Best Toiler Poems
Ah, faith! Golly gosh, life in the city!
Hustle and bustle n' a big metro wander
Exhaustion, life, anger and pretty gritty
Misty, grimy lights loudly grab a beggar
The sidewalk shops like a cold surround
Hot action, big ole' vanilla sidewalks
Graffiti walls, in dab color bound
Hot streets quietly grab nighthawks
Where is the sunny cloud vapors?
In downtown burg retreats
Out above on dark street skyscrapers
Crestin' over in mean dark streets
U' gotta love corner words
Chatter, rattle, natter, prattle
People jabber like yakkety-yak birds
Cigarettes gab under dark doorway shadow
Gazing in windows calmly at low down
In dusty, dry walk-in cafes
Grimy flowers grab at dead grass mown
Fish eyeing brutal building facades, near dead eye alleyways
Oh, noise!
Man like a machine
Never like a jackhammer that annoys
The faceless toiler that is mean and lean
Horn noise, action, in a 'crown vic'
Cabbies scowering for revenues
While crashing, dashing in street quick
O' life in bright light big city blues
Within the blah blah blah, heart of the city
You can endure all that jazz you wish it to be
one by one, drop by drop they
fall.
squinting faces,the civil sevant they
call.
"worker of the nation",the toiler
backstage.
sweat no more,now blood runs down the
faces,
a corrupt nation,like wrongly tied shoe
laces;
citizens search for light,like digging through cemented ground in search of
water,
surely there are
cries,
cries in the sweat of the civil
sevant,
cries of unseen
hope
also of sweet pain...a pain which never
ends.
As a Christmas Gift
Life seemed so great while things were grand
And my poems were loved throughout the land
Everyone understood what each one meant
Which from God had been heaven sent.
Poems were read over and over again
And in lots of languages also spoken
By all tried and true found poems to be
Adequately adjusting to each society.
Current poems recently became well-known
By each child and even if fully grown
Firmly established standard to be set
From first my poems had been met.
Many more for you I saved in store
In future will wonderfully love and adore
Also many spirits my poems may uplift
Calm us down emailed as a Christmas gift.
Sent by James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Was Santa in Air Force, Coast Guard
or Soldier or sailor, tinkerer, toiler
or a tailor. Whoever he or she was,
he or she was probably my mom
and dad. I am willing to bet my
Christmas stockings on it. I might
even look for him in there to.
Buster Brown might be smiling
and beaming.
Who am I ?
Someone standing
On the shore
Or some one
Who sailed across
The seven seas.
I am the toiler of sea
A seeder of the earth
An emblem in nectar
For the humming bees
A creator in deeds
For impassioned ends
In tune with liberators.
My bones return to earth
And roads flash under pines
Trusting the high clouds
Or carried in palpitation
By the stilted winds
In greet for the advent
Of some warmer seasons.
Why would a Lord's servant miserably die,
And his wife and children are left embroiled in lack?
Why would a toiler a beautiful mansion buy,
But a gun bearing loafer ambushes his head?
As I continue my gripes with life
Another question comes up:
Why should the industrious laborer seek heaven's favor
But all this he does in vain?
Why and why I ask
Until I discover that life is an empty husk!
The mind is a traveller,
on an earnest quest apart,
link road to the innermost,
signpost for bold hunch,
meaning is a hazy sky,
lay-by as mere pause,
quietly we trudge in tight bands,
but never wonder why?
time doesn’t play that well,
showing few if any paths,
language can be strained,
notions, slants, angles, terms,
tangled oxymoron at risk,
stifling broad consensus,
world weary air a plague,
night shift, day shift,
life belt for the toiler,
spoken in camp phrases,
that spur to vocal fringe,
who might alter vacuums,
now passively endured
As to underscore
A higher power's
Well earned happiness for me
Toiler, at year's end
Down-tracked, back and forth
These my swimmer's arms
Dragonfly cherubs. Who's flash
With sun's last did blend.
Try to be happy dear,
Instil into heart cheer,
Keep your mind clear,
Soul, with hope, steer.
Never entertain fear,
As worry turns severe,
Allow not doubts near,
Give not to gossips ear
God will surely interfere
If you pray despite tear,
God will secretly appear
As, prayer, He does hear
In a gloomy atmosphere
Peace will just disappear,
Solace is given by prayer
Due hope, it will deliver
A wise heart is hope-carrier,
A wise mind is ever sincere,
With an oath, start the year,
Never feel you are inferior
At you when adversities jeer,
Become a very firm believer,
God will remove every barrier,
He will bless you to be happier
When you try to get silver,
Gold, prayer will deliver,
Forget the Lord never,
Thinking you are clever
Believe in God's power,
He makes peace flower,
In bliss, He helps us tower,
He is noble souls' lover
God loves a true toiler,
He makes him not suffer,
He gives the best offer,
He fills kindly his coffer
If your mind gets fever
To God, hopefully refer
Your state, He will infer
And give the best buffer!
Beneath the hum of unseen wires,
A shadow grows, its reach aspires.
No fields of earth, no rivers free,
Yet lords of code claim sovereignty.
Their towers rise, not stone but light,
A lattice spun through endless night.
Each pulse we send, each word we weave,
Becomes the thread their looms receive.
No plow they wield, no goods they craft,
Yet wealth they hoard, fore and aft.
A silent toll, unseen, they take,
From every trade the masses make.
The market’s song, once loud and wide,
Now whispers faint, its soul has died.
A faceless hand, with cunning art,
Divides the buyer from the heart.
It maps our thoughts through glowing screens,
And molds desire to unseen schemes.
Each choice we make, it twists, refines,
To bind us tighter in its lines.
The toiler bends, the worker waits,
In halls where time accelerates.
No steady hand, no craft to hone,
Just tasks dispatched by drones alone.
The few grow vast, their coffers swell,
While most descend where shadows dwell.
A fleeting job, a fragile stake,
In worlds these lords alone remake.
Yet in this maze, a murmur stirs,
A quiet voice, though faint, endures.
The spark of thought, unbowed, untamed,
Defies the chains that go unclaimed.
For minds can meet, though walls divide,
And truths can pierce the veil they hide.
With tools they forged, we’ll carve a way,
To break the dusk and seize the day.
No lord can quell the human flame,
That burns to rewrite every game.
We’ll share the code, the light, the load,
And walk as one on freedom’s road.
Through circuits deep, we’ll find the key,
To loose the bonds and set minds free.
A world reborn, where none command,
But all may thrive on equal land.