Best To Toy With Poems
Our Boogeyman
There is a boogeyman within
this home of ours, we swear he's here!
He comes and goes to mess with us
and bring about a silly fear.
It happens if we're here or not;
he seems to go from room to room
to keep us guessing why we see
phenomena that brings such gloom.
It has to do with lights, you see,
the kind you touch to turn them on;
somehow this boogeyman knows how
to toy with us, and whereupon,
we find our touch lamps brightly lit
in rooms, we enter while we're there.
But worst of all, to find them on
when we've been out, and such despair,
to wonder how that comes about??
For sure, it doesn't make much sense.
Do boogeymen have fingers that
can generate capacitance?
Sandra M. Haight
~4th Place~
Contest: Boogeyman
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Judged: 06/02/2016
True Story!
"Touch-sensitive lamps almost always use a fourth property of the human body -- its capacitance. [kuh-pas-i-tuh ns] The word "capacitance" has as its root the word "capacity" -- capacitance is the capacity an object has to hold electrons. The lamp, when standing by itself on a table, has a certain capacitance. This means that if a circuit tried to charge the lamp with electrons, it would take a certain number to "fill it." When you touch the lamp, your body adds to its capacity. It takes more electrons to fill you and the lamp, and the circuit detects that difference." http://science.howstuffworks.com
Susie's pet name was Wanda-zilla
and hailed from jungles near Manila.
Her poetry was swill
so to pay all her bills
she did strip shows for native gorillas.
She went to merry old U.K.
To make more money stripping all day.
When folks voted for Brexit
they meant Susie must exit
to get rid of the smell right away.
BY DALE GREGORY COZART
Susie looked like an ugly gorilla
A cousin of that monster Godzilla
With flaccid pink lips
And wobbly fat hips
She appeared on the video ‘Thriller’
The director who chose her that day
Said Don’t put on your make up today” …
With no mask on your face
You won’t look out of place
And your dance moves will blow folks away”
Susie then thought she’d found the answer
She’d work as a naked pole dancer
But not one man would pay
They said please go away …
Put your clothes back on you fat chancer!
BY JAN ALLISON
Wanda-zilla is a great name for ugly, Susie
Always batting her eyes like a low-life floozy
Painted lips on a gorilla
Looking like Phyllis Diller
As a pole dancer she must've been a doozy
BY LIN LANE
Godzilla saw her and stole her away
I think he wanted to toy with her play
but she put up a fight
all through the night
and insisted that she had to stay
BY MYSTIC ROSE
She seductively ate a banana with zeal
But that day it just got too real
In her ugly mouth
It all went south
Her and a banana without appeal!
BY ROGERPAT ADAMS
DANNY BOY # 2
Here you go Danny
it is time to move and play along.
I am amused by your poetry song.
Sorry it had to come to this ..
Lets play with my Barbie's
Before you really get real pisssss!! : )
Danny boy, you got me so far way up your ass.
You remind me of a boy from my first grade class.
How he loved his hot wheels, and picking on me.
Chasing one another was such a blast.
Until that one day I kicked his ass.
That is what he gets for trying to kiss on me.
Now here comes a new Danny boy slamming my way.
Danny I am older now so careful with what you say.
By the power of grace skull.
Was your way of making me laugh.
Danny stop pulling my piggy tails.
Every time your shooting gas.
What is that move you played, when you stung like a bee.
Last time you call yourself a butterfly girly boy.
And by the way your he-man slam had nothing on me.
I am just waiting here for you to destroy.
I will give it to you again one more time easily.
In the next round I am not going to toy with you boy
I am going to hurt you and make you realize you just got trashed.
I am going to make you cry like a little boy.
Step on your hot wheels, until they are completely smashed
Your sugar and jam is a set up for my next decoy.
Danny your hot wheel by now are burning ass
I will keep burning your rubber, to see how long you last.
Here's another head on collision for you to bash.
Buddy all hot wheels come to and end when they crash.
The Poet Destroyer is sending you a warning of a small whiplash
Time…
I see that time has spoken by the shadows of the light, though the changing of the seasons brings me more than just the night; and the night brings more than shadows as it creeps slowly ‘ore my door, for nothing holds back time as it steals the soul I bore.
I want not to be discouraged with what time has sent to me, but ‘ere to be searching what it hides within its plea. While both the wicked and the good stand equal in their place, time is ‘ere the master with none to steal its place.
For time cannot be captured by the hands who seek it out, to command its ceaseless wanderings without a sense of doubt; yet time is ‘ere to change as ‘oft the winds do blow, sending one and all to fill their graves while itself does yet to grow.
The desire is ever endless to those who think they can; for to toy with one’s own future was not given ‘ore to man. To what end does desire cease when destruction is its friend, the grave will claim its destiny as is the silent end.
The aged hand still works the day while looking on with care, hoping that the future is still able to forebear. The simple glimpse within the veil leads us ‘ere to venture on, with promises to stay our course until our final dawn.
Time is ne’er to be captured like an image in our mind, but pushing ‘ere onward until the end…of Time
We are all going to wear khaki pants to the parade.
What’s khaki? I ask, knowing, but wanting to see his reaction.
He is new, and I love to toy with the new guy.
“You know,” he says, “Um, tan, plain, dull, plain, tan.”
“I don’t have any pants like that,” I tell him, “But I can do purple.”
I read his face, his cheeks pink up fast.
I am going to have fun with this one.
“Oh, I am sure you have something khaki,” he says confidently.
“No, she doesn’t!” all three of the others in the lunchroom shout nearly simultaneously.
His nose is pink now. He looks down, and I realize the minute it registers that
I am wearing my red, orange, black, gray and purple owl pants.
“Do you have PLAIN?” he asks hopefully.
They are all shaking their heads ‘no’.
I am so proud as I leave the lunchroom,
They know me here!
Will we just get rid of this?
Can we deal with daily grind?
Are the wrong type of people?
Trying to toy with your mind?
Will we all just see the way?
For a life they have planned?
Or stand on our own two feet?
Defending our inches of land?
A silhouette cavalcade
Stretches back into the darkness
As the wind creates daunting figures to toy with my eyes
Moonlight gleams and caresses them
Basking the tree's in a steely mirage
Jealous of their sisters green hue's they creak and moan
Tormented by this parody of day
Yearning for the sun
The nocturnal choir echoes across this landscape
Ironically soothing in their distress
The moon rests behind a cloud
Darkness eclipses all
No more figures taunt my gaze,
Yet the voices of the choir disperse
Free without their gleaming conductor
My ears are now betray me,
"Creak"
"Snap"
My heart races
As i search for a familiarity
A friend in the black
The moon recovered peaks from behind its cloud
Basking the true way home in its effortless yet arrogant glow
For he hides the truth in that boyish smile of his
Knowing that this must be done
I head out in the dark of night
Knowing none will have their fun
Nor will they have any delight.
I call upon Spirits of the Earth.
Air, Fire, Water, Earth, Spirit,
I beg of them to consider my worth
I hope that my plea they hear it.
Lightning sizzles the air
As if my plea was heard
Oh my I shiver there
Feeling onward spurred.
I stretch my arms wide
And feel this ancient power
As I know I am no longer denied
While I am here at this precise hour.
All those fools that have hurt me
That have at my expense a laugh
Know that this is what I cree
And your pain is not over not by half.
In my circle I do spin
Chanting my chant
And await the spell to begin
Knowing that my wish be grant.
I warned you once you fools
That I was not one to toy with
So the Earths spirits are my tools
And you will know I am no myth!
Reap what you sow
This is my wish and cree
Let it be granted so
For you shall not flee.
As the Earth shivers
with Lightning and Thunder
Feeling the power like rivers
Flow through me with wonder
Go , run, and try to hide.
I do so dare you to try.
Tonight I will not be denied.
Mother Earth has heard my cry.
This night shall soon end
And mortal fools they are
My will shall not bend
As I raise my hands to a star.
This is my will
I cry to thee
As my spell fulfils
So mote it be.
It was thinking
you could erase me,
that made you fall
into your first mistake
I am a mother of poems
I am the sister to word,
the daughter of a great
I am an untold story
without a name
all calls absorb silence,
but a slip of thought
will redeem all
you think me simple
something to toy with,
when other distractions
pale into insignificance
a sleeping dragon
rests in the cave
of my heart, wisps
of smoke consume me
like a rain of fire
my words will spill,
to burn your eyes
and all they mirror
originally my intent to expound on memories
when paternal grandfather erode
out to said residence, and averse to expand horizons
asthma late mum didst goad
him (in vain) to commingle, find intelligent links
analogous to electronic signals communicating ip node
but this towheaded grandson,
merely excited when me daddy's papa
came to this figurative antipode,
where pegged back in time
when this elderly regal family member
only a half decades shy,
whence benchmarked by horse drawn carriages rode
but more to the point, twas how eager
to toy with the wristwatch (analog)
which chained metal links wore a temporary imprint
upon his aged skin – dog
head lee remaining even departure time arrive
for favorite boyhood relative,
which when a kid also glee at occasions
treasuring older folk gave me a frog
tiled toy (sliding puzzle) that required dexterity
moving pieces fastly secured,
which when complete always left me agog
and this, that or some other gewgaw, souvinir, trinket
(plus a bit of chump change given to me)
spurred me late mum to spark me mental cog
to say “good morning”, “good afternoon”,
“goodnight”, or when eggnog
proffered to this most senior chronological guest,
who sat at the head of table,
or blankly watching television like a bump on a log
while chided, forced, induced...
to parlay social graces from this mere pollywog
who (much as delight arose fussing
with trappings worn loss on atrophied flesh)
a skittishness found me averse to follow orders
as if I happened to be a petsmart dog.
Five years come and gone without your heart on the line.
Your voice has almost chased away all the sanity left in my brain.
Somehow you take up residence where there is a "no vacancy" sign.
It still fathoms me at how easy this all was for you to feign.
I am so tired of trying to understand all these childish notions.
True love is and always will be nothing more than a fairy tale.
I may have had better luck had I used Tarot cards and potions.
To grieve for our horrible marriage I shall wear the blackest veil.
It seems as if I was a wife, but you were never ready to do your part.
You can't have it both ways, either choose the wrong way or the right.
Why doesn't it feel wrong to you to toy with another person's heart?
A marriage takes work from each partner and I no longer wish to fight.
I thought this was forever and I loved you more than you'll ever know.
You turned the once warm feelings I had for you to hard stone.
I am no longer in love with you and I'm sorry I now have to let you go.
Sadly, as I always suspected I was in this marriage all alone.
Darkness ended, Winter released her icy grip; budding crystals soon began to drip.
The Earth then tendered, its surface filled with life; Spring now wed to Summer, the
radiant rays piercing the frozen skies.
But Beauty gives way to Destruction and forests turn to tinder.
Here lies the crossroads, an Ode to Birth and Death.
A flower that slowly bloomed left stranded now in late Spring, scorched by Summer’s rays,
but oh its beauty still remains.
It lives on desolate ground. A mind unfolded, it's heart retouched.
And at last outlasted a depression that once did rule. And you the fair Demise, how will
you compromise? When we together win the prize.
Flailing futilely in a sea of lies; the Fountain of Youth was found, its waters tainted.
Perhaps it’s best not to toy with Life and Death.
The Seasons unwillingly shifting, the Sun now in full bloom, and the flower starts to wilt;
Beautiful, as death begins to set, while Summer touched the Earth.
Petals fall away like tear drops on the skin, and light penetrates in a wonderful array.
Ever growing heat, now begins to drain them of life, while petals turned to dust, carried
away in gusts.
Together fertilized, yet unaware, it only dares to bring about despair.
Death gives back again to Life; an early end to a late start.
A new beginning comes from dust and decay, as the Summer sun now fades away.
The burning skies teaming with gray.
Death takes a new form; white, blinding, crushing and consuming.
Oh but gorgeous it remains, In time, life grows again,
Coming from the wastes of a flower that late bloomed.Yet life anew begins too soon.
In Winter’s last grasp, her touch did drain, when frozen ashes did remain;
Here is life’s penultimate breath, the greatest Ode to Birth and Death.
Impossible, I say
God would have no one to toy with
To play with
To challenge His ways
If I’m never here
Who would question His authority
Inspire the masses
To turn the other cheek
And hand out free passes
Nothing would change
Nothing at all
It would all be the same
Just a little less sane
Just a little less music in the air
Just a little less of me anywhere
From my point of view
I’d be in just a little less pain
A little less poetry full of bane would be written
A little less song would be sung and be smitten
A few less flutes will have been made
A few less new words would be created
Someone’s Grandma will have to cross the street alone
My cat would miss me
No one will be cursing my name
Or be any less off without me in the game
No, nothing would change
Nothing at all
I’m just not that important
Not at all
Ultimately,
I kinda like it that way
To My enemies (By Josner Saintil)
Do you hate me because I hate ignorance,
And injustice?
Or is it because you hear rumors,
Or because I got mad at you once
For your stupidity and close-mindedness?
Are you my enemy because you don't like
me now at all?
So though you're a devil
You'll lie and act nice,
Just to see me fall?
Do you despise me 'cause of something
I supposedly did or said,
Or because my life is a mess
And I try to let go of stress
So I don't dread?
Do you think I care of you're hatefulness to me?
Or do you think your rumors will hurt me
'Cause like you, you think I'm weak,
Or do you wish to totally erase my identity,
Like evil thinks it can do to me?
I am stronger than the average man.
I've climbed mountains you would never climb,
With a smile.
I am more than life's conqueror,
Because I'm always free.
I am your ruler
Since you're always trying to toy with my emotions.
It never phases me so you get angry.
I am a wizard
Will is my wand and my magic potion.
To win life's race... is my only devotion.
Now I know who this dark energy is
Its been around me at work all along
I just couldn't put my finger on who it was
Until I heard that I was precious
Precious for my bleeding that is
Like the song beautiful broken
He's the nightmare I'm afraid of
He's got me in his sights all right
To toy with me like a cat with a mouse
Why couldn't I figure out til now
Red flags going off all over the place
The poem I wrote to my kids
If I die tomorrow
The poem to my manager who I think
so highly of
I was doing fine for awhile now I'm spinning
all over again
No wonder why I want to puke today
I feel his dark energy and the things
he wants to do to me
He's my sadistic broken nightmare