One disgruntled nursing assistant
calls it: the s..t house.
I overhear the laughter of angels.
The inmates know it as ‘Fair Havens’
some have a sense of humor
they name the place the ‘Twilight Zone’
or the ‘Dead End.’
It’s no worse or better
than any last stop for the infirm of age,
but meals and flushing toilets here
seem synonymous
coming as they do so often one after the other.
I visit him, he’s no relation, my wife knew him,
just a wrinkled-up guy who talks about his boyhood
as if it were yesterday
and recalls many a disreputable dirty story.
I take notes, and he asks what am I writing down?
I tell him I’m a recorder of lost worlds.
He smiles and nods, continues to speak
about matters of great insignificance
yet his ramblings are still a living truth.
He reminds me of an edgy comic
who’s inappropriate and insulting jokes
will turn the air as blue
as the skin of a still grinning corpse.
Dad died during his dream. A dream of delaying his
death, destroying the cancer and deterring his doom.
His date with destiny deployed and determined. The
doctors did there darnest to defibrillate him. He died
determined on the table as his heart defeated him and
his family. The doctors delivered the deflating news
after the surgery dissipated. Where on this December
day the weather turned distant and dark. Every
December passing since, there's a drizzle of
dreariness. Decades later the dragonslayer still drags
on disreputable, dwelling in my mind.
9/26/22
Anniversary Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Sara Kendrick
N/A
We never hear our leaders' actual, personal conversations.
But we assume a lot from any disreputable so-called news
organization!
Then we,with pride, shamelessly, blame their ethics?
To our great , joy and unbounded vilification?
I wish we'd just once, take full responsibility.
And expose our own failings, faults and sinery!
Non-leaders are far from perfect or innocent.
Talking about others supposed failings,is about as evil
as a human can get.
Let's hear about your failings for a change!
Poets are not angels but pen as if they exist, in an angelic
cage!
4/29/2021
"LET HE WHO IS WITHOUT SIN, CAST THE FIRST STONE!"
Powerless in an iron lung
split purple in an evening sky
my lady leaks
The snow here is made of china
I’ve been here before
my lady fills the horizon
and the mountain hugging the river
went with the sun
Nothing left to walk on
only places to fall
where ice
breaks open to swallow
Just cats and nocturnal solicitors
can prowl with trembling paws
and hammer the neighborhood doors
as fists of freeze
And what am I but one of these
burrowed inside the night
disreputable cat
wet and wandering
amusing crying obviously wrong
A scoundrel
searching for a lamp
she is blotted
she is blinded spilling purple
to the earth
A HARSHNESS OF EXPRESSION
IT IS THE WINDOW THAT SHOWS
HIS POVERTY
SHAMED HE DECIDES NOT TO LOOK
IN EFFECT HE IS A DISREPUTABLE CHARACTER
THE HARSHNESS OF HER GLANCE
SHE DECIDES TO SPEAK FOOLISHLY
TO FURTHER SEPARATE HERSELF
FROM THOSE AROUND HER
THE HARSHNESS OF HER HANDS
SPEAK OF THE LACK OF
CONCERN FOR HER BEING
TIRED SKIN
AND A MEAN LOOK
THEY OFTEN EVER SMILE
EVERY EFFECT OF POVERTY
THEY WISH TO ESCAPE
THEN THOSE WHO WISH THEM POOR
MIGHT SEE THAT THEY REMAIN POOR
OR POORER
THOSE WITH SUCH POWERS MIGHT
HAVE CAUSED THEM TO BE AS POOR
AS THEY ARE NOW
WHO'S EFFORDS MAKE YOU POOR
SPOKE THE NARRATIVE
IN SUCH NARRATION MIGHT ONE
FIND A DISRUPTION IN THEIR
OWN TIMELINE
being odd one out
type cast, outcast disgrace phrased
seems doesn’t belong
disreputable
now undesirable one
member of the group,
special family
black sheep unspoken values
as such, low status
7/7/19
Black Sheep Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausin
He makes a cradle with his arms
for the pup to sprawl in
and languidly lets his swarthy body
sag in the rocking chair.
Something about him smacks
of black magic; maybe his eyes.
Sometimes, like an impenetrable
wall of darkness, they could almost
physically force you to step back
in retreat, or else, they may be smoldering
under the heavy lids and you find
yourself orbiting in their magnetic field.
There’s also a look about him
of a mountain brigand
maybe in the small suggestion of a welt
on his cheek, or is it his mahogany toes
that are protruding shamelessly
from his torn disreputable sandals?
A sharp bite from Sidney on the chin
jerks him back to full consciousness
and a tender, unnamable rush
of understanding fills his face
as his fingers gracefully
move over the hungry pup.
He smiles, and the smile spreads
through him like warm wine.
No tickee, no washee
You pay as you go
There are no free rides
As everyone knows
Yet some people try
Their gol' darn best
To beat the system
Get ahead of the rest
Like everyone else
They must play by the rules
Do they think we're all
Just a bunch of old fools?
To take advantage
Of us trusting souls
That way of thinking
Is all full of holes
Writing us off
Would be quite premature
We've still got the smarts
And that is for sure
We may appear stodgy
And slow to react
But years of experience
Has taught us the knack
Of dealing with shysters
And disreputable felons
These guys are operating
With screwed up melons
They'll get their comeuppance
One day down the road
When they meet their maker
And have to unload
And explain why they acted
So poorly down here
They won't have excuses
For not playing fair
Banished to purgatory
And left there forever
To never experience
Heaven's glorious weather
No tickee, no washie
A familiar old refrain
From the beginning of time
The rules are the same
Treat fellow beings
With love and respect
You'll get back in spades
The admiration you expect
© Jack Ellison 2013
My fractured and wounded spirit has wandered off course.
I have relinquished everything to a disreputable source.
In the vessels holding pyres of sacrificial flames
are the ashes and cinders of prodigies without names.
All prospects and promises have culminated to an end.
The sum of production is reduced by a subtrahend.
A dilapidated castle results from wants unsatisfied.
A king is a vagabond with appearance undignified.
Greed and gullibility leaves an unsound foundation.
Adverse conditions have filled me with indignation.
Hopelessness and frustration render anyone with ennui.
Nobody hears the pleas for help coming from me.
If the future is deaf and blind from warnings by the past,
no dynasties and empires can be expected to last.
Addiction to what is believed nectar and ambrosia
can lead a crowned fool to a borderless dystopia.
Doubts flood my mind - smarter than I seem
Reading between the lines of your intentional schemes
Calculating your plots of disreputable deceits
And probing methods of exploiting me
Amiss estimation of my competence
To comprehend and observe your malevolence
Distressed and tentative with your presence
Your bogus interests I never fail to sense.
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