Best Wholesale Poems
Smith and Wesson’s cool steel kisses my right temple. I cock the hammer. The slow clicking of the cylinder’s turn is amplified through the barrel into my ear. Finger resting on the trigger; and I reminisce.
Striking that young maiden and the bright red trickle from her cheek, giving my flesh the appearance of eternal youth. How lovely it was to immerse in the warm blood of so many young virgins sacrificed for my vanity. And being left to die alone in my castle. What a waste.
In my lust for recognition I relished in terrorizing the streets of London. What a rush it was to baffle the authorities, putting my handy work on display; artistically arranging the bodies for my twisted desire. They say it was around twenty women strangled and mutilated, if they only knew the real number. But that passion weaned quickly. In my urge for a grandeur macabre I overdosed on heroine in hopes being able top that in my next incarnation.
As Feuer of an entire nation the delegation of wholesale slaughter didn't quite measure up to the ecstasy of someone else’s existence being extinguished through my own hands.
The era of free love lent to an easy spree of killings in northern California. In my need for some recognition, I teased the authorities with cryptic messages; to this day and my great disappointment they have not been able to decipher. The most that came out of it was a marriage of Clint Eastwood and Hollywood in the name of Dirty Harry.
Hugging my finger to the trigger giving it a strong, swift pull I can’t help but wonder, how do I achieve a higher satisfaction than when I delivered the Kiss of Death, sacrificing the Son of God for just a few shillings?
"Everything Halloween Contest"
Now having reached three score and ten
it sounds like fun to just look back
over the years that's gone by
it's a wonder all I've had on track
Born two days after Santa's day
adopted at 6 weeks by new mum and dad
I then was found to have a stammer
that was difficult for a mere lad
After school, I worked as an electrician
but I was found to be color blind
so found work in food wholesale
which mostly was an enjoyable find
In my mid-20s love met me straight
Jean being my real love so true
we got wed in '81, life was fab
sadly Jean passed away in '82
After being a widower for 9 years
found a real love in Christine once again
now being married all of 34 years
happy we've been, making a special blend
The greatest thing has been Jesus
meeting God's saviour changed everything
dying in my place on Calvary's tree
Jesus's eternal love makes my heart sing
Now in my retirement years
enjoying a life filled with peace and calm
having got contentment with every word
even to write rhyme like David's Psalms
(I thought having now passed 70 years it would be good to write my thoughts based on my true story in poetic form on how life has been with its ups and downs, hope you enjoy reading this personal piece. )
Clearly debriefed;
what if escalation.
Exhalation; don’t
relax. Remember
the facts. Living
dead flow on empty roads.
Remember the broad
streets of the mall,
where the dead lurk
and maul. Empty,
the shelves, two days
after malice of ice,
near and far. Skate
to the center, fall in;
what were you after?
Remember vegetables
don’t grow on shelves;
they arrive on big wheels.
One starts to question,
“where does good and plenty
come from?” A wholesale
disaster could be payday.
The living dead make their beds
under the fluorescent lights;
buzzing on open shelves.
There is plenty of room
for doom. I had to leave
the room. Breathing too loud.
Left with clothes on my back,
a card, a heart attack.
Grateful for provisions,
for meat in my freezer,
rice in my pantry,
cream of mushroom,
fried okra, lights,
water and electricity.
Electricity in Publix
unnecessary. Feet
moving, squeaky carts;
I’m darting out the doors.
Should I warn those
coming in. Should I
even look at them…
In the summer of 2007, God received an angel.
The Angels name was Katie.
Katie was sweet & Katie was good
But I guess God wanted sweet old Katie
Out of the hood.
She did all she could, she gave all she had
But never in her life treated anyone bad.
Jesus, I know that she’s good
I know that she is great
But sometimes I just hate,
Hate that she is gone
Hate that she is away
I think about her everyday.
Everyone & Everything is changing
Family is falling apart,
Oh why it’s breaking my heart.
Tearing the house down acting like pure clowns
God you got a gift
But sometimes I wish,
Wish you hadn’t took my Angel
Wish you would have let her stay a little longer.
God received an Angel.
The Angels name was Katie
I hope Katie is with me daily
Until I die & visit her in the sky
House is up wholesale, everyone thinking
“WHAT THE HELL”
Angels, Angels, Angels
Angels flying here, Angels flying there
Angels are flying around just about any & everywhere
You took a couple of my families angels in strange ways
I get up in the morning wondering when is my day
& who will be next to depart us.
My heart was broken when you took my Angel
Oh, why did you have to take her,
Her out of all people
She followed the rules and the laws
But I am wondering is that all.
Bags all packed and ready to go?
I wish that were the case.
Tossed some clean clothes in the trunk,
With some things I can’t replace.
Won’t take time to be ready to go.
I don’t wanna see her face.
Leaving behind lots of junk;
Getting out of her space.
There’s some good stuff that you should find
At Saturday’s yard sale.
Cowboy boots, mechanics’ tools--
Nothing fancy or upscale.
You can have the gal I left behind.
You’ll get her better than wholesale.
Watch out, she plays dirty pool,
And puts her men through Hell.
Things with my gal were getting cold.
It’s time for some upgrades.
Nothing there was working right--
Need a new gal ready-made.
I want a gal that’s better than gold,
Without charades or masquerades.
Saint by day, sinner by night,
That’s easy to persuade.
(chorus)
I’ll miss my worn-in cowboy hat
And slightly worn-out clothes.
I’ll miss my rig and lariat
With the yellow Texas rose.
Counting all the things that I gave up,
You could naturally infer—
Though I’ll miss a lot of my old stuff,
I definitely won’t miss her.
Yes, I’ll miss a lot of my old stuff,
But certainly not her.
"Just one alphabet,
an imprint on the brain,
and you'll never forget
or be puzzled again.
If you use your head,
you can save your feet;
the mind must be fed
and a book is a treat.
Reading and writing
are private activities,
but mingling's the thing
in your towns and your cities.
The retail and wholesale
of popular cultures:
peacock and nightingale
enjoyed by vultures.
One day in the evening,
you'll want to impart
the frustrated meaning
that's hurting your heart.
Misunderstanding's
the product of fear,
but all happy endings
are perfectly clear.
And something is learned
when professors are fooled
and the children are turned
into the over-schooled -
Don't study too long,
after you're literate,
go totally wrong
and still be an idiot."
Yesterday for my birthday,
I started off
with a bottle of wine...
I took the train
into town...
I had half a bitter
at the Cafe de Piaf
in Waterloo...
I went to work
for a couple of hours or so;
I had a pint after work;
I went for an audition;
after the audition,
I had another pint
and a half;
I had another half,
before meeting my mates,
for my b'day celebrations;
we had a pint together;
we went into
the night club,
where we had champagne
(I had three glasses);
I had a further
glass of vino,
by which time,
I was so gone
that I drew an audience
of about thirty
by performing a solo
dancing spot
in the middle
of the disco floor...
We all piled off to the pub
after that,
where I had another drink
(I can't remember
what it was)...
I then made my way home,
took the bus from Surbiton,
but ended up
in the wilds of Surrey;
I took another bus home,
and watched some telly,
and had something to eat
before crashing out...
I really, really enjoyed
the eve, but today,
I've been walking around
like a zomb;
I've had only one drink today,
an early morning
restorative effort;
I spent the day working,
then I went to a bookshop,
where, like a monk,
I go for a day's
drying out session...
Drying out is really awful;
you jump at every shadow;
you feel dizzy,
you notice everything;
very often,
I don't follow through.
(There's a twilight mood to "Lone Birthday Boy Dancing" - almost certainly drafted in diary form on 8 October 1992, or perhaps a year earlier - with the birthday boy performing his Dionysian solo dance in defiance of the wholesale ruin of mind, body and soul he's so obviously invoking.)
Night and day, a thrashing
like an invisible whiptail
surge van hail,
doth swell me bosom
excruciatingly, doggedly blackmail
capriciously be-numbingly,
aggravatingly assail
mine conscience in
what paltry pale
capacity of this gamboling male,
I can "pay forward,"
whatever means shale
be moost apropos avail
to offset bewail
ling (internal psyche doth ale
hankering) against utter
lifetime (mine) peppered
with emotional, physical
and social destitution
bereft, viz fail
ling to maximize inspiration
reverberating as vibrant detail
lacking even justa minimum
desire to live
(visa vis no way
discover ring, nope nar even
"FAKE" king minuscule appeasement
of my body, mind,
and spirit triage during)
hell...shove (shelve) aside
such gloriously noble benighted role,
amidst upending folktale
re: King Arthur and His Knights
of the Round Table
futilely searching for holy grail
where steadfast conviction
emboldens this heart and hale
spirited mindful,
sincere hard drive spurs
(neigh saying horse
sense of mine)
where ambition saddled
to air (dan sing) quailing,
yen propelling (yours truly),
with sincere humanitarian,
(i.e. blood driven)
philanthropic spiritual zeal,
I tried to unveil,
this reasonably rhyming thumbnail
sketch poetically versatile
within this spurious verse despite
any trials undermining travail
rather mine heart felt genuine
motive fueled by impetus
to contribute within e kale
logi, fizzy hollow gee, humanity,
with integrity, magnanimity,
and quality fervency,
while still adept, adroit,
agile, and alert,
(cuz America needs more lerts
to become great again)
ironically steel tougher than nails,
duh pleating ability dovetail
to bug (or wug) gee wholesale.
The government and its people stay on antagonistic sides
but what stimulates the rulers’ infidelity to patriotism
can easily be bought by any, over the counter.
They are desperately in need
of sailors to guide through the storm
yet for some reasons,
nurture a belief of so called anointed but empty vessels.
Structural human developments
siphoned by leadership’s exhaust pipes,
desecrating humanity’s sanctuary
for corruption to sell in wholesale.
The public treasury flows down
non-stop even bypassing its bladder,
as materialism and the quest for good life
break all of conscience’s administrative protocols.
Survival instincts undergo inflation
for civilization to suffer a recession
to this end, unity’s objections are overruled
by Nepotism and favouritism.
Social growth is blocked
and always in need of foreign catheter.
A direct current links poverty to the mindset and way of life,
giving a clear evidence of an economy
in desperate need of reconstructive surgery.
In the millennium’s first dozen years,
they say we’re headed for a tipping point --
a disastrous sum of many fears
when Nature herself will crash and disjoint.
It’s not the Mayan calendar that’s cause,
nor the Sun’s circumstantial alignment,
but our careless consumption without pause
and our uncontrolled wholesale consignment.
Our survival’s not a dress rehearsal.
We are fast approaching the precipice
where it will be too late for reversal.
Earth’s ecosystem hangs over the abyss.
If you’re reading this and claim you don’t care,
we don't need to wait; we’re already there.
Today is the first day of the rest of my life
trying to find a job, I have set out in flight
all the applications, and questions they ask
for someone that is older, this can be a task
from one town to another, I went today
"thank you for coming in, we will call you" they say
out their door to another place I go
not much going on, things here are slow
I will not give up, that is not my style
but I haven't done this in quite a while
retail, wholesale, and all in between
my gas hand shows empty, now I could scream
maybe next week my future will change
my phone is fully charge, I will stay in range
only one chance, that is all I need
today I was planting, my job hunting seeds
I try to establish strong mental footholds
In resemblance to fort knox physical strongholds
Through repentance I lost the spiritual blindfold
So every sentence I mock material billfolds
I seek an understanding of answers beyond the proven
Discreet but demanding how choices response woven
Steep iceberg floating trying to go past frozen
Deep dreamer mind roaming wake to visions unspoken
I walk a new direction to relieve my transgressions
I look toward heaven to receive a better connection
My poetic expressions are close to schools lessons
Not prophetic but blessings do follow these sessions
I choose my own path and I fold up my coattails
So whether tears or laugh others stand behind guardrails
If life is simple math I want some calculus from Yale
No test I cannot pass its like the answers are wholesale
Funny and fun life can be
Once I lived as red bull meat
The poor loved me wholesale
While the rich crashed and mingled me
I was alcoholic liquor for a while
I made sure my friends had red eyes
Unfortunately fights were all over
Then I started life as grey garlic
Everywhere I went abuses greeted me
Only the sick and expired hugged me
That day I lived as American dollar
I suffocated in metallic boxes under guards
Innocent prisoner without advocate I was
I tried every bit of life in this world
But I discovered one thing unknown
Life is the eight color of the rainbow
Tomorrow I will try living as a bedbug
Will you give me at least a lingering hug?
Probably you allow me to pitch you a bit
That my sweetheart may learn life's literacy
Gale force winds have blown away the top of his skull
Impaled by a fallen tree with the prison of his mind exposed
Tim’s pierced splintered and dismembered fragments
mash freely with mushed grey matter ready for take off
A lobotomy of sorts a wholesale removal of a vanishing soul
‘Do not worry, this too will pass you cannot fight nature’
but his thoughts and emotions are lost in oblivion and void
‘After thunder comes the rainbow’ but his colours have faded
Blank paint on black canvass and no light in havoc and pain
‘Take those pills they are pink orange purple and yellow’ yet
braindead waves guts gore pillage and plunder have followed
the storm and Tim lies numb naked dissected and ruptured
Electro-convulsion as last resort has failed as the straight jacket
burst at its motionless seams and beams have nailed him to a cross
and cross fire frying lightning and thunder into hot ashes and gashes
Angels found no right nor rite of passage with all traffic suspended
The eye of the storm's euphemism in contempt of torrential calm
as a mental Hiroshima engulfs him at the epicentre of destruction
Fully enshrined in atomic radiance Tim has neither time nor energy
left for the I-Self in tempest’ turmoil and blesses his very own death
(Part Two, Continued)
The better choice of the two, I believe is clear enough even for the ignorant.
Everyday a new adventure in human psychology, pain, and suffering.
allowed the privilege to interact with an endless array of human variety.
This disease knows no race, gender, class, sexuality, or political affiliation.
afflicting far more than the deranged few, as some would have you believe
a stereotype of persons with addiction, to create distance from the disease
It is possible that every living human, knows, or is related to someone afflicted.
Denying to acknowledge their loved ones condition, is the definition of ignorant.
It seems only fitting that the cause of our modern day's massive rise in addiction
Heroin, so numerous in its effects, stronger than any before, and more addicting
Is the direct descendant of man's original addictive remedy, the Opium Poppy.
The worlds percentage of heroin addicted persons, passing epidemic proportions
nothing in our lifetimes has possessed this level of destructive power.
society barely managed to subdue and heal from the international Opium problem
The fact an implication of how difficult this new epidemic will be to stop
A terrible time to be an addict, but prosperous for entrepreneurial persons
Maybe this is my chance to increase my level of success in my current hustle
I have the ability, knowledge, and connections to be a true kingpin.
However, one constant continuously holds me firmly at my current level of success
Held back so long by addiction, I finally realize the extent of my enslavement
If I didn't have to support an immense and ever increasing drug habit
Long ago, I would have reached the level of extreme wealth and riches
I am embarrassed to admit the expense of my extremely costly past time
But, I will say with honesty the number spent resides in the millions
And, that is at distribution cost, purchasing quantity at a wholesale discount
Unaware and not wanting to know the true cost if bought at street price.
An entire lifetimes of earned yearly salaries, injected into my plump veins.
More money has gone into my veins, than into many millionaires bank accounts
If they hadn't been used to chase a short and fleeting sensation and feeling,
I would be among one of the richest individuals I know, without a doubt.