Best Undigested Poems
It's in a turtle soup shop where I'm employed
It's my duty to cook vomit-inducing soup turtle
which no decent human palate could stand;
a horrid job and a salary which is even worse,
an insult to my brilliant overdeveloped mind;
Not to mention the iniquitous schedule,
though there's something much worse:
the appalling uniform which is an insult
to a nonfrivolous mind like mine;
and in no way instrumental in contributing
to social elegance but a pathological attack
on good taste and gumption!
a distorted regurgitation of undigested
food for thought!
A lavender cup with the grotesque company logo!
The unsightly checked fuchsia and gray pants!
And to top it all: a striped khaki and purple poncho!
My odious uniform! Imported from Togo!
A lovely idea had the company's honcho!
An idea that my Togolese friend rejects!
I hug him! I look up to him!
'Cause he abhors both poncho and honcho!
Cripes! Yikes!
Dinner's ready! Yucky turtle soup I shall regurgitate!
Categories:
undigested, absence, angst, bereavement, native
Form:
Light Verse
THE LAST STAND
Where have all my people gone, the Navaho, Lakota, and the Sue,
Smothered beneath the white man's blanket,
Chocking for a breath of airs life's sustaining oxygen.
The beating heart of native drums, are stilled frozen,
In the middle of it's rhythmic thumping, no pulses echo,
Can be heard on the open plain.
The weeping women kneel on sacred ground, shedding
A river of bloods tears, burning a permanent scare across,
A baron landscape.
Death's black raven shields itself, under it's crimson soaked wing,
Against shames immoral injustice.
Greed's insatiable hunger for land and riches fuels lusts desire,
Behold exterminations holocaust of the native inhabitants,
Nothing remains alive except ignorance blackened shadow.
How much blood can mother earth be forced to drink before,
She drowns herself or spits up everything undigested,
With sheer disdain and hatreds malice intent.
On a black and white chess board the winners takes it all,
Strategies grand masters playing with living pawns.
Treaties written in vanishing ink, promises disappear in thin air,
Revealing a liars sharpened tongue.
The odds have always been stacked against those believing in fairness.
A rogue tidal wave of humanity has wiped out a nation,
And it's culture within the blink of an eye.
Flights appendages are clipped on the dove of peace, leaving it
Unable to soar above it's own habitat.
Wreckage’s refugees stumble in the ruins after math,
Rapes victims of civilizations civilized,
Are left devoid of their heritages lineage and legacy.
Elders chieftains representatives of a great nation,
Smoke peace pipes in the white mans hunting lodge
In Washington.
As human beings are hauled like cattle's cargo,
Taken to reservations burial grounds.
Ancient ancestors lit up the heaven's vast expanse,
By torches flame,
To guide the souls of the dead unto their great spiritual
Plain beyond.
The pale horse gallops forward without a rider,
And the red people become a phantom tribe vanishing
Upon the winds shifting tides.
Giving one last final tribal battle war cry,
Why my father but the great spirit answers not.
Behold America's legacy, a world trampled beneath
It's heavy iron fist, all in the name of progress or for the cause
Of Manifest destiny.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
undigested, dark, death, grief, history,
Form:
Free verse
**** life
. bodies faking , minus hearts, forbidding ,
the drug-and- booze- induced-numbness killing
hot ****.
life sawing hapless life, insides-tearing ,
life sustaining, out of limelight, ’ tear’ing.
brute ****.
rank, dank, undigested ; the revulsion
exploding as vomit between sessions.
rot ****.
pain for the players of its gone-stale script
pleasure for the cameras , for hard-sell.
shot ****.
to relish it slyly; like a pervert
his neighbor’s son’s sudden insanity.
soft ****.
crossing the tipping points of life before
life began, stomp-stomping down dicey lanes.
quit ****.
Form: Dixdeux O ( 3 lines, Syllables: 10-10-2, L3 refrain), line 3 here is slightly modified refrain.
13 jun 13
For Deb's 'To be' contest.
Categories:
undigested, life, drug,
Form:
Verse
The primate, loves to show himself off very much,
brags about his accomplishments as to being the most intelligent living being
on the earth; he is overly proud about himself for his achieved material abundance through inventing Money and development of convenient and comfortable living habitats with it. In so doing, man has become Money’s slave.
Although Money does all kinds of indecent things; mounts high
on this most intelligent but cowardly creature’s back fluttering
a banner of arrogance, Money even lashes the creature;
the creature swallows an insult adding zeroes to the note
each time Money lashes him.
I wonder why the creature submitted to Money, abandoning his pride and dignity. His ancestor hundreds of thousands of ages ago who crossed the water in very remote antiquity, rowing a boat in the heavy mist to arrive here has carried more zeros then the note he held. He keeps adding more to his note accepting lash after lash of humiliation.
Although it’s about time to stop adding zeroes to the note
the creature overly attracted to Money begins to recite a spell
no one would understand, offering a bribe and bowing to an idol
made of gold.
Bribery is an added function of Money and is invisible; no one sees who offers
or who receives it. The certified check: with many more zeros printed on it
than the notes offered to the idol; will be awarded to the spell-chanter’s hand
as a reward for the number of incantations he uttered and bowed to the idol.
The idol: that is able to conceive the meaning of the spell is smiling
because the bribe is a windfall; income to one who sits in the chair
comes with power, and is like a never-drying well in the wilderness.
Above all, it’s sweeter then honey. That’s why the idol eats gluttonously.
A swarm of flies comes and lick the undigested food, mixed with Money and
the many zeroes he vomits.
Categories:
undigested, evil, men, money,
Form:
Free verse
A few nights before Christmas
all was quiet in the apartment
except for a few ghosts milling about in it
Before I went to bed
to rest my head
I thought of the words of a friend
who once said
You are not out of your mind
dreaming you are wide awake
not in your body but another fourth dimension
to your self please be kind
In the middle of the night
came a demanding knock
like Ebenezer Scrooge I was in a fright
Could it be just the wind
or a piece of undigested fruitcake
Could it be just my imagination
or could it be my very end
Not knowing what to do in the situation
I find myself walking in my living room
furniture was missing and the feeling was ghostly white
dead Aunt singing like Ella Fitzgerald in syncopation
The dead are here
The dead are real
Do not be afraid
The dead are on the other side-there
To the front door I went
with much anticipation
to the front portal I went
with much exasperation
But next an orange- red morning sky
the sun has risen to my surprise
in the same living room now bathe in light adorn
like a Christmas greeting card
was left on the floor a picture of me
which was not there the night before
Categories:
undigested, death, family, miracle, visionary,
Form:
Free verse
When wildfires flare beyond tame,
hot ash burns and sting the eye.
And a scorching tongue of flame
laps smoke from a blackened sky.
Being both judge and jury
fuels fire's desire to feed.
And to avoid its fury
frightened animals stampede.
Plumes of smoke conceal a heart
of incinerating heat.
And cinders fall far apart,
offering little retreat.
Embers smolder in its wake
from branches consumed in haste.
And ash turns the air opaque,
bits of undigested waste.
Hungry, it chews a wide track
till the wind shifts, and it dies.
And adept at fighting back,
nature hastens fire's demise.
(Quatrain)
1/19/2016
Categories:
undigested, august, fantasy, fire, imagery,
Form:
Quatrain
.
The
God
One True
God, God of
Heaven and Earth made
And prepared a great fish to eat
Swallow Jonah whole, undigested..sick..fish threw-up
Jonah on the shore bleached white stinking to high heaven, ran preached three days
revival
Categories:
undigested, animals, faith, funny, imagination,
Form:
Fibonacci
The cold hit me, it froze my soul
The last gasp of air knocked from my body
Down, down, down in some deep dark wet hole
I was lost I was gone, there would be no more me.
I opened my eyes and looked into known death
The eye of a beast stared back.
I knew that I was holding my breath
Yet desperately trying to claw my way back.
Its teeth the beast then did bare
The jaws opened wide and it expelled
The last meal devoured, how would I fare?
The last of the air in my lungs I held.
Bones and bodies of undigested food did surround
My eyes open wide, fear did abound
Was I to be the last meal of the beast?
Was it on me that it was now going to feast?
Prayers hurled through my jangled mind
Thoughts of would any of my body they find
My parents no funeral would they have for me
As the meal of this beast I knew I was going to be.
© GG 16/08/2103
Categories:
undigested, imagination,
Form:
Rhyme
A Sky of Water
Arabic Poem By: Falah Al-Shabender*
Traslate By
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)
====================
A sky of water
Doesn't blaze in a glance;
It follows us, as we head towards it,
Fraying its essence,
And transcending in its mysteries;
Emptiness .. Mooing.. And dizziness swallow us,
Undigested.
Here our faces are prayers,
The horizon is a hearth of died out ashes
No effort is needed
For faith in the supreme.
A phoenix
From the far away echo
Drops a shadow painting a sign,
The road leads to.........
Only if I had a seeder
For this bird hovering above us,
And if I hoped for any good from it!
But, No; it's there by chance!
If I set up a trap for it,
I'd capture it.
But, no,
Not this.. and not that!
We've defined its sky,
And I have the seeds for it
-What are your seeds?
-Words, Sir!
-I don't think it reads.
-But it could hear!
In the floating cave, their fourth was the bird,
Landed on the threshold.
- Only if this bird would write us on land,
To be our witness!
Of wood they carved a ladder,
And climbed the index of birds;
Their mu'ezzin called:
The nigt is nibbling at the day,
Digging its valley,
Pouring in seepage of the last farewell;
In the naked night,
We become more than what we are..!
And what hangs us to the sudden in the darkness,
We wait to see what comes out of its abode;
Because this hour,
Is the hour of mere animal!
It senses our nakedness,
Chills with patience
Floating creeps in .. A floating drum
Over a sky of water
The voice creeps ...
Somber chant:
The opposite triumphed........... The opposite is defeated
Falling rain .......... Rising smoke
Breathing and exhaling
The opposite triumphed........... The opposite is defeated,
And the foam exhales
Paper of disgraced thoughts;
The waves giggle;
We retreat, swinging with bias,
Turn around, and revolve around "the intoxicated boat;"
We retreat,
Our backs meet,
And we join;
The tough waits for the tough
"To be or not to be" ............ That is the guffaw!
Oh, sovereign power of the sea,
We are sand;
The bird is belated
And we are picked up by dust.
*****
Translatedby:
Em. Prof. Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)
USA
February 2010
*Falah Al-Shabender is a poet from Iraq
The original text in Arabic: http://www.alnoor.se/article.asp?id=80084
Categories:
undigested,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Gorging with impunity to fill an empty void
of hollow needs and guilty deeds that fester
unceasing, into fissures of a vacuous soul
searching, without finding a way to make it whole
Purging with obsession to cleanse a tarnished image
Of distorted ideals with unrealistic appeals that flaunt
False messages into unsuspecting circuits of the mind
Revolving endlessly without stopping to unwind
Binging with a ravenous urge to quell the anguish
of taunted jeers and unfounded fears of rejection
spinning uncontrollably without cause or reason
into fragmented notions and confused emotions
Repelling with compulsion to assuage the shame
Of inaccessible goals and lost controls that mock
Incessantly with bitterness that burns the wounds within
Disgorging undigested pieces of a broken whole
Categories:
undigested, angst, confusion, depression, food,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
>A mind game
Played on someone over time can maim
Crippling their sense of truth
For unlike the follies of youth
Thought
Is something that is not taught?
Indeed, much learning is encouraged by rote repetition
Yet for the most part the human condition
Communicates by sharing thoughts
Learning the mutual value of each others ought’s
Many of which we take on undigested
Even if hotly contested
Rarely do we absorb and understand our actions
How inadvertently we are caught up in chain reactions
Truth to be real needs a personal assent
It is not just a question of intent
Or belief being something to confess
Or profess
For a belief in God of whatever creed
Entails looking at and appreciating the reality of our need
For something beyond the machinations of the mind
A revelation of a wholly other kind
A profound recognition of something other
And our responsibility to one another
For life is not ours to deploy
As if the world was a toy
Jane Tatum©>
Categories:
undigested, life,
Form:
Blank verse
my carnivore self is displayed out in the open
I tear a bovine’s tendons and muscle with gusto
my teeth coming up red and bloody;
it is the human way, is it not?
my mouth, throat and gullet gulp away,
unaware of the undigested meat already in my colon.
I plan an organized kindness parade, not caring about cows
Or pigs, unless I am anticipating bacon and pork roast.
I seek direction from no one; feeling all-powerful.
I am a carnivore, am I not? This is validation enough.
My cologne is a combo of unrecognizable floral mixes.
I look pretty, therefore, my killing ways can be forgiven.
Later today I can do a bit of wind surfing or fall off my skates.
My concentration is no longer on my food, but on life.
Why am I never satisfied? Where does my depression originate?
My dendrite stream never realizes I am picking up on animal psyche.
In a subconscious way, my body is reacting to their misery.
When they get brain smashed, so they can be carved into steaks.
I lick my lips, enjoying Heinz 57, wishing I can figure out what is wrong.
My soul knows, but cannot share it with me on this plane.
Will I understand post death when I see my own cadaver?
Will my corpse make me realize how uncivilized meat eating is?
Will I be depressed as I head toward heaven?
Or will I be heading to a lower place?
Categories:
undigested, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Narrative
Why is it that I truly feel
if you step inside my messy house
you see inside my messy soul?
Clothes strewn about
translate into my issues on never being warm enough
no, cold enough - or, I mean, finding that happy medium
Last night's dishes still in the sink
translate into my yet undigested thoughts
on last night's conversation
and those flowers, dead I might add,
in the vase on the counter,
translate into a well wisher that I simply haven't thanked.
Why is it that you must see all of this?
A cluttered room is a cluttered mind?
Could that be my philosophy in your knowing eyes?
Whatever the case, you know me so well
I open my door with wide open arms
and then the miraculous happening occurs.
You pick up my clothes, I'm suddenly comfortable.
You make me some coffee and wash up my dishes
and last night's conversation settles in my stomach
with clear understanding and ease
and you throw the flowers out the back door, wash the vase
(now mineral deposit stained opaque)
and hand me the phone with a soapy hand to make a thank you call.
Is it really that I just needed a little tender care?
Could that be the secret to an organized existence?
For, suddenly, I am free.
Spotless house, spotless mind
-a new philosophy-
and I find I owe you for this Spring cleaning yet again...
Categories:
undigested, angst, friendship, happiness, imagination,
Form:
Blank verse
The nearer peace,more savage are the acts
Abhorrent to the atheist in us all.
History, undigested ,splits and cracks
As we whites did evil to the black
With little difference, hate for glory calls.
The nearer peace, the more savage the acts
All of us can disremember facts
Israeli hands have gripped and then appalled.
History, undigested ,splits and cracks
As ,with Bomber Harris, Dresden packed
Burned like grass the refugees to ghouls
The nearer peace, the more savage the acts
We deny the healing we have lacked
For Jesus' Jews we let be killed ,de-souled
History, undigested ,splits and sticks
Palestine’s own Arabs are ill ruled
And in return, explode like stubborn mules
The nearer love, the more the hatred whacks
History., inconceivable, directs
Categories:
undigested, abuse, allusion, analogy, anger,
Form:
Villanelle
You stank, and poo was once revealed when pants were pulled in playing field. Hard round briquettes, quite dry, like dung with straw sun-hard and undigested.
All kinds of unkind taunts and silly songs were sung and rumour did the rounds of Traveller’s goings on in dog-bark fenced compound.
Nothing known, but always just suggested.
What were your meals in trailer park, beside the fields, beside the rec,
beside the school where boys all played you for the fool, and girls sang ‘stinky bum’, and parent’s day didn’t see your dad, and did you even have a mum?
You struck a chin full fist when foot deployed to halt your playground dinky toy. Your anger clearly boiled beneath. Did you every day recoil from father’s buckled belt, or older brother’s fist, or even mother’s wounding cuffs confined to caravan
on drizzle chilly days as autumn shed cold leaf?
You walked with ricket bandied legs, a waddled painful labour.
I too was your tormentor, on endless friendless days and lonely playground corners, and classes where the empty desk was always nearest neighbour.
Your white and skinny scabied form found true excuse from sports.
No one saw 'there', beneath your shabby shorts, except the school and nit nurse. We always thought your underpants were wet, or stained, or worse,
and most days did you even wear your soiled and threadbare underwear?
Would these older opened eyes now see you as a son?
Would softened heart now empathise with how you had begun
your life and realise the pain and strife that laid your path,
where mine was carefree fun?
These older eyes are sorry now, with memory’s regret.
But yet that child knew not the pain that surely comes to all,
and tempered hearts cannot relive the spring before the fall.
Categories:
undigested, 5th grade, bullying, childhood,
Form:
Rhyme