One:
Wake up slowly.
Admit it was never that deep.
Let your first word be hmmm.
Let your second be whatever.
Two:
Stretch, but not like you mean it.
Pop one joint, then stop.
You are not an overachiever.
You’re alive. That’s enough.
Three:
Brew something hot
and unnecessarily complicated.
Call it process.
Sip. Sigh.
Spill a little on purpose.
Four:
Reintroduce yourself
to color.
Start with gray.
Work up to a muted mustard.
No pressure.
Five:
Trust nothing that smiles too easily.
Except maybe dogs.
And one cashier
who says you’re all set
like she means it.
Six:
Throw out the list you made
of everyone who owes you.
Keep the one you made
of whom you survived—
remember who survived you.
Seven:
Don’t look for closure.
Just check your teeth for spinach
when you think you ate,
and get on with it.
Categories:
cynics, moving on, word play,
Form: Free verse
The world needs a little
Good news everyday
Just look on the bright side
It's better that way
Kick up your heels
Say howdy my friends
Just smile at a stranger
Your woes you'll transcend
On the verge of disaster
Show them there's hope
To look at this world
Through a much larger scope
It may be contagious
You'll start a new trend
Who knows it might happen
You'll make some new friends
I know that the cynics
Will laugh and they'll scoff
To think that us humans
Past sins we can doff
We've got to start somewhere
So why not right now
The world will stop fighting
And wars disavow
Just call me a dreamer
I welcome that name
Don't need any medals
No fortune or fame
The best compensation
A world filled with joy
Where everyone's happy
And spirits are buoyed
We can't let our efforts
Just end up in vain
We must see a world
Where happiness reigns
It's crucial for us
To succeed in this quest
Else mankind will perish
My case I do rest
Categories:
cynics, poetry,
Form: Rhyme
As a mother, Christ gave heed to the woman's plea.
For him, days of work or Sabbath days did not count.
From their selves, he observed, the human creatures flee
For eighteen years, the Book says, she was evil-bound.
She got bent by burdens of societal flaws.
Crude communal clouds had blocked drizzles of graces.
How long should she be clenched within crocodile claws?
She felt, at the advent of Christ, healing traces
Murmurs of cynics melted at Christ’s sunbeam smile.
Don't you untie your cattle on a day of rest?
His touch healed in the crippled all that was senile.
Feet of Times stopped for a moment, feeling blessed.
Stand straight; this is what, to all crippled, Jesus says.
The dissonants should get rid of their rude ways.
Categories:
cynics, jesus,
Form: Sonnet
Guy starred at the Octagon,
when he was just a lad,
and all the reviews.
in the Bolton News,
said that he wasn’t too bad.
His mum said it was destiny,
his dad said it was karma,
when Guy got his kicks,
down the A666,
at Salford studying drama.
From the Exchange to the Everyman,
he took the stage by storm,
the London critics,
even the cynics,
queued up to watch him perform.
“Bolton’s talented Guy” they cried,
and followed the rising star,
but he couldn’t forget,
when offered Hamlet,
his dad thought they meant a cigar.
Guy knew he’d finally made it,
his mum wept tears of delight,
when she jumped for joy,
with news that her boy,
would turn on the Blackpool lights.
Categories:
cynics, funny,
Form: Rhyme
Posters painted
By law tainted
Rosaries rattling
Prayers prattling
Police swoop
Spirits droop
Whisked away
Because they pray
For children unborn
Innocent lives shorn
In abortion clinics
Cold cash for callous cynics
Categories:
cynics, children, death, life,
Form: Rhyme
Poetry unlike the rest
Poetry I like best
Best as non-fiction
Best as one’s conviction
Conviction of the heart
Conviction comes apart
Apart from others views
Apart from your issues
Issues we must address
Issues woven to express
Express it in loose term then
Express even if you squirm friend
Friend I listen
Friend you glisten
Glisten with valor
Glisten with color
Color our world with screams
Color unfurled dreams
Dreams you make come alive
Dreams of a swan dive
Dive deep to your goal
Dive into your soul
Soul mates on paper birch
Soul search
Search within
Search for words to pen
Pen despite limits and critics
Pen as it permits not for cynics
Cynics blind to a poetic jewel
Cynics bitter and cruel
Cruel and hollow
Cruel spirited not to follow
Follow your words
Follow the songbirds
Songbirds protocol
Songbirds call
Call out the façade
Call upon God
God knows your floetry
God gifted your poetry
Poetry forever lives
Poetry gives and gives
Gives tremendously
Gives us plenty
Plenty will agree
Plenty will see tour de force
Tour de force with symmetry
Tour de force so passionate
Passionate
Symmetry
Categories:
cynics, poetry,
Form: Blitz
believers
devout, fervent
accepting, aiming, progressing
worshippers, devotees, persistent, cynics
disbelieving, bearing, confounding
agnostic, cautious
skeptics
Categories:
cynics, creation, poetry, words,
Form: Diamante
#HEAD THROWN BACK...
A JOLT* OF FEEL GOOD HUMOR, ATTACKS!
STRESS REDUCES, BELLY ACHING, SHAKING AND "HOLD YOUR CHEST" LAUGHTER FEST PRODUCES...
MUCH NEEDED MEDICINE, RELEASED, THAT'S GOOD FOR YOUR SOUL...
"COMEDIC GOLD!"
I LOVE TO LAUGH!!!
ESPECIALLY UNEXPECTEDLY...
SHARP WIT, A QUIP!
JOHN LARROQUETTE (ACTOR)
COMEDIC CYNICISM, SARCASM AT IT'S FINEST DELIVERED, BUT NOT TO HURT, JUST ANOTHER OBSERVATION THAT ELICITS HIGH VOLUME LAUGHTER, WHAT A WONDERFUL SENSATION, {GOOD VIBRATION} "THAT ELATION!"
YES INDEED, I FEEL GREATFUL...
AS A HUMAN BEING TO HAVE BEEN GRANTED A "RESPONSE" SEED...
AREN'T WE ALL, AREN'T WE ALL...
SO VERY FORTUNATE, WHEN WE ARE ABLE AND WELCOMINGLY *OPEN* TO RECEIVE OUR FILL...
"WHO'S UP FOR REFILLS?" *LOL*
TO ALL COMICS, CYNICS AND EVERYDAY EXPRESSERS WHO TICKLE OUR FUNNY BONE; "THEY TAKE OUR SOULS HOME" THAT'S HEALING, {THIS OPTIMAL FEELING!} AN AWESOME APPEALING *GIFT* WE OWN!~
HOW FORTUNATE...
"MOST FORTUNATE!"
"WHAT {WONDROUS} MEDICINE*****"
ALL DUE TO A N D THROUGH LAUGHTER!~
©Renee D. Gross {GHPPR} March 2023#
Categories:
cynics, cheer up, funny, happiness,
Form: Free verse
I will tell you a sorrowful tale of an ancient time
when the turning years carved grooves into vinyl,
a time that changed everything and nothing.
He was a lad, a stripling, knobble kneed and roughly handled.
A youth with a common history told a thousand times
in any slum-clamped town.
A cultural weather mellowed him,
it gave the young a way to be poets, cynics, heedless pundits.
Rainbow children beguiled; they wed their minds
to a street corner weed, past its vows between them.
Then it was that mop haired songsters
again stirred his angry blood; he defied ruler and book,
forsook the hierarchies of the hard boiled,
long hair grew into words that shook as he danced
defying the soft shells of faceless egg men.
The boy drifted, still raw-boned, still trapped
by the rats in his head. Jail house beckoned;
bars griped his knuckles tight.
One night he became a storm in a windowless room.
They held his body down, beat it black and blue.
All he could think of as fists pounded broken ribs,
was if he yet lived, he would write it all out one day
yet still leave out the bad parts.
Categories:
cynics, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Do not watch the six o'clock news
If you want to live a carefree life
It'll bring you down, beat the crap outta ya
It's like being stabbed with a knife
Just hearing about all the stuff that goes on
You'll wanna set up camp in the woods
Not a bad idea when you really think bout it
Much happier in all likelihood
Now this is turning out to be quite a downer
That was not my original intention
Always think positive is what I usually say
A smile was the greatest invention
I'm sure there aren't many cynics on The Soup
So I don't think this will be scoffed at
Poets have a feel for the right path to choose
The one filled with love jam packed
So do not watch the six o'clock news
It's always about the lunatic fringe
Look at your loved ones and tell 'em you care
Invite them on a friendly love binge
Categories:
cynics, myth,
Form: Rhyme
(for J.B.P.)
A polarizing figure
A catalyzing force
A man for all seasons
He’s a man called Horse
A strong man in the wheelhouse
A tall man in the field
No crow of ruin touches him
His constitution, steeled
What dragon of today
Could touch that mighty pen?
Demonized, lionized
All faces at once
Like Einstein or Picasso
An immortal eminence
His enemies can’t catch him
Though they try and try
Their straw-man feats of idiocy
Are quickly sent to die
What dragon of today
Could still that mighty voice?
And now he fights the dragon
Of an ideology
That seeks to reinvent the world
And up-end reality
But Saint George has his hood on
His chainmail and his flail
And he’ll take that sword to the cynics’ board
And remove the serpent’s tail
So to prove that truth can’t fail
What dragon of today
Could singe that mighty heart?
Categories:
cynics, animal, appreciation, hero, inspirational,
Form: Bio
I completely trust Bob
On every tricky job,
For all that he knows,
The way his thought flows;
For his wisdom that grows.
Up Bob’s idea would bob,
From cynics snatching the power to rob…
Bob never was all his life, a half wit,
Even, The Best of The Really Fit,
Who could like a gas light
Keep a firm firmly bright
To all its corner lending a white!
So, please, do not him,
As advised by Lord Kim,
Cast into a Joseph’s pit;
Or our gains are already split!
Categories:
cynics, appreciation, beauty, celebration, change,
Form: Rhyme
It begins at an apex point,
a hand that’s reaching down,
a dove flies freely below this,
above a divine crown.
You all know what King’s sitting there,
in white robes and halo,
the sun comes in the morning
though shades of molten gold.
The cherub angels fly by Him
above the fallen Earth,
stars on blue like a fleur-de-lis
are speaking to His worth.
Below are the well-known figures,
the twelve who spread the news,
one with curved staff, one with keys,
and words you hear in pews.
On her knees is an old mother
with glory of her own,
clad in blue and violent robes,
the things that she has known…
Behind them all is a tall cross,
letters I. N. R. I.,
a symbol of the sacrifice
they say redeems our lives.
Around it patterns quite complex,
flowers blue, red, and green,
a vernal cornucopia,
rebirth is what it means.
Made by men death a thousand years,
speaking through centuries,
reminding the cynics out there
of the need for beauty.
And though faith still exceeds our grasp,
brings questions to our minds,
you can’t deny that it creates
works utterly sublime.
Categories:
cynics, angel, appreciation, art, beauty,
Form: Rhyme
cars in the sky
flying by
rubber throbbing along, over the concrete and
blistering blacktop
riding in and out the painted
lines
over the dull colored snatches of
raggedy wigwams
scattered about
beneath the shadows and shades
of the great strips of
interstate
with their festering trails of fetid
strewn
trash
piles of trash
folks, and failed cynics. half - ass cynics
who can't cut that final tie
to those lingering inclinations of
signs seen and
understood. inferred to the
good
wanting others to hand over their small
change
and I
stacking blocks across
the eyeless sockets of a
thick brick skinned
fossilized
shrine
sweating like a pig
in the late october
heat
wondering where the hell
the fall
is
Categories:
cynics, bible, chocolate,
Form: Free verse
. for public domain
. offered for the innumerable small graves of indigenous children recently discovered
Our most harsh cynics,
with their gaze ever on the shadows,
Hope that Light may someday rise,
and illuminate green meadows.
They dash false hopes that thrive in the shade,
savor truths, cold and grim,
stab at chimeras man has made,
to slither off into the din.
Blades of passing fantasy and Faith,
like ancient barbers drawing blood,
sooth the Spirit of societal woes,
but drain it of its bud.
Categories:
cynics, children, corruption, death, eulogy,
Form: Rhyme
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