Best Track Record Poems


Control

Remote controls are funny things
Then, maybe it’s just me
I wave it around for hours 
But, still can’t get channel three
It will always find the menu
For the treble and the bass
If remote controls were human
I would slap them in the face

Remote controls are not my thing
Perhaps its my technique
If they could make one voice controlled
I’d only have to speak
It would follow my instructions
And obey them to the letter
A voice controlled remote control 
Things couldn’t get much better

I’d shout out my instructions
“Change the channel, fifty four
The volumes far too low now
Turn the sound up, give me more”
If they made this little gadget
Then there’s something I’d be fearing
That knowing my track record
I’d get one that’s hard of hearing

© John W Fenn  03-07-2009
© John Fenn  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Baby Bug Or My Pet Race Roach

Well, I've been in jail since Juvember,
And I've pulled thru Maynever,
And now it's past September,
And I wonder if I'll ever,
Get out of here,

Yea, this place sure would be lonely,
If it wasn't for my pet,
And he sure is real homely,
But still, my love he'll get,

He sleeps in a matchbox,
And wakes up in my bed,
He's sometimes in my socks,
Or a layin' by my head,

I enter him in races ,
With all my criminal friends,
And me, he never disgraces,
My race-roach always wins,

He can really move fast,
One second for five feet,
And I sure hope his legs will last,
So he'll never get beat,

And he holds the track record,
Here in this ol' jail,
And he might just beat it,
But only time will tell,

But then one day my race roach
Was walking on my shelf,
When he suddenly fell off of it,
And nearly killed himself,

So I hollered for the Sheriff,
And he came a runnin' fast,
I told him to call the doctor,
Or my race roach wouldn't last,

Well, the doctor came a flyin'
A little later in the day,
I told him my race roach is dying,
What more could I say?

The doctor said I am sorry son,
But his leg will never bend,
I believe his career's done,
He'll never win agin,

So I started crying,
I cried agin and agin,
I almost felt like dying,
Now my roach would never win,

So the doctor took him away,
Yea, he took him out the door,
And I just have to say,
I haven't seen him anymore,

But what really puzzles me,
Is where'd he take my "baby bug?"
I wish he'd bring him back to me,
So I could give him one more hug!!

Hey!!!I just caught another one,
A little faster than the last!
This little "Bugsie" can get it on!!!
Gosh is he ever fast!!!!!
Form: Rhyme

Be Still and Know That I Am God

Be still and know that I am God

Be still and know that I am God
A God that can deliver
And give you Joy like a river

Be still and know that I am God
With conviction, he will let you know
Right from wrong
And in your heart God will
Give you a new song 

Be still and know that I am God
With my voice, I will Praise God in advance
I know that he will give me a second chance

Be still and know that I am God
In Psalms 23, the Bible says, The Lord is my Shepard 
With God I have a track record

Be still and know that I am God
The Bible says to rebuke the devil and he will flee
Pray that God will give you
Discernment to see

Be still and know that I am God
The Lord gave you the Power
To cast the devil out
Lift up your hands, and Praise
The Lord with a shout

Be still and know that I am God 

@ Copyright 2012
Do not copy without permission
Written by Anointed Author and Poet,
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Am I a Jinx

The dictionary says that a jinx
is one who brings bad luck
and to jinx someone or some thing
is “To foredoom to failure or misfortune.”
 Unfortunately, my track record
would indicate that I am one
who is subject to an unlucky force,
and this connotation brings on words
like hex, curse, spell, voodoo, sabotage,
and phrases such as evil eye, unlucky charm,
kiss of death, and one I'd never heard before,
“Point the bone at.”
Not that I'm superstitious or anything,
but if I point a finger at you,
you might want to run!
© Cona Adams  Create an image from this poem.

Wounded Animal

You're about to see there's no difference between a tortured artist or a Wounded animal 
Picking up a pen was the only way to make my depression manageable
At times it seemed that beating depression wasn't Fathomable
The hurt poet sometimes has to let loose with his pen and that should be Understandable 
The nice guy with a pen turns into a cross between Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger and Hannibal
When the smoke clears from my rhymes, they're still flammable 
My whole life I was told I couldn't but now it's Laughable 
What they told me I didn't have, I didn't lack at all
When I found my strengths, it's like when Lionel Messi has the ball
No one can get near, and the world is about to see something magical
The great ones always learn from their mistakes, and aren't scared to retake steps 
I learned to live with it, before I learned how to escape stress
I used to miss my old girl, but now I focus on the girls I haven't had a chance to date yet 
Because as I got older I realised a relationship needs more than just great sex 
I wish I realised it while I was younger, so I'd have felt heartbreak less 
I'm honest to a fault, so I'll willingly admit some of my feelings for her haven't been erased yet
But I'm getting there and doing it in my own time
I don't care for people telling me what I should feel inside my own mind 
If I fall short it won't be by much
Check my track record, anytime I got knocked down, I always got back up
I've been knocked down many times, but you won't find anyone who reacts quicker 
I just saw that Ariana Grande has split up with Mac Miller 
And I'll probably lose the plot
If I don't take this chance to shoot my shot 
Ariana I'm trying to win your heart for good and play no games with your head
Let's settle down and start a family together, the only downside is I'll probably last 30 seconds in bed
"Oh god why did he say that?, did he really need to go there" 
Go where?, the belt?, he's always saying things that go below there
I forgot this world is sensitive and doesn't know how to take a joke
You can't break what's broke
I was stuck in the dark, but I escaped with hope
I'm hard to kill
My art is real
And the tortured artist is like a Wounded animal because you should try to keep away from both
© Alex Duffy  Create an image from this poem.

In the Year of '73

Book Of Job
Chapter 39
Verse 19-21,24

19.  Do you give the horse its strength or clothe its neck with a flowing mane?
20.  Do you make it leap like a locust, striking terror with its proud snorting?
21.  It paws fiercely, rejoicing in its strength, and charges into the fray.
24.  In frenzied excitement it eats up the ground; it cannot stand still when the trumpet sounds.

Kentucky Derby (New Track Record)
Preakness Stakes (New Track Record)
Belmont Stakes (New World Record)

In the autumn of '69 the flip of a coin marked by time.  A racing legend was born March 30, 1970 at The Meadow in Doswell, VA.  With three white soaks Big Red was destined to run in the year of '73.  With the war in Vietnam at an end, America the strong found hope again in the Super Horse that won the Triple Crown in the year of '73.  Secretariat was retired after the stallions last race on October 28, 1973.  The thunder days were at an end, the Big Red horse would never race again.  A magical ride with pure heart a glide as Secretariat pranced in the Meadows at Claiborne Farms Paris, Kentucky.  Sixteen years would pass, the Big Red horse in glory past, was laid to rest on October 4, 1989.  The wonder year of Secretariat winning the Triple Crown will always be frozen in time in the year of '73.


Boston Marathon Tragedy

no doubt sympathetic poured in exceeding a ton
sans the reverberations from the supposed terroristic act doth stun
although neither a native bostonian son nor one who opts to run
my track record racks up with any manner of pun
yet only tears for deadly explosions 
 and incalculable loss of limb it less life barring none
when cataclysmic dynamic explosions occurred around 3:00 p.m. on mon
day april 15th, 2013 
 with inexplicable psychic 
 piercing pain punctured as with countless gun

near bunker hill where american revolution 
   bred battles for freedom bought
brandished weapons 
   from colonial americans feverish cry for independence caught
with blood, sweat and tears of lexington and concord fought
with nada one justifiable reason and now motive sought
but...when perpetrator identified justice will be taught
adhering the state motto 
   "By the sword we seek peace, but peace only under liberty"
   for religious or those of secular beliefs 
   whose lives rent asunder with grievous heartbreak wrought

despite the race, religion or creed
of those mortally hurt and/or killed, i feel such heinous deed
only the mindset of a live googly eyed yahoo doth feed
with relish the innocent lives forever he/she now gloating with glee
as a miser with greed
at what august athletes (suffering les miserable’s) lack any wherewithal to heed
for who could foresee where a twisted mind or two would lead
ambitious disciplined bodies would so suddenly need
triage with others on the sidelines to plead
for desperate intervention with utmost speed
heard by ordinary folk now cast as heroes 
   bursting forth like a hardy weed.
Form: Epic

Inside the Mysterious Enigmatic Fragmentary

Inside The Mysterious Enigmatic Fragmentary...
Mortal Mind Of Matthew Scott Harris
ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Seedy gobbledygook ergot
visibly argot bubbled, burbled, bustled...forth 
yea...give garbled, jangled, warbled shoutout
if ye doth render
mug gadabout totally confounding,

this unfettered voluminous confection
ruff lee in toto as sample
doggone freelance gargon
sublime red rover - misaligned with
twenty first century time

emerging, fishtailing, kvetching,
slithering, whipsawing 
during springtime
thaw - oozing out primordial slime,
schlepping aboard bissel mishuga train

while kibitizing with longfellow 
ghost hosts Bartleby,
thee Herman Hermits, 
and Stray Cats caterwauling
scrivener circumlocution showtime
evidences troubadour prima facie

tremendous struggle rustling rational rapport,
ruminating, citing his dismal schooltime
track record muddled, and hence
questing to cobble a rhyme
distilling, harvesting, and

leaching (out pulpy, knotty,
Max Headroom Ancien regime
filmy... gray matter) in realtime,
while strains of Ragtime echo
from late nineteenth century

tin pan alley, nsync, linkedin
cubist, dadaist, existentialist...
mine poetic melange jerry rigs
flashes random discordant phrases
kickstarting hotmail...faintly

analogous to processing quicklime
mucking with abstract alphabetic
mire ranks as playtime
forging whimsical tactical trippy thoughts,
nursing eternal idealistic Earthly peacetime,

worrying away looming mortality,
noshing post death as pastime,
welcomes input and alien abduction – ME,
mine "FAKE" existence, sans charade,
facade, masquerade onetime pantomime,
no second act allowed, nor

revising questionable tour de force
I claim NO pièce de résistance, nor overtime,
asper waning game
of thrown away Life
approaches nighttime haven

soon...forever rest in peace
surrendering requisite burnt offerings,
sans (cremated ashes) - meantime
fete grateful dead
scythe lent hoodlums on warpath

to incite bedlam
postprandial mealtime prayer final -
deathly hallowed gleeful grimace
witnessing successful electroshock therapy

of yours truly emotionally frozen
decades long comatose state
thankfully oblivious, when impending
curtain call signals finis!
Form: Narrative

Hippopotamus Having Hyperactivity

Hyperthermia can be caused by standing in slip streams in sluice dumps. It never really fails if ice water can run a lake from a rusted tap. And the mid morning broken by the drip drip drip from a nozzle. Squirt then. Nozzles are not noses and noses are not neon. But bringing a interdimensional b track record is now considered to be as slack as wearing dungarees in a cottage garden or a farm. Wow such rich aroma and oversized overspill of oversight. From a wide lusty frame. Whose discussions with a female mongoose will go unnoticed once the turmoil begins. Cover oneself with fifty six sheets, a record collection, five billion cassettes and consider life as a plant. Conversation cleverly choosing charismatic charming chequered chins chasing chests. And a dodo on a mountaineering expedition with two hundred tyrannosaurus rex, eighty-three teradactals and a half pint of lemonade in a nice clean jug. To wash with not drink. What on earth did you think. The amazement of some is often to the admonishment of another and the cruel multiplatonic indifference is what the name of the takeaway should be called. To be ingested in front of the ray machine. Hypnotic baby soothers. In mass. In amps. En masse. But not en suite. For that is merely utilised for the jam production in many hue and flavour. How very clever thought the passing bluebird. Halfway to town and twenty seeds left. Then right. Fortification of flames on a canal trip taking turns steering. Good. And fashion no necklace into a giant statue of an old hero. Hearing a moon beam then? Good. For at that elevation you should hear even the most daintiest cry from a single blade of field. Dare to dance with that then? Yes? Great. Fantastically freeformed frame fishes. And the hallways smile in castles worldwide. Grab then a hat,a coat, some gloves and build a symmetrical snowman with a crane. Hahahaha beetle borrowing books hahahaha laughing leering lecherous lurking leeches. Xxxxx hyperbolic z this is the midday bulletin from the p y q reporting live from the headquarters at 89.0 whisking. X
Form:

Hungry

Read a story the other day about one out of five children in the U.S. go hungry.
Amazing to me because no child should go to bed with stomachs grumbly.
This country gives a lot to other countries in foreign aid.
Why don’t we curb that? Feed our own children so they never go hungry and afraid.

Millions are spent every year on foreign food to hungry nations.
Commendable yet our children go without they have no rations.
The Lord loves His children in any country and He’s looking.
Our nation has been blessed yet our elderly and young are really being shaken.

Leaders the elected officials offer nothing new they are corrupted.
Special interest groups lining their own pockets and are distrustful.
Look at their track record; look at what they pass for laws.
Funding other countries ignoring our children it really sticks in my craw.

We have a supposed Godly nation we supposedly in God we trust.
Yet our officials have scandals galore have greedy plans that strictly are a bust.
Children, the nation’s future are left hungry and we cut programs for education.
What’s the real price? Wars, killings, go on children going hungry that’s what’s upon our own nation.

Of course morally our nation neglecting our Father is bringing us down a deadly path.
All we will do is anger the Father again and we have to be ready to face His wrath.
Jesus told His disciples to allow children to come to Him.
Are we so stupid that we ignore this? We are not looking to Him for guidance; soon He will arrive and take His children to the Kingdom.

Vote my brethren it’s your right ask God what to do and ask God what is right.
Pick wisely allow God to guide you in your choice, look to His guiding light.
The old guard replacing the new faces of the republicans is younger and has the same agenda as their peers before; those policies are still the same.
Policy for the rich always have been there agenda they are still playing with children’s lives they are still playing their corrupted game.
Form: Rhyme

Never Had a Hug

Growing up I never had a hug
Parents were hugging vodka bottles
Grew up in care without a role model
Maybe that's why I find it hard to accept love

I thought sleeping with girls would make my past better
Now every girl I meet judges me on my track record
Sometimes I was sleeping with 2-3 girls a day. 21 a week, don't make me do the math for a year
No matter how much I like a girl, I can't make that disappear 

Thought i had a reason cause my Mother never gave me a hug
Sex with these girls gave me some kind of affection, 
but I couldn't make it into love
A heart full of pain and a mind with depression

Always looked at love like I never had it so i don't need it
If you don't like me then so be it
There he goes being all defensive
This is me admitting my flaws, this is more than penmanship

Reminisce on my past but I'm not defending it
I'm trying to be stronger and less sensitive
I find It difficult to open up to girls and hug these females
They want to know my past then judge the details

Father died when I was 14, he never showed me how to be a man
Depression had me and wouldn't free my hand
My whole life I despised affection and hated love
Maybe it's because I grew in care and my parents never gave me a hug
© Alex Duffy  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Politics 2

Buzzy noise
This and that issue;
Viral propaganda

~~~~~~~~~


We the people
Need more money;
Is that funny?

~~~~~~~~~


Polling booth
Simple truth;
Who dares wins?

~~~~~~~~~


Talk of town
Non-event sinking;
Stray voices pitch

~~~~~~~~~


A good turnout
Yours for the taking;
Mandate to lead

~~~~~~~~~


Good track record
Facts speak loudly;
Wet blankets galore

~~~~~~~~~


Lots to say
More to hear;
Dangling carrots

~~~~~~~~~




Leon Enriquez
01 September 2015
Singapore
Form: Haiku

This Damed Family Man - Sad Commentary

This Damed Family Man - Sad Commentary

The personal issue asper role
     of fatherhood, I did address
in psycho therapy
     earlier today, particularly dynamics
     between self (birth father),
     and eldest daughter
     matter of factly confess
sing, how his (mine)

     behavior affected her express
lee during her formative years,
     and doth readily admit
     this papa felt
     accurate to second guess
some aspects asper
     retrospective interactions less
sunned prospect for healthy

     paternal bond, when mess
elf unwittingly allows,
     that my being unemployed ness
esse sear really did cause agony,
     especially NOT able
     to sound im press
sieve, when class
     mates naturally, necessarily,

     and nonchalantly
     inquired asper livelihood
     about father, and mother
     feeling sorely Tess
     Ted most likely painfully
writhing with psycho
     logical agony aver
ring, that this dada,

     NOR mama didst
     NOT work, perhaps cur
sing thy role in begetting her,
(no matter emotional debacles plagued
     me entire mein kempf
     like a sharp spur
severely disabling thine ability
     establishing a solid whir

king track record, plus abhorred,
     aggrieved, and appalled
at deplorable, despicable, and
     detestable awful 
     house keeping bald
lee obvious in some instances
     children, and family services
     (of Norristown, Pennsylvania) called

offering, or rather decreed
that dramatic improvements made
     in order for thy house
     hold to be freed
the reasonable mandatory checklist
(to avoid compromising welfare
     of minors), thus
     obligation to heed

proscribed safety measures need
did to be obeyed lest...with light speed
our deux darling heiresses weed
never see again if they 
     got forcibly taken away
fortunately though 
     we parents did not delay
following sanctioned 

     dictates - hooray,
yet subsequent discord
     wrought by my cum play
cent risque extra-marital trysts.

Truth Is Pt I

I thrive on putting my emotions up for show so go ahead window shop I don't mind, maybe one day I'll draw the line instead of tracing how I should react, reminiscing on sin how I did relapse, I can't take back what I did or said so right now this is me after the aftermath of me making my bed. Truth is, all of this Radicalism as a Christian I'm bout it that's a given, What's the worst that can happen to me, Death? I'm still a misfit on death row with no death sentence. Where they do that @ in the Kingdom of Heaven so I count it all joy if I'm worthy to endure persecution, getting beat severely and arrested I'm married to the King sin tried to separate and divorce us but Christ Jesus contested it, second...my track record as far as relationships goes is Pretty low, so truthfully speaking I gotta good resume but that's all for show. I don't know if I ever will find the one that God has for me, his timing is perfect emotionally I'm hurting I gotta heart condition what I really want is a surgeon. I'm not one of those Americans who think I'm deserving of love, but Christ gave me that ever since the day I was born, so I been searching for just that in the feminine form, funny right? I put it on display but brokenness is the last thing they expect, I've done some women wrong, lead them on but still I live this life with no regrets, with this one I refuse to let up this is the real me I removed the mask, I hate bringing, thinking about, or even dreaming about my past, it's past tensed and some moments are Pretty intensed, I say I'm ready for true love to commence but everyone has flaws even me, how ironic I guess I'm the one all along who's really been on the fence, I wanna take the good without the bad because in all actuality I believe this world still hasn't phased me
© Corey Ross  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Spots

A leopard's a leopard, make no mistake.
He'll always have those black spots;
And if you think for a moment he'll change,
Clear thinking's not something you've got.

A leopard's a creature who seeks till he finds,
A good opportunity.
Don't think for a moment 'cause you've scratched his ears,
You've gained some immunity.

He is what he is and always will be.
He'll never be anything else.
Don't turn your back on a leopard my friend.
His track record speaks for itself.
© Judy Ball  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quatrain

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