Best Usual Suspects Poems
In the corner of the flower garden
The ugly rose
Stood alone
No shelter from blistering noon sun
Wilted and burnt
The beautiful ones mocked
The usual suspects in the garden
Gathered together in flock
The ugly rose wilted and dried
As the other flowers laughed
They became week and fraught
Not knowing their fate was interlocked
For the ugly rose fading and alone
Was not the petals nor the stem
The intertwined roots were rotted
Soon it was the other flower bushes condemned
As the rose garden rotted and died
That one ugly rose, rose again and became alive
Flourishing on the nutrients of the unsurvived
Sadly that one lonely rejected flower
Still was all alone
With no one to share her flourishing bloom
Like a lover left alone in the corner of a room
No one was there to see her bloom
The rains caressing her soul
our awareness confined to body-mind
to navigate life our ego identity was born
to the truth of being, cognition remained blind
thus what was boon now bane till ego was shorn
discarding all knowing including imagined concepts
silence layers silence until silence alone remains
realms, gods and boons the usual suspects
colouration any, all these are chains
what emerges when duality ends
it is the absolute truth transcendental
no one comes, no one goes, no one ascends
it is a recognition of true being, beyond the mental
It has become painfully obvious that the only way to be heard
is to pay through the nose to be a lifetime nerd,
the way to be read in on this sight
is to pay through the nose with disdain-unslight
the drivel/dribble practicum that is profound in it's reading
is a joke, sickening jest this side of profane with often open ended
vocab blur bleeding from a finger up my butt countenance, hey I can be a pooret
yet as in all ways money that talks/squalks/walk the bills
up/on cuming and its resolute intercourse interims the slash good words for the sentient freefall to the ills of my **** really mean/matters/ ratiorationale reticient/demeanor/demonstrative/destructive co cliff effervicient
sentient fecal savored poetic prickprofundity perversing on pisspoor gobetweens
prepostured with sitesucking positiveprevelance performance preludes of lifetime member promises. GoThe usual suspects figure.
As GMarx once reveled in his Libra coutenance, "I would not want to belong to a any club that would have me as a member"! So be it as u quali/quasi/qualify your
intermiserable inputs from lowly wantobe"poets"? Really, where do you get this chum encrusted fecal crap?? Love, beholding, misery, misertudes of life and sequesters of social misfitted miserdoms as to your innane, irrelevant, idiotic, interpretation of the serial social merits of human america and its poetic sense, and the globe as it is. I haplessly hope that in the humo state of written wrongs that u hate my stuff sur-plenty of desolution row and the good of for what it's worth in my non sequential birthday of sixty something nothings per social senses.
my money nevertalks, even on this lice level. D--aaamn.
Never let it me be told that for me
to be hold in an equal fake frequence with all of the hard-on Dr. Filth viagra statue status that I can speak from my borrowed loaned loins and be heard to a pro poem status dollar of signoff significance.
I know I am being obtuse and indifferent as I don't want to play the $$$ poe whore game that would catapult me to the upper stratosphere of a poetic Zeus, Oden and the like in your eyes, as talent not matters. WTFE. But alas
keep me in your prostratic/pussitic poetic poison prism, Dave. "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers". Otherwise, FU. Keep the faith.
Maria has Gone
She has gone
She has left
Maria is no more
She has no use for players
She has no use for Juan or his slayers
Adam is caught
In the sheets of his deception
Eva Maria has left, looking for the alma Santa Maria
Sands erase the love, Maria is all but gone
She searches the beaches
For meringue and peaches
Maria has gone
Maria has left
Maria knows them all
The usual suspects
Maria your color is beautiful
The way it sways
Maria your tango plays with me
For I must be truthful
Maria has gone
Maria has left
Maria knows them all
The usual suspects
We dance cheek to cheek
Tossed the cheaters to the sea
The usual suspects drowned
We bailar for the love to be
Ok ok ok
The players are here to stay
Maria though she will not be swayed
She has left, she can not be played
She has left
You will see
Look at the sea shore
She ran free, she is with me
How beautiful are her curves
Beautiful and bonito she swerved
I wanna touch her in the dark
I wanna kiss her right on the heart
Maria has gone
Maria has left
Maria knows them all
The usual suspects
They shed tears she has gone
They dance in silent seductions
The usual ones, one and the same
Players playing all the same game
Maria has gone
Maria has left
Maria knows them all
The usual suspects
Now Maria has nerves
That are as smooth as her curves
She knows when the dance is right
The usual suspects will not be in site
Maria has gone
Maria has left
Maria knows them all
The usual suspects
Besos under the moon
She had me swoon
Maria has left
No need to look anymore
She dances at my front door
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aikcYHgkRxM
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LLEMj8q2frI
Black or White
They hide behind masks
They deceive the cathedral masses
They have no names
They have no real face
They preach
They poetically sing
They postulate like peacocks in a ring
Yet silently they slither away
The preacher with the loud voice
The Politician like a trumpet
Promises they have on offer
They are the usual suspects
Loud in pronouncements
Silent in moral disguises
It’s a hot commodity,
seems as if everybody gotta have it
Possessing something
that gives such elevated status
is a coveted thing
Desired for the inordinate attention it bring
Ownership of something
that raises the personal profile
to such gaudy heights
is a top priority:
Acquisition of property for consumer vanity police
Proceed to charge it and retain,
if it’s off the chain
Round up the Usual Suspects dot.com gang,
if it’s off the chain
It’s can’t-get-enough of it merchandise type stuff,
looks like nobody can do without it ... from pillow to puff
Linen to makeup, brush on the checkbook blush
Get in on the cable premium package gold rush
But my message of materialism chastity is clear: Listen up,
my fellow disciples of truth, and those who will hear —
Don’t buy into the noisy commodity market fear,
dip not your hand into the savings slush
Turn down the volume ... raise the decibels of the hush
Not owning something
that puts you
in another social stratosphere,
will send you
to the bottom of the popularity heap
... do I make myself clear
Is the message getting thru
the carnival barker wax plugging your ear
Recede from the crass commercialism gone insane,
get off the chain
Stay on your square where the price of integrity remain,
get off the chain
Live free from the lure of it’s-the-fashionably latest thing;
escape from the credit prison,
cut off the chain
Die free being pure from the newest buy-product offering;
flee into the austerity wasteland,
cast off the chain:
Escape those subliminal messages telling you to
sell yourself into debt slavery again
Clouds can be remarkably similar
to the friends lovers and passer-bys
that filter through our daily lives
like unexpected weekend guests
who arrive exactly as they planned
or close relatives who fail to appear
simply cancelling at the last minute
as if you weren’t worthy of their rain cheque
you have cleaned the bathroom
and your conscience for nothing
Puppet clouds pull easily at our strings
just the rumour of a troubled sky
can send a jetliner the other way
and when thunder rolls like a lions roar
even the bravest of us cringe for cover
for their faithful companion lightning
can be utterly shocking
like the last couple to leave a party
you are not even sure who invited them
Naysayer clouds are lifelong companions
content to rain on just your parade
intimidating away hopes for a brighter day
some clouds are hauntingly thin and long
like the fingernail scratches of a prisoner
held within the walls of a gray winter day
thirsty for the taste of a falling raindrop
and who among us has not known
at least one cute blond cloud
cannot find her way around a hilltop
Vegas stars mime the clouds de soleil
desert matinees provided dawn to dusk
elflike figures grasping silver moonbeams
magically move across skies of fantasy
one moment an elegant graceful butterfly
the next a leaping giant walrus
brilliant costume changes accomplished
within the blink of your eye
now you see them and then you don’t
encore encore encore
Who has’nt witnessed the theft of sunset
winsome pickpockets lurk like puffs of innocence
clouds seemingly distant but so close
we never feel them steal the belief
that we actually can own daylight
as if it were a shiny silver dollar
the usual suspects hide away to darkness
even a cloudless sky fails to please us all
who has not longed for a rainy day
Clouds of suspicion descend upon truth
as if locusts hunting for delicious prey
and can like a loaded pair of dice
forever change the games that we play
the fickle and aloof clouds of love
play hide and seek with our very hearts
Juliet cried out where for art thou Romeo
deep in her heart she knew his words
were just a bunch of silver lined promises
who do you trust if you can’t trust a cloud
IRISH
Every day at quarter to four
There is often a rush to the library door
The ‘usual suspects’ are often there
Sitting on a library chair
They speak to the teacher who they have upset
It may have been deliberate or even for a bet
They could have been fighting, swearing or smoking
When they arrive for their chat no one is joking
Disturbing others, using their phone or often being late
They will end up in the library - it’s not just down to fate
Some may learn and try to refrain
But the ‘usual suspects’ do it again and again
After a short time their chat is over, and to the bus they run
But I love to see the days when the library list shows ‘none’
Our staff they do a marvellous job to try and educate our youth
Poor behaviour can stop this task, it is the sorry truth.
You did a beaUTIFUL THING Boss
Tp f### a perfect future all over again all over a woman,
,he met himsef comin back and he said to himself its pointless without love,
round up the usual suspects,
This very same thing happened to me just last year,
THIS COULD BE THE BEGINNING OF A BEAUTIFUL FRIENDSHIP,
Scream the GODS.
Usual suspects, usual jokes
Usual banter, usual pokes
Mates forever, friends for a time
Band plays their favourites
And feelings they mime.
Swan glides in and rests on a seat,
Regal and classy-to them she's fresh meat,
Colour has come to their black and white screen
They smile and look friendly but she knows what they mean.
She has saved three months for the dress that she owns
But the vultures around want to pick at her bones
She wants a connection, she's looking for more
But she's come in alone, she must be a whore.
The men have escaped from the kids and the wives,
Three or four pints and they live different lives,
The drink makes them think they are sex on a stick
But the swan only smiles and thinks 'yet one more prick'.
She knows she won't meet him in this type of place
She knows in her heart his mind and his face
But while she's still waiting she'll fill up her time
With music and laughter and feelings they mime.
I suppose the usual suspects,
should fill up this poem,
City of lights, ancient pyramids,
colosseum in Rome,
To be honest I seen all these places,
sitting playing the slots,
Yeah we’re talking Vegas baby,
sin city, I’ve given it a shot,
Been up the Eiffel Tower,
Bellagio fountains down below,
Viewing the Sistine chapel,
in Venice along the same road,
Look across main boulevard,
I see Caesars palace all lit up,
Just outside on the strip,
Elvis sings through a begging cup,
Passing the cosmopolitan,
New York springs into view,
Must go by the crystals first,
still looks sparkling new,
On second thoughts cross over,
go shop the miracle mile,
Planet Hollywood rises above,
looking a bit retro in style,
Outside it’s baking hot,
have you felt that Nevada sun,
Cool vapour blows from
roadside bars, I do not shun,
Next day into the stratosphere,
ride the big shot atop,
A thousand feet over Vegas,
screaming will it ever stop,
Later up or down to freemont st.
cannot tell I’m totally lost,
Craziest place I’ve ever seen,
little sleazy by default,
So that’s my bucket list,
everything’s now crossed off,
World under one roof, pretty sad,
yeah well! go ahead and scoff.
By
David Kavanagh
What Have You Kicked Off
On Your Bucket List Poetry Contest
08/11/2020
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Don’t pardon those demockratory quips,
them dishonest mistakes
Unless you love
walking thru a field of verbal cow chips
Beware! Aye lips very often halitosis snip
Here is a rue unpardonable exit tip:
Brown nose aroma
is blew gaslight, pig methane lit lisp
Klepto kaboom air be a dung hole whiny dip
Oink noise travels so muddy morals quick —
Laundered money echoes
radar register as a bat crazy, bombast blip
Motives contraire is err bound on a paper ego trip
‘Nocchio utterances are devious windbag equipped
These long nostril tones
fill vacuous space ‘tween the ears with jingle plastic
Pirate gasp fares exorbitantly moves the coin traffic
Oval thought bubbles have a carny bark grip:
Pilfer adorn pox troubles
will make you covid yourself
Verbal Bent ain’t nothing but a Fraudian slip
Rublecon double crossing share of blowback scrip
Usual Suspects don’t racket give a rap sheet rip
Plunder cover blown,
toothy alibis and enamel lies on a tear telly drip
Mice despair got toilet sold for crooked flush catnip
Cheshire cries steal boo hearts trending fear obit
As the covetous pleas
of pickpocket thieves
Take the vault temple with moneychanger surfeit
The bayou sky flies a catfish moon over swamp gators
And cottonmouth vipers. Accordions, fiddles, and rub board vests
Make their ramble through the undergrowth hot on the trail
Of a sultry midsummer house party in Sweat Neck, Louisiana.
All the usual suspects are there. Sharkskin Slim doffs his topper
To Ruby and Rose - the Harlequin Twins. They curtsy in reply.
They came to town to show local folks how business gets done.
Fast Man is fresh from stabbing Satan in the back; same as before.
Snorkel-nose Nelson lays his blackjack on the table.
Pelican-neck LeBeau considers the odds and spits.
A honeysuckle breeze wafts across the terrace.
Eucalyptus, peppermint, and pine tar grace the veranda
Where Miss Bunny Bouche, in her famous lavender velour,
Garners attention from spy boys eying Cajun temptations
With considerably hardened intentions. Several teamsters
Just in from Shreveport dance lively while a claw hammer fiddler
Plays Tee Nah Nah. Essential words are suggested in the space
Between the jug and the mason jar. They speak of collard green
Creole rice served with crayfish in roux étouffée. The snap beans
Are sure enough salted. The shrimp gumbo is suitably spiced.
Sad Hannah sits off in the corner, her motives transparent
As parish politics. She’s been rumored to have dabbled
In arson crafts she’d learned at Magdalena’s Den of Sin,
But no one ever really pays her much mind.
She’s been deliberating the consequence of a life not lived,
And sees a glimmer of hope in the eye of a hurricane lamp.
Her chance of escaping obscurity erupts through the hall.
So now, it’s last call and damn it all, take a left at the crossroads,
And be sure to turn your mattress over when it’s time to climb downstairs.
And as for Hannah, sad Hannah, well, it’s either up Ladder Lane
Then down Hemp Alley, or else it’s just a lonely walk home.
a battalion of horses
prancing around in my mind
snorting and pawing
make my muse crazy with happiness
mice run through their feed
she loves that, it gives her a start
I roll my eyes
not fond of rodents
adjectives on fire ping themselves in my musings
the usual suspects
some I have used so often
I have embarrassed myself
persnickety and prissy being two of my favorites.
redundant I use them so often
I want to use prissy again! Trixie says
I back off; she can be a very unforgiving muse.
I’m a bit of a mystery, a bit of a myth.
My answer to small talk is taking the fifth.
My loyal troops are always gathered ‘round.
It’s just Santa, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy,
And me.
I’m a bit of a fog, and a bit of a fraud.
I’ve smuggled illegal opinions abroad.
I hang with all the usual suspects.
It’s just Bigfoot, Yeti, Paul Bunion,
And me.
I’m a bit of a rumor, and a bit of a fact.
You can tell by the way my critics react.
But I’m never worried by all their drawn swords.
It’s just Athos, Porthos, Aramis,
And me.