Best With A Pinch Of Salt Poems
How far do the ripples spread, when eventually we die
Probably stay in the locality, level off, no major outcry
But let’s say we’re famous, suffering unexplained death
The ripples keep expanding, growing further in breadth
See the grotesque nature of spin, is to overplay a scene
Garnishing public outrage, lurid pictures fill our screens
Playing to an audience, ratings become the holy grail
Stories without embellishments, grow tiresomely stale
These ripples are an illusion, imagination going berserk
Carried along by a corrupt deception, truth been shirked
Evidence the one requirement, for establishing all facts
I extrapolate backwards, what the hell there’s no splash
Lines converge into partial truths, confused to a degree
Must be taken with a pinch of salt, querying what I see
Even this soup we enjoy, is manipulated and massaged
Most of the poems are quite good, others form a mirage
Taken out of context a rectangle, can become a square
Brought into focus, desolate pictures, not quite so bare
What’s basically a clean stab, or slash across the wrist
When poets stick in the knife, some give it a good twist
Using poetry for a hidden agenda, political or otherwise
Tantamount to mind-numbing crap, seen in the tabloids
If your going to post propaganda, to further some game
Write it on toilet paper, wipe off, that’s all you’ve gained
By
David Kavanagh
Before I begin I must sprinkle some muse
The main ingredient for the words I'll choose
I'll add in some metaphors with a sprig of thyme
Then I'll add in two cups of rhyme
I'll then drop a pepper into the pot
And slices of sadness to make you tear up
I'll even add assonance, perhaps just a cup
There will be passion as the poem gets hot
A bit of personification with tomatoes I'll then stew
I'll add a teaspoon of alliteration too
This dish will be spicy just by default
I'll sprinkle my similes with a pinch of salt
With limericks, a dash of humor is thrown
Hope it will tickle your funny bone
With syllable count not a vowel to waste
My poem is cooked please take a taste!
Great sorrow lies in the depths of the heart
A shadow of loneliness
A cry for recognition
The drifting thoughts
The unfulfilling wants
The hopeless mind
An overwhelmed soul
A cheer for goodness
A want for kindness
But is that all?
The jump in the abyss
Such wasteful hobbies
Unknown is greater
But known is better
Devouring time
Taken with a pinch of salt and lime
Regular is mundane
The normalising pain
Shrieking cries from the bottom
The society is rotten
Harrowing places
A world full of mazes
But is hope lost?
As rises cost
Of life of love of thy of mine
Hurt is built in empires of dream
Violent conditions and violent schemes
Growing fungus growing greed
Numbers are rising
More left alone to bleed
Question! Question! Question!
The world is larger than all of us
What agency do we have?
Is it god or is it the state?
Is it my kin or is it the community?
Is it my brother or is it my sister?
Is it me?
What is my world? Where is my home?
Who is my world? Where lies my soul?
Is jumping in the abyss such a wasteful hobby?
I dream I cry I adore I lie
I hope I scream I laugh I dream...
Concrete jungles are lush
Crush crush crush
Dream hope love passion
Passion love hope dream
...Escape!
High in the sky
Like a bird I fly
To myself I lie
To escape.
Thunder storm
Hits the norm
Waves crushing hard
Against the stones
It’s near
It’s near
It’s near...
Leather, rubber, PVC
Synched waists, stiletto heels
Chicken cutlets shoved in bras
Body stocking, pantyhose
Sitting around, TV on
Laptops open
Googling...
Waiting
For a sleaze bag
To book a session
Half hour, maybe more
Fingers crossed
The bell rings
Door’s buzzed open
Short, fat, ugly, hairy, thing
You would think he was Brad Pit
The hussy's hover like flies
His cash burns a hole
‘I want to talk to her…
And her’
All of them Yes Girls
‘I’d love that, Sir!’
‘Are you a bad girl?’
‘Oh yes, Sir, absolutely!’
Slim blond, flavor of the month
Big breast, slim waist, round bum
All boxes ticked
He gets a rush
Deal struck
Half an hour
Over the knee
No wood
He pays in cash
Then leads the way
Into a mock school room
CLICK, doors secure
Hands tied behind back
Ankles roped together
Thrown over his lap
Punishment begins
He slaps with much gusto
Dying to see crimson,
Speckles and welts
And sweet cherry tears
‘You’ve been a very bad girl,
You need be punished’
He whacks her with a paddle
She sees bolts of lightning
‘Please, Sir, I don’t…’
‘You do as I say!’
He beat her much harder
“Please, Sir!’
‘Can you have another?
Sure, that’s what I’m here for’
‘It’s not what I agreed to’
‘Well that’s just tough ****.’
‘Now be a smart girl
And listen very carefully
Do exactly as I tell you
And you’ll be okay
‘Open up…wider
Pop this gag in your mouth
Bite down it will help
See how I care?’
She knows not to argue
Struggle equals pain
With the ease of a stealth bomber
Her mind exits backstage
He has a jolly old time
Bombs over Bagdad
An onslaught of slaps
Wood, hand and yardstick
The intercom buzzes
‘Sir, your 30 is up’
‘Thank you, I’m finished’
He works to untie her
‘Here’s a tip, for your markings’
She smiles and says thank you
Truth be told
She has a penchant for pain
Back in the waiting room
She sits on the sofa
The fire from her backside
Warms up her soul
She opens Facebook
Updating her status:
“Interesting day @ the dungeon,
I really heart my job!”
A blister in the heart
Like walking blindfolded into a minefield
You skirmish and elbow your diligent way
Like a house of cards that collapses
You endure anguish and stitch
If some would erect walls
When the wind of change blows
Keep your soul aloft
Rather set up windmills.
Dispel crippling doubts
Show away deleterious thoughts
Into a devoted scavenger
Rock the Casbah and strut through the grounds.
Woo your grief with quotes,
Solicit your heart for a haunting ballad
Aim high away from your clutter
Never harbor any stifling grudge
Trust your heart even if it skips a beat
Animal trainers' daring is at last explicit
As long as they-in their iron cage -
Are sequestered from human animosity
We will unmistakably all meet our Waterloo
For cure-all pills are defunct and nonexistent
So do whatever floats your boat
As long as it doesn't sink others
Above all,remember it isn't over
Till the fat lady sings
We are all Jock Tamson's Bairns,
On the same boat perpetuate life
You may take my words with a pinch of salt, why not ?
Blisters do pester yet never annihilate,
Vestal virgins easily succumb to temptations,
And do even relapse.......
My son,my alter ego ....
Take life with a pinch of salt
So the old adage goes
So follow the advice
Take it from one who knows
Take life with a pinch of salt
Take it from a wise fella
Just follow it with a slice of lemon
And a good shot of tequila
are half full of water
seasoned with a pinch of salt
extracted from abysmal oceans
residing behind faucets
built into our eyes.
Brother Gaus
Gaus is a Rainbow man
Only that he’s not curved.
He’s just a miscellany
That makes him striking.
Gaus has a funny knack
Of repairing any gadget
Can do so with anything
Except repairing himself.
He can service the lot
Except his own wife.
With identity so fluid
He lives by convenience;
He’s black to a black man
White to a white person.
He’s a fast talker, Gaus,
Using a funny diction....
Take it with a pinch of salt;
He lives by expediency
He’s curved as his colour!
A mixture of colours-
A chameleon in the bush,
He takes colour of bush
In which he deeply hides
And never the lash bush
The colour of his hide!
He’s always out of colour
Unless abound colour nearby
This makes him fluid,
Expeditious and impulsive.
Gaus believes in a god;
A god not too black
Nor a god who is white
But god who is coloured!
At least his is not racist
Though not coloured God
Or one of expedience
Or God who is fluid
Or one who repairs all
Except mending Himself,
Or who is a fast talker
Getting followers nowhere
Good to regard or take
With a pinch of salt...
But then Brother Gaus is!
Talks of the war time
Fighting on the wrong side...
It gave him sense of sate
Choosing who paid most.
Maybe his side was right.
He was on the cross roads;
Colour crisis that mislead
Both and was hated by both!
He was also ostracised
But hung onto the diction.
His wife is sable black
Memories of ancestors;
All are as white as snow.
He is left-handed and fast
When kindled a slugfest
He embodied barbarism
Of one side and tactic
From the other camp.
He demands white’s meal...
When he fails at school
“Native ancestors are ok!”
Lazy: Whites are thinkers,
“I need no manual work...”
Greed: “I need much meat,
“Ancestors were hunters!”
That’s why a tortoise
Has a shell that is cracked;
The tactic of retracting
After attracting hatred
Draws a lot of resentment.
Both cannot trust Gaus!
He’s like a mouse and bird
Both merged together
To create a power mule
Of a funny countenance.
Would he run with Hare
And hunt with Hound...?
Gaus will run with both
And be chased by both..
And, none will be pleased!
JM
03rd Nov’ 2013
Curiosity Soup
Curiosity Soup, serve with a pinch of Salt;
A warm mixture of Poetic words,
Vintage Wine or a very fine Malt.
Uncomplicated, yet satisfying and full;
Leave your taster time to absorb,
Rich flavours to savour and mull.
Give it depth yet effortless and clear,
Don't add ambiguity or pretension,
Use a clarity of words to hear.
Make it enjoyable even if emotional or sad,
Avoiding that bitter after taste,
Curiosity Soup, best you ever had.
Emotions in motion
Emotions in motion,
Changing from frozen to broken,
To joyful and delirious!
There are words to be spoken.
I’ve been up and down and messed around,
But now I am found in the dirt with her.
Her love gives me wings and lets me fly in the clouds;
Her love brings me crashing down into the dirt.
I say to you on this cold dark night,
The pain inside your heart will be gone by morning light.
I don’t believe you, myself; I have already seen you lie.
You told me I’d be happier; you said it would be alright.
That was only spoken in anger; take my words with a pinch of salt.
I just need you to believe in something;
If it goes wrong, that’s not my fault.
Oh my God she is beautiful!
So is a Goddess I must impress.
Her wings have fallen off now;
Now I see her for what she truly is and it leaves me depressed.
I was afraid this would happen;
She is a memory now, soon to be forgotten.
Love is a wrecking ball to the heart
And all that was beautiful shall become rotten.
Jealousy makes you fear your lover;
Afraid they will go off in search of another.
Shame and pride shall never be on the same side;
One body has one, her body has the other.
And oh my God her body; let me be bold with my thoughts!
The touch of her upon my body; her face to my touch.
She made me smile, so I shall make her smile too,
Because when all is said and done, she is loved.
Is she good or is she dangerous,
I just can’t decide.
I wish I was a robot, without feeling,
Then I would no longer feel the need to smile.
I am sad because love has always been without care.
I am a coward; no surprise there,
But I want to be courageous and feel love again.
I am confused and only feel weariness;
But I am happy she is my ball and chain.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Admiration is a generous wine
But intoxicates if drunk unrefined.
American Doublet
Give me
life music smile
I could listen
or even dance a little to
And
With a pinch of salt
on my french fries
I will be yours for
Ever
More
XII.2015
I take what she says
With a pinch of salt
Just like all the rest,
The sea sort I find best.
Always nice to be away
From people like you
Who are stressing me apart,
Don’t you think so?
Whatever,
Just in time.
I was thinking deeply about
All that happened in my life,
Since I met you, I will never forgive,
It hurts too much,
Hope this party will remove such thoughts.
Have a great time,
Comments and feelings reserved,
Showering me with your weekend lies,
Coz you are fading away gracefully,
I know how to please myself.
This is the time when
We gotta take coffee
With a pinch of salt,
I love you percentile,
I don’t give a damn
What they are going;
I was driving when you beeped,
Talk to me before I walk
Into the cave.
SWAN SONG OF AN OLD-GUARD TRUE-BLUE TORY
I am one of the last of a dying breed,
I’m an antique true-blue Tory.
I grew up on Super-Mac
And ‘the Land of Hope and Glory.’
In Rab Butler I once found
A man both mild and sane.
Ted Heath I took with a pinch of salt.
Maggie Thatcher caused me pain.
Her politics were tough and right,
But I found her style too brash.
She was less concerned with social need
Than she was with sordid cash.
John Major held his horses.
He was middle-of-the-road.
Perhaps he was a shade too nice
To fit the worldly mode.
When Cameron came, the rot set in.
I mean that referendum.
Why dabble with these dubious things?
There's no reason to defend ‘em.
Theresa May did what she could
To sort out the Brexit shambles
But failed at last to free the land
From the consequence of gambles.
Boris Johnson ends the list
Of Tories hale and hearty,
And, to boot, as I do fear,
What’s left of the Old Tory Party.
To Liz or Richi falls the task
To clear up after Boris.
w=Were not the better place
if he had kept to Horace.
Is the land I loved so well
Now the land of grope and gory?
Woe is me if I must close
With heavy heart this story.