Gluttons Poems

AoTEARoa aka New Zealand

Spine chilling velocity
Willing feverish ferocity
Pollution spilling atrocity
Pushes our buttons
Top billing forging
Fiendish drilling pomposity
Gluttons gorging in the isles of muttons

Coining the term “purloining”
Plunder even here down under
Cast asunder..can hear the thunder
In the proud land of 
The long white cloud

Scold from the fold to heal
But won’t listen..do a deal
Gaudy gems appeal..glisten
History sold for pieces of gold

Cower to phoney crony power
Dour Parasites roll the dice
Show pony baloney hour

Off their heads...now divining 
Mining our whining sea beds..

Palaver of scour..devour and sour
Splice our shining slice of paradise
Vice rather than stories of glories told

Voraciously gobbling veracity
Audaciously hobbling precocity
Generosity wobbling even in the home
Of lengthy Cumulus Curiosity…

Not being funny
In this Land of Milk & Honey
Won’t kowtow to the cash cow

Getting out of hand
Because the answer forever
Whatever will never ever
Be just money!

Society as few know it

Veracious vanity about victories over 
veils shows vain values corrupted by 
vicious volatile villains in hopes for 
votive to vindicate, 
Grossly gluttons gain grains over 
gloomy groups of ghastly greiven gulls,
Foreign fighting by ferocious foes gets 
fulfilled here by fat-headed fools 
fulminating for their unknowing fatalities, 
Deep dark derivatives of evil dance daily 
drawing delusional dimwits to drown 
devishly in damnation, 
Multimedia manipulates millions 
maliciously magnifying multitudes of 
mass misguided many, 
Local laws layover latitudes of laundered 
logistics layering subliminal taxations 
lowering lifestyles lived by the 
Land of the Limited.

The Year Is Almost Over

The year just started;
Yet, it is almost over.
Today is the second day of the year;
Yet, it is with anger,
Fear, impatience, and horror
That we want another year
To show up at our door.

Give ourselves a chance.
Before we dance,
Let's pray first,
And stop the frivolous lust.
Let's quench our thirst,
So we can enjoy the party,
And be more relaxed and happy.

What's wrong with human beings?
We refuse to take it slow. Things
Should not be happening like that.
Of course, we're going to be fat,
And ugly, if we're not being careful.
'Cause we gobble everything down in full
Force, like gluttons, like fools in the pool.

Take things easy, little by little,
Step by step, stop being frugal.
A year just ended;
Yet, it is with anger,
Fear, impatience, and horror
That we want another one to start;
Please chill out and have a heart.

Copyright © January 2017 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.

Happy Independence Day, India

Giant gained goodbye's glory 
Gearing gaps geographically 
Growing gluttons' goal.

Eat To Live Or Live To Eat

People have their own beliefs
Eat to live or live to eat
Eat to live is a must
Live to eat is an excess
Gluttons are mad for gourmet food
Not guilty but just a weird choice of life
Similarly
Love to live or live to love
Love to live 
Without love life is a suffering
Intimate love, love for the family
Are important for a meaningful life
They reignite energies for life
Live to love even more precious
Brotherhood, love for humanity
And love for peace
Are important
Where love is reciprocated 
And the world will become 
More beautiful to live

The Rise In Prices

The rise in prices
Price increase becomes
Price adjustment
But the rise is something different
Unlike the tide
It only rises 
And never falls
It's seasonal
Just like the durian
Every year at least once
With the Financial Report
And Unlike the durian it seldom falls
If it doesn't rise 
The piece of cake is smaller
Less tasty
If it falls
The cake is even smaller
And maybe changes flavour
Unlike the fall of durians 
In the olden days
Which makes everybody happy
Especially the poor planters
And the gluttons
The rise in prices 
Makes most of the people sad
Especially the under income
And everybody centres on the rise
Has forgotten the rise of wages
I hope one day the wages will rise too
And never fall

Gluttons For Punishment

It shouldn't come as a surprise,
That gluttony is on the rise, 
When TV 's are turned back on just after Sunrise,
To watch batter for Yorkshire pudding in the oven to rise.

Yet I wonder if it is all that wise,
For yet more cooking shows to devise,
When we know obesity is on the rise,
And operating tables are now of a bigger size.

So, yes it really is a surprise,
With many leading such busy lives, 
That gluttony is on the rise,
As one would think TV would be taking a back seat in our lives, 
Yet before the sun can rise,
Cooking shows are a sight for sore eyes.

An Oceanless Beach

An Oceanless Beach

What is it to see 
but never emerge from the dark? 

Children marvel at color, 
movement, 
perception, 
not knowing 
control mongers await them, 
famished gluttons who relish 
adults obviating consciousness. 

Some risk pain, 
while too few discover 
healing is not a poultice 
to cover a wound, 
but an eardrum, 
an eyelid 
to remedy contrived storms, 
blasts of empty oxygen 
programmed to destroy 
observation's eloquent gift, 
the always present 
sense of truth, 
or not. 

Risk awaits… 

Perhaps muddied, 
but nevertheless 
always at the ready, 
actuality's hardened muscles 
ready to serve, 
to discern platitudes from profundity. 

How courageous 
this willingness to risk, 
knowing to cower 
is to embrace that safe place, 
ignorance's wanton indulgence, 
an anesthetized existence 
on an oceanless beach,
where colorless tears
become desolate in erosion’s sorrow.

Harvest

Take a look at me
And declare your intentions to me
My heart bleeds
Yes, it daily bleeds

Of the substance that goes in there
Which the eyes daily encounter
And the ones that tint the ear.
How best can I cry?

For that this generation is making us to dare.
Loneliness is a bad game
But it's better than being with fake souls.
They make you laugh

Just to satisfy their gluttons and urge
And when the oil is dried, they're gone.
My daily cry for love has grown than Mount Olive
Even at this age, non is set to wear the crown.

Not that my life is made to be a clown
As our guys do make good of them for prey.
Sixteen abortions gone: I'm not ready for  his vow
As he mutters in a sweet voice, I love you

We're destined to be together
While a saint is set to walk down the aisle.
Oh this is a crap!
As it's getting on my nerves

What then makes sense either to be honest
Or not to be but have them in tens.
No I can't join the league
For every act done is a seed by the river
Awaiting the period of harvest.

Living In Grace With Passion

The absolute joy of knowing, like a child, you are forever in  
His hands.
That the pompous leaders, all, cannot your soul demand.

That media are just media and do make grievous errors.
So you learn to use Snopes before demeaning anyone,
like a self-righteous holy terror!

You swim in cerulean waves for each moment of life in gratitude.
Negativity and fear? No, you give them absolutely no latitude.

Sadness is a word accursed to you!
As you find compassionate things for humanity to do.

Ignored you may be~nobody cares for your positivity.
They dine day and night, like gluttons at the table of 
rank, negativity.

For them, the world is scary and ending!
But in grace, you know each day is just a beginning.

You walk about in silver sandals, with a gardenia in your hair.
Gratitude and courage, a most intoxicating, heavenly pair!


                  


                      April 3, 2020
                        2am PST

Traces of Errors

Traces of errors - demarcate my past mistakes - I could not erase.
While perfectionists - are gluttons for misery - hints they can't redeem,
like beaches, victims - left barren of memories - surging waves stroked clean.

I welcome the sight - of my miscalculations - to refine my trace.
Unhesitantly -  why seak perfection with one stroke!? - Far better to strive.
With pencil in hand - I raise my blunt graphite sword -  better live, than die.

by,
Martin Braun
3/25/2020

To Little Birds and Tweeting An Ode

Hail, little birdie perched on tree!
What hast thou now to say to me?
“A little bird has told me so,”
As many say. This well we know.
How joyfully I hear thee tweet!
Not every tweet I know is sweet.
Though tyrants sneer and gluttons burp,
How glad am I to hear thee chirp.
It’s always big birds get their way,
Owls and eagles, night and day.
In arid wastes do vultures lower,
While hawkish eyes green pastures scour,
But birds there are that stand for love,
Most notably the turtledove.
No leafy twig a raven bore
When Noah’s eyes beheld no shore.
Spurn little birds? Why be so narrow
When there is One Who marks the sparrow?

Brexit Sonnet 17 - Digestives Now Shrinketh

Brexit Sonnet No.17
‘Digestives Now Shrinketh’
 

The Deadly Sins have raised their hornéd heads,
Each with elbows sharpened, pushing hard.
Lust demands divorce and new found beds,
Whilst Greed, he craves the tax avoidance card.
A feckless Pride buffs up her empire days;
For Sloth, just look at Impact papers lacking.
Gluttons seeketh more power from Tudor maze,
Yet we to date see not foul Brexit packing.
Europe the enemy, our Angered Chancellor said;
And Brexit Envy must be all around,
So say those whom Brexit’s newly wed.
This senseless sinning, Brexit’s killing ground.
   Reminding us Brexit cometh not from heaven,
   Digestives now shrinketh by sinful number seven.

©Keith Murphy

Coffers

Gluttons, paupers, tis not thee I address,
Rather ye men, middle income meager.
Dames hast thine coffers slightly beleaguered?
Garments bejeweled, appetites sated?

Vultures dine thy muscles of toils weary.
Lazy bones remain roadside, pauper's soup.
Wages earned, eggs income, gathered hen coop,
Through petty tasks, worthlessness abated.

Gentlemen, tis advice long awaited.
Find ye equal love, damsels of mind fair.
If thee seek only fair face, silky hair,
Coffers of paupers surely tis fated.

Hasten, young men, to thy ladies true worth.
For prosperity not, befell thy birth.

Gluttons

My stomach bit me,
Crying: how long will 
you starve us?:
Won't you feed us?.

Then been considerate,
Took i may soles,
treading toward the kitchen,
Picked the yam's pride
Baked and stayed it awhile.
And then i considered them;
even i fed them.

... Then they became more hungry,
biting and chewing blasphemes...

Then said I: Shouldn't i have 
fed them?

1) What's ought to feed me
Makes me hungry.

" The more you obtain wealth,the more you want it".
    17:1:12:13:19

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