Best Tarred And Feathered Poems
Too long I limped along a lonely road, born into this Sahara desert of a life,
parched and hungry, face weathered and gaunt.
A deaf, dumb, and blind man, drawn and quartered by her knife,
back tarred and feathered by a vulture's taunt.
I searched the wide world for your wonderful smile,
tired soul devoid of that whole, found wanting of the other half.
Try to find the right words, after each lost and lonely mile,
my sorrows washed away by that sweet, infectious laugh.
Like hopeless romantic's lot, who climbed out of a dark place,
beyond my wildest dreams, I finally found you.
Yet daft was I to hear not., your prayer for love's embrace..
as two hearts lifted in love were bound to.
When last moon fades, no more hopeless romantics left,
and strings of sanguine hearts untwine.
I will hold on to memory's tender touch yet,
and all the warm days when you were mine.
A lonesome coyote howled deep in the wood
And a MOST unwise owl somehow misunderstood
Oh, alas and alack!
She rashly hooted back
(And she hooted as hard as she possibly could)
"Who the heck heeds my howl, for god's merciful sake?
Could this perhaps be my potential life mate?"
..."Give a hoot who you hoot at
if you don't know just who 'dat
You hoot at!" screeched the owl a wee bit too late
The gossip that followed defied explanation!
Squirrels scolded scathing and righteous damnation
The eagle screamed from his peak
"Don't even show us your beak!"
(An owl with a tarred and feathered reputation)
The coyote's good name turned muddy and mucky
Rumor spread like the plague so he never got lucky
"Your character is fowl"
Hitting up on an owl?"
(Last I heard he migrated to Kentucky)
I wish that I had choked and died
On those chocolate candy bars.
I wish my mom had tanned my hide
About those tempting cookie jars.
I wish that I'd been tarred and feathered
For the dinners that I skipped
Because I preferred to gorge my taste
On Lays Potato Chips.
I'd like of course to quite forget
The delightful sweet 'life savers'
Which turned out to be unfortunately
A roll of nice teeth haters.
I wonder why my father
Didn't put a final stop
To the in-and-out of the refrigerator door
For another soda pop.
In truth, I would have received more mercy
From a family of alligators
Than the sticky, gooey caramel
Of flavored 'Now and Laters'.
The bantering I'll put aside
For I must now reflect
On the searing pain that's gripped me
Consuming tooth and jaw and neck.
I do agree the joke's on me
Now would someone please find
The 'painkillers'; the Orajel
Before I lose my mind.
RETA PRUITT
August 8, 2016
His name was Ed Goodwin, a handsome man with piercing steel blue eyes, known in the small town of Marianna Arkansas as the leading architect. If DNA flows through our veins from one generation to another so does the Spirit from the past.
At dusk, Goodwin happened upon town constituents enjoying a log fire though quick to learn amid the laughter of entertainment that a young boy was about to be tarred and feathered. He motioned aside their gaiety and demanded to know the reason. "No, he has done nothing wrong. Let him go!" One did not argue with Ed and from him I learned compassion, though I still wonder to this day how the young boy's mother managed to remove the feathers and tar from her son's body. From her, I learned fear.
With my compassion and fear in hand, I was further schooled by Ed's daughter, Dinky (named at birth for her 2 pound weight) to always stand up for what you believe in no matter how long it takes. You must always put yourself in the other person's place and ask yourself, "How would I feel it that were me and you'll never go wrong." From Dinky I learned caring.
I now had compassion, caring, fear and spirit. Love was acquired all along the way as I was constantly told amid my bitching, "Smile, Child of God." "You're going to miss me when I'm dead and gone!"
I do miss Dinky and Yes Dink, I do believe that we are all Children of God. I only wish everyone had an Ed Goodwin and a Dinky Doll to make them as happy and strong as you have made me. Thanks and God Bless!
my agent grew nervous
when he discovered
like the rising sun
on a sea of shark fins
that one must gauge and become the gauge
what is it that heralds an improved model
claiming to have superior knowledge
my hospital masturbates immobilized patients
the cure rate is astounding
it’s all in how we conceive ourselves
the oil and tincture panaceas
were giving me intestinal upheaval
but my inner cephalopod still had
a couple of pots of ink in him
and swore by his mother's nipples
when info comes a-knocking
best let it find a seat unaided by grief
everyone rigs the game
we are all defiled by propaganda
here let me wipe you off
we all want to be authentic
so gimme the straight story for once
the sigh of the wind for once
must have been the stoning squad's day off
tarred and feathered instead
the world may not owe us a living
but it does owe us an explanation
I think it all has to do with
branching cascades and nested infinities
is it rain on the roof or radio static
I'm pretty sure it's a comedy show
there's a lady in the front row
bearing her breasts at me
I am quickly hypnotized
turns out she’s KGB
I hope I'm the lucky stud
that gets to climb her stairway
in an experimental courtship ritual
we rubbed pudenda for an hour
before I heard her secret name
it's still secret
her guillotine blade warm and wet
cut through me like a 3 dollar car wash
through fresh dung
OK why 3
for you double meaning compulsives
I'll tell you
but you must obey my commands
they are buried throughout this message
because 3 is like the fingernail relics of saints
and he'd rather be thundering back at Zeus
which got him everything he wanted
not so much money clothes cars women
since he didn't set out to establish
an empire of invisible influence
but he was a free man
free to disintegrate periodically
my advice is to keep
something for yourself no matter what
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
Big Brother In My Pocket
By Rick Rucker
The cell phone I carry has the power,
To run my company, hour, by hour,
Its power is so robust,
It leaves my old computer in the dust,
Instead of having to phone in,
I check the Web remotely, a major win,
I check my stocks, and check the news,
Listen to tunes, if I get the blues,
I can forever monitor my mail,
Through daily briefings, I now sail,
If a picture is worth a thousand words,
I have sent millions of them to fellow nerds,
From my office, I am free,
Free of my phone, I shall not be,
To it, I am always tethered,
The fellow that invented it should be tarred and feathered!
I long for those days of being alone,
Not possible, not with this phone!
I think about how I got imprisoned with mirth,
It constantly tells where I am on Earth!
Like a prisoner’s bracelet, that I wear,
To take it off, I would not dare!
Yesterday, on a day most sunny,
It texted me, it wanted money!
It was not a large amount,
I dared not to deny it, it knows the info for my bank account,
To those that think that tech can’t be bad,
I feel as if I have been had!
A simple phone, like any other,
It has grown into Big Brother!
IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY : LXXV
IF ever I had a country with flaming flags flying on every lamp-post weather-cock and tree
And if ever I were by my highest degree qualification appointed the Director-General of Museums Zoos Botanico-Ornithological Gardens Parks and Cemetries
I would make it a point of the Most Urgent Order that every bird gaily chirping warbling shrieking or even grumbling in its own particular brand of cursing for free
Either lone or in chorus or in competition with its own kind or in contempt of other feathered outlandish melodies
Together with every howling hound bellowing beast croaking crocodile cursing cat or mocking monkey
That they be taught and made to learn by rote under pain of plunder and pillage of their property to belt out the National anthem every dawn and at the crowing down of the Sun in its reverie
Or else be banished tarred and feathered forthwith from My Dearly-Beloved Country after forfeiting their tongues never to sing again and this after coughing up an astronomical fine of a fee for the capital crime of Lèse Majesté
That is, if ever I were appointed the Most Distinguished Protector of the Patrimony as the Director-General of Museums Zoos Botanico-Ornithological Gardens Parks and Cemetries
Even if I never ever had no country where no birds trill tongues or beasts bellow
bestialities and mockeries
© T. Wignesan - Paris, March 26, 2019
Emotionally, a wrecked ship
Battered to smithereens.
Tarred and feathered
By the tempestuous ocean wave
That is grief. Her faith in the Lord,
Blueprint for her reconstruction.
Date written: 06/19/2022
Unbearable Beauty in Black
The light has fallen down the endless solid cliffs
dejected there it sparkles lures on impact’s flight
Gunshots from a black revolver six shiny bullets
one bright explosion flashes mindless radiance
The hangman darkly clothed in jester’s gown
mocks tarred and feathered un-dyed blaze
A dose of over un-pigmented pills and pillage
sweet dreams of quiet and one last muddy void
Black is unbearable the pastel brush demised
but after thunder slowly comes the rainbow
A sentinel cries crisis please do not head the call
the change of guards disguised in shining armour
Requires holding on to blackness’ shielding voice
until unbearable becomes bearable once more
Pitch-miserable epiphany shouts when you cannot
want not paint no more yet flaking scraps find colour
Once you resist seductive guile beheading escapades
embrace depression as your strongest torch of change
07th November 2016
Onward now to vanquish the behemoth
And bequeath the cataclysm unto your kindred
Some squishy doom lingers
On that lithe aquiline figure in the distance
Guttural pinks cannot fathom
This species of maritime tranquility
As anchor splashes into ocean
Waves kiss splintering crevices
Beneath the moonlight-bathed rebellion
Of scoundrels squabbling over air
While the captain slumbers beneath
The bellows of his brethren
Behold! the spoils of the lines
A falcon tarred and feathered
Lashed upon the bow supine
In payment for his prophecies
Which guide the ship beyond the world
To where the phantom doth reside
As of right now I am closer to the moon than happiness.
My sunshine on a cloudy seized to exist.
So many shots at making things right but I always miss.
I wish you were my Mrs. instead I am stuck missing....you.
As of right now I am marching in my parade through the freezing rain.
I can be hit by a car, lit on fire, struck by train.
Trampled by elephants, tarred and feathered,
but losing you is truly pain.
As of right now there is no reason to breathe.
You are my anti drug, my Xanax and weed.
I know it is my fault, I never called,
continuously broke your heart, cut you open and poured salt.
As of right now I wish I knew how to express my love.
Tell you the truth and just be honest and be man enough.
My mistakes are mine alone, and I deserve to be alone.
Holy Love At Stake
Quiescent prayer reached the flames in half hearted conviction when
flamboyant immolation reached ‘Gundred’ at the stake of retribution
Should she have been quartered tarred and feathered first to keep the
luscious cleansing fire engulfing her up from ankles to impious mind
was the arcane message to ambivalent for the crowd to understand
Or had she been the one who lead a righteous life ahead of her times
precocious in enlightenment a revolutionary Queen of selfless justice
‘Aelfraed’ thought in bittersweet confusion that the wicked witch had
little chance to float on water or on the ashes to prove guilt or innocence
when tactile palpitations joined him and her across their heart’s desire
They had been lovers for five years of quintessence in pride and greedy
lust shared bed and table where she had mixed her potions for seduction
How he now wished in gluttony and envy that it was him to be eaten
by the conflagration with the raging congregation hurling abuse and
bits of misdirected conscience at the puppet of humbug and hypocrisy
Was it human fallow weakness that made his prayers succumb to doubts
or was it God incinerating his blasphemous Goddess for there was nothing
No relief for ‘Gundred’ with ‘Aelfread’ the forlorn intercessor beseeching
in too moderate modest helplessness standing by his passion numbed he
wondered if he adjured too feebly or why else the Messiah did not heed his call
12th November 2016
5/25/22
Living in the nether
Couldn't keep it together
For a long time wore a fetter
Remaining tethered
Occasionally got tarred and feathered
To your expectations I lost interest if I'll ever measure
Eventually I read a letter
Took off my sweater
Then walked an Irish Setter
With a harness and leash made of leather
I already moved on, but I'm not a forgetter
These days there's a lot of rumor spreaders
Throughout any kind of weather
Instead of settling for lesser
I got to do better at saving cheddar
The same is said for pushing a hard line toward treasure
Felt like I fell into a great rift
Then into a snake pit
Had to escape quick
Before any fangs bit
Instead of staying on the same
I had to change it
Instead of being makeshift
Meanwhile I started to weightlift
Off the leash
To say the least
I sunk in my teeth
And had a feast
Just like a beast
In all directions, even the East
I always wish the best to my nephew and niece
Now I need to accomplish more feats
Until I'm deceased
Became a changed man
Dealt some strange hands
Across a wasteland
Just when it all started to rain bad
Couldn't stay sad
Instead I'll remain glad
If I may add
Regardless of what fate had
I had an adaptable game plan
Plucking the Poisonous Parrot
Antonia had been a happy go lucky flamingo until her wings cracked
Now cascades of monotonous voices extracted venomous bickering
The parrot she took on as a charity case to quell her sadness now pecked
And would not shut up until the cage engulfed both vicious black souls
In her black box of contempt and too tired to shine life plucked away
Her coat tarred and feathered hanging from a thread of Munch’s scream
She attempted to touch away the poisonous croaking until she hung
Upside down from the swing with her head drowning in char coaled paint
Which oozed into her every pore morose and devoid of harmony’s rainbow
She became so void that all chakras burned in toxic cantankerous fire
Beatings of her life parroted a cacophonous mind pierced and exploding
Until everything shattered even her deafening malignant resentment
When the clock struck midnight and there was nothing more to vanish
But her Self and the stained melancholy sheet of dysphonic dysphoria
She remembered Oscar of the novel The Tin Drum shouting so loudly
That her crystal dysmorphic mirror imploded and bars bent under the strain
With her last resolve she plucked the parrot and An-Tonia was free
Colours shone brightly once again and the voices were good
She buried the bird under an olive tree with a song of epitaph’s prayer
And kept one single feather to remind her just in case it was not yet dead
20th January 2019
Contest entered: Free style poetry contest sponsored by Emily Pinet
They sheared and washed until they uncovered clean rosy skin
‘That’s more like it now we don’t have to cope with the ultimate sin’
Being different was not acceptable but now the sheep shivered
And the flock had been tainted before the firm rulers had delivered
How deplorable that this unruly animal claims to be one of us
A curse much worse than migration so this one is rather surplus
‘We hope it is not contagious because power remains to be white’
So they exhausted soap and even toilet cleaner to get this one right
All this ‘black is beautiful’ such nonsense not on these pastures
Maybe evil comes from the inside such is the reason for oils of castor
Ammonia to the rescue applied with gloves and a hard wire brush
That stinks more than the renegade creature who developed some thrush
‘Surely the gods sent guidance and providence to test our firmness
To achieve sameness and cohesion for the good of the nation in earnest’
History pointed to extermination for pure race creed and untarnished blood
What if sheep fall down and contaminate the soil when they roll in the mud
What if it’s a trap because now the offender was naked and more prominent
So they asked for a council of elders to reach a solution for agreeable consent
By now they were fearful of repercussions and tried to cover up their actions
Tarred and feathered the dissimilar bastard to revert to its original complexion
But a legacy of marginalization power hegemony could not be removed so fast
There must be heavenly purpose for keeping with conquest for good and at last
It never dawned on the farmers hypocrites bigots and misled vulnerable peers
That God might be a black women of beautiful colour and quite possibly *****
10th July 2019