Best Utopias Poems


Premium Member Plastic Paradise

Time's running out for whooping cranes,
the buffalo, and prairie dogs.
For they've been predominantly
replaced by cattle, sheep, and hogs.

The elephant and the blue whale
may share the fate of the dodo.
For these species are endangered,
like the dragons of Komodo.

Alligators and crocodiles,
tread the fringes of extinction.
And the California condor's
future hangs on its distinction.

Seal pups are slaughtered for their fur;
otters for the fish they've eaten.
And the wild lions and tigers,
are routinely caged and beaten.

In sanitized utopias,
we plant the occasional tree.
But in this plastic paradise,
there’s little wildlife left to see.

Premium Member Alphabet Constructs 3 2 1

Annotated Achilles amends fallen frame amputees

Bulimic Barbies browse media monkey banalities

Cameo clouds cling to beaded breath curios

Dopamine dreams delineate check cash desires

Echo endophfins eulogize bullet brain excrement

Fecal folly fantasies reveal relevant frivolities

Gonadal grownups gulp secret scrotal generosities

Helical hemorrhoids hinder senior stricken hemocraps

Idiotic ideals idioiosyncrate postpartum iconoclasts

Jack Jill juxtapositories seek sexestential jouveniers

Kryptic killer kisses ascot arrogant kingdumbs

Liquid lipid loiners fear frontline lucklullibies

Malevolent mommies masterbate rich reflective mommocules

Nevertheless nightingales nourish ruby rich noonbeams

Ovulatory occults outsource torrent tofu outrages

Pensive pisces picnics lovelorny passions 

***** quiet quintensials release rancid quotients

Rape ripe residuals nullify nimble repercussions

Silky seafoam silhouettes fornicate frothy sandlets

Tepid torch trilogies belie belligerent tourniquets

Useless utterances utilize organize orgasmic utopias

Venomous vixens violate cruel.com visions

White willow wombs softly seed hospice hell winds

XX XY xfactors envision extracurricular xraydoms

Yearning yoyo yesterdays calculate clearcovert yields

Zen zealous zions mirror magnify Zoneotones

Premium Member Emergent

How can one man find
More faith in a crevasse of Siula Grande,
Than most will ever know,
Sitting beneath a pulpit on Sunday?

Dulling the truth to grow the census,
Merchants and cowards comfort the carnal ear.
Marketing Christ’s love without his conviction,
Left willful in sin with nothing to fear.

In half doctrines and custom alter calls,
Prostituting the truth with all forms of prosperity.
Akin to seeding hookers in the chambers of Heaven.
Deceived to death twice by hand and blasphemy.

Feeding wolves from among your own flocks.
In the banquets of ancient mystics and bride Blavatsky,
Word of Faith gorging on their mammon,
Left choking in an insatiable eternity.

A culture’s blue concessions are gone, 
Giving more choices leaving Paul’s letters unread.
No church discipline or discernment left,
Testaments of burning flesh that once bled.

Refusing to submit to be broken.
Fading old blessings from past obedience.
Confusing favor with common grace,
Hypocrisy’s retribution birthed decadence.

Millions claiming the found life of the few,
In every eulogy and requiem,
Lukewarm afterthoughts of the Son,
Losing everything by never knowing him.

Despising the light of the living truth,
Lobotomizing guilt with the scalpel of ignorance.
Finding solace in the darkness of mystery.
Death marches infectious rainbows of tolerance.

Redefining roles and covenants in hemorrhaging lies
Under the pretense of the modern states,
Illusions of enlightenment killing somatic slaves.
Relativism’s heart courting the things he hates.

Enticed by the delusions of utopias,
Bound in the fables of autonomy.
Throats upon The two-edged sword,
In this American tragedy
-------------------------------------------------------
12.04.14

This poem attempts to capture the Fundamentalist view on certain issues with other movements within Christianity.  Also, the man in the crevasse, chose a different kind of faith than you may have assumed.


69-Sixtynine-69

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  

Rhapsody playing its crescendo again in loves joyful, operas moment * 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

As slowly she lowers my sundress while I gently brush aside her golden hair 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Gazing into paradise, as she smiles aneath her enchanting lashes; “Angelica” ~

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Nothing can compare as her mistress fingers play softly my heart; dew amid the air...
                 
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Fondly lying back as yearnful nipples rise to be quenched; thirsting

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Her lips so moist as our tongues entwine her lovely breast, caressing my own 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Warmth rushing inside these tides lost within, her beautiful eyes, again *

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Turning desire towards the sun to embrace these flowers; petals of our promise...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sensations nectarous flavours birthed in enamorings, waiting to be loved 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Upon the shores of utopias evermore; floating, through the seas of her ecstasy ~

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

...“69-SixtyNine-69” *

Beneath the Faraway Stars

The tiniest of silver labrets amid the corner of her beautiful elixic lips, so full ~

With a small diamond shining and glittering, upon her perfectly poised nose

These dangling rubies waltzing from beneath her precious meridian lobes, with

A pendant lavaliere; sapient sapphire, wrapped within the finest of gold 

Wearing a white silk dress, cut low, to bare her feeding and full tanned breast

Bronzed reflections of paradise, her soft summers skin 

Gently brushing, upon my wanting and very own ~

While as barefoot we dance, atop the radiant golden sands

Slowly, beckoned beneath the swaying shimmering stars

As into each others eyes we then fall; into the essence of it all

This beauty, while as the waves they so gently play, Beethovens 

Overtures of serenities warm embrace; two hearts and two souls, entwined

Deeply within the mirrors rapturous notes of, a compositions love song ~ 

Taking one anothers hands gently; fingers interlaced amid this light 

Making our way towards the stairs their rising, beyond the whispering shore 

Candles, burning and joyfully waiting, for consecrations breath of life

Consummations rose petals of fragrance, atop this brilliant feathered bed of bright

As slowly I lie her back, to capture forever the pulsing of these beating hearts 

Two souls, melting and melding amid loves destined moment; cherished 

Honey dripping its sweetened nectars; impassioned cries of resoundings 

Within this, utopias, everlasting kiss ~    

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beneath, these faraway stars....

Memories of a Beach Boys Concert

They performed again 
       the aging Beach Boys
Conjuring up seaside 
       utopias
Caught their act 
             years ago 
  at Madison Square Garden 
I remember a pretty young girl 
                   -a bit drunk-
  was kissing me during the 
show 
    The life we led has 
magical moments 
     which face into the box of memroy 
   Remembering days and "nights"(!)
                at the beach 
I pass into a nostalgic haze 
   escape briefly 
from the worlds of science and tehnology 
  into a soft bubbles of joy         -


Premium Member Reflections of Humanity During a Snowstorm

Bristling yet beguiling winds are
driving snow sheets through the dark,
and, secured by brick and lamp,
I draw a comforter to my breast,
one woven by humanity.

I sense that each quickening gust
is pulling through the loom of time
life's many multi-colored threads.

A hickory brown is borne to me
of ships defying depths and dangers,
carrying dreams and heartaches.

Glistening now--the lucent blue
of fertile, percolating minds
genome maps and software.

I feel the orange of affection,
hearth and smiles and homecomings,
the warmth of song and story.

The blinking silver of fantasy,
visionaries, piercing sterility--
castles, stars, utopias.

Here is a filament of frothy pink
comedies, dances and levity,
play and spontaneity.

The looming strands of swarthy black
necessities, death, and armies,
relentless in their marching.

The golden promise of sacred texts,
altars, candles, hope,
encoded and translated.

Emerging, the green of recent growth,
rites of spring and passage,
learning and inner progress.

With such a large and lustrous blanket
in which to sink, like a new-born babe,
I'll toss some folds to you, as they will
easily stretch from here to there.
© Carol Mays  Create an image from this poem.

Illusion

Passion's illusion
Craving utopias castle
Never reaching it

Sweet Red Wine

****************************************************************************

Lingering within my wanting bosom her soft silhouette; silkness ~

Gliding gracefully atop of utopias knowing luxurious

Intimate vanilla creams carpet; tantalizing in sheer perfumed lace... 

Caressing my fantasias deepest desires; as the fire place stirs its 

Delicious dreams rising  amid flames as tasting her strawberry dates ~

Intoxicatings mesmerizing kiss; beauties, glistening moist lips

Entwined in the den of loves, billowed passion...

****************************************************************************

...“Ecstasies, Sweet Red Wine” *

Premium Member On Huxley's Brave New World

Surrounded by broken utopias I stand,
On a brave new world, in a brave new land.
Our Ford he was the man,
Who showed us the way we can:

Forget history, forget biology, forget morality,
Progress, progress, progress to our reality,
Produce, produce and consume, 
Produce, produce, produce and resume!
 
Born to be satisfied with my lot in life,
Born to work and cause no strife,
Delta classed and not Alpha, 
My caste pre-set by the Director. 

I heard this strange word – conservation,
Something about environmental preservation.
Now why would we do that?
Everything I know is grown from the vat!

Recycling might be handy if it cuts costs
And increases profits without imposts,
But if we exhaust this world,
We move on in the universe uncurled.

Alone you say? I was formed in a batch,
Lots of little siblings helped me hatch.
I with them and them with me,
There is no need for friendship and family. 

 2017

Ecstasies, Sweet Red Wine

****************************************************************************

Lingering within my wanting bosom her soft silhouette; silkness ~

Gliding gracefully atop of utopias knowing luxurious

Intimate vanilla creams carpet; tantalizing in sheer perfumed lace... 

Caressing my fantasias deepest desires; as the fire place stirs its 

Delicious dreams rising  amid flames as tasting her strawberry dates ~

Intoxicatings mesmerizing kiss; beauties, glistening moist lips

Entwined in the den of loves, billowed passion...

****************************************************************************

...“Ecstasies, Sweet Red Wine” *

This Dark Eve

Plutonium ensures growth.
More Plutonium, more growths.

Fewer bombs increase the risk of unemployment.
More bombs increase the risk of employment.

Bombs for peace.
More bombs, more pieces.

Bombs to profit this nation.
More bombs, more profits.

Bombs bring potential enemies to the table.
More bombs, more potential enemies, more tables.

Bombs deter enemies from using bombs against us.
More bombs deter more enemies from using more bombs against us.

Bombs aid the construction industry.
More bombs, more constructions.

Funny, when I was a little boy, I thought
All bombs could do was explode.


How Far We’ve Come

Back in the Dark Ages with their lack of drains,
hygiene, refuse disposal and community dustmen,
Ignorance and superstition reigned rats and hogs.
Spreading from the Black Sea, the Black Death
Brought half of Europe to its grave. After the fall
Of Constantinople, a century on, came the New Learning
and the Renaissance, when Man was proud of being Man.
New worlds were discovered; science was born.
For Francis Bacon science was the source of power:
“Nature obey if you would be her lord.”
Later it was realized, utopias with clean streets
Must be defended, and that by science.

Now the rockets stand erect, poised to poison,
To spill the obscene beans and bugs to finish off.
Do up those buttons, Adam, or you return to dust
Before your time, lest the last mass turbulence
Reveals too late  to what impotence
Our potent forces lead. Who then will ask
Or answer why our best minds, blind only
To the obvious, served to devise the means
Of mass destruction in the hire of governments
Of the people, by the people, for the people
Left dead or dying with no one to erect
Crosses to them in the shade of Adam’s tree?
While the True Vine cries” “Father, why..?,”
And heady Dionysus notes how potent was his drug,
Adam haves one final, futile, groan,
Upon this dark eve.

Premium Member Aspiring Alliteration Completed 2-28-23

All answers affect aspirations
By belittling bygone barbarizations
Constantly criticizing correlations
Defined dumbfounded dictations
Edicts evaporate everyone's expectations
Foregone frustrations failed flirtations
Gone great grace giving generations
Harmonies have harmonious hesitations
Impotence influences indignations
Justified judicious justifications
Killing kaputz keratinizations
Living life lonely leaves lacerations
My muse motivated monumental mutations
Nonsense needed no normalizations
Offended overintellectualizations
Past promises purely placations
Questioning quarreling quotations
Resisting relevant restifications
Sentient solutions solve segregations
Total trust triumphs trepidations
Utopias undermined ultralizations
Viciousness visualized victimizations
Worthless weaponizations
Xenodochial xenophilications
Yawn Yuppifications
Zenith zealousness zendrifications

?.."get Up America"..!

Cal Expos vibrant colourful crowd; jewels as treasures?!

A sea of laughter and excitement; such anticipation

Ushering in together the end of a summers, fading year....

This turning of a decades, leaving the world behind ~

Escapisms wonderful sights; to rest, and then to capture

Utopias hearts within a bottles, dream filled sighs

Memories amid this scrapbook; postcards, collected throughout time....

Beyond the midways bright lights and stuffed animals; thrill rides!?

The fairest wheel turning; screams and smiles; precious lives ~

Walking up to the finish line, to gaze upon the post parade

Unable to recollect, as unto exactly which race, it was

Everything coming to a halt; frozen; as he looks into my eyes....

Warmed by this immaculate thought; possibilities, of a recent born?!

High stepping and prancing; silent words, to be reserved

For a late Autumns morn, many years later; this page so turned ~

A chestnut gelding; no one else around; just he and I....

Coming down the home stretch, amid a chorus of jubilant cheers

Searing, the poles as he passes; golden dust rising from beneath his hooves!?

Shining, majestic mane as that of a crown; something magical, now

Stirring within the whisperings, softly spoken wind ~

Into my very soul; a new horizon; the bluest of metaphores....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His name, "Get Up America?!"

The Good Men 6 and 45

Life is like being an imaginary tree 
In a teeming, tangible forest 
On a pursuit with an invisible grail  
To no avail our reapings
So in doubt, a story is sewed
To no avail our teachings
Just rebellion of “you must”
Plus understanding of youths plow
That loosens up and refreshes the soul 
Exposing establishments rotten roots
Slicing and serving the perpetual   
Planting seeds of ideals peeled
Off utopias dream, sprouting from need
From release of constant conditioning 
You’re either dying or you’re new
And if innovation must be new 
Then stagnation is a leach
For a tree is known for it’s fruit 
Not for how far branches reach
So pick when ripe and before you blink
More will be surely bore from new 
Ripe or rotten? Good or bad?
Well, that’s up to you

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