Best War Paint Poems
He was my sun, my one and only son,
attired as a cowboy for the day.
And so I handed him a little gun
of fastened random sticks, for him to shoot and play.
Attired as a cowboy for the day
he searched for foes (with bows and arrows made
of fastened random sticks for them) to shoot, and play
the part of ‘Injuns’ in a mock charade.
He searched for foes (with bows and arrows made)
well written in his story books before he left for school.
The parts of ‘Injuns’ in a mock charade
were tainted with a crimson war paint, oh so cruel.
Well writ in history books before he left from school,
the tales (retold of victories that we’d won)
were tainted with a crimson war paint, oh so cruel.
The flow of paint was not to staunch when once begun.
From tales retold of victories that we’d won,
he learned to fight for God and country glory, though
the flow of pain, ’twas not to staunch when once begun
and bane to both sides (as he’d later come to know).
He learned to fight for God and country glory, though
the wounds of war were kept unseen (while nigh)
and bane to both sides (as we’d later come to know);
but still he stuffed a duffel bag with several things of youth, then said goodbye.
The wounds of war were kept unseen. While nigh,
the hours boomed, the clock struck 12 at last, his time to leave.
But, still, he stuffed a duffel bag with several things of youth, then said goodbye
to those who’d stay and even those who wouldn’t grieve.
The hours boomed, the clock struck 12 - alas, his time to leave.
They sent back body bags they’d stuffed with severed things of those who’d died
to those who’d stayed. And even those who wouldn’t grieve
with tears were stiff and masked like wooden boxes meant to hide.
They sent back body bags they’d stuffed with severed things of those who’d died;
his boots hung loose, one camouflaged in mud.
With tears, the stiff were masked in wooden boxes meant to hide
our children from the spilling of their blood.
His boots hung loose, one camouflaged in mud;
they said they’d needed him to help defend
our children from the spilling of their blood.
But can they ever see or really comprehend?
They said they’d needed him to help defend,
and so they handed him a little gun.
But can they ever see or really comprehend?
He was my sun, my one and only son.
THE JESTER
Jester jingles
with madcap medusa-bells,
dressed in melodic-motley uniform.
A sea of foamy frills
frame the famed renaissance storyteller,
a creature feature
of phantasm for frightened children.
His ghost-white face
with comedic war paint.
Highly educated,
acts the fool,
preaching to the pompadour.
Folly finds the frolicking ear
of the entertained king,
even at the news of sinking ships.
The king’s delighted,
as balls lollygag around his throne room,
and pins dance before his eyes.
Mesmerized, hypnotized,
spirals spry and smiling.
Claps his cacophonous hands.
The puppet court amplifies the sound.
The buffoon’s very wise,
buried behind his makeup.
His strings
control the crown.
Royally screws the court
with tasteless remarks
and they bow over in laughter.
In the backroom formulates his investment plan.
Jester jingles,
of drama and lies,
of liberties and surprise.
8/3/2017
Kai Neumann’s Jester Contest
1st Place
I spit fire from my lungs,
None can extinguish my flame,
The Ink I write with bleeds into their brains.
They wish they could raise up and stand as high as me,
I am filled with effervescence, touching places they can only dream.
I am absent, flawless, more perfect than they'll ever be!
Gaze into my emerald eyes, fall in love with me.
I dance with Gypsy magic stealing the souls of men,
These other fools, Ha! They see my trap and fall right in!
Can you refuse the beauty of a red haired Saint,
I'll beguile you before you recognize my war paint.
Silk white skin taunt across ample breasts,
Poison like Ruby lips that whisper dreams of a naked caress.
I hold all the powers, the gift of a seductress,
Worship me baby and I'll show you I'm the best,
I deserve to be a Queen or a Goddess, the rest are just worthless.
It's all about sun and shadows...good times and bad
Waking and sleeping...happy and sad
Black clouds and rain
blue skies and white doves
Peace,love and beauty...fear,hate and mistrust
It's all about sun and shadows...rolling dice and coin flips
Roller coaster rides and terrifying death trips
Slide and slip
The head and the tail
Rising and falling...the sexual spell
It's all about sun and shadows...darkness before the dawn
Living and dying
Prophets and pawns
Sacrifice and subtraction...one peice at a time
Tiny figments and fragments slowly robbing them blind
Kindness of killers and savagery of saints
One time passifists put on angry armor and war paint
Green lights say go...stop signs and red flags
It's all about sun and shadows that make this world just what it is
Haudenosaunee ...
translation: They made the house
But who painted it
the colors we now see ---
Red, white and blue
Let's go back in time shall we,
and observe who cut down the first tree
in the eleventh century
Five Nations ...
called by one name, Iroquois
A French given name
Separate nations who agreed
to live under the same
Great Law of Peace
Signified by the Great Tree
that housed all five families
under one roof
Haudenosaunee ...
The long house was proof
that all nations could come together as one
under one roof
A novel idea, way ahead of its time,
the first North American U.N. of it's kind
That was a nice trip back in history,
but the question still remains: who painted the long house
the colors we now see ---
Red, white and blue
The answer, perhaps you never knew
Even so, you never thought about it much, did you
Mohawk red ... a lot of spilt bloodshed
Onondaga white ... a lot of innocent loss of lives
Oneida blue ... a lot of human souls traded too
Cayuga red ... a lot of totems toppled on their head
Seneca white ... a lot of war whoops in the night
Iroquois turquoise blue ... a lot of ancient land taken by someone new
Seems two coats of war paint wasn't enough,
too bad they didn't first try the color of love
Long blue-black, straight hair.
The color of a raven so rare.
Cheek bones chiseled with grace.
A tan Native American face.
Hair, braided with a ritual feather.
Clothed in a loin cloth made of leather.
Tribal war paint decorated his cheeks,
Seeing a Native God made my knees weak.
They honor and worship our Earth,
Paying tribute to all that is birthed.
Never taking, without giving something back.
This is what most cultures, but them seem to lack.
If I ever had the chance to pick a perfect mate,
A Native American Indian would be my fate.
I would treasure him forever, body and soul.
With his perfect face and eyes the color of coal.
"Possums on the Run - Part 4"
Stars in the sky,
he sits on his back steps,
he’s thinking of all his dreams,
his one true love, his sadness
HER dreams all come undone,
“Which star’s the sign of Cancer?”
he ponders, watching the fence line,
The sun has well and truly set.
All he sees are his little
possum’s on the run.
Walks out to the Avocado trees
complains about the aboes
and his thoughts wander towards
the-other-side-of-the-fence Nuns.
Three saplings
watch his sadness
bleeding into Erinmore
pipe dreams -
Three think,
“run away soon - run, run, run”.
Wrote him a poem
placed it in the Big Book
put my high heels on
drove me to the airport
said, “I’ll be okay”
kissed him on the cheek
promised him to my dying day
I’d wear no war paint,
"Be a good girl, Luv," he cries out,
"write home some!".
Didn’t turn back to say goodbye
as I walked onto the
Fokker F27 Friendship
the pilot closed the door
little bird flew up into Blue Sky
Didnt' cry, turned my face
towards the Sun.
My life had just begun.
“Possum’s on the Run”
(Lovejoy-Burton/Jan 2018)
1. Lennox/Legend in My Living Room
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=98srF-qG2mA
(Dedicated to a Revolutionary Possum, who thinks they're the only first one to run, run, run. This posted, of course, as always, with ALL MY LOVE. Dedicated to you my daughter, Georgia).
Hey you,
I know what you are going through
Trying to stand tall and strong
While a deep rooted pain arising from within
Is eating you from the inside
You don’t know what is causing it
You don’t know how long it will hurt
But through all the pain and hopelessness
You still smile
Hey you,
I see the tear stains on your cheeks even after you brush them away
I wish you wore them with pride
Like battle scars or war paint
For every moment when you don’t give in to those thoughts running in your head
You become a warrior
Hey you,
I know self-worth is a foreign concept for you
You think you are not good enough for them
For her
For your dreams
Or for life itself
But you are wrong
They are waiting with open arms
She is waiting with an open heart
Life is waiting with all the opportunities you desire
Let them in
For if they thought they didn’t deserve you
They wouldn’t be waiting
For the moment when you are ready
Hey you,
I know those days of hopelessness
When the pain becomes too much
When you feel like running away
From everyone and everything
When you feel like running away
From yourself
Just remember
No matter what
Come back home
Hey you,
I know those times
When you think too much
Worry too much
And don’t want to fight anymore
During those times, just remember
It will be fine
How do I know?
Because I have been through it too
Carrying the burden of the world’s opinions
On my shoulders
I lived every moment in anxiety
Had trouble sleeping through the night
Even though my nightmares felt more comforting than reality
I felt alone and defeated too
I had been broken
But then I learnt
To sing a little louder
To dance a little crazily
To let go of the burden of other’s opinions
And most importantly
To laugh a little more freely
I have learnt
That I don’t always have to be the best
Just the best version of me
That I don’t always have to be strong
That I shouldn’t be scared to cry
And wear my scars with pride
As they have made me stronger
So here I stand
Waiting for you with an open heart
So let me share your burden and lighten your shoulders
Let me give you a light if it feels to dark and cold
Let me make you a warm cup of tea for I know you are tired
I just want you to know
You will be ok
So hang in there
And enjoy this moment
Spring is right around the corner
How do you like me as I am today?
Twenty years young, triumphantly boasting
Success through all you had been foreboding.
Casting my vast nets as far as the sun
While you cast your line in small empty streams,
Passionately chasing visions and dreams
While you bury your head in sand or run.
Do you still see no hope for my future?
See the wounds you thought I couldn't suture?
In my past I was but a ball of clay.
Shaped by your hands and your verbal roastings;
Scarred by abuse and spiteful goading.
I'm still not the one who mocks or makes fun.
I still don't pick guys last for my sports teams,
Because I know what hardship and hurt means;
How it feels to wish tomorrow won’t come.
Here I stand, the scar-ridden suitor
In full war paint, looking back with humour.
y'all know me- I'm in the poem biz
and it is a no brainer when I need a fix(I come to the main drag)of
this poetry site
this my security blanket my safe harbor my home away from home
it has taken me years to learn the
set up(its a long way to poet)gonna take a journey
listen I don't consider my poems hot stuff
nor do I have hang ups but the bare bones is this
I go bananas for contests I won't bamboozle you
I just wanna win (win and win)
but getting a poem selected is an uncertain crapshoot
its a tricky business
when the theme is announced
I need to give it a good think (think)
and sometimes I write a lemon (a real stinker)
oh when I lose(so blue)oh so near when I win bees knees happy
sometimes I put on my war paint and make my way
to the shooting gallery (I mean the blogs)
don't wanna open a can of worms but
a poet needs guts to make a comment there
oh yessiree your words can be turned to smoke
sometimes its all snoggling and sometimes its just aggro
the blogger asks for an opinion then the fun begins
get out the boom box say what talk to the hand
bring me the funny wagon gotta get outa there
before I go nuts gotta chill out take my peepers to a poem
like it when its mellow yellow in blog world
y'all know me- I'm in the poem biz
and it is a no brainer when I need a fix(I come to the main drag)of
this poetry site
_____________________________________
July 1, 2015
Free Verse
For the contest, Colloquialisms, sponsor, Laura Leiser
Fourth Place
Poor Humpty Dumpty was a numpty when he fell off the garden wall
His poor old ma went bananas, told me to buzz off when I call
Guess I better sit on the shelf otherwise I’ll go completely nuts
I ain’t gonna take no stick from that mangy old bunch of mutts
I’ll get myself a fix of chocolate cos I could do with a little lift
But I’ll end up with a spare tyre, that blubber I’m gonna have to shift
I’m feeling so blue and sad today the gremlins are in my life
Perhaps I better go for a stroll or I’ll get an ear bashing from the wife
Maybe I’ll see some dickie birds or a cute fluffy little bunny
If I see their lil’ bob tails, oh man they look so darn funny
Next I'll grab the old gal some chox and a nice bunch of flowers
She’ll be putting on her war paint, boy that can take some hours
Now I’m gonna sit on the fence and try and get a little rest
Got my best bib and tucker on - I’m dressed in my Sunday best
Contest- Colloquialisms – Sponsor Laura Leiser
07~19~15
Writing for contests, is often a crapshoot!
Some may be teasers, and others no brainers.
Results often open a new can of worms,
though sponsors with backbones, will stick to their guns!
Plagued by the screams of dissatisfied rhymers
whose dreams of a win may have gone up in smoke!
But a poet's class act, is to take it in stride.
Don't be hung up, keep your eye on prize !
Wearing war-paint is a taint on the pride
Don't have a fit, ... be quick to decide
Stoked by the turn-on of writing excitement
We are caught in the cross-hairs of P. S. enchantment !!
Write with a zest that will stick to the ribs
Write for yourself, and find joy in the race
There is no disgrace if you handle with grace
Hold up your head, whether win, lose or place!
____________________________________
7/15/15 For the contest "Colloquialisms" sponsored by Laura Leiser
The avalanche crashed an ax from nimbus peaks
these shrouds a pall a maul splitting my shield
this smur slurs my weakened war paint
my skin my beat my breath my breast
gray matter clouds —a pock-marked-psyche wears the ruse of ceruse
cosmos charity clouds once white like daylight once light as sea foam
blown and flown to the expanse of ether airy spirits afloat
now a iron-heart-anvil I’m horizontal
..an empty fossil-frame pressed into earth
these clouds these shrouds upon me
around me about me they cry
my lantern dampened they know why
cataract-clouds dimmed my gaze
they’ve simmered and condensed
they’ve become incensed
they drape me a caterwaul shawl
oh mamma sky your cirrus streams my suckle sweet
nourish my flourish rock me frock me your cumulus crib and fleece
from nest on high fledge me bluebird spry
freckle me starling’s starlight speckle
myself the Milky Way instead of ash-of-flame remains
constellated skin depicts our myth and marrow sagas
my mouth alive with words of the winds
iambic tranquilize of zephyrs sweeping wheat
and lyric wrath of gales aggrieved stripping leaves from trees
with barnstormer speech
cleanse my lens with see-through-rain till wet with reflection
that upends the blur and burr of clouds crashing down
— keep them mamma sky beyond where they belong
so I may return and re-emerge — reimagined
High heels like peacocks on stilts
Eyes piercing like porcupine spikes
Bear heavy mascara like war paint
Lips so red like they’ve never been kissed
We suit up for the show down
The wardrobe mirror decides the crown
Our sway leading the way
Our e-goes leave the driveway
To jam the payroll en route the freeway
As we carve a niche along the concrete pathway
Dark sunglasses for added couture
Style galore in ‘Mzazi fosho!’
These are high stakes
The fashion police issue hefty fines for any mistakes
Sanctioning you off the fashion calendar
No points for ‘colour blockin’ and poor posture
The isle to the photocopier becomes the runway
The city streets become the fashion highways
I am a gentle man, and I try with all my heart to love my fellow man and do all that I
can, to help out and get along. However, there are some men that no matter what
you do will try to hurt and take advantage of you.
I am very patient, I give them every chance, I try to endure and show them love. I
try to check my anger, turn the other cheek strive to be humble and meek.
There comes a time when all efforts have failed, when I've been pushed far too long
and too hard. They think they can keep pushinig and never let up.
The time comes when I've seen the light I put on my war face and prepare for the
fight. I give them fair warning they can clealy see the war paint on my face.
I may not win the battle this might surely be, but I will stand my ground, take their
best and give back what they deal out twice. I may not win today or the next, but
eventually I will win the war.
Listen to me brother and keep it in your mind, if you keep pushing people it could
turn out to be your end.