Best Vandalizing Poems
Alphabetical animals all around:
Angry army ants,
Busy buzzing bees,
Carousing calico cats,
Dancing dolphin duo,
Eerie electric eels
Fancy feathered flamingos,
Graceful grey geese,
Harmless hairy hamsters,
Interesting itchy insects,
Jolly Japanese jellyfish,
Karate kicking kangaroos,
Lonely little lizards,
Many mischievous monkeys,
Numerous nearsighted newts,
Old ornery otters,
Pretty pink pelicans.
Quick quacking quail,
Rockin’ Red Robins,
Slimy sea slugs,
Terrifying Tibetan tigers,
Upstanding undulating umbrellabirds,
Vicious vandalizing vultures,
Warbling white whipperwills,
Exotic examining extraterrestrials,
Yellow yoked yaks,
Zonked zoo zebras.
White chalk vandalizing it
Words and numbers haunting it
Pens scribbling to reflect it
Eraser smudging
Knowledge forever encrypting its life
As I view flat prairie with mountain range beyond, morning sunshine warms me
and I know by afternoon, fierce storms may gather without warning.
I envy not the urban dweller rushing to and fro amidst stark cement barriers.
Yes, small town life suits me…
I’ll not trade nights laying head on pillow as moonlight pierces the darkness
and coyotes cry to the far reaches like their ancestors before…No, never!
I could not, would not, give up the freedom found in these open spaces
where peaceful Amish plow behind horses harnessed in leather strap.
I proudly tell inquisitors, I met my husband dancing at the old grange hall,
then settled on the ranch his kin claimed and worked three generations back.
I feel safe, protected here among friends in this quaint little town.
Crime is not a factor—not a priority one deals with on a daily basis.
Trips to market bring no snarled traffic, no changing lights of red, yellow, green.
Welcome is felt, not heard from silent voices behind familiar smiling eyes.
On unpaved roads I return as dust fills nose and eyes, making me sneeze
but it’s joy rather than nuisance as I jog along in our old pickup truck.
Here the family is strong, unified—respect for elders required,
blending generations of those who tamed the land before us.
Sunday church services overflow with scrubbed and shining faces
as preachers spread harmony and warnings from the Good Book.
Camaraderie and sportsmanship are taught in this small town.
Proud parents gather in crowds to support their team at each and every event.
Discipline and morals form traditional characteristics of the region,
and authority is respected on all levels, patriotism honored.
Our children do not stray to the bright lights of the city
vandalizing, joining lost souls seeking acceptance on mean streets.
Early evening sounds of slumber echo thru’ thin walls of this old farmhouse
for morning chores greet our kids, us, in this game of sweet survival.
No, I do not envy city folks or opportunities I may have missed therein,
nor do I allow them to bring me scorn, or take pity on my soul.
I gain my worth from one greater, wiser, more forgiving than mere mortals…
I hear the voice of my Creator, and I follow where He leads.
The best artists are outlaws
Vandalizing our sanctity,
Our sanctimonious freight trains,
Our parsimonious neglect.
The best artists are culprits
Chiseling our school desks,
Scraping our bathroom stalls,
Doodling our notebooks.
Graffiti spray paints the struggle,
Scribbling defaces the pretense,
Defilement arrests the complacent,
Disfigurement sullies the platitude.
Defacers embody the dialectic,
The opposition to conformity,
The betrayal of uniformity,
The rebellion against authority.
The best artists are pariahs,
Trashing our temples,
Tossing out our moneychangers,
Driving out our shysters.
Join me with glee in my marvelous baby educational spree
To study human body, also called anatomy
Midst simple biology along humble theology:
Praising God* for being disease-free, praying for His nod-decree.
Tantalizing eyes I have to witness against vandalizing guys
Nose to smell the awesomely nice – oh, "wowsomely" fries
Mouth that will soon beauteously advise midst the odiously unwise
Tongue thriving for truth to rise, striving despite lies.
I thank God for a relieved heart pressure thru my Mom's care-gesture
Relaxing neck pleasure follows good spine posture
My stomach in love’s enclosure shows my Dad's hand aid-feature
Likewise, I enjoy hair-smoothing leisure midst head rub’s stature.
I thank and praise God since I can stretch and shake my quirky feet
With my parents' help, I can bend my knees as I take my seat
While they tickle my toes along fellowship-heat
Their warm love thrills me; "good day, Sweet, Baby" they greet!
*Psalm 139:14 "I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well."
October 23, 2018
Fully edited on January 18, 2019
1st place "Baby Face What's You THINKIN'" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by James Edward Lee Sr.; judged on 2/5/2019.
Beyond the imposing and the high iron gate
The picturesque setting of the Oxford University
Situates the hedonistic oriented Bullingdon Club
Founded more than 200 years ago.
The socially exclusive students get the invitation
To join the Club as its elite members
Many of whom have attained prominence
And position of power in Britain’s political arena.
The ill-famed Club is known for
Its wealthy members and their notorious behavior
Partaking in the boisterous rituals such as
Vandalizing restaurants and students’ rooms.
The Club’s colors are sky blue and shining ivory
Seen on the tailcoats the members wear
For the annual dinner where the drunken revelers
Greet each other chanting “buller, buller, buller”.
The Club has survived the roller-coaster ride
Lurching between frequent recruitment crises
And nearly facing the shut down
But the buller has a way of bouncing back.
The distinctiveness of its haughty members
Reflected in their one-upmanship attitude
Took them to eminence along the tough tracks
The outside world is skeptic about their dubious traits.
____________
April 7, 2023
Contest : Bullingdon Boys
Spoinsored by : Joe Maverick
The Kings Child
A parable about a dying planet
Withering away and parched
Had a miracle inside full of life
As its surface began to split apart
The mother planet started to push
The living planet into the atmosphere
To protect the life inside no one could see
Sending it into a galaxy where it could flourish
Entrusting it into the hands of Stewarts
Who promised to care for its well-being
Something has gone very wrong over time
Nature is angry over the loss of her young
What if we had kept our promises
Caring for the earth not vandalizing it
What if we only took what we needed
Not plucking every mineral from its core
What would the earth be like today
In your minds and hearts if we kept
Our promises to share her wealth not hoard it
I believe we would all be wealthy void of struggle
There would not be poverty and starvation
Greed is the poison that entered our thoughts
Creating a destructive force that has reached
The bowels of the land preparing it for destruction
What If…?
Carole Cookie Arnold
We are farmers without hoes and cutlasses
Dancing the stupid song of poverty
Push us back and forth, we follow
Once in the farmland, we does nothing than sleeping.
Under the farmstead snoring provokely.
Have you seen the precious example we've laid.
We are men of war without arsenals
We are doctors without stethoscope
Our heart tell us heart breathing of patients
We see when we don't see
Servants to the patients who prescribe drugs themselves
We only give false prophecy which they believed in.
With us manoeuvrings medical laws Bad mannered of manifestation of the heartbeat
We sing hilariously to make people happy
But remained sad
Always caught in the webs of sin
We are teachers without chalk and pen
Teaching what we don't know
Educating students to become fools as we are.
Push us back and forth, we follow
Fools with no destination and self esteem
The sings parrot is better off than us
Because it knowth where to stop in the high pitch of its song Which we knowth not
We are drivers without vehicle
Come on board we take you to hell
On the street we roam about hopeless not speechless
Our heads abroad but legs a home
We only give ears to those who call us friends
Whether in advantage or disadvantage
Perhaps that is why the pseudo democrats, corrupt leaders,
office loafers, and dubious leaders
Use us as political animals
We are husbands with no wives
Pupils with no books and Biro
Come, we teach you our singing styles
What you don't know about us
The singing fools we are
Black sheep of the nation
Rotten shinning fragrance eggs
Able bodied but foolish mind
We mislead and deceive young teens
Destroy and vandalizing properties
Truth is far from us
We bury ourselves in the same foolishness
Betray our own honest and truths
In the quest for foolish fame and wealth.
Creeping crawling and tantalizing
Revamped and vandalizing
It creeps in
Clawing, digging, murderously thieving
Killing as it steals and thrills
It sneaks in
Vanquishing and smothering suppression
Suppressing all, thought of light regressing
It got in
Get it out, spit it back out. YOU DON'T WANT THIS TO GET IN!
Phlegm will choke you, but keep going and free yourself from sin
Dark's spittle can never, EVER..
Ah... here we are again my darling
It can win
We were as old as the land,
Disillusioned warriors
Submerged in abandoned dreams
And drowning in our dead.
Resting in the yellow promise
Of vandalizing tongues,
We trusted the honor of those
Who stipulated the terms of submission.
And we surrendered all we'd known
For the sake of our unborn
As the elders mourned the mutilation
Of traditions that defined us as a people.
We became a necklace of broken hearts
Buried in deceit
While our young faded like a photograph
In their eclipsed heritage.
Yet pride bulges from our grieving chest
Withstanding the brunt
Of mockery's spear and the trail of tears;
We survive.
We are Turtle Island,
Emerging from emaciated hopes
To revitalize our purpose
On the sacred wheel.
We are not a sub-species,
Decomposing in the cage of triviality.
We are the eagle;
Refusing to die.
A dedication to my creative writing mentor Tom Foolery
The measuring cup was shattered
and lying all over the floor
It was an old pal,
for making tea of mine, through many days of many rainy seasons
It was never an easy feeling to register
you need help in your mirror, after all these days
Something is quite in-situ there, thinking that I am in need of it again for evermore.
I let her go,
an old pal is waiting for the floor to clean the space with neatness to go on.
As they sue an misunderstood brain, for vandalizing the face that is to be carved on the stone
I gifted her the soul
and I saw her blue eyed in pain, as a bottle cringes in pain, in a blindfolded loss
I simply reminded her,
it is okay to be imperfect, just let us float in, and you shall find my truth. Within.
Where I stayed and stayed and stayed for too long,
in the mere wish of a friend, for a life to be true, in thick and thin.
2021 was a good mourning...
but 2022 was so and so...
and 2023 is here marching in, once again!
Is it too late to catch up the show?
It was the most horrible thing I've ever seen.
I was murdered 100 years ago on Halloween.
A man accused me of vandalizing his house but I didn't do it.
I told him that I was innocent but sadly, I could not prove it.
He grabbed his double barreled shotgun and I was shot.
He threw my corpse down his well and there it would rot.
When I was killed, I became a ghost.
Revenge was what I wanted the most.
And I got exactly what I wanted.
That man committed suicide after being haunted.
I haunted him for months and he couldn't take it anymore.
He shot himself in the head and his corpse fell to the floor.
I haunt that man's house on Halloween, I haunt it once a year.
If you come to this house on Halloween, you will experience fear.
That man murdered me and when he died, he went straight to Hell.
Stay away from this house on Halloween or I will haunt you as well.
A PLEA FOR HELP
(Coronavirus COVID-19)
Roy Mokoena
From coughing to coffin
So quick this is how you spread.
You attack every living mammal
You torture all the helpless animals.
You are a menace to our health
You are lethal and contagious.
You are serious about destroying the mortal world
Stop the savage attacks on a defenseless nation.
Enough with the killing, Enough with the killing.
The level of rivalry among people is growing,
Everyone is focusing on their own wellness.
Families are no longer bonding,
Fellow citizens are quarantined because of your inhumane deeds.
Government is struggling to come up with solutions on how to better the situation
and find the cure for the infected.
You have put the world into vicissitudes of life.
Be visible and come out to the light so that we can give you the ubuntu treat.
Drop off your missiles and stop vandalizing
the innocent creatures.
Hear us, Hear the world, Heal the nation O Lord!
My love, annihilation of consign
that thee, in aptitude, would frown on mine.
While adaptation vaguely draws the line,
that narrow thrust so vandalizing time.
Lean softly, thee contingent nature's rhyme
against my thought, a broaching matters fine,
staves holding only once in graces' entwine,
foreverness of love, a foul remind.
Indemnities research, cruelties ingest
preponderance so delivering fatal sign,
a faction not allowing heart's impress
outnumbers even reason for its crime.
So gloating, but for glory of conquest,
conviction stalling not this mire's assign,
some anger amplifies as in redress,
while warring carries on in merit's twine!
That bullish aggravate would thee confess,
this mulling captive loves thee with design,
before thy hand moves to refuel express,
admit our love is victim, we its pine!
Vandalizing History
A Miracle Man opinion
6/21/2020
Under social injustice, history is vandalized today,
what started out a peaceful protest, wound up an affray.
Many became vociferous in expressing some slighting,
now, seems no day passes without dissing or gaslighting.
The world is too loud and I need placid times,
but my thoughts are ambushed by protest and crimes.
While burning, and looting, history they replace,
bringing to their movement resentment and disgrace.
Today, segments of some cities are facing a coup,
there’s so much fake news, who knows what is true?
It’s cleverly reported inciting anger to peak,
tongues utter only what sinful hearts speak.
We witness flags ablaze and monuments torn down,
society as we knew it, has experienced a meltdown.
If revenge is payment for wrongs of some past day,
God has declared, “vengeance is mine; I will repay.”*
*Romans 12:19
“Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.”