Best Upper Class Poems
1. Big Brother
Big Brother's protecting his mice
with a secret eavesdropping device.
If you hang up the phone
he'll just send in a drone
when a warrant won't really suffice.
2. Neutrality
The internet's meant to be free,
yes for all, such as you, such as me.
But now there's some doubt -
will it lose all its clout
with the death of neutrality's spree?
3. Privacy
'twas surely our forefather's dread
all our emails would someday be read.
Now that push comes to shove
by the powers above,
private thoughts must now stay in our head.
4. Guantanamo
Guantanamo bay's a resort
where the fishing's a fabulous sport -
with your back on a board
tepid water is poured
spawning tales for a kangaroo court.
5. Banks
To bountiful bailouts give thanks
for there's nothing much richer than banks -
making money galore
taking homes from the poor
while they're managing mortgaging pranks.
6. Health
If you live in the States don't get sick
(lest a cut of the upper class clique).
Whether injured or ill
all they'll give you's a pill -
if you're lucky you'll surely die quick.
7. Economy
Our economy's doing just fine
lying dead with a slug in the spine.
So come follow the call
where there's money for all
and pure profit's the bottom-most line.
8. Safety
Vigilantes and cops are wide spread -
as for justice… not even a shred.
The avengers of right
score when stalking the night
so beware of a cap in the head.
Playing With Fire
Afraid for your miscreant soul
While the Devils licking tongues of flame at your heel
With oh so dirty thoughts
Afraid for the flesh
As you are lead to the pits
All the torture there in of your imagination conceives
Be pleased, to afflict on someone else
Swallow your morals
Like a sanctity pill
A Eucharist aspirin swilled down on holy water
Fear the flesh you stalwart middle class
While the upper-class
Enjoy what you cannot
As you wallow in the resistance of sin
And narrow your life to acquiescence
Puerile in such judgements
Of fickle moralities pleasure
Live a life unlived
And all its pleasure turn to guilt and reprieve
Salvation will come
When it ends
Ascend then, the Jacobs Ladder to heaven
Never knowing what it meant
To kiss with abandon
But rather, suckle to demon lips
All those desires in their fetish of flesh
One last look at the skin you left
Untested
Resist my swarthy middle mass citizens
And ply the trade
Of your own oppression
Condemn me, I dare you, to some raging inferno
Where the appeasing of your righteousness
Knows no bounds
In another climactic prayer for torture
I will play with the bonfire
Rather than mess with poor dripping candles
I will stand proud and defiant
And declare that I
Am Human
for Christie
*People just being people.
These are the kind I want to be around.
How I deplore those putting on airs.
I like the folks whose both feet touch the ground!
Uppity people won’t hang out with lower class folks.
Some society types brag about their good breeding.
For those born with golden spoons in their mouths,
education in REAL life is what they are needing!
Fashionistas and upper class snobs on the hill
seem to think that blue collar’s a sin.
Too many people have hate for their brothers.
*We are all alike beneath the skin!
What matters the most is being yourself.
As they say, “To thy own self be true.”
So this world might at last enjoy full peace,
we must respect those who don’t think like we do!
Sept. 30, 2019 for Richard Lamoureux's Pick A Line Any Line Poetry Contest
*The title and first line are from Richard's poem: Broken People
The other line *is from my poem: A Love Letter to my Friends of India
(see Link in box above for my Love Letter poem)
I remember way back when I was real young, my brother and I used to have adventures
and we wouldn't even leave the house.
Games full of hide and seek and afternoon cartoons.
We were two peas in a pod like twins at least that's how we bonded.
All the neighborhood kids loved us, were addicted to our energy.
It wasn't until we grew up a little that I started to notice the difference
between us.
I was light as day, he was dark as night.
Same father same mother just out mind sets were different.
I got treated like a white girl even though I was full of soul.
I begged for his darkness because I was naive.
To him it didn't matter.
He belonged to our family no matter the difference in color.
I would stand by him just so people would see that I was black.
Even though I knew every song, I knew how to dress, and shake just like a video
girl some of the ignorant still just couldn't except that I was one of them.
I got teased and beat because I had brown colored hair that fell down my back like
long silk.
My skin so light eye shadow wouldn't show when I put it on. I would stare in the
mirror and wish for a darker complexion.
But this was me, I lived a few blocks from the projects, a beautiful neighborhood
with lots of houses we were upper class but still knew the struggle.
A few gun shots here and there but my block was like the suburbs compared to them
mean streets that I had never crossed.
But I went to school right in the project area, you turned a corner and you were
right in the middle of it.
I've seen many fights, weed smelling bathrooms, girls bringing knives
to school, alcohol in the cafeteria milk.
I experienced it all right with them. I even had an temper that got my butt
kicked sometimes.
But it was always the same comment you can't be black, maybe Hispanic but not black.
I would always wonder why, just because I was light to me this made no sense in the
world.
But I've grown up now and it doesn't bother me anymore because I love my curves and I
know that there are different shades of black in the world.
Especially since now a dayslight skinned girls are the new trend.
How thrilling was a novel long ago
I read for school: A Tale of Two Cities.
It tells of common people whose great woe
comes from the upper class’ atrocities.
A doctor tortured in Bastille has been released.
To London he returns and regains his health
with his daughter Lucy’s help. To the east,
things get ugly for the French with great wealth.
Two men love Lucy: Sydney and Darnay.
She weds Darnay, who’s lied about his family.
They’d locked her dad up. She forgives him anyway!
But now he has big problems. He’s nobility!
It happens that poor Sydney has a face
much like Darnay’s. Though Sydney’s never been
a man of character, he will find grace
by taking Darnay’s place at the guillotine.
This novel shows the need for reformation
and is a treasure from Great Britain’s past.
It teaches redemption through transformation.
Dickens’ stories through the centuries will last.
Feb. 19, 2017 for Line Gauthier's Life lesson from a favourite novel
I'm so happy I checked-out a recent e-mail from the Soup
By doing so, I was privileged to read some of Becca Teagan's
work, I know I may have gone over the top with my
little tribute, but I write what comes to me.
I never say this lightly ------"She's a MUST read"
You're far above that upper class
Unique among themselves
Most I view as Top Drawer Poets
But you my friend, Top Shelf
You're the bell of the ball
The cream of the crop
The tip of the tip
of the tipious top
The shine on the shoe
The stick in the tie
The ultimate answer
To that old question "Why?"
You're the crown on the Queen
The jewel of the Nile
You're Aces to me
Cause you write with such style
Don't shy when I say
You're the best of the best
I've strained all the soup
And I've read all the rest
You write like an Angel
With paper and pen
You know what to do
So, just do it again
I'm an African, with an American attached to my name,
a lot of cultured people like wearing nationalistic, hyphenated accessory
My people arrived on a no-class ship when they came,
ashes and sackcloth are a part of every country's wardrobe history
A lot of cultured people like wearing nationalistic, hyphenated accessory,
it feels good to be dressed in the colors of a pretty flag
Ashes and sackcloth are a part of every country's wardrobe history;
blood, sweat and tears can't be packaged and put in a bag
It feels good to be dressed in the colors of a pretty flag,
just don't make waves if you see some spots on the cloth
Blood, sweat and tears can't be packaged and put in a bag
sad to see all that labor get eaten up by profit hungry moth
Just don't make waves if you see some spots on the cloth,
as long as your conscience is clean, everything is alright
Sad to see all that labor get eaten up by profit hungry moth
minimum rage living is the upper-class' dignified plight
As long as your conscience is clean, everything is alright
My people arrived on a no-class ship when they came
Minimum rage living is the upper-class' dignified plight ---
I'm an African, with an American attached to my name
America unlocked
Is the monster
under stairs
stirring?
The bottom class
wondered
as upper class
called them higher.
Master like playing games
stoking darkened fears
enjoyed teasing
emancipated
Kept them
second guessing
what step
would be their
undoing
The sharp fangs
of illiteracy overtly ruling
Liked them tamed
and their feet grabbers
vicious
Had to be there quick
but punished
using a sprint.
America, your ignorance
is yawning.
The same viciousness
you fed, now hungers
for you.
Your appetite for power
Now, eats at you
You created a hole
It now devours you.
You gave a man
with a God complex
the keys
to spiritual kingdoms.
Even sinners are
scared to go higher
with Cerberus
growling
It's no coincidence
our world
became what it is
So many of us willing
to trade for more imbalance
instead of addressing
the fears that rule us.
The monster under the stairs
was abused too
The masters above
affects all of us the same
Whether by timidity or through
aggression we're locked in this
cycle of giving and giving
so only a few receive the getting
Starving for change
are the worst kind of
hunger pangs
i cannot give you studded diamonds,
or give you fine white pearls,
nor can i give you money,
that could buy the whole wide world.
i cannot give you airplane tickets,
new fashions, trends and fame,
the only thing that i can give,
is my heart, my soul and name.
im not a man of upper class,
or a man who is well known,
my needs are very simple,
just a place to call my home.
i'll give you all i have to give,
but as i say it isnt much,
a future,land with house and kids,
and my love on hand as such.
and to know you'll always love me,
even if we're very poor,
really makes me glad found you,
the girl that i adore.
Roses spread with lace garter;
Boutonnière and charter.
Green meadow eyes clung to lass.
Juliet was upper class.
A shepherd was he, with crook.
All gentle men, she forsook.
Under the willow, the wind
Warmed petals with no rescind.
Tempo was slow with his bride
Deep smile, a groom could not hide.
Underneath his ruddy beard,
“Reverie,” the garden cheered.
How lucky was a poor man
To find a robust woman.
Off the balcony she came.
Her shepherd, never the same.
Three brothers we, three brothers we;
living together, within our tree.
We’re raccoons who so, do love cheese;
We do love brie, we do love brie.
We don’t like nuts, they give us gas;
and heaven forbid we eat yard grass,
we are raccoons of the upper class;
cheese please and fast, cheese please and fast.
For cheddar, Cheshire, we will sing,
had we a bell, for swiss we’d ring,
oh the joy that cheese does bring;
a wondrous thing, a wondrous thing.
Ahhh the luck of the Irish
complete with leprechauns
and pots of gold
The Emerald Isle
God's country
filled with lyrical voice
but no one hears her cry
that fabled luck
truly a fable t'would seem
suffering
the only thing in abundance
it is their only pot
that remains filled
an impoverished relative
showing up late for dinner
tossed a few scraps
from the rich relatives
but not allowed to sit at the table
a history rich with servitude
famine, plaque
and indentured slavery
spit upon by class distinctions
laughed about as uneducated
their brogue common
ahhh yes the curse of the commoner
in a society that rewards
upper class and the deemed
right of birth
drunken happy go lucky louts
that would steal your pants
rather than wash his own
and on and on the prejudice flows
from old days into the new
of drinking and gambling
even in the movies
portrayed as a rogue
these perceptions followed
fine people across the sea
where they built the cities
endured the hardships
and still no one hears their cry
no one gives them their due
they did the jobs
others were to afraid to do
the hard labor
standing on steel skyscrapers
so many descendent's
of this proud people
have formed the foundations
of other countries
and still they do not control their own
now the world frowns
not understanding the religious battle
that dwells within
it's all they have
their faith
it makes perfect sense to me
for yes the Irish
would start a fight in a church
for they are not afraid
to stand up for their beliefs
they are just hollow
for so much
has been taken from them
so much suffering
has been endured
so they cling to their faith
as a man clings to a life preserver
for to lose that last vestige
they will lose themselves
ahhhh the luck of the Irish
maybe they should pass that luck to another
then maybe someone will hear their cries
someday they may follow the rainbow
and will truly find that pot of gold
A lifetime of waiting, stacks of National
Geographic half as tall as me, piled on
every step. A girl with nothing to do but dream.
The yellow-black jackets buzzed, I flowered
as I turned the pages. The relics of Tutankhamun
fascinated: gold, turquoise, lapis and the slaves
in mud-brick houses they live in still.
I longed to be the Pharaoh’s daughter;
I kohled my eyes.
Egypt called to me. Pyramids, deserts baking,
heat mirages, and oases of palms with still blue water.
The twenty-first century’s reality is far different.
Cairo teems with discontent, Mubarak’s campaign
posters hung from each lamppost.
Two weeks before the Arab Spring, I was there.
The only safety found behind the gun-guarded,
razor-wired gates of the upper class, and even then—
A country espousing religious freedom was killing
Coptic Christians in the streets, and bombing churches.
Cairo’s one poster child synagogue stood empty,
except for tourists—dark, decorative, haunting,
full of tales of Christ’s sojourn in Egypt?
The pyramids rose hen-pecked by pollution
through a surreal orange sky. Masked women
walk the male dominated streets. Women
live in fear in or out of the hijab.
The majesty of yesteryear, the pyramid of Giza
squats like a discard in the ashtray of desert.
Vendors and tourist litter the site.
Baksheesh is the only God in Egypt,
baksheesh and the horded water of the Nile.
First Published in here & there magazine
in the UK
The meaning of Life:
To touch, to feel, to see;
To know without shadows of doubt
of One's immortality.
Life is the kindergarten of the Cosmos;
A proving ground of worth.
Evolutionary graduations
Lift us high about the earth.
Reflections of the sunset
Through the prisms of our eyes,
Shine on as true illusions as Life
Laughs at our naivete and keeps smiling at our lies.
Graduate to a higher framework of thinking.
Move into the upper class of the Divine.
Life is not narrow, restrictive or limiting;
It's all in your state of mind.
Guard carefully your thoughts and emotions.
Sift them for the brightest nuggets of gold.
Glean out the best and most perfect image
Of your Highest Good that you can hold.
Then, let it shine in each moment and hour.
Fight yourself to save your own Soul.
You hold the key to your future and destiny
As you watch eternity unfold.
A Dog’s best friend (a Cat)
A Cat’s worst foe (a Rat)
A flying mammal that shows its presence at nights (a Bat)
A deaconess soul-mate her church (Hat)
What a girl cannot do without her (phone)
The muscular structure of your body (bone)
What do kids use to kill birds (stone)
A sound that rings on your cell phone (ringtone)
A feeling that a man and woman share together (love)
A material use by race car driver (glove)
In order to eat, human being cooks on a (stove)
What’s the meaning of this poem, just look at the title stated (above)
In mathematics one plus two equal (three)
Bunches of leaves on a (tree)
An insect that makes honey a (bee)
An angry mob chases after a thief, what should he do? (Flee)
An auditor moves up within the social hierarchy, what is this? (delegation)
The lower class, Middle class and Upper class separate themselves from each other what is this? (segregation)
Buddhism, Hinduism, Rastafarianism, Judaism, Christianity are all (Religion)
Africa , Asia, North America, South America, Europe, Oceania are Continent (Division)
A tradesman never left is (tool)
A educational institution for students to learn (school)
Apart from the beaches, sea or river where else one can swim (pool)
Do you believe writing this poem makes sense, then why waste time reading it
This means you are quite the (fool).
Demeter Edwards