Best Team Up Poems
BLUE
The rain startled the clouds and fell like
a scare of possibilities. The day toggled
from then to now like a withering widow
A flustered squirrel sat and squirmed
and still nibbled at a dry stump
like eliciting poetry off ancient prose
Some never knew the intent of need
others feigned disinterest in inquests
turning over their earths again and again
I read the prognosis of your vertigo
And derived a rider. That it was mere
Math to team up or to sleep in the buff
An unpredicted rite of passage
after all shenanigans stand erased
to uncover new aquifer in antique spandrel.
To discover that the sky was never this blue.
10 Nov 13
For Chris' contest
Scientists claim the big bang was the first sound ever, not knowing how hard milkyway had to beg forever so they could team up to imitate us, first in supernovas, then in rainbows and Pleiades clusters, and they kept trying over and over and over again.
One hundred billion years, two hundred billion trials, three hundred billion stars yet you are my only reason of existence, even before dust, stories, light, sound and distance, even before eternity tore the pages containing our names from the book of constellations and watched how they dangled amidst tragic cosmic stories on the endless skin that streched past the eyelashes of infinity, you were my big bang.
And I'm not saying had it been milkyway haven't got tired of trying, came to me that day and asked how I did it, we wouldn't have been here, for each time my heart skipped a beat was a planet yet to be known, each time you said "I love you" was a big bang of its own, and I'd say your eyes were my Jupiter because I get lost everytime you looked at me like an astronaut in a cosmic zone, but, I always find you, even without Galileo's telescope, like a shooting star touching the hands of the most advanced lens, like a farfetched comet tracing edges of your words and your silence, in everything reflex, like every time you flinch when your maths teacher mentions X. Let it be anywhere, farther than the edges of the compass, beyond kuiper belts or anywhere, there is this maze in the lines of my fingerprints, a room in the dubs of my heartbeats, a street in this memory lane, and I always find you there, as an emblem of sanctuary.
-Mr.X
©26.01.2022
Excerpted from 'The book of Constellations'
A long time he has hung on
It's about time he gets the boot
The rest would be glad to see him gone
They'll team up to say good-bye to Newt
Chastushka Form-Russian Poetry contest of Gwen Rix
With visiting Judge Andrea Dietrich co-judging
7th Place Winner
Im a dot,
A small black powerful dot,
I can spoil a celebrity autograph
I make void a bank cheque signature
I can spoil a sentence, a tiny story:
“A man walked along the. road”
With my friends, we make something mysterious:
“then the door closed………………….”
I highjack a comma
;
I meet up with another dot
:
I question myself with a scimitar shape
?
We dots, team up with our friends, the dashes to make the well known Morse code
. - .. - - .
In a land far away, in a time not so far past.
A recession came and the people were poor.
The middle class had lost everything,
The bankers and the rich owned them,
Taking their homes and letting them starve,
Interest, the signature, soul sold, bought.
Marx had come onto the scene and Blavatasky.
Ideas, revolt, change, power to the people.
Crush the bankers and the rich: take their wealth.
Feed the people, empower the ordinary man.
One man came forward, a painter, an artist.
Lead the revolution, a powerful orator.
Hate the rich, hate the evil bankers and business owners.
Free market, competition, trickle down economics, died.
The new key word: Socialism. Steal from the rich to feed the people.
His name was Hitler, loved by the people. Kill the rich.
The rich were the Jews, their religion is designed to accumulate wealth.
No love, no artists, conformity, conservatives, defending their wealth.
Team up with the western capitalists, demonize socialism.
Capitalists start war with socialists. Rationalize, demonize.
The capitalists and the Jews vs the people of Germany.
Germany kills the Jews, just a few, not six million.
Don’t believe the lies of the capitalists.
The final solution, kill the rich, French Revolution.
It will happen again, same story, different time and place.
Modern bankers, Wall street, corporations, raped the people.
The middle class is dying, and our future is already coming.
Storing many years of waiting
Gambling with my neighbors
I bet my descendants will team up to come
This year they won’t miss
Nurtured in my arms, my children
will bring baskets
a vintage, a fresh food
After the sun awoke up
Moss-paved paths rang
Oh, my heart bounced eagerly
(The sun skewed…)
Gripped by thousands of my yearn
I saw tides come and go
Burning swiftly, the ghost of money
was temptation; was grey happiness
Scattered over my neighbors’ chest
where weeds were pulled out
Rowed out from my veins
My children didn’t come
Shards of rain seemed to cry
•Qingming Festival is the East Asian lunar holiday .
it usually begins around 4 or 5 April and ends around 20 April.
Dduring these days, relatives gather in graveyard to worship their ancestor.
Your chase!
Reminiscing on the oceans I had to dry up
and the volcanos I had to ice up
just to capture the epicenter of your heart
well protected by strong canines
of your carnivorous standards.
Hanging with the clouds of the highest heights
and combating with the dragons
of the Amazon Forest
was worth all the efforts.
Your Love!
shines in vitality
attracting even the goddess of sexuality
as it preserves the indwelling desires of two hearts.
We stayed isolated in the entire world
at midnight, siting on the mountain top
the moon directly above us
showcasing our shadows
melted together with no space in between.
The stars, singing hymns of love
while the trees danced to the romantic melody.
Just the two of us
and the entire universe
bridged by space full of your praise as I behold my Queen.
Whose beauty compresses the wealth of Europe
and gentleness makes
the Dove and the River team up in envy.
Your absence!
Life endeavours have fixed
putting us in an equilibrium of distance
as I perish in a state; psychiatry has no definition.
In the midst of Adult Buffalos
you leave an unprotected Cub.
You aren't gone, just far away
yet I feel like a member of a loser's club
as love has converted me to a scrub.
Thinking I'd be as worse as
a depression endemic atmophere
with loneliness and plutonic cold its major contents,
unfortunately, my heart is its suburb
completely eaten up and infected.
What can make me lay for days
in the bathub;
rejecting everything beautiful and lovely,
and the ointment of darkness I rub?
To all these my Love!
Your absence is the nub.
But I need to stay strong
as I await the purification of your presence once again.
How has it dawn on us so soon when we hadn’t even achieved much?
Why has the marketplace ceased to buy and sell so scanty the streets wither away
The clouds becomes more darkened as smokes ascend randomly our fields are on fire
We can feel the rain but it has lost its coldness
I hear more voices than I usually heard
This time of crying and wailing rather than chatting and hailing
Voices
chanting and singing songs of war
Dust and gun powders like fog fill the air,
with great rumble the battle rages
The long night tarry on nobody has awakened
Some privileged to pass on to the other side
Total transmission from what we see now
Carcasses litter the streets as we run from pillar to post
Yet not so sure where the lot may fall
Great assets lost in hot zones, they shouldn’t have taken the guns,
Gravesides more frequent than bedsides
When did we become such serious foes?
That tears can’t seem to mend?
We let our children die by our own hands and still squeeze our sorry faces
How valuable is this trophy, hope it’s worth the pains we are feeling now?
We match in battalions, onward we go
Faces brimming with boldness and courage,
Though fear still takes its partition
We leave behind loved ones not so sure,
like walking into the lions cave to kill or be killed
Jumping over strip wires, nice try
Only to step on landmines
A time to team up with death taking from one end
While it continues from the other side in its own way
Orphans, widows and widowers we make at will that which we had once pitied
What caused this sudden change?
So unfortunate many fighting ignorantly yet arrogantly
Now we pull down our once fancied walls to build more refugee camps and fill them
We overstretching science and make of men expendables
A time we show how much we can take
What we depict now is wickedness rather than strength
In this game
Winners are
Always
Rude
After Bill got Brick’s emergency call about the new find under the Bywater bridge, he downed
his coffee, shoved his files in a drawer, donned his 9mm w/shoulder holster, traded his
Stetson for a NYPD ball cap, made for the squad car, punched the blue lights and headed to
Brick’s destination.
When he approached the bridge , the bus was already there and Brick was talking to the
driver. His car was parked slanted into the traffic slow lane so all had to slow and go around
the scene. He already had it cordoned off with tape.
Bill pulled up behind Brick’s squad car adding blue lights to his. Brick spotted Bill getting
out of his car and motioned him over. They both stepped towards each other after Brick
finished his instructions to the bus driver. When Bill first got to NYC. He had no idea that
the cops referred to the ambulance as the “bus” but it was just another colloquialism he had
to pick up on after his stint in Texas. .and here it was on the scene again. It wasn’t usually
a welcome site.
Above the noise of the oncoming traffic, they shook hands heartily and Brick grinning,
beat Bill to the punch saying “What the hell took you so long? You stop and kiss your horse
good morning on the way over here or something?"
“Nah, I just decided to take the scenic route. I figured you’d have this case all wrapped
up by the time I got here. …How in the heck are ya, Brick. Seems like I ain’t seen you since
back before the Alamo. What all this fuss about here?
“Well let me show you, cowboy.” Bill followed Brick to the blanket laid on the cracked
pavement roadside in the shadow of the bridge. Even before he got there Bill could see
blood oozed out from under the cover in a stilled puddle. Brick slowly pulled the blanket back
to inspect the victim while looking up to Bill to catch his reaction. “ Whaddya think?”
The grimace on Bill’s face said it all. He had seen a lot of carnage in his time but never
anything quite like this. He caught his breath and let it out slowly and quietly whispering the
words “ Holy crap…. It’s a butcher job!... “
(continued on Richard Pickett poetry (Taz)
Ponytails and blue jeans
Sat at Papaw's knee,
Watching as he whittled
On old branches from a tree.
And while he talked of cowboys
And big old Texas ranches,
He trimmed away the rough spots,
While I dreamed of pony dances.
A wild stick horse remuda
Began to run and play,
With every loving stroke,
As he peeled the bark away.
Using his "Old Timer"
And carving in my brand,
The best that he could find
And cut and shape with his own hand.
Now, each one of them was special,
And I felt I was too,
As they kicked up dust behind
This cowgirl buckaroo.
With reins of pink hair ribbon,
Shoe strings and baling twine,
There was "Buckin' Birch" and "Oakie,"
And "Ole Sticky" made of pine,
"Sassafras," and "Blackjack,"
"Willow," "Blaze," and "Scat,"
I never did corral 'em --
I just left 'em where they sat.
But next mornin', on the front porch,
'stead of roamin' wild and free,
They'd found their hitchin' rail,
‘cause Papaw lined 'em up for me.
Along our trails together
There were many lessons learned,
Like bein' a cowboy through and through
Is something that you earn
We'd partner up together,
And team up in cahoots,
Once he defied my Mama,
Bought me red cowboy boots.
And often, when I wondered
What to do on down the road,
He'd always tell me, "little girl,
When you get there you will know,"
Sometimes you have to let things go,
Sometimes you stand and fight,
And anything worth doin',
Is still worth doin' right.
With my wild stick horse remuda,
We rode the range for miles,
I knew I'd won my Papaw's heart
By the way he'd laugh and smile,
I still have his sweat-stained Stetson,
His boots, and his old knife,
Sometimes I take them out
Just to measure up my life.
And hold him closer to my heart,
And know I have to try,
To live up to the honor
Of the wonder-days gone by.
On my stick horse remuda,
I learned the cowboy way,
I’d give up everything I own
To ride with him today.
My wild stick horse remuda
Was quite the varied band,
Born and bred with me in mind
And trained by his own hand.
I’m longing for the legends,
And the way we used to roam,
With my wild stick horse remuda,
And the man that we called "Home."
I wish i had my abs creased n an muscles on My body
With a mask on my face so the girls call me Hotty
Or swing through a city like Spiderman would
And have a girl to rescue that i saved from some hoods
Maybe have a catch phrase like iono, something silly
Like stopping a crook with my hand out like "Really?!"
Even walk around a store just to act like im normal
An people look at me n light even while im buying up *****
I could meet all the other heros an act like im cool
Then do something stupid an act like a fool
Damn, team up with Spidey cause that guy there is awesome
Or get with the Knight and take over Gotham
Straight ham on some villians an make me a nemesis
So later we can make up an play Sega Genesis
A hero a kid can look up to an b like mommy
That heros so cool, im gonna join n the army!
Id go home at night with great satisfaction
An well thought plans for next days pro action..
I am ThatGuy
"Interface"
100 seconds to midnight
implosion imminent
or irreverent interface
(LadyLabyrinth/2020)
"One Thing" / Dave Gahan & The Soulsavers
https://youtu.be/mG-z0MezIDE
1. Interface / synonyms:
affiliate, ally, associate, combine, confederate, hang together. band (together), collaborate, concert, concur, conjoin, conspire, cooperate, join, league, team (up), unite. Connive.
https://www.dictionary.com/browse/interface
https://www.thesaurus.com/browse/interface
interface. ... Used as a verb, interface means to merge or mingle, bonding and synthesizing by communicating and working together. The word interface is comprised of the prefix inter, which means "between," and face.
2. Collaborate
https://www.thesaurus.com/browse/collaborate?s=t
3. Transhumanism
Noun/ The belief or theory that the human race can evolve beyond its current physical and mental limitations, especially by means of science and technology.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transhumanism
4. The Clock
https://www.msn.com/en-au/news/world/doomsday-clock-moves-to-100-seconds-to-midnight-closest-point-to-nuclear-annihilation-since-cold-war/ar-BBZgtnm?li=AAgfYrC
When A Beautiful Morning, Song-Bird Sings
When morning songbird warbles lively dirge
Soul wakes unable to resist this urge
And when alone, these feet begin to tap,
Taking me to delight from last night's nap.
Tis a truth, a great blessing to have found.
Heart joins rhapsody, colors team up
As if to fill life's joyous golden cup;
A miracle vanquishing worldly pains
Such a blessing very hard to explain.
Tis a truth, a great blessing to have found.
Thus I thank songbird for gifting its glee
Arousing sleeping spirit within me
Nature's finer blessing given for sure
Restoring what world's dark has made impure.
Tis a truth, a great blessing to have found.
When morning songbird warbles lively dirge
Soul wakes unable to resist this urge
And when alone, these feet begin to tap,
Taking me to delight from last night's nap.
Tis a truth, a great blessing to have found.
Robert J. Lindley, June19th, 1974
Rhyme
( Wherein Heart Can Finally See Hope And Light )
It was a steamy morning when Brick rolled out of bed,
Not sleeping well the past week or so made it worse
This whole Samurai thing was eatin at him
That's why he sent that package to his old buddy
Bill Lipton over at the 31st Park prescient
Bill was a Texan by birth, Divorced from his wife he
decided a move as far away from her as he could get
was in order to remain sane he was a Texas Ranger
and the 31st was glad to have him, for like me he
never gives up the hunt and Samurai was going to be just that
The 31st was the prescient that controlled 2 Parks
Prospect Park all 575 acres and McCallen with just
over 350 acres. Both had wooded areas, bike trails,
jogging trails and other activities which made them
pleasant enough places during the day.
However at night it was another story altogether,
It seemed that the prostitution activity was picking up
and along with that so was the pimp and drug activity
Pimps are not known to be very nice to their whores
and we know the Samurai does not like that sort of thing
So I thought it time to enlist some help from my old
friend Bill, I am confident that together we will
put the bag on mister slice and dice once and for all
at least that's the plan, I know it won't be easy because
the robed perp hides in the shadows,so that's where we look
I asked Bob Dufresne to collaborate with me on this I thought it may be fun
Let us know what you think
Affection ridden
Disrespect established
Love and tender discarded
False tears and all of the fakeness
In this moment
In this calming bit of second
I hate them more than ever
My own flesh and blood
The disgrace they give
The lack of concern
The spiteful disrespect
The blackness of one’s heart
The least of love
The covered veil of humanity
I have set my mind
I have dealt with their wicked thoughts and tries
They team up against me
Begin to think they are right
But every action makes them darker and stupid
They are planning for a battle
Against someone they think they know
Against someone they think is wrong
Oh warriors of the light!
Aid me, help me, Make them learn
Make them think twice
The lies they conceal
Will make them lose all powers
They will perish
Against me
Against the once-known for a sister