Best Ultimatums Poems
And when do these empty minutes
Become gifted tomorrows
Does the love from a crooked smile
Coagulate into a joyful tear
Can the touch from a veritable want
Blend into reformed breaths of a tilted gratitude
What purpose would ultimatums serve,
If it only knew what should not
Be taken for granted
When do these empty minutes
Become gifted tomorrows
For I count on the arms of postulated solitude
To breathe into me
To breathe into me
These empty minutes
©Drake J. Eszes
For years and years
I lived the curse of all women
A woman’s work is never done
That is, never finished
The more work I did the more work showed up
The To Do list was never ending
If I made a dent in it
You couldn’t tell
It was multiple pages and still
I refused to forget a single item
I used to work my To Do list and hope
For some opening somewhere somehow someday
Where I would be able to read, take a candlelit bath
Go for a leisurely walk, paint, write poetry
It never happened
My ever growing To Do list
Had stopped even giving me the glimmer of hope
I was just that crazy hamster busy at her wheel
Till one day
I was late with a painting I had promised
I was pushed to the wall I had no choice
I just had to focus on my craft and not think of anything else
I went at it and focused and focused
It wasn’t easy but I eventually got it done
It was an awesome feeling to finally sign my name
And say it was D-O-N-E
But my celebration was more to me
About having won over time
Time who had always been so elusive
So demanding so full of orders and ultimatums
Seeming so rigid and inflexible
All of a sudden I had decided
I would ignore it
Along with my long list of To Do’s
And surprisingly life went on…
Nothing drastic happened
Nothing fell apart
Nothing exploded
I was actually stunned to tell you the truth
I had once learned about
The differences between Important and Urgent
But my power over it never really sunk in until then
Now I have a new life
Where my Important priorities are in front of me
Where I can reach the one or the other
And the dishes get done but not till I decide to take a break
I do my best to add less to my To Do list
And most of all, pace myself instead of
Trying to kill myself racing through it all
It may seem to you like a small paradigm shift
But to me, my life is turned inside out for the better
AP: 2nd place 2020, Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on August 21, 2017 for contest THE POET'S OWN sponsored by GREG BARDER - RANKED 4TH
PS featured in 2021
You and I, smiling together and clapping hands.
Erasing ultimatums from drifting lands.
You and I, walking and petting leaves
As together, we nurture our land and plant trees.
You and I, burying the gun and the mortar
As with genuine love, we say no to slaughter.
You and I, fairly sharing our cake fifty fifty,
As, black, Asian or Caucasian, we are but one in the holy trinity.
You and I calmly, praying on different places,
For Muslem or Christian, we are but one without traces.
And while we play, we sing "Hakuna Matata"
For in peace, we would bask just like Mandela
© Temajung Michael T.
Sucking away vitality destroying your soul;
His delusions and anger cannot hide what's inside;
Vehemence in the face of adversity his demeanor breeds fear
Apprehensive, what next? Violence erupts once again
Diabolical meanderings, picturing situations untrue;
Poisoning the atmosphere, with no thoughts visible to you
Twisting fact and fiction, in his mind, is it really true?
Jumping from conclusion to conclusion keeping his anger fueled
Is it guilt feeding his mind? His conscience troubling him?
Accusations stem from nothing! He really has no clue!
Shutting down emotionally turning numb thru and thru
He keeps the fire rolling, breeding contempt nothing new
Running from the fallacy, of what life really means for him;
Threats and ultimatums destructive to all on his whim;
Forces the confrontation another hell night to live thru
Stay awake, or hope and pray he falls asleep before you do?
Don't contemplate what harm sleeping may cause for you
Only retaliates is there nothing you can do?
Screaming although its late it's time to pay your dues
Demonstrates there is no debate, saying lies that are untrue;
Can anyone relate, to pain once it begins?
No way to escape fate, the broken record never ends;
Accept now what is, not longing for should have been(s),
what was, is not, what is, what a tragic end
There never was a what was, its an imagined should have been
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~ Oh how I live to breath this ... ~
~ True-love is unconditional and is the treasure so-very hard-to come
by in this world, today. Like the sweet sound of breaking the natural-
freedom-of-rhyme; and-the certain-reverence stirring in-the spirit
of-a home that lives only for this; one pure reason. Seen now-and-
viewed in-the likeness-of the-orange and red-brown and-yellow of-a-
joyous-leaf ... blowing-free-in-the-ease of the wind; and knowing
the sound of a new hope rising-to-greet-the-greener-grasses thriving
amid-the-perfect-beauty growing in-plain view of-the other-side of-the
morning. Stirring-in-the-depths-of-your-heart and the-well, of your soul ...
riding-high-atop the puffy white clouds, billowing-up-to-greet-the-light of
Heaven. ~
~ Yes-those wonderful-things ... like the birds chirping fondly and the gentle
sounds of a baby's laughter, and slippery wet little kisses ... given-by-the-lips-
of an angel. As you-hear a violent-shouting wake up; wake-up-and-a-tap-tap-
tapping, on heavens bedroom door. As then your awakened again ... and then
stumble to the challenge of not spilling the coffee, and you dance once more
with your lovely daughter in the kitchen. As she smiles as-you-spill-it-and-yell-
oh-no-tenderly and you ask the wife if she could grab the morning paper. ~
~ Yes that freaky tone of-a-squeaky-wet-balloon, and the ongoing run of happy-
little-giggles-that-fill the-air ... rising to new heights in the pool underneath-the-
glory of-the-summer-sun ... as your young son splashes chlorine-water-in-your
face ... and cup. And-so-is-love-the-prize in all its' authenticity. A true and-raw-
emotion ... boldly-running ... and-wildly shouting! "Hey!" ~
~ "Those darn-conditions-and-ultimatums are just fine, but-don't-you-dare-
take my morning-coffee!" ~
A rhetorical question finds me asking
(to no one in particular) why I recall
the names of grade school teachers
approximately fifty years ago (whose
names listed below), when the need
to retrieve necessary information due
ring examinations (less time ago)
often found me seized with sudden
inability to remember any vital ants
sirs (even including my name), thus
grudgingly handing over blank test paper
analogously surrendering a vital
document gracing terms of defeat
into the scaly claws (zen nay), sans
first to sixth grade Precambrian relic
(Missus Batson, Missus Rittenhouse,
Missus Wells, Mister Stout,
Missus Shaner, or Miss Rinderle).
Invariably majority of first thru
sixth grade accorded accredited
ancient authenticated creatures.
They freely exercised diabolical
churlish beastial animalistic zeal
us yakking, wickedly unprintable
upon (unprincipled urchin) at
receiving end of fiendishly grue
some hellish instructions. Assign
ments buttressed with ultimatums
harkening back to Jurassic period
earlier in dawning primate con
sciousness. Lesson material kindled
with justifiable license in league
with garnered insignia. Heft
to bring pupils to heal predicated
via warp and weft woven wonder
fully. Wrought writs welcomed
whips with warranty whenever
recalcitrant ruffian refused
respecting reptilian rubric repre
sentative rattling (The Idler Wheel
Is Wiser Than the Driver of
the Screw and Whipping Cords
Will Serve You More Than Ropes
Will Ever Do), which loosely
rendered regularly warbled
wishy washy verse curmudgeons
freedom granted to interpret
as one decrepit, hawkish insignia
certified one beaming Eve and/
or stud deed brute soffit. Education
often relied on the weekly reader,
and letters to and/or from Aunt
Emma. Nefarious mean linkedin
kickstarter jawboning torturous
treatment tolerated, asper imps
of the pervert, mutant Ninja
Turtles duty bound antsy
youthful yokel yodelers
weathering ululating sing-song
and quintessential precepts.
I went to the Frankfurt Book Fair the other day.
It was mind-boggling..
Books! There were fat books, thin books,
White books, black books, tawny books,
Paperbacks, hardbacks, beautifully bound books,
Pure books, lax books, learned books, lay books,
Plain books, books of many colours,
Books on every subject under the sun,
Not to mention other books on
Distant galaxies, pulsars, quasars, black holes,
Books on any theme you can think of,
Or on themes you can’t even pronounce, from:
Art to Arthropods,
Bees to Biochemistry,
Cats to Catastrophes
Drugs to Decadence,
Energy to Ergonomics,
French Cooking to Frescos,
Guns to Gout,
History to Hippopotami,
Internal Medicine to Icebergs,
Julius Caesar to Justification,
Kulturkampf to Kinetics
Lace to Logogriphs,
Man to Manchuria,
Nietzsche to Nonsense Rhymes,
Opera to Ophthalmoscopes,
Poodles to Pollution,
Quantum Mechanics to Queen Victoria,
Russell to Rabbits,
Shaw to Shingles,
Tao to Torts,
Urdu to Ultimatums,
Virgil to Vivisection,
Whales to Witchcraft,
X-rays to Xylographs,
Yoga to Youth Hostels,
Zen to Zola,..
By closing-time my legs were giving out.
A voice, it seemed, was saying:
“Of more than is taught by these, my son, take care.
Of making many books there is no end,
And much study is weariness of the flesh.”
I don’t know about making them, I thought,
As I commenced my get-away from the Penguin stand,
But it takes something of an athlete just to glance at them.
I felt crushed, not only by the crowds
but also by the weight of my appalling ignorance.
True Love is unconditional and being a big old grump myself sometimes yes a big old grizzly ... without my coffee its the treasure for me so very hard to come by in this world, today." Like the sweet sound of breaking the natural freedom of rhyme, and the certain reverence stirring in the spirit of a home that lives only for this, one pure reason."
Seen now and viewed in the likeness of the orange and red brown and yellow of a joyous leaf blowing free in the ease of the wind, and knowing the sound of a new hope rising to greet the greener grasses, thriving amid the perfect beauty growing in plain view of the other side of the morning. Stirring in the depths of your heart and the well, of your soul riding high atop the puffy white clouds above, billowing up to greet the light of Heaven.
Yes those temperate and ever wonderful things. Like the birds chirping fondly and the gentle sounds of my toddlers' laughter, and slippery wet little kisses given by the tender lips of an angel. As you hear a violent shouting wake up, wake up and a rap tap tapping, on Heavens bedroom door. As then your awakened again get up step up onto a buzzer toy. Slip stumble to the challenge of not spilling the coffee, and you dance once more with your lovely Daughter in the kitchen. In front of your wife's Mother and hers sweet Grandmothers picture. Hanging humbly on the wall as you tip your Daughter again extending yourself as you always do each morning to straiten it. As you fumble about teetering holding on to your Daughter on the edge of your feet as she smiles at you as you spill it and yell oh no tenderly and you ask the wife if she could grab the morning paper.
Yes that freaky tone of a squeaky wet balloon, and the ongoing run of happy little giggles rising to new heights in the pool underneath the glory of the Summer Sun. As your young son splashes chlorine water in your face; and cup ... and so is Love the prize in all its authenticity.
A true and raw emotion, boldly running, and wildly shouting! "Hey!" "Those certain conditions and ultimatums are just fine, but don't you dare take my morning coffee!""
Precondition for the disgust, I set tight mouthed to not talk.
The ultimate right had been denied and now I was the intelligence they desired.
Within the first ten minutes, I stood up.
I felt frustration in my gut.
There was no reason for me to lose.
All these occurrences had happen.
Confidence had become dumb.
Therefore, I spoke out.
There was no excuse to do otherwise.
Unless there has been another life, they had nothing to go by.
Flexing, I stretched.
I yawned.
Then, he entered the room
He was the maker of Jake Daniels.
She was a Quaker in form.
She stated do not ask me to settle.
That is when I knew her mind was gone.
You mean to tell me you know the truth.
You mean to role-play me as the fool.
I just sighed awaiting for her next move.
He was not the one handling the case.
She was already in the room watching for agitation.
Mundane this has become.
Money gained will be the outcome!
This is an event of actions.
Defense against defensive is from incidents that caused bodily injury.
In fact, the Defense is in contradiction of the law.
An obvious attack on another person is open for disaster.
As proven, this has never transpired.
No transgression has not ever ensued via case law.
Why do they believe they can violated all the statues and laws of this country?
Her name is Jill Zyskowski.
He is Christopher Daniels.
The Judges and Justices in this marathon are:
16th Circuit Court – Macomb County Michigan Judge Peter J. Maceroni
Michigan Court of Appeals Judges Peter O’Connell, William C. Whitbeck, and
Kurtis T. Wilder
Michigan Supreme Court Justices
Supreme Court of the United States of America Justices
Ultimatums have been applied.
Yet, no one has responded to do what is right.
How far do you go to destroy those that have desecrated governess of political
structure?
You hold fast.
Stead to the governing of law to disallow obstruction of justice.
Date your stratagem through a radical mode.
Henceforward to destroy and know that your damages will be recovered…
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Penned June 03, 2014 12:48 AM EST!
6/3/17
Continual verbatim
And ultimatums
Better know what they're payin'
During times of economic downfall and inflation
I got no time for playin'
And don't care what others are sayin'
Skills like Raiden
Time I turn super saiyan
Mixed with Jason
Any anything made by Wes Craven
Near and far from any raven
Across every basin
And all the nations
During any occasions
Got to make more bacon
In the form of Benjamin Franklins
Events occuring for short or long-term durations
Regarding similar and different situations
I've been way down below the foundation
In the basement
Below layers of pavement
Still found inspiration
As the universe remained in rotation
Since the dawn of creation
Among objects nowhere near or adjacent
To lots that were or were not vacant
With the talent of a mason
And knowledge of a shaman
In any location
The blind slide of Freudian slips
half and half cut the stack
face up so you can see the words
you have written on the edges
of my three worded stanzas
an intricate complex this is
One by one right then left
right then left
right then left
A scrambled message
I know the answer to
a word on the left side
one word on the top
one word on the right side
the mensa geniuses might find me here
stalking shadows and handing out ultimatums
but the game of the blind leading the blind
just got better
right left right left right left
until you run out of cards
that was One
now do it
seven times
for this is the scientific perfect shuffle
write down the message of the threes
and lets see how long it takes them to figure out the message
for the psychics
for the geniuses
for the politicians
for the gifted
One by One
right handed card on bottom
blind leading the blind
a victom of an intricate complex
something worth figuring to be a secret of art
as every day metaphors of art inspire us poets
One day we will rise
like ashes from the flame
we will be on talk shows and interviewed
about our silly games
of how we teach and humble and set up the modern day
an intricate complex
to protect the world
and to wonder about satanic prevention
am I good or evil?
only one way to find out
go forth and get your deck
write the three words per card
beings dream are the jokers
and when you write your revelation of how it turned out for you
ponder the blind slide
point them in my direction
and they can write their chapter of if they followed me or
the martyr of you!
It's really the perfect shuffle
the keys are way out of reach
don't know how many centuries it will take to uncover the message
but i think its gonna be neat
blind leading the blind from one way to the next to mix them up and reveal and
twist the same message
and I the keeper of the puzzle will claim my fame
in all honesty as I have called out to geniuses
to come help me escape the satellites i'm on
and fake my death
FATHER
Misleading intentional deception,
loathing the complexity of risk and uncertainty.
Thoughts of contingent outcomes, minimizing losses,
analytical human behaviour.
The Army Ruler demands respect, obedience,
forgets the hurtful unconsidered words.
Tradition, history, status, all weigh heavily,
turdus merula cries in the storm.
Obstructively determined to prevail,
threats and ultimatums are heavy handed.
He can hear, but refuses to listen,
the heart is cold and concrete.
Sterling coins cannot buy love, obedience,
he creates his own demise.
Whispers in the wind are chosen words,
a child is gone forever.
What do you believe?
What do you know?
did you have any clue i read tarot cards professioanlly for the oldest restarunt built
in my city
and predict surprised birthday parties that have passed
and cfan tell you all sorts of secrets of exaggerated emotion and paranoia
that only the moon knows
So like the life lesson of the hanged man
are you here to realise you are gullible or to see through me and know ive been
telling the truth
is this a test for you flase prophet
or your spiritual awakening with another card before you saying all of my poetic
poems that sound personal are nothing more than fabrications
and many of you judge me
and that further goes to prove my writing ability?
Is it true do i know anything of being bonded to the material
and the devil who reminds me the keys to my chains are within my grasp
And the tower of unforseen catastrophe always has a happy ending or a rainbow
but only a true prophet in the year 2012 in las vegas understands the
conspirtualacy of my craft
Is the hierophant all about the conformity of society
and the grouping together of the nonconformidt youth
so when the saints and sinners pull to gether to revolutionise and pull this star
from the sky will our dreams or nightmares come true?
Tell me prophet Am i a fool because the magician never taught me his tricks
but i understand the perfect shufles and have a deck of freudian slips of my own?
the blue moon sunrise and the three levels of the game of reality
we take babysteps of fear to beat or fail to proceed or return to the start
Where exactly is the emperor's crown of authority when society understands the
slide of psychology
and the one of a million being catered to
and the billion sof like minded individuals that spiral out from this psychological
understanding
Am i in the driver seat of the chariot and do i have enough temperance
to balance the forces of good and bad to see the pros and cons
of the blessings and ultimatums of desires and consequence
were you gullible all this time to fall for my lies?
or were you smart enough to see them as works of art?
or are you a true prophet and need to start the revolution from the earth and the
pollution of our skies
here i am
a false martyr
tell me prophet whats in store for me
and what am i to do?
there i am - in this uninspiring place
so easily i spill the Truth
that i now share with you ...
so easily i say it
confessing my doubts
and so much more i falter now
to release it
with Reality indemned to me
with your Genuine gaze troubling my soul
it is FLESH i abhor above all else
intrigue entrapping hope
festering inconceivable fears ...
it is this FLESH that floors me,
whispering cringy ultimatums
till ineptitude is definite!
so when you called me
to see me
with your genuine reassurance,
you can be sure
that above all else
i am caged in your love
with my trusty fears ...
i will regret ever telling you my truth
because you cannot move pass my FLESH
while my soul rages in the fiery depths
of your inquiring heart
think for once of yourself!
how my caged life will destroy your Faith
while FLESH transfixes the mind
forcing all of my flaws to your light
in your genuine Love ...
far from this cage i am placed
for Tomorrow
it is your FLESH
that i must face!
October 22, 2018
when into scaly claws, sans first
to sixth grade Precambrian relic
(Missus Batson, Missus Rittenhouse,
Missus Wells, Mister Stout, Missus Shaner,
or Miss Rinderle).
Invariably the majority
of elementary grades didst accord
accredited ancient authenticated creatures bored
(with exception of sixth)
freely exercised diabolical chord
churlish beastial animalistic
zealous yakking, wickedly,
aye (a basket case) deplored
unprintable (epithets) this then
(unprincipled urchin) puny pupil felt lord
did over whacked, sans receiving end,
viz fiendishly gruesome
hellish instructions mean teacher scored.
Assignments buttressed with ultimatums
harkening back to Jurassic period earlier
in the dawning primate consciousness.
Lesson material kindled justifiable license
in league garnered insignia heft brought pupils
to heal predicated, via warpped weft woven
wonderfully wrought writs welcomed whips
with warranty whenever recalcitrant ruffian
refused respecting reptilian rubric representative
saber rattling, where...
(The Idler Wheel Is Wiser Than the Driver
of the Screw and Whipping Cords Will
Serve You More Than Ropes Will Ever Do),
which loosely rendered regularly warbled
wishy washy verse curmudgeons freedom
granted to interpret as one decrepit, hawkish
insignia certified one beaming Eve and/or
stud deed brute soffit.
Education often relied on the weekly reader,
and letters to or from Aunt Emma to this Jack,
oh napeswho never wrote back
sheesh, alas and alack.
Nefarious mean linkedin kickstarter jawboning
torturous treatment tolerated, asper imps
of pervert, mutant Ninja Turtles duty bound
antsy youthful yokel yodelers weathering ululating
sing-song quintessential precepts.
adieu:
math a hew
scott harris a gentile Jew
all ways felt like new
kid on the block isolated
in his hermetically sealed queue
pay perm ash shay watched per view
whew
at last in conk clew shun to you
from one primate within the human zoo.