Best Unqualified Poems
Requiem of a Phoenix
Silhouettes and storm clouds loom,
etched against a blackened sky
by bolts of electric blue
and ashen moon rays.
I mourn at dusk; the death of the light.
Languid flames dance
from tree to tree,
as a passing of the torch
to the sacrificial pyre.
I mourn by fire; the death of the light.
A tormented world in anguish
heaves a guttural howl,
which resonates through the darkness
carving deep channels in tangible silence.
I mourn in song; the death of the light.
Absently numb, I view it all
with a looming realization
that I was never made for this world
captive to flesh and desolation.
I mourn alone; the death of the light.
I surrender to my captivity.
I surrender to the agony.
I surrender to the storm and fire.
I embrace the void.
From the cinders of night
skyward I strain on bolts of electric blue
pursuing the tranquility of the moonlight.
Unqualified freedom granted by absolute loss
is a new captivity.
So mourn I at daybreak, the death of the night.
4/14/17
For Contest: Mythical Creatures
Hosted by: Julia Ward
The scorpions creeping out from words slowly, acutely framing
where judgement claims the higher position unconditionally
lone vulture hanging over its unsuspecting prey ready to pounce
once so blind ambitions reverberates back as unqualified honours least deserved
Pompous narcissistic elements with nonsensical fruitless talent
held within egotism where fools of choice becomes one’s ability
under total admiration publicly declared in lonely self-centeredness
becomes a sterile reflection back to oneself blinded by arrogance
As friends become nemesis’s unnamed obstacles of your vainglorious rise
Sounding echos reverberates a never ending recording of undeserving self-pride
knowing more than all of what is right claiming the false prize for me, me, me
It matters not that lonely superiority must accept the great divide
False praise their claims attention that inflames your senses unjustly wise
crying regrets a prize is a prize nothing to be gained under the sun or moon
striving after winds have blown a gale force within hidden torment
the wreckage that's left after such destruction can only be found wanting
a co written piece in unrhymed quatrains by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid
The scorpions creeping out from words slowly, acutely framing
where judgement claims the higher position unconditionally
lone vulture hanging over its unsuspecting prey ready to pounce
once so blind ambitions reverberates back as unqualified honours least deserved
Pompous narcissistic elements with nonsensical fruitless talent
held within egotism where fools of choice becomes one’s ability
under total admiration publicly declared in lonely self-centeredness
becomes a sterile reflection back to oneself blinded by arrogance
As friends become nemesis’s unnamed obstacles of your vainglorious rise
Sounding echos reverberates a never ending recording of undeserving self-pride
knowing more than all of what is right claiming the false prize for me, me, me
It matters not that lonely superiority must accept the great divide
False praise their claims attention that inflames your senses unjustly wise
crying regrets a prize is a prize nothing to be gained under the sun or moon
striving after winds have blown a gale force within hidden torment
the wreckage that's left after such destruction can only be found wanting
a co written piece in unrhymed quatrains by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid
A rose petal path, a highway in limbo,
Unravels a map to a future unspecified;
Wherever we get to, however we get there,
The transit of questions by nature unqualified.
All may be sunk in the swell of the ocean,
Secrets in catacombs lost to the deep;
Wave after wave roll the dreams to the shoreline
Where lovers lie dormant and dance in their sleep.
All that is known is the dynamic feeling
Of she and of I and of hanging together,
Love and mercurial magic of moonbeams,
Painted on sea spray and claiming forever...
When I felt I was under
judgmental power,
it worried me.
Those causes
brought me running
down the hill straight home
sit by my desk
hold my pen write,
while listening to the sound
of the clock chiming,
with a hope,
when I leave my chair
my life would change.
I was once a woman
of style shinning,
yet they judged me
as a tedious unreasonable
unpleasant unqualified
for their society.
I felt once unique universal
they judged me,
as an undesirable person
with no feelings.
I felt once as a tenacious
and tender woman,
I was judged as superficial
sullen suitable only
to suffer.
I once felt talented with tact
but they saw me
as a talkative
stubborn woman
uncreative.
I was once welcomed
well known well bred,
they judged me as vulnerable
with no vitality unlucky
worthless,
a zero.
I felt once I was a warm
warm hearted woman,
today I am washed out
weeping, unwilling
to fight back,
as my insight withered.
I am wounded weak
because of them.
At the beginning
I was always right
today I am always
wrong.
Therese Bacha
7 July 2013
Holy verse, subject to human
interpretation, holds only shards
of insight into divine wisdom
leaving us ill-equipped, in our
imperfection, to truly
know the mind of God.
And in our imperfect state we
have been granted the use of
only a small percentage of our
miraculous minds because we
are wisely given only that
which we can reasonably handle.
So how is it we lack humility,
claiming infallible knowledge
of sovereign will and law?
And why is faith confused
with fact when there is no
evidence to support it?
Still, self-righteous zealots
peddle pre-packaged religion
complete with divine amnesty
if you 'act now'
and warning labels
for those who refuse to buy.
We are all unqualified
to say who is right
and who is wrong.
And not one of us
is fit to know who
lacks divine approval.
To disagree is not a sin.
But to condemn another
is to usurp the throne of God.
Described as “patriot of patriots” by Mahatma Gandhi
His Words, ‘Give me blood and I shall give you freedom’
Are still ringing in the minds of each and every Indian.
He stood for unqualified Freedom with the use of force
Meaning quite against with Gandhi’s non-violent ways.
Subhas Bose presumed to have died on 18 August 1945
On Taipei Airport in a plane crash but with no evidence.
The mystery of his death and survival haunts the Indians.
The inability of the three commissions to unravel the truth
Spawned umpteen conspiracy theories left people in awe.
First commission visited Japan in 1956 and got testimonies
From army surgeons conducting blood transfusion to Bose
But he succumbed to death on August 18, 1945, at Taipei.
Second commission carried its probe from 1974-78 and
Declared its inability to arrive on any definite conclusion.
The verdict of the third commission was quite amazing
It simply said Bose was dead, but didn’t die in plane crash
How and when? No answer in the absence of any proof.
Concluding report tabled in parliament in May 2006
Declaring that death was staged to facilitate his escape.
And there are lots of evidences showing that he was alive
The first being the soviet angle of Stalin and Molotov
Discussing as to whether Bose should remain in the country.
In 1991 a letter written by him found in the KGB archive
dated 1946 that he had safely reached the then Soviet Union.
And there are conspiracy theories abound on Bose’s death
Allegedly both the Congress leadership and the Government
Afraid of Bose’s possible return to India and his impact
None to stop him to come to power as worshipped by people.
He was posthumously awarded Bharat Ratna in 1992,
A highest civilian award but later withdrawn on the ground
As the Award committee failed to give evidence of his death.
Even the Taiwan Government confirmed of no plane accident
And U.S. Department of State supported the claim of Taiwan.
=====================================================
Second Place win:
Contest: Unsolved Mysteries by Carolyn Deveonshire
*Inspired and credits to the reports published on the web*
Creative inspiration
Mixed with gas price inflation
Voluntary solitude
Welcomed ingratitude
Served the homeless in Manila
Then become a homeless college student
And mother in America
Racial discrimination justified
As manager proclaimed Black Girl
Unqualified
Gave Jesus his eviction note
While her abusive ex she couldn’t
Wait to promote
Self-employment had to end
As her car became uncooperative
Wrote poems and created soliloquies
Since the voice in her mind
Had to be freed
Degree hanging on the wall
While debt remained stacked 10 feet tall
Apathy knocked on the front door
While shame and disgust waxed the floor
Dreams of the American family
Burst into flames
Along with the hope of wisdom, wealth, and fame
reciprocity
is the antithesis of
unqualified gifts
We had fought and won
The internecine war;
The foreigners had demarcated
Their spoils on our land
But our spirit of struggle
Our thirst for freedom-
Kept burning within our hearts.
Our vow and determination
To recapture our terre
To tender our palm tree-
These, too, kept burning
With rage and vengeance!
Our thoughts no longer hazy
Our deeds no longer wavy-
But studied and firm
Our men advanced sure of foot.
Vengeance is ours-
And not the Lord’s!
For we know, liberated,
Even here
All manner of genius
May grow…
Turning pages of transformation
From centuries of silent mutation
To an eternity of unqualified progress.
Where the wheels of oppression
Have finally ground to a halt
There shall be found
The masses that struggle!
(Written for those dark times, happily, now past)
When you don’t have money, there is the kind of wife you marry
You marry her for she is marriageable in a hurry
That way, you save yourself time and money
And cross your fingers that life with her will be sunny
She does not stand out; she may not be so pretty
She is not so educated, and neither is she that witty
But since you are not rich, you are unqualified to judge
Just kiss her every night, even if you don’t feel the urge
She may not be the one in your dreams, the one you imagined
But she is right there with you, while the other one is in the wind
You will always look at and desire other women, for men are hunters
But she cooks, cleans and sleeps besides you, and that’s all that matters
You don’t love her or hate her, you just don’t know how you feel about her
You want to spend as little time with her and the rest of the time at the bar
But she won’t be the ideal wife no matter how much you drink
You are searching for happiness, but you know she is not the link
If you had been rich, you would have married someone else instead
But she is the one here now, and she is still a woman God made
The other one was looking for a man who had already made it
But this one kind of likes you even if you have no credit
With time, the little love you had for her seems to grow
While the gold digger has been digging and is now down low
The man who had made it has no more gold, so the gold digger must go
While the wife you married turns to gold and now you know
When you don’t have money, be glad for the kind of wife you marry
Don’t marry her just because she is marriageable in a hurry
Marry her for she is giving you her time and time is money
The heart is hidden gold; it takes time to polish it to make life sunny
America pretends today
that it didn't actually
put an unqualified
narcissistic bully
in the position
of the most
powerful man
in the whole known universe,
America pretends today
that somehow
this lying
two-faced con-man
can best represent
their interests
& actually givea damn,
America pretends today
that its o.k.
that the office
of the President
is now run by a
scamming tycoon
real-estate developer
whose claim to fame
is really just
his name,
America pretends today,
that mocking the broken,
denigrating tortured prisoners,
sexual-assault,
bigotry & racism
are all forgivable
in their newly
minted Chief,
America pretends today,
that this choice
is not a reflection
of the darkness
in its people,
of the false promise
of a Great America,
and the bitter poison
that is white folks
fear & dread.
America has another drink
& then
goes home.
(With thanks to the late great Francis Vincent Zappa)
Jesus was an innocent man;
The son of God, while Barabbas
Was a Jewish dyed-to-the-wool
Enemy to the Roman Empire
“Crucify him!” “Crucify him!”
“Release Barabbas!” “Release Barabbas!”
The masses chanted in unison…
To the cross the virtuous Man
Was nailed, while the murderer
Went away scorch free,
To kill more Romans
Today, we still repeat the same
Crucifixion by following one’s charms
Instead of one’s ways; hiring a family
Member who is unqualified for a job,
Instead of hiring a stranger
Who is qualified for the same job;
Voting for a politician because of his wealth
And influence, instead of a peasant farmer
Who promises change
It is by choosing falsehood instead of Truth,
That we choose Barabbas instead of Jesus,
Leading us to frustration and chaos
But, in the end, Truth becomes visible
To us as an eternal Force
That we cannot live without
By: Teddy Kimathi
Choice of Motif: Philosophical
I play golf as much as I can
while still thinking of my fellow man
I haven’t figured out the economy
because it puzzles me
still no recovery with the things I’ve done
oh well what the hell
as long as you can see my good intentions an I tried
that is what is most important to me
I’ve been accused of telling lies
how you figured me out that is a surprise
all of my promises I make don’t come true
I count on ABC, CBS & NBC to protect and cover my ass
and help me fool all of you
my enemies claim that I and my administration
are corrupt with scandals through and through
I challenge any of you to prove your wild allegations it if you can good luck
millions of people are out of work
Republicans keep saying I’m a jerk
to many people were working anyway
now they have more time to play
thanks to me and my socialist policy
I'm not a Christian but I do pray to my god Allah everyday
America’s been the leader of the free world for too long
it’s time we sing a different song
leading from behind is the song I sing
taking America down a notch or two is my thing
is what I believe I need to do
the military is to strong I believe that is wrong
that’s why I apologize every chance I get
for America’s atrocities as I see fit
when I Barack Hussein Obama was elected president
I was very very much surprised
because I never ever did anything to pay my dues
I was so unqualified I still don’t understand
how I was able to fool all of you
some of my constituents say I'm a narcissist
that is true now so let me salute all of you with my middle finger
all of my perks are great and life style to
playing golf and basketball is what I love to do
while the worlds troubles are in chaos boohoo
flying around in a great big plane
and living in a big mansion that's insane
but my wife still loves to complain
and all the millions of dollars I am able to
hide away for a rainy day
all the people around me
tell me every day how great I am
playing at President is the job for me
you may now get on your knee to worship me
I believe I have become a King you may also kiss my Muslim ring
those of you who disagree with me
and decide to take a pass then you can all kiss my black ass
Written by Dennis Davis
June 16th 2014
Hitler Lives.
In a village near mine an old man lives, so ancient
a TV station took an interest and interviewed him,
they thought he must be 104 or more. I looked at
the face his mustache, white and he had gone bald;
spoke Portuguese with a heavy Austrian accent.
No doubt in my mind I was looking at Adolf Hitler.
To my deep suspicion and when asked about his
longevity said he a vegetarian but liked strudel,
told the village policeman about it, but first I had
to tell him who Hitler was; a shoulder shrug, all so
long ago no point going into all this now.
I called the TV station they hung up on me, but
not before I heard their unqualified laughter.
What am I to do? Can´t just chain myself to him
and take him to Hague…he´s too infirm for that.
A last resort is to send an email Israel, ask them
to let Mossed (their homicide department) send
a couple of agents and take care of the matter.