My Job Is Killing Me
Manual Labor
Under appreciated
Underpaid
Short breaks
Work yourself to death
Too many call inns
Lazy generation
No effort
No strong work ethics
Hard night just to earn a dollar
Never save enough to retire
Eyes are burning
2 days off are flying
Everyday is just a blur
Feet to slumber
Days run into weeks
Days into months
My money always disappears
Categories:
inns, abuse,
Form: Rhyme
Lord, save this unholy Baptist!?
Her lactation, like mother's juice,
slakes thirsty tongues with creamy gist.
To flush her slick love-chamber's sluice,
with corkscrew thumbs, and practiced wrists,
like a gander she mauls her goose!
If hairy chest stirs those supple breasts
in whorish barns (near lover's inns),
then with my cock's erectest crest,
the buttocks (of her cleft nether-chin),
like meat pies, I durst hurry test,
lest I, limp, err in deadly sins!
But I pray Thee, O holy Godhead!
I durst not be so thus content'd,
when, like dogwood, is my sainthead,
when goes my pizzle unlament'd;
and, like Pan, to c*nt the nunhead,
I've foregone your grace, unrepent'd.
Categories:
inns, dedication, desire, god, life,
Form: Lyric
My country is under a siege
That's why I write a dirge
My country is falling apart
'cause her leaders have taken the wrong path
The land is full of greed
Remember, That's not what we agreed
Masses continually wallow in pain
Yet our cries is often in vain
Nigeria is another old today
Then it's falling away
The youths they refused to give the way
The old have refused to call it a day
While they have ship in the deep
And , masses continually killed like sheep
Corruption, nepotism, there watch words
Neglected, the constitution as their watch dog
Which has been known to the world
Nigeria, The sleeping Giant
With Great lands of hope
Lush vegetation by nature provided
Where diverse icons of Erudite are awarded
In the past we uttered corrupt masters
In the present we call , kleptomaniac in their fingers
Nigerians, independence we cried out for
Unity In diverse they preach
In the inns we hope to reach
As they've democratically persuaded to teach
We had the freedom to be free
But has been more strong weaker
Nigeria my country is about to fall
That's why I am making a call.
Categories:
inns, africa, corruption, in memoriam,
Form: Rhyme
Words rain down on me,
drops of silence
evicted...
thus I poetize
in impulses,
in unstoppable stupor
that just happens...
My poetry is like this...
stale words
in the twilight..
They arrive as flowers,
as clouds... as llight
through closed window...
Poetry comes to the poet,
as celestial bodies
coming from other spheres...
Seems like a distant dream,
stars that finally
inns... !
Categories:
inns, allegory, allusion, appreciation, beauty,
Form: Free verse
How far is far?
To travel on horse and cart from Algarve
To Lisbon took days, but there were Inns
For a traveller to rest and stable the horses.
Not that many trekked from Algarve
seen as a throwback
From the days of the Muslims and poverty.
It was the British ex. Colonials, in the dwindling
Empire, who settled here; the Algarve is now
famous as a tourist destination.
I drove around, before motorways, with my dog
Portugal is a beautiful country.
On the motorway, there is nothing to see
Except for the rush of destination,
And Portugal is smaller than it used to be.
Categories:
inns, absence, best friend, butterfly,
Form: Free verse
Coin collecting and prostitution
The two sides of Janus, an institution.
Categories:
inns, corruption, poetry,
Form: Couplet
the sea winds calling
calling beach tides thrilling
thrilling woodlands for hiking
hiking along streams vibrant
vibrant wildlife still sprawling
sprawling plant life enthralling
enthralling cobble streets for strolling
strolling perfection in a New England town ~~
a New England town of actual living sounds -
sounds like I should permanently settle down:
Leading a simple life are solid folk.
Many fish the sea for their living.
In city life, they would be slowpokes,
but here time is for deep breathing.
Old lighthouses dot an idyllic coast
and fishing boats fill the scenic harbors.
There’s shellfish aplenty for dining ardor.
Many inns are old homes of lace and charm,
reminiscent of America’s youth.
There are old horse bridges and farms
built when pride was America’s truth.
There is much history to relish
and nature that stirs one zealous.
New England is the good life embellished
and an address that I would cherish.
Categories:
inns, beauty, culture, environment, happy,
Form: Rhyme
If Christ in his triumph and glory
Decides to unravel a new chapter and story
By returning from whence he departed,
He shall in stupefaction be started,
To find out this wanton era
Has indeed, bested Sodom and Gomorrah.
He shall stagger to behold
A frail and lackadaisical Bi Mvondo on hold,
Exorcising with his magical wand
For still more dominion over the land.
He shall in horror watch
Men courting men as women watch,
Holding hands and darting pecks,
wantonly on chests and necks.
He shall the Levites behold in dismay
Roaming Inns both home and away,
Presiding over unclad bodies with an exposed scrotum,
A duty, absent on their holy curriculum.
He shall wince at the sight of the brewery,
And gape at the sight of the Levites' golden crockery.
For which the masses residing in carnage
Have been plundered and pillaged.
Shuddering, He shall run back to His Father
And on his way, pen an apology letter, to Sodom and Gomorrah.
© Temajung Michael T.
Categories:
inns, betrayal, fear, heartbroken, sad,
Form: Ballad
OLD TOWN PAST
Gone: the Market where cows sheep and pigs brought telling perceptions
The images, noises and smells of the farms to the town
The tweeded farmers with leathery limbs and faces
And gaiters of deepest sheen in a rich chestnut brown
Flaxen ropes, billhooks, pitchforks enough for a peasants' uprising
Spread along the High street and over the Corn Exchange square
While Newport Street furnished inns for all thirsts' reviving
And above all, the clock tower made skyline iconic and fair
Then was school run not protected, chauffeured, in cars
But raced, skipped or dawdled through field, street, market, rail station
Our little world teamed with action, unscreened - no bars
Of health and safety; adventure without filtration
In that world we seemed in different incarnation
Can we thus discern immortality's intimation
Categories:
inns, history,
Form: Rhyme
Love
is a doorless inn
flowing live spring
for arid souls to drink
body and spirit heal
some leave pain imprint
supreme pride stampede
piercing hands and feet
with scars that hurt
and bleed
others gratefully give
opening new love inns
binding wounds to heal
poor and hungry feed
so much progress made
to heal bodily ills
only Jesus Christ can heal
the soul
of deadly sins
Tenth Place Winner- Brian Strand-Your Choice M- 4/11/25
Categories:
inns, love,
Form: Free verse
The soul would have no rainbow
if the eyes had no tears. —Native American proverb
Waterfall beauties shedding crystalline tears
an indigo vision an outpour of emotion
she thought she was loved by him,
wherever did she get that notion?
In the beginning it was love at first sight
but then when they fought it never showed
like the stars that disappeared in the sky
it slowly began to die ;
Years later when she found real love
the kind that watered the roots of her soul
she finally learned the truth about
the inns of Love;
Waterfall beauties shedding tears of happiness
both were wet but these ones dried quickly,
to the sound, of her crystalline laughter.
Categories:
inns, appreciation, love,
Form: Free verse
I am an eight year old boy lying in bed
Lying awake, alone and waiting
Car headlights dance as reflected light on my bedroom walls
These light patterns tell me stories
Of life before cars, when highway men rode
Of stage coaches and inns giving safe refuge
When travelling to London from Leeds took days
The equivalent today of a slow ferry ship
Risking Somali sea pirates
Kidnapping crew and passengers for ransom
The stage coach sailed the pot-holed highways
Only travelling during the day
Stopping and staying at an inn at night
Unlike modern cars with their headlights so bright
Cars night driving, headlights reflecting light
Bringing my parents home to me
Categories:
inns, car, child, fantasy, horse,
Form: Blank verse
Imagine if the nativity
Took place now instead of then
With technological advancement
It'd be on the news at ten
In fact it would make youtube
A film clip at the stable
Taken by a shepherd boy
Underneath a table
The three wisemen would go on Skype
The gifts would be en route
No need to travel all the way
With the traffic in Beirut
Phone banks would be all set up
To raise funds for the birth
The internet would be a buzz
With the greatest news on earth
No camels, inns or drummer boys
There'd be no one there at all
The Angel of The Lord would be
Black Friday shopping at the mall
In fact I do not think that it
Would be a deal that we would follow
Social media and the press
Would make it all seem hollow
I'm glad it happened when it did
As time has come to pass
With Jesus in a manger
And wisemen there en masse
I don't think it'd be Christmas
If Christ was born today
Without a cd or a movie deal
Or a sport that he would play
Christmas is...and always will
Be the story we were told
I'm glad it didn't happen now
If I may be quite so bold
Unto man a child was born
And he, the son of God....
Categories:
inns, angel, celebration, christian, christmas,
Form: Rhyme
IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY…
IX
If ever I had a country
And if ever I were not robbed of my barrister's degree
I'd set up shop on a perch at Hyde Park Corner
For a chance to plead for the Damnés de la Terre at Old Bailey
Receive the eternally forlorn under a tree for no fee
And rally all victims of pleadings under my barrister's wig free
That is, if ever I were not robbed of that Call to the Bar duty
And this, even if I never had no country
X
If ever I had a country
And if ever I were not robbed of the chance to plead for the unfree
The poor who tremble helpless at the Law's ermine garb decree
The innocent wretched who let fall their inalienable rights and flee
The defenceless cowed by the moneyed clients' Big-Time lawyer crap
Claim and Counter-claim Summons for Disclosure trap
That is, if ever I were not robbed of my self-taught Inns of Court degree
And this, even if I never had no country
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2018
Categories:
inns, career, conflict, corruption, england,
Form: Free verse
Once a little baby boy,
Was born in Bethlehem.
He was Jesus Christ, the Son of God
Come to save the world from sin.
There was no room for Him that night,
In all the Inns in town.
Mary lay Him in a bed of hay
With animals all around.
While shepherds watched their flocks by night,
God’s glory shone around.
Peace on Earth, good will to all men,
Angels sang. What a joyful sound!
Wise men brought Him gifts from afar-
Myrrh, frankincense, and gold.
Then they returned to far off lands,
And the blessed story was told.
Ding! Dong! Ding! Dong!
Listen to the bells ringing!
Ding! Dong! Ding! Dong!
Hear the happy children singing!
Ding! Dong! Ding! Dong!
Listen to the bells ringing!
Categories:
inns, christmas, jesus,
Form: Lyric
Related Poems