Best Wrestlers Poems
Welcome to Rome, my dear friend
I hope you have a wonderful time
For here is the best place to spend
Vacations and holidays that is so sublime
As it is the first time for you here
I’ll to take you to the most exciting place
I don’t know if you did know about it or hear
But people come to visit it of every race
I’m going to take you to the Colosseo
I’m sure you’ll have a great time, my friend, Leo!
I’m not going to take you to just an another monument
It’s very unique! And it will give you joy and amusement
There you can see strong wrestlers and gladiators
And animals of every kind, from lions to alligators!
There you can witness battles between humans and predators
Which attract from all over the world spectators and visitors
At the Colosseo, you can watch Christians and slaves….
Are being executed
By axes of gladiators and fangs of lions,
No other punishment would have more suited!
It is also used for punishing criminals
By throwing them to be fed on by wild animals!
When they’re pushed into the field…..
They beg and cry for help
But instead of crying they should’ve thought…..
About the peace they did disturb!
And who anyway can restrain justice or curb?!
(Plus it is a very exciting show
And gives a lesson about morals, you know!)
And sometimes attends the emperor of Rome
That by a turn of his hand gives life or doom
But also the audience gets to decide
And the emperor is often on its side
Do you see how passionate our people are….
And how just our emperor is!
Oh! Leo, are you alright? Why is your face…..
Turning yellow like this?!
Oh, you need to throw up!
It’s okay; it must be that beer cup!!
It gets kind of crazy living with 3 young boys, there’s always a mess and there’s constant noise.
Their mouths constantly running, their little legs too; they rough-house like tiny wrestlers, off the couch they just flew.
They never get old, those silly fart jokes; and the noise and clanking of those bicycle spokes.
They change costumes every minute from football to Batman; next it’s baseball then it’s on to Spider-Man.
You better watch where you step when you come through our door, there’s legos and Nerf bullets covering the floor.
They’re covered in mud, they’re covered in dirt; there’s ketchup and Cheetos all over their shirts.
They argue, they fight, they cry and pout; then they giggle and laugh after they hug it out.
Living with boys you never know what’s next, you better watch what you say, they’ll change the context.
Their imagination totally rocks; they can make anything out of a box.
Just give them some scissors and a glue stick; that box transforms into a Batmobile real quick.
They’re wearing their breakfast, there’s mud in their hair; it’s an act of congress to get them to share.
Their diet is subpar, all they want to eat is junk; and with three sweaty boys, you can imagine the funk.
We’ve turned into detectives, constantly looking for lost toys; we’re also mechanics trying to fix whatever they’ve destroyed.
Although these boys can cause us some undue stress; I wouldn’t change a thing to prevent their mess.
The house can be clean when they’re grown and they’ve moved out; so for now I’ll sit back and see what life’s all about.
I’ll enjoy all the noise and the mess on the floor; I’ll pray my feet are protected from the legos galore.
I’ll wash their clothes and clean them up; and be thankful I can fill all our cups.
Thank you God for my three sons, we’re thankful and blessed, and we love them tons.
It was past midnight
when rhyme knocked, disturbing the stillness
of my thoughts, and begged me
to write the night’s lore
But free verse, like Igorot warrior
entered the scene and in a war dance
encircled my illusion; ready to battle
the twin wrestlers from Nihon-koku
As I plucked out the syllables
blinking in the dark sky that rolled out
like papyrus blanketing my spirits
Fibonacci offered to do the counting
Ah, math is so fascinating
but I only understand
the simplicity of one, two, three, and four
that's saving me from corruption
My shadow sighed
and perceived the poetry
of my being gone
cold, like December ice
The forms have confused
my breath of life
like blooming horse on a deserted field
that I went to sleep without a poem
People would do almost anything to make it to the top, even using steroids. This type of drug has been used by all would-be professional athletes and actual professional athletes since the 1980s, even behind the backs of their beloved fans. Professional athletes (Lance Armstrong, Barry Bonds, and the late Chris Benoit, e.g.) have been using a lot of steroids before they wrestled, played baseball, rode bikes, or whatever. Everybody knows that using too much steroids have real consequences, even the the courts are involved. Steroids will make one angry, the kidneys start to shrink, one person becomes aggressive, and so on. Using steroids will also cost one individual's life, a chance to play for one of their favorite teams (Dallas Cowboys, e.g.), family, fame, everything. Another term for a use of steroids by professional athletes is "doping." Sooner or later, their fans will find out about their steroid use. And when they do, the young ones who've looked up to their favorite athletes and trusted them with their lives will have been seriously betrayed. Using steroids is considered cheating, especially when Barry Bonds and Lance Armstrong have been using them behind the backs of their loved ones and their fans. Now I know why I never played sports and/or used any of those illegal drugs, let alone steroids. It seems that these athletes can't even earn their way to the top, that includes not using steroids. The only reason why these professional athletes have been using steroids is because their coaches and physicians told them to, and they really should've got caught making their star athletes use that illegal drug. Even Vincent K. McMahon, who was the chairman of World Wrestling Entertainment (formerly the world Wrestling Federation) had forced Hulk Hogan and other wrestlers to use steroids. All types of steroid use are starting to make everyone very, very sick. Did everyone know that if all professional athletes are caught with a lot of steroids and needles that they were going to get arrested. Steroids are to be banned from all of the sporting segments forever. And if all athletes continue to use steroids to cheat their way to the top, thereby getting more money and endorsement deals like that of McDonald's, Progressive, Geico, and other name-brand sponsors and whatnot, they've got another thing coming.
Movement up and down the ring
Story lines made for entertainment
Competing for golden belts to display with pride
Stunted choreography happens inside and outside the ring
Wrestler and divas favored by many fans
Fans cheering and booing for who they like or hate
Face or heel is what wrestlers are all about
It maybe the words we use
not something that we see,
that makes it seem so strange
but maybe it's just me.
In cricket you have a square leg
football teams have wings,
with tennis a forearm is smashed
and golfers play with swings.
Then there's American football
played with a ball out of shape,
and athletes run for miles
to see who can break a tape.
Boxers have a ring with corners
wrestlers use a hammer lock,
baseball is played on a diamond
and badminton with a shuttlecock.
Gymnasts always act as though
they are throwing some kind of fit,
and motor racing drivers
have to drive into a pit.
Sport was for recreation
supposed to be just a game,
now they've become big business
and they're not at all the same.
Satsuma, were you Man's first attempt at cloning,
neither orange nor tangerine,
misshapen orange, misspelt tanggerine
as you left the Japanese test tube,
ends flattened through lack of genes,
did they call you Fatsumo
ready to be fed by the thousand
into the bottomless pit of the revered wrestlers,
or did they call you Squatsuma,
yes, that would be more accurate,
no 'r' to confuse with 'l's
no 'l's to confuse with 'r's,
olange would not fit the birr,
tangeline, no-one would buy.
Your skin takes the traditional colour,
it hides a unique aroma,
and a deadly shot of acid
released when a manicured finger invades your very being.
Oh bad tempered offspring
you do not appreciate it when the pith is taken.
Within you resemble your fourbears,
segmented, regular,but one taste,
one simple taste, for the aficionado, heaven,
fulfilling the promise aired when your skin was violated,
for others, 'Yuk'
a taste not to be acquired, a failed orange,
a poor impression of a tangerine,
Satsuma, Fatsumo, Squatsuma,
Toysuma, Suzsuma, Madzuma,
only the japanese could have invented you.
It seems we all love a good slam
So this is spurious
For the clicking Bi-Curious
Slam Furious
Everything and Everyone
Is annoying
To Wrestlers
Body Slam
God Damn
Here comes the sting
The world is your ring
Slam what you hate suffering
Call a spade a spade
Rage against the wall
Be the ball
Make the call
As soon as Odey arrived,
The villagers greeted in roar
Like the verdicts of Lions.
He was lifted high and
Gongs gave their salutations,
For Odey, the great salt
Discoverer has arrived.
Wrestlers pay allegiance
By displaying black skills,
He walked shoulder high
And his praises were lifted high.
Women swung their backyards,
Making the men's mouth water,
For the great hunter has arrived.
Jubilation is sure, all anger cured.
Gun powder entered the air to
Inform the sky of the black discoverer,
The seed of Yala*.
Children orchestrating black rhythm
And rhyme, happy to see the salts.
Welcome Odey, welcome black hero,
For thou art a true meaning of an African sunset....
===========================
Yala* is my mother's tribal dialect.
I spend my hours these days
Watching the Olympics
With the usual champions the Americans
Canadians sometimes winning
A few medals for swimming
Women winning
Still no men
Emotional with Oleksiak
16 year old Torontonian
Breaking Canadian records
With 4 medals
Women rowers too getting there
Wrestlers, high jumpers, gymnasts,
And Nestor and Pospisil
For tennis medals. Eliminated by Spain.
22 medals for Canada, tying it to the Atlanta Olympics
In 1984...
What else can a retiree do
But leisurely watch tv
Take leisurely walks and swims
See a movie,
Pray, eat, sleep
And repeat this routine
Symbolically comparing the Olympics
To life, to youth, to that period in life
When competition was the be-all and end-all
But now I watch passively
As the young go through this Olympic process
In life, of life, youth, middle age,
Then, old age when the process ends
And life is but that Shakesperean 'walking shadow,
A poor player that struts and frets upon a stage
And then is heard no more.'
Some cat entered my room one night
I thought it was a ghost
It smelled like something had just died
But I must oblige my guest as the host
I turned on the light and there it was
An obnoxious opossum at best!
Whoa! Forget my host duties, cous!
Take the room—I’m an unhappy guest!
I left the house with a shutter
Before I realized I was heavily surrounded
By cats on all sides, up and under
The house they had all just rounded!
In truth I was perturbed on all levels
That I began to realize in horror
That damn opossum had spawned these little devils!
And tonight I must end this terror!
I then ran straight to the kitchen
Aware of the opossum inside
If I give up the tuna and ditch um’
Perhaps I’ll escape this night alive
The persistent cats scratched at the holes
Those buggers—those meddlers!
They could have been thieves—if not trolls!
Their yowls would scare sumo wrestlers!
Worst of all in this dilemma
Tomorrow was grocery day
There were no more cans of tuna
All my fish had swam away!
Somehow one got in
And the rest came barreling through
I ran toward my room to him
The opossum looked so distressed and blue
The little beady eyes pierced my soul
And I knew from then on he was my friend
He only meant to hide from the furry little trolls
And escape a most pitiful end!
I made up my mind at last
And picked up my trusty broom
Come on in—I dare yah tah pass!
Ain’t no feline coming through this room!
Glowing eyes burned with intent
And the yowling grew loud as hell
The little bullies think they can take my guest!
They’ll fly like birds they will!
That night was a battle like none other
A battle I will proudly say I won
I gained the friend of my life—a brother
My pet’s a load of fun!
As much as I love a neighbor cat
They are a little scary as a race
Thankfully a broom will push them back
And put them in their place
My opossum is a sweet little thing
And I protect him with my life
I’ll never judge a critter again
Till actions bring it to light
Well! Believe the pathetic liars!
Or listen to the stylish scoundrel—
Whose speech’s so harmonious
And Ah! Tone as wine!
Leave your long braid dance
As the charmer’s snake,
Or dishevel fly
As in the ancient paintings the flying fairies…
Or Claw or Bun or Knot
Or loop as the sparrows’ nest
Or reverse as the nomadic maids.
Well! Wear on the thick oily thighs tight trousers
As the white women in west
Wear high heals, and on roadsides Cat-walk.
Or dress as a Japanese Girl gymnast
Or the ancient Greek women wrestlers slapping their big hips.
And or let your big bosom bulge
Or with breeze as ripe melons shake
And then! Tell the tired traveler, am I fine!
But be my love and be only mine!
As all dear admire the unchanging pine!
Always young at heart and old in soul
never at ease in the linked up, stuck-up clichés
of childhood or the bizarre unfriendly world of adulthood,
I always roared…at five my boyfriend Dave was four.
He was a good kisser too.
Just about the only kisses I got [except from mom] till I was sixteen,
at which point a charming fifteen year old
and Irishman [black Irish rosy red cheeked
dancing black eyes and a curl which feel into them]
became my beau and to my junior prom as a sophomore
he went, returned the favor, he did, the next year.
I went as a senior to his Junior prom,
hair all done up like Olive Oil. “God it looked awful!”
My Senior prom, he was my Napoleon,
again and I in empire white his Josephine
[no we weren’t crowned King and Queen].
College saw me behind the eight ball again
With all my lovely new friends “hookers?”
[‘Well, Ma said!!! If you did that you were…]
Since I wouldn’t I had a slew of BOY friends
[Sometimes three would drop in on the same night
ahhhhhh the power of abstinence!]
Sophmore year I found true love, it almost killed me.
And yes Adonis was a freshman, an Italian dream
with a wrestlers Greco-roman body…lasted three years.
And, in walked the next Italian lovers [three years younger]
A few years latter we were married. Thirty years passed
Closeted cloistered years, over protected, smothered years
and with freedom came new loves, all younger than me.
THE COLD CLING OF SPRING
Pretty petals ferociously fall as Spring releases its fury.
Blooming cherry blossoms in disarray, decry a disaster.
Rosebuds refuse to unfurl like a flummoxed fist of stubbornness.
Like moray eels, the moss morphs into a menacing hue,
as blackened clouds crowd out the signs of light and life.
The wind in winey whisper, wallows and whips up, into meringue swells.
Pathological pines, with nesting nettles, fly through worried windows,
and ornery oaks uncork an unholy battle for the braveheart to lose.
Voracious ivy vines, unwind, wrap up a horrified house like a ghastly gift.
Teeny tiny eyes in buried basements hearken to the howl of the harried storm.
Sheltered shells of confusion, await the arrival of calm and catastrophe.
Flash of a fresh new day, finds friends hugging, holding hands, waxing wings
of action, surveying the skies, the smiling sun, the warmth
of Winter’s waning and Spring’s taming. Yet the cold clings
to the forest of ferns and forget-me-nots, fretting at mocking skies,
mottled in chaotic cataclysmic chokehold like weary wrestlers.
When will this season settle down? Dreary and drowning in snow and rain.
Disdain on bushy brows. Parasols on parade in perpetual mourning frown.
Still evergreen buds, buddy up to branches, and dot-to-dot blossoms
appear amidst a washed out willow slowly sipping sanguine revelry.
3/27/2018
Silent One’s Alliteration Contest
This world is ours
If we put our heads together thats cleverer
The Media pins the masses down like wrestlers
Biased to the westerner
Showing of the worst of Africa
Reporting Ebola to Malaria
But missing out the beauty
with intentional duty
Recording wars and mass hysteria
They show the poor with bowls on the floor beggin like Oliver
Like they are unlucky
BBC stands for Blacks Built this Country
ITV stands for I Try Very hard to keep propaganda out of my yard
Scaring us because
To them a revolution would be scarier
They want our melting pot to boil over
Putting us in the middle like Moldova
Controlling tax paying dogs
Different breeds of terrier
Groundhog day, CD skips, Playback Error
Same phrase everyday 'War On Terror'
They want to fight a word
They must think i'm dumber than i am
They have transparency in their NWO plans
Young Ukrainians dying by Russian hands
The Kremlin is too deep into the elitist pockets
Who are we to understand?
What reasons ring true for invading neighbouring lands
All we see is the devastation of the bombs after they land
War all over our world
I don't need a revelation verse to see
Your better with a Holy book than TOWIE on the TV
Move Teflon minded take nothing literally
Believe half of what you hear... none of what you see
They fly bombs over seas for war creates a sea of cash that we never see
Billions of dead bodies floating in the sea from past War
Through the eyes of the World i see misery
As the media work for the Elite
And graciously **** you and me
Kirk Jones