Diatribes focus their galvic courses that run pure elixirs through the festival of blithe soon to become ribbons of unfurling sulfur that putrefaction molts sun-like claws of flames that ensconce the sarcophaguses it is in truth a graveyard and a shift to be had in it, the myriad of barbaric strides just caught in the upwelling, so prance beneath the stellar blue moon that visits so infrequently as sure as the night's first bloom.
Roads We Chose
If you travel down the wrong Lane
where humanity is swept away
with hate and viral diatribes
well then you know
Tom Petty
has inseminated his seed
they knock on all doors
if a narrow mind will answer
ring ring
oh ,my hatred sings
do not be a little mind
unless genocide is your thing
Galvanizing, never scrutinized; each moment falsely tabulated;
Slanted, polarized polls, punishing spiteful pundits
Spouting, spinning lies in frantic unison squawking
Ridiculous versions of fear mongering tales,
Meant to frighten, meant to hurt,
Meant to clutch and pulverize power.
It takes only a calm, rational thinking moment
To see through the maze of their foggy logic.
Nothing they say is fact checked or based in truth.
Spinning frantic webs to catch the unwary
To call forth violence with rage filled rants,
They push disturbing diatribes, provoking mayhem..
Drumming up revolt among the weak-minded minions ,
They still cannot cloak their hurtful and murderous intent.
President Trump has called them out, laughing in their faces.
Finally unmasked and stripped of disguises
There is nowhere to run, no more hiding places.
We see you. We stare at the darkness behind your malicious eyes.
Your fake news fiction will never again deceive us with your lies.
Why you are so hard on me
Dear darling J
You don’t want your G to see
Whom you love, you say
Every time I’m on the screen
And I love you too
Since the moment I have seen
Some of me in you
Out of sight and out of mind
Its an easy ride
You’ve another mind aligned
Of the family kind
How your two minds contradict
I don’t have a clue
I’m the one who you inflict
When its time to do
So I read your diatribes
Your critique I see
And I sense some different vibes
Coming down to me
But such is a gift you sent
Kind of New Year’s card
Thank you for the time you spent
You did well your part
I don’t have two minds, my love
But the only one
And I cannot get enough
Of your loving fun.
CONTEMPORISTA koons tombley
imagination
personified
in
One
to One
left - field
e g o
extravaganzas
retro
random
improvisations
realised
ambivalent
tensed dialectical
diatribes
defying
descriptive
critique
I hear folks sayin' they have the right
To determine what goes into their bodies,
They are putting up an audacious fight
While scarfing down alcoholic toddies.
We have no idea what’s in the foods we eat
Chemicals and preservatives are so prevalent,
While inking up our skin, thinking it’s so neat
While performing a most dangerous stunt.
We don’t like being told what to take
Especially when it comes from Uncle Sam,
But we eagerly turn to the government
When we get ourselves into a financial jam.
We take the pills our doctor prescribes
And, frankly, some that our doctor doesn’t
So why are we writing all these diatribes
And taking medical advice from a cousin?
If I have a question, I’ll trust Doctor Fauci,
Who’s studied immunology his whole life
Suffering through a tiny jab … an “ouchee”
And cut out all the phony-baloney strife!
writen October 19, 2021
Tired Muscles, Cortexually Speaking
Straining against the ice-cold rhetoric-
Spewing from a winter of discontent; alive
Only because statues never die, they just
Spout specious diatribes from the halls of
Congress, under glaring tv lights; illuminating
Lascivious lip-smacking gargoyled journalists
Intent on destruction, in any way, at every
Opportunity, America....but I did promise a
Thaw! it was the prelude title before the title
Of this penumbras poem...
I need only look outside, to the nearby tree-line
Tubes snaking thru the maple trees, yes! a
Sugarbush!
Nature is real, statues are not!
My spirit seeks joy
I know where to look, vaya con dios...
When the soul forgets,
we do what we regret.
When the soul forgets,
we shrink and tremble,
fearing him or her,
this or that, hating all
of the other, the different,
the foreign, the strange....
When the soul forgets,
we march off to war.
When the soul forgets,
we leave love alone,
shrinking ourselves into
small hard balls of ice.
When the soul forgets,
we leave God alone...,
or else we smirk and
mock Him, and offer
a dying man vinegar.
When the soul forgets,
we poison life itself and
turn songs of peace
into diatribes of hate.
When your soul forgets,
it falls: first into the grey,
then in time, it falls faster,
deeper and deeper into
the deep blackness of hell--
and perhaps there. just perhaps
your soul will at last remember
and call out, and call out....
Sounds that Echo
I have heard the deafening sounds of this raging River.
In her silence, echoes a voice that did make me quiver.
For, the essence of her diatribes at me, did deliver
a message so cruel, so cold, it made my spirit shiver
to think that all I gave, unappreciated was this giver.
From her heart, the depth of her soul, not a sliver
of compassion, of understanding, of acceptance.
She never even gave this silly old fool a chance
at the joys, the pleasures of a slow dance,
nor the intimacies, the passions of romance.
B. J. “A ” 2
May 17th 2017
Accept lack of infinite knowledge
accept there is much to impart
accept my mortal existence
accept my falable heart
accept the limits of language
accept the curving of time
accept the eternal expanse
accept my downfall of virtue
accept the inconsistency of words
accept my purposeful intentions
accept my discourse with ego
accept my negative nature
accept my torturous suffering
accept my wandering moods
accept the critical glances
accept my sated desires
accept my unruly vexations
accept my moral incontinence
accept my bitter diatribes
accept my feigned attention
accept my solicitous silence
accept my anxious aggression
accept the death of civility
I accept nothing, I strive for perfection
Sudden, surly, vicious words
shake them to their core
the bear's awake, they must not make
their lord and master roar
Spitting, snarling, diatribes
make them fear his growl
the bear's awake, they must not make
a noise while he's a'prowl
Slowly, sadly, bitterly
the years and decades passed
the bear's now old and they've grown cold
and yet their fears still last
Day One – Spare Us
Oh God, of all that is poetic,
spare us thirty days of……of
P O E T R Y….
The banal cadence of the classics
The raucous ribaldry of the sonnets
the curse – of angry verse.
Spare us the reading
of the melancholy meter
the drone of the didactic
the screech of the sacred.
Save us from Satanic soliloquies,
demonic diatribes,
maniacal mantras.
Oh, God of all that is poetry
free us to be poets
to write –
of unfelt winds
to bathe –
in unseen rains
to be cleansed –
by frigid flames
to be molded –
by life’s throwing wheel
let us exhale in words
the truthful wind
the calming rain
the purifying fire
the earthy words
of here
of now
of poetry.
John G. Lawless
4/1/2014
IN ALL HONESTY I AM DISHONEST
Many people own what they refer to as a “cash cow”
A farm animal who produces milk to drink and make cheese
Well I am like an aged farmer praying for his last field to plow
And all I have is a cow who consumes cash if you please
Many people eat food that rots them from the inside out
I, however, use substances that rot me from the outside in
With certainty I am doomed by daily diatribes of doubt
The result of my walking side by side with sordidness and sin
Many people reap rewards from being reverent, religious and good
I, on the other hand, am plundered by impiousness and a lack of pity
It’s always been my plan to take advantage of those whom I could
And using fools who are foolish enough to find me oh so very witty
In actuality I’d decline a “a cash cow” for a small semblance of peace
The kind of peace I find only in devastating substances which sustain me
My sordidness is self-evidenced by sins that seldom if ever cease
And even foolish fools finally find the intelligence to disdain me
© 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE…..~free cee!~
IN ALL HONESTY I AM DISHONEST
Many people own what they refer to as a “cash cow”
A farm animal who produces milk to drink and make cheese
Well I am like an aged farmer praying for his last field to plow
And all I have is a cow who consumes cash if you please
Many people eat food that rots them from the inside out
I, however, use substances that rot me from the outside in
With certainty I am doomed by daily diatribes of doubt
The result of my walking side by side with sordidness and sin
Many people reap rewards from being reverent, religious and good
I, on the other hand, am plundered by impiousness and a lack of pity
It’s always been my plan to take advantage of those whom I could
And using fools who are foolish enough to find me oh so very witty
In actuality I’d decline a “a cash cow” for a small semblance of peace
The kind of peace I find only in devastating substances which sustain me
My sordidness is self-evidenced by sins that seldom if ever cease
And even foolish fools finally find the intelligence to disdain me
© 2009…..free cee!
Come children, sit down awhile,
Only a while. He is number 44.
Your journey to the promiseland has come
On the wings of great momentum
To where hope can live forever more.
Come children, we have been a long
Two hundred and thirty six years in this wilderness
Form the three hundred years before the red sea.
Let there be no more tears, but work and song
No more denial of mirages and history,
Come children, leave the bitter forest
To the old priests and their sick abortions,
We have measured this Sinai
Littered with holocaust of the great sea
With our faith, and we cross today
The Jordan of our hope, and we celebrate
Beyond the diatribes of logic's hate.
Come, children, you can rest
In a land where you are no more tenant or guest.
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