Best Unconcern Poems


Premium Member An Outer Unfold ( of Inner Gold )

Life on the flip side,
  A state where souls can’t hid,
And the proverbial eagles glide,
  All of love will be satisfied,
To structure, will not be tied,
  No strife, just life,
Love without end,
  No fend no foe,
Are you ready to go,
  Those that receive it ,
And believe it,
  Will never leave it!

A soul lost in mind’s wilderness,
                                               Isn’t a plus!
For any of us,
  What’s the fuss?
Will degenerate us,
  Like Rome and Egypt,
The soul becomes paraplegic,
  Like a prodigal son,
On a,  from God run,
  Eating with swine, the lust husk of corn,
And some say don’t be!  Alarmed?

  You’ve seen the results,
Of souls of lust,
  The Nero burn,
Of unconcern,
  He did not learn,
And the Pharaoh child,
  Of the Nile,
And the Mosanic child,
  Float on the Nile,
The Mosanic rod,
  Was God,
In the hands of Moses,
  Pharaoh thoughts, not able to oppose us,
This rod of Moses!

  New city, the image of greed,
Will not succeed,
  The seed of old,
Of the mind of Adam’s fold,
  As the grassy knoll,
The bold of mind’s unfold,
  A great family of greed,
Again does not succeed,
  Not God’s seed,
The greed!

  Another time upon us,
Are you the opponent,
  Will the lady succeed,
In economic greed,
  Or will love conceive,
A new relieve,
  By love believed,
A new child being conceived,
  A pregnancy of relieve,
Within lady of light,
  Lifting up life like a kite,
New world of light,
  Out of a greedy night!

As many as will,
  May take of this gospel pill,
A reality deal,
  Love’s pearl,
The real girl,
  Not of the world!

Encouragement has been a plenty,
  Hasn’t been skinny,
For any,
  Love is not a genie,
Not an empty minded panacea,
  Receive and believe,
Is love's relieve!

  Whatever is believed,
Is your conceive,
  Of the mind,
Not of love’s kind,
  The heart,
Is love’s start!

  From the sacred heart,
Comes the bond of meekness,
  Love with no flaw of weakness,
In bleakness,
  As the mind’s fears in weakness,
Read and bleed,
  Or concede,
God speed!!

7-12-09 johnmosesfreeman@yahoo.com
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member To Whom It May Unconcern

How can you tell when you've hit bottom and
 it's time to abandon "ship"-does it stare you in the  
falseface and wipe your browmemory clean cool of
fun classics,  milling around in poor daylight
low of love compromise and mean mode
idiosyncrasies obliging for no one's 
realsake but hanging by a nose thread to a 
course coarse curve enlivened by a renal
renaissance mercury---wide base of support
newcomer setting in for the long haul given
p residence a timely sage too old for this
x@#$%* yet too youngf for climate of clipped
communication neverstrife, appealing to all yes-too
many no, too few---104 degrees FF brain on fire
dry ice income shedding short circuited
sillosynapse conglomerates crazy for 
passion + lust intro infusion---two part flesh,
one part soul a pinch of carnal rich renderings.
Simmer ever slowly over a lucid lifetime at
harmony in law degrees--slowly stirring the 
emotes frequently--too many nights of uncelebrated
reruns taunt the VHF cable return whereas I
we my you life by UHF dial dimensions
captured like a worn heel on a new shoe
somewhat skuffed and worn and innappropriate
for a white wedding day.Stand in the back--hope no
anyone looks down at the foot floor and sees
my toe reflection talking--indescent exposure while
teetering on a limbscape construct--folly
like fortunes unabashed qualities go unnoticed
through ingoblame and slug selfes-esteams
balancing on a creepy catwalk of roma and
comatose initiatives that flatline at midnight
in a morbid midnight corridor--venimous intent O2/CO2
fright fraught about what yesterdays will     upbringing fixed.

Constantly Torment

Tears well in my eyes; don't let anyone see
Patch the broken parts over and over
Let no one know I am late for the show
Again, unconcern seems my plot
Friends don't desire your lights
Lard biscuits don't make you slender
Taste and know; It ain't for show

Tastes change and remove a familiar flavor
no lard to make those butter biscuits today
Hushpuppy corn bread is the way to go


Puerto Rico

In the darkness of the night
I see your star shine bright
I hear the cries of our people
trying to be seen as equal
I feel your resilient heart
being torn apart
the desperation, indignation, exasperation
They insult us with their words
their ignorance, unconcern, and condemnation
but despite it all, we shall rise
and never compromise 
The pure hearts that we share 
The proud people of this nation
We shall overcome despite their laceration

The Greatest Disease I

Read all III or you will not see

I awoke, my tears were flowing and I could not 

stop the sobs that were tearing from my soul. 

Though it was mid-day, it was dark, it was always 

dark. The sun was shining but darkness of the 

heart obscured its rays. Mom was dying and while 

it was not a necessary death, it was going to 

happen. I was not thinking of myself, although I 

knew I would not survive her passing. My sickened 

soul was torn by the futility, the heartlessness 

and great weight of unconcern. My siblings, great 

Doctors, Scientists, and Priests among them 

explained somatically, mathematically, and 

ethically why it was going to happen, however, it 

was still unnecessary. I was young, just the 

blink of an eye, the ink of my birth certificate 

not yet dry, I could not survive without my 

mother, nor could they, but truth be known they 

did not care. Yes, I had not historically great 

years but even in my short tenure, I could see 

the decline. The shine of her hair, the gleam in 

her eyes all this was dulled and I knew the fluid 

circulating through her system was poisoned. Her 

breath had the stench of decay and they would not 

stop her going away. It was cancer I was told, 

insidious, unchecked, out of control. Yes they 

knew the diagnosis, but their crime was, they 

knew the cure and for this cancer it was not 

harsh. No surgery, chemotherapy, and with 

reasonable restraint no fear of reoccurrence, a 

simple one hundred percent cure.

(continued below The greatest disease II
Form: Epic

Premium Member Blue In Centerstage

*Image of Blues by Google.com.

Blue In Centerstage
Fondly, instants our measure of blue ... a boost or flat bring on,
Promptly, sea and sky are limelight ... point of view as quite concise,
Nonchalantly, unconcern and clamminess ... ranks are withdrawn,
*Fait accompli, preceding segments ... sway tactfully suffice.

Begets the 'ins' ... inspiration, intuition, intellect,
Pirouettes credence, responsibility ... and confidence,
Plaquettes of ... honorable awards, stellar ribbons select,
Assets of the unique bluish shades ... influence prominence.

Truly in hints of unswerving order ... peace, calm, and patience,
Cerulean surge deep relations ... o'er those superfluous,
Julian age casts peasant clothes ... purple made nobles complacence,
Herculean genders preferred hue ... business partners a plus.

Introspective chroma ... symbolize wisdom and conviction,
Defective draw sadness ... abysses of the human psyche,
Infective features ... induce fears, threats, and constant affliction,
Effective tint ... guides profound acumens by the almighty.

Cobalt animate ... ingenuity and enlightenment,
Pole vault reputations ... paint artisans treasured qualities,
Assault on nervous manner ... random acts disentitlement,
Exalt betterment ... magnify productive monopolies.

Cyan et al., ... are appetite and sleeplessness suppressants,
Point man merges the bluewashed value ... constant and unchanging,
Yes-man splashes ... versatile befits locations quintessence,
Wiseman choose ... blue on blue light-heartedness ever exchanging.

*Fait accompli: a thing accomplished

2021 November 04
*2nd Place*
BLUE
~~Mystic Rose Rose: Judged 2021 November 06
© Hilo Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lento


Selfishness

Selfishness means: inconsiderate, thoughtless and/or greedy
Unconcern for others only for self and being a meany
God wants us to show others that it’s all about love
The hope and caring that filters down from up above
Life is not about selfish acts or being conceited
It’s about helping others out when and where it is needed
In return God will reward you with peace, joy, liberty and freedom
Because in His eyes it’s about doing His work that’s pleasing
Let’s get out of wanting to be and doing only for self
To show God you love Him let’s show care and concern for some one else.

Galatians 5:16
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering,
gentleness, goodness, faith………
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Got Game

From the north silently it comes down the river,
invisible, radioactive, combining with *acid rain.
Nuclear power, cheap energy, a cancer giver
and all we love will end, if we don't chose to refrain.

So fueled by greed, we chew up the earth for coal to burn,
blackening the skies and butchering the mountain side,
all so that we can drive SUV's with total unconcern,
laughing at the third world, on the globe, we stand astride.

The black-outs, *brown-outs, oh the anarchy of light's blight
creating a sickly yellow miasma's where few stars shine.
And cities of cave dwellers who never see the night,
turn shades of puce and pink by neon lights malign.

Soon, I'm sure, we'll redefine the nature of what's pure,
and Seri's *app will tell what game to eat ...and the cure.
Form: Sonnet

Ball and Chain Pt 1

Eradicated, exquisite, hypocritical, and divine
Given your own heart --- but not given your own mind

Slaving through this lifetime to just rush to the next
Disqualified, degraded, and generation-hexed

Unintelligent, psycho, and deranged
When you open your eyes --- your life has already changed

The flashes of your past speed by under the midnight sky
Stagnant, secluded, and your life on a constant "standby"

Running from the thoughts that erupt out of your brain
Until before you know it, you're dead and your body lies crumbled in vain

The life you were meant to lead has definitely gotten away from you
Rushing through your life --- set off without a clue

Shocked and sinister your body's in pieces
Your spirit dwindles off --- and your life simply ceases

Born with a name, a face, and a voice
Just someone else's solution --- isn't another's method of choice

Always fighting, always frontin', always running from your life
Tearing and shredding through your DNA --- life's composite knife

We all just co-exist under the heightens of this moon
Raging and bubbling and on the verge of starting a monsoon

The emotions you display, will manifest itself as a storm
After the destruction of the storms --- your life it's about to transform

Gathering a team --- preparing for the worse
Losing everything together --- nobody gets to reimburse

Learning the stuff in school, they want your kids to learn
To silence and quiet all of the bottled-up unconcern

The greed of the people of this country within
Forcing you to remember and relive the first, original sin

I'll tell you what I want, if you tell me what you need
For the negativity inside your veins has done nothing to you but mislead

The mission you surround yourself --- the "so-called" box from within
Like everything from the beginning was fake possessions --- fake heart & fake skin

You're a barbie in a world, transformed by boxes of rocks
Millions of stopped galaxies --- millions of broken clocks
Form: Rhyme

Another Friday Night

She sat inside her ice-cream life
and guessed the number of
bingo markers it might take
to win the jackpot.
Sometimes she questioned why
so many people drove her
crazy. Insulted her.
She divided her friends and lovers
into good and bad directions.
 
It was raining outside when
she began to cook the supper.
The stove was hot she was cold.
She was always cold in her house,
in her ice vein kitchen with
the pretty white lace curtains
and the yellow-green walls.
 
Her problems could all be
isolated into one situation after
another. She light a cigarette.
Sitting at her table wondering
if she should cook rice or potatoes
with the meat. It didn't matter.
They'd wolf down the food
without a glance at her effort.
 
She found she was happier
when the kids were at school and
that man was at work doing whatever.
Impatience wasn't so much her statement
as was unconcern. So what,
she thought, as she dusted her ashes
into the ashtray.
 
Her memories could stretch so
far back, before this life even.
Yet she knew that what she knew
wasn't really very much at all.
Maybe he really loved her? Who knew?
For her it was only a situation.
She wondered if they'd remember
to take their shoes off at the door.
Her feelings could easily be hurt,
but on the other hand she often
neglected to express herself.
At half past five she'd put supper
on the table. They would sit around it.
Her family sharing the same table
and the same bathroom. Distance.
They were mutually ignorant of
each other.
 
She put out her cigarette, light another.
She wasn't afraid of cancer, just living.
Working man would be home soon,
right after the kids demanded home.
Sighing she stood up and pushed
the cat away with her foot, irritated.
Checked her purse. Bingo markers
neatly labelled. Another Friday night

Everyone Knows, It Shows

Not trying to hurt the readers
Or become a poetic verbal ling beater
I’ll fade out of the last
These ends creep quietly past
It starts in fear
I’ll give it 
Another year
Then gather all that was said
And put regret back 
Into my head
Sorting what can never rest
A memory lap 
Infests
Something 
Someone 
Disturbed
Now bouncing in my head 
Unconcern
Though 
Listening 
To every word 
I keep the ball rolling 
Instead
Deeper thoughts 
Off patrolling
A walk
Thanks to the lithium 
Shake and roll 
Answers on a limb
Insights possibility 
On the rims
My confidence confined
Then on the cursing slide
A problem to think
May drive me to another 
Mind spilling awful stink
Everyone can play strange
On their own memory lanes
Some houses out of view
For what they stand up to
Front yard trenches
Made of old work benches
An old oak tree
Breathing bothers me
Hard work upsets to need
Too busy convincing you
Form: Bio

Go Forth, Iii

And if we stream outside the city walls
to raise new gods, and burn the old,
it is simply quite incidental.
We might have destroyed them once
but did not.
We might destroy them now
but do not.
We surrounded them, screaming fiercely,
closed in on them, blades ready for the kill...
then shuddered, paused, stopped...
and retreated before their smirking unconcern.
As then, as always,
our purpose, very occasional, shrinks.
We bring great power,
yet it is a power kept from itself,
keeping itself from us.
We are many, but our weapons are dull.
Still, were they sharp
they would not be sharp enough,
theirs are far sharper,
they are, after all, theirs.
There is weakness at the root of us all.
They coolly calculate our demise
as slain Uriah,
betrayed at the gate.

24th March 2005

Premium Member I Watched the Children Playing

I watch the children playing in the street
Sweet, innocent, full of energetic laughter,
Caring not about the political news beat
What November's wrong decisions bring after.
I love their unconcern for gender, creed or race
Or grand issues our society must face
Seldom aware of their own family's need
Nor thinking about another time or place.
They make the most of daylight hours
Playing with best friends and foes alike,
Bringing Mama bouquets of pretty wildflowers,
Riding around the neighborhood on a bike.
I wonder when they will come to realize
That life is more than laughter, fun and game
When taken seriously, at least, in their eyes
Childhood is gone and life is never the same.
Form: Rhyme

Waterfall

First we heard the sound
Torrential rain falling
On a soft ground
It seemed sounds were crawling

It was a  little mysterious
Somewhat weird too
Obviously, we got curious
A sense altogether new

As we took the turn
There stood the white column
A burning white unconcern
For us all sudden and solemn

As we went ahead
The mighty fall came into view
Below flew a racing cascade
It was just gorgeous to be true

For our tired eyes
Afflicted with monotony
It was a tremendous surprise
Both visibly and audibly


Between two mountainsides
A deep grey ravine
Surging with its angry tides
Flirting with the lush green


Dense clouds over the sky
Spread dark shadows on the ground
Still shining silver the fall high
Incessant fall but undowned


The calm the quiet the placid the hush
In this milieu the roaring waterfall
For the ravine a maddening crush
Amazing, says the mountain tall


The ravine gurgling
The fall splashing and roaring
The water sparkling
Our wonder soaring


The full beauty we filled our hearts with
Embracing each other laid the kisses
This much I could write, a poor wordsmith
As we looked at the flowers of our fulfilled wishes



September 16, 2019

Picturesque Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Homeless Hero

He stormed Omaha Beach in Normandy during the Second World War.
The old soldier knew all too well the din of battle and its heinous gore.
He'd fought his way through France ending up in the Battle of The Bulge.
He was hailed as a hero, but was loath his heroic deeds to divulge.

They pinned medals upon his breast - he suffered through the accolades,
And was honored by his hometown folks marching in their parades.
But there was something lacking - he was listless when among others.
He desperately missed his buddies - they'd become as close as brothers.

Through many restless nights he wrestled with demons from the past,
Tortured by bloody battlefield scenes and the thunder of cannon blast.
He was turned down by government agencies trying to relieve his plight,
And was met with unconcern at every turn - it seemed a hopeless fight.

He became addicted to the Devil's curse, the bottle, out of desperation.
Friends and family forsook him - he was headed for a life of devastation.
He was seen pushing an old grocery cart here and there about the town,
That held his meager belongings - he looked so pitiful and so worn-down.

The headlines read: "Veteran found dead beneath a blanket of snow!"
He'd sought shelter 'neath an overpass when it was twenty-one below.
He was buried with military honors while "Taps" sounded o'er his grave.
Come on America! Can't we do better than this for America's brave?

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Form: Rhyme

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