sleepless nights.
Enslaved to an addiction, with emptiness as chains,
Explained by syndromes, fancy medical conditions.
Convictions no longer ashamed of the change of the reanimation of his title.
Idle regurgitation of all the foul slang and the hate and the pain.
No longer conformed but transformed by his Name.
To be set free, to be…
Me.
Born to cure by nature for we are Siamese twins,
though we`ve been separated from inception,
our tentacles and wings pilot the earth like fins,
Mixture of herbs and root led to our conception.
We have limits and boundaries when invited,
whether strong or soft effects we act the same,
we create multiple side effects when incited,
Our exploits are well known that they call us a name.
When we are invited to your home without license,
Be prepared for unusual attack and kicking,
Your ailment multiplies without measure;of what essence?
these aggregated syndromes get more scientists thinking.
I`m better than my twin when we are being abused,
He is callous and vicious while I`m soft and kind,
Men still prefer him for his wealth;yet we are amused,
Dubious men make lots of cash from us which is hard to find.
Consequences!And they pay for these without measure,
Youth violence;going naked,swimming in crime like eel,
wanting to feel high and belong,but without pleasure,
Stop!stop this abuse!hard or soft we remained still.
They call me soft and my Sib hard or narcotic,
The unquenchable desire is not our making,
Greed!insatiable quest for more make them robotic
Now,colored with vices and deaths due to takings and faking.
Personification of drugs:Soft drug(I-the writer),Hard drug(my twin)
Contest:"PERSONIFICATION" sponsored by FRANK.H
Beautiful stories full of lies,
All falsely true.
Stimulating syndromes….
I know no happy ending will come,
Living in a book to escape.
Dreadful dissolution….
Happiness for a minute,
Should have seen the end coming.
Fitting forge….
Stuck in the road between realities,
Where to go?
Pose paranoia….
My life in a fantasy,
Will it be worth my while?
Broken be….
Not part of the propaganda,
Only the promise of pain is predictable.
Counter conclusion….
One last time,
One last happy thought.
Wonder the world….
How will it end?
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Luck.
Coins turn tails and heads it seems so strait forward today we learn the
variables of luck.
It seems so simple tails or heads but there is so many games that cheaters
learn to play. Three card monte is all the bullies rage no one wins except the
deal. Play it once then run for life away gambling would be fine if luck ruled the
play. Men who gamble steal and kiss and cheat the way is linned with silk and
pistol play. Flipping pennies on a crack to see how close to the wall they got. Eye
ching tossing FIVE coins two land heads three land tails. TOTAL TWELVE.
Twelve is good luck for a chinese Charlax android one. A bakers dozen is good
for yew they laughed at me thirteen was lucky for the thieves. Greedy gain and
lining money baskets is all that eye was ever taught by them.Then there was Two
out of three where the coins had to match excatly we each had Heads twice the
third time we both had Heads again. What now eye said he gave me the
Quarter.Eye win. Liars poker has been popular for some time in the better bars.
Look at the number on a Dollar bill and there is matches make a poker hand like
8737738AA this would be Two aces and three sevens a full house for the player
picks the best five numbers to stimulate the cards? simulate them eye meant
like an android acting human and in love. Some Men toss piles in the pot and
sweat the alcholoic breath and sweat real bullits from there chest of money in the
corner in the safe marked all in ones. There are seven visible planets and
luminaries (Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn). Each one
rules a day of the week (Sun=Sunday, Saturn= Saturday, Moon=Monday, etc.) and
that is where the seven day week came from. Each one is supposed to have a
particular virtue or power. "The 3 (spirit, mind, soul) descend into the 4 (the
world), the sum being the 7, or the mystic nature of man, consisting of a threefold
spiritual body and a fourfold material form. These are symbolized by the cube,
which has six surfaces and a mysterious seventh point within..."
A mystery unfolds the number seven is included in this fabel about lucky
syndromes.
when you're forgotten
memories move too far from you
wishes run through tomorrow's well
widows search the depths for hell
she screams her tangerines
shouting out decimals
ice-cream and scenes of before
watching movies and more
more and more
you hang your head
but I hope you never cry
or realize
what you never had
this is what it feels like
to miss a lie
when you're forgotten
memories move too far from you
living with shadows here and there
hidden by splits in city walls
holding on to me,
myself and no one else
when your secrets expire
I hope you find your peace
more and more
you hang your head
I hope you never cry
or realize
what you never had
this is what it's like
to miss a lie
drive the membranes of your passion
into sparrows singing sane
live within the burrows singing doubt
replaying syndromes next to tones
is it everything you thought it would be
"this reminds me of why i do not think of you"
As a child I loved to have mother gently rub my hair,
and head;
eyes closed I would allow her soft hands
to carry me away into an’ other mothers’ arms.
That never happened.
I mean the mother thing, and that other mother
turned out to be mainly just a lipstick smeared cloud.
Now I am bald,
and that other mother, whom I never met,
she who gave hand jobs to the marines;
I might have liked her,
in a weird Oedipus Rex sort of way.
I bet her hands were professionally skillful.
The mother who had no motherly impulse
to rub my head, is also bald and dead.
Sometimes I imagine rubbing her skull, until it sings
like a Tibetan singing bowl.
It sings to me now
of faraway mothers and their loving hands;
hands that like magicians’ doves
brush my invisible hair
somewhere in the never-never.
Suppose all around you suddenly vanished,
And you realized you were standing alone
In the twilight of your years feeling banished
Like a pilot-less, rudder-less, helpless drone.
You knew your life was mystifyingly dreamed
With many questions and answers few,
You know everything was not as it seemed
And you scarcely know exactly what to do.
The lot of many elderly in our nursing homes
Removed from the familiar, in a strange place
Victims of memory loss and various syndromes
Suddenly feeling like they are in outer space.
Many spend their last days lonely and sad
Feeling unwanted and deserted, I am told,
And some of these places are horribly bad
It makes me fight to keep from getting old!
Appeared in "It's Still Poetry"
Poetry Soup Anthology - 2021
Time's Birthday
by Odin Roark
How daunting it must be
Choosing a celebratory date
Invention adrift
Save the blue veined appendages
Holding firm the drift of time
Like a floating surreal image
Making its way up 5th Avenue
On Thanksgiving Day
How buoyant Time
Yet arguably ungrounded
Measuring not how life will continue
But only how existence has passed
Each year
Month
Week
Day
Hour
Minute
And second
An ancestral funeral
Survived only by tomorrow's unknown
A system invented to archive
Circuitous syndromes
Man-made phobias
Moment by moment reality
Representing synchronous movement
Rhythmically evaporating into
The ethereal collaborative
The indeterminate character of eternity
The immeasurable
Unfathomable
Moment that is now
No wind-up needed
Still Time insists on benchmarks
Symbolic definitions
The behind and ahead of calendars
Noted by way of bell-ringing
Clock-chiming
Sun rising and setting
Unlike us
Time's validation
Knows not culinary vices
Ice cream and cake
Champagne and caviar
And those other accouterments
Hauled out to attest
Our superior intellect
Noisemakers and confetti
DARK ALLIANCE
The alchemists of old sought transformation into gold
But today in an alliance with some modern necromancers
They have gained their fondest wish, created riches now untold
Since for every bane that’s real or hollow now they have the answer
A pill or two will solve your problem and should really cut the mustard
Though the end result may be that it transforms your brain to custard
The secret is: the patient base is endlessly expanding
With no diagnostic limit to the illnesses addressed
For they now invent new syndromes pharmaceuticals demanding
And print them in a book so everyone will be impressed
Repackage an old drug and then promote it as solution
To imaginary disease from psychiatrical collusion
Then if desperate at failure to subdue resistant cases
They can still resort, fall back on old tried methods to suppress
Pass a lightening bolt across the brain and neutralise all traces
Of free self determined thinking that the patient may attest
Then an ice pick in the skull will end the process of sedation
And reduce a human being to a piece of vegetation.
So as each new life is broken
There’s increasing coruscation
In the hoards these wizards cloak in
Specious science - consummation
Of that quest from days of old
To turn base metal into gold
Vindication by arguments of choice,
controlled egos justification by voice.
Behaving that provide a power decision,
circumstance to create false vision.
Presumed facts to align justification,
politics and its pathetic sensation.
Inferior reasons crying for an acknowledged act,
attention seeking become an criminal fact.
The names of the desperate decorating every corner,
for the state of justified great job mourner.
The accounted right of just, free from guilt,
the act of the state in the name of God to be killed.
Justification of human rights in wicked hands,
perjuries and its titled legacies in demands.
Fanatic delusion from colorful comic books,
not justified hero syndromes in tragic pain as it looks.
Impossibilities and its boundary limitation,
the human mind in dark consideration.
Responsibilities by conscious action,
are worth more than any justified distraction.
PSYCHIATRISTS’ SONG
Let us join in song of praise for all psychosis
It’s the leverage that gives us a good living
With a fragment here of mania or neurosis
That we bevel, hone removing all misgiving
Let it not be said we’re derelict in reason
For committing someone to an institution
For of syndromes we’ve a bountiful accretion
We have voted for and passed by resolution
So take care not to accuse us of a crime
As we relegate to sinkhole a sad creature
For your words betray a sickness we define
You are suffering from illusion - that’s a feature
Submitted for 8 word challenge contest
Words:
psychosis
leverage
fragment
bevel
derelict
resolution
sinkhole
illusion
3 June 2019
Propellent syndromes rotating with energetic drum
the winds of time begin to churn your soul begins to hum;
Through the portal of time you go regressing, progressing
forever moving forwards, you are a tiny little string;
Dangling at the edge of time, waiting for the big rebirth
with the sun, moon and stars hung around your girth,
you slowly decline at the doorway of heaven's nook
and enter mothers womb as she delivers you with shook;
Ferris wheel cries cracking the silence of dusks headdress
the dawn is a blush of bruises but the eyes, oh! the eyes
they are two luminous stars of love, here is no surprise
the old soul has done it again, thundering back in, mortal
as you once were. Immune to taste, sight, and smell,
a propelling syndrome rotating with energetic drum,
the winds of time has brought you back, now hum.
June 7, 2021