Elders once had wisdom,
Which is what was always taught,
So they were treated with respect;
Advice from them was sought.
Their years of life provided
The experience they’d learned
And there was satisfaction
When that knowledge was returned.
Yet that’s no longer valid,
For intelligence is gleaned
Artificially and so
The human aspect’s been demeaned.
Nowadays, to be an elder
Is to realize no one cares,
For our input isn’t valued
By our progeny or heirs.
As a consolation, maybe,
For so many years alive,
Elders get a senior discount
Once they’ve aged to sixty-five.
Fated poets
wander lost
in a sea of dreams
Devoid of truth
and not in rhyme
their words demeaned
Lasting moments
unresolved
repeat and spawn
Waiting for new
light to birth
— a saving dawn
(Dreamsleep: September, 2024)
Trump does have a rash
which caused stock market to crash
from all the backlash
wish Trump would cut crap
crashed when he ran off the map
facing one more rap
Trump seems so scary
is insulting and very
at cemetery
crippled or goner
degrade Medal of Honor
which he had demeaned
Trump stories provide
he had always lied and lied
full of much self-pride
When faith is abandoned
we live on old dreams
In time captured wastelands
barren demeaned
Believing the tattler
and spinner of lies
Desperation is sainted
epistles decry
“Music plays in keys of pain
shouting from below
Missals singed in pagan fire
ashes still aglow
Caught out on a bridge alone
burning from both ends
Martyred in our heresy
— darkness to befriend”
(Dreamsleep: February, 2024)
Bending a breaking point
rupturing time
Eons of history
skirting the line
Paradox native
our true D.N.A.
Truth as a concept
forever in play
Yessing and noing
transfixed in between
The jester in transit
all canons demeaned
Freeing the moment
the first wedded last
a twist to the turning
—where memory contrasts
(Septa R5 To 30th Street: August, 2023)
In a room besotted with lavish grace,
An expensive glass lampshade has its place.
Its exuberant glow, a soft hug warm,
But, somewhat less convincing is its form.
For a bruise on the heart, a hidden wound,
Belies the way the stained glass is attuned.
Lead and glass are immiscible matter.
Dull and gray vs bright, color splatter.
The lampshade's design is a compromise.
With horrid thick black lines through clear blue skies.
With the wondrous glass insulted and demeaned,
To fill the gaps among the lines between.
Expensive trinkets can't mend bad form pain,
When deep within their sad souls, scars remain!
How many more young men
How many more young women
Must fall victim to those
Sworn to serve the community?
Needless deaths, senseless violence.
Upholders of the law
Laying low the guiltless?
What lies in their hearts
What lies in their minds
What lies do they live by ?
The uniform, their badge of honour
Demeaned by soulless depravity.
Wholesomeness without
Corruption within
In God we trust
The devil in the police detail
We must no longer witness
The cruel loss of young lives
Let Tyre be the last
In such a painful litany
That writ must run no more
Let the beacon of his light
Blaze forth for all to see
Never again such tragedy
I hit the canvas one more time,
a young man’s pride demeaned by doubt,
your hand of friendship helped me climb,
disturbed and nearly beaten out.
But once again the mouthguard spills,
life overflows with ruthless pain,
caught ‘tween this warring clash of wills,
of failure or success again.
The goals I had where only dreams,
until you taught me how to plan,
the bell has rung once more it seems,
this time I know I’ll win, I can.
So be admired for your true grit,
embrace daydreams and never quit.
(iambic tetrameter)
11.27.22
I was Number One who fell for Jazz,
Other Genres ranking Razzmatazz
No finer sacrifice in Hard Rock;
If you demeaned Jazz, my gun I’d cock…
I laud the Great Lot Yanni’s Jazz has;
Bob’s keyboard that conveys one to Mars:
Waiting for me sweet complexity,
The path to it A Perplexity!
Rhythms from Experimental Minds:
Their demands The Gifted Player finds…
Rather American African
Than ‘Thought African American,’
US Citizenship not acquired
By players quite sure not required…
Jazz for announcing Tough Movies,
Romance promoting more than Grooves;
To Bad War Films A Salvaging Hype,
Each one of them made to seen one’s type…
Time to herald the sweat of Bob fames
By me rated above River Thames.
Your smile was brilliant as you took a bow.
The upper echelon had welcomed you.
You donned humility, expressing how
we loyal members of your staff were due
deep gratitude. So few attendees knew
how often you’d demeaned us through the years
by saddling us with your less pleasant tasks.
We balked a little; you played on our fears
of job loss. We put on our happy masks.
Quite frequently, you saunter by and ask,
“Do you still like your job?” This time I’ll say,
“I don’t; I never did, your Majesty!
Your fine machine will lose a cog today.
If other peons leave, perhaps you’ll see
a boss like you makes people want to flee!”
May 9, 2022
Contest: Pick-a-Title, Vol 30
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Their March
So, you dropped by to learn where the Future soon will be
And what the fascist’s creed will ultimately decree.
Constructed oh so steadily by Republican traitor calls
The fascist acid seeping through our legislative halls
Broadcast destructively by media incompetent,
Misinformation besets the right-wing ignorant
Low-grade intelligence collects the rotted theme
So, votes are banned, Rights are canned to complete the fetid scheme.
While the Democrats administer the distractions fascists breed
Democracy’s chipped away - Constitution’s left to bleed
Can’t see the forest through fascist planted trees
But only on distractions do left-wingers work to please.
Our foundation’s being eaten while our building’s being cleaned
Fascist erosion’s fed while Democracy’s demeaned
Next time you “drop by” I think I’ll hear you say:
Why didn’t we divert our fight … go on to Save the Day?
But … by then, it’ll be way too late.
Medgar Fallon Roe
Yes, I feel harassed
But I choose not to be embarrassed
Nor ashamed by a disability,
Temptation nor fragility.
But with creative loving
And with praises I sing.
You had me worried
Stressed & hurried
So I command it to leave me
I choose to be free.
What you don't know is true:
Jesus in me loves you.
Positively is a must!
Keep faith and trust.
Choose to turn the page
Let go of rage
You didn't have a clue
But someone felt demeaned by you.
They were ignored & hurt.
Your words were curt.
Repent; you must!
Regain their trust.
Choose to know
How to let love flow!
Let go of your ego
The rejection will also go.
Self-righteous indignation & more
Tries to open the door,
Takes you to task;
The root cause to mask.
But isn't it their choice
To react to your voice?
Or didn't you know
You reap what you sow?
Only God will repay
With justice someday.
He can fill an empty heart.
Give you both another start.
Choose to be around;
To be found.
Begin to pray
Choose this day!
Christmas edition of PS News is out, and here's the scoop
Poets are climbing the rungs of ladders on Poetry Soup
It's not an easy feat; one to be applauded and praised
instead of opposed, demeaned, or by jealous ones, razed
Why bother looking at lists if you find them to be galling?
Frankly, I find one with such an attitude to be appalling.
Remember that Santa makes lists. Two of them, in fact
and you'll be on top of his naughty list if you overreact
Stop being so gosh darn negative about petty trivialities
We are not alike. We have many different personalities
So stop whining about poets who like to write for contests
You will surely find a lump of coal in your stocking, unless...
Changing with each season,
voices come and go
what’s lost undreamed, ourselves demeaned,
in search of the unknown
Naked and left wanting,
fortune sires myth
impregnating its mystery
—with tales of the abyss
(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)
Here is the face that your mind holds onto.
There is the place that your soul belongs to.
Created in dreams
where doors and windows melt,
conceived in grass
where lonely hope has dwelt.
Carried in song
where every child feels safe,
performed with zest
like the dance of the Tawaif.
Discovered in bond
like schools of swirling fish,
revealed in prayer
where mindful times nourish.
Here is the face that your mind holds onto.
There is the place that your soul belongs to.
Expressed in paint
where graffiti’s subtext is injustice,
proclaimed in print
where the struggle is against prejudice.
Spoken in word
where the demeaned speak out,
chanted in slogan
where oppressed people shout.
Embodied in law
where human rights must be codified,
accepted in norm
where man’s dignity can never be thrown aside.
Here is the face that your mind holds onto.
There is the place that your soul belongs to.
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