Long Beaten up Poems
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The wind blew gently, rustling the leaves of oak
Skylark flitting from bough to twig
Dawn breaking from its evening cloak
Silence surrendering to new life's jig.
Fenland life awakening, yawning to the rise
Of sun's warming beauty, filling oe'r Earths skies.
The moon fades with gradual ease of time
Its evening shadows eclipsed by suns' rising prime.
Streams of ribbon meander, gentle dreams
Wander by the birch of forest glen.
Glistening, sparkling reflections of sun's beams
Filtering heavenward; raiment of soft sheen.
Cock crows his hour, robin sings his song,
Buckish hare leaps, birds of game play
Hide and seek with shooters throng;
Beaten up, open sighted, birds of prey.
Floral quilted hues upon carpet woven green,
Nectar guided insects hover on the wing.
Gold, incense, myrrh gifted to their Queen,
Warbled sonnets echo thus, this beautiful wonderous thing.
Deep and Shallow he speaks of Wrestling with his own interest in mind he said of his the coompanies champion. Far from the ways of Competitive Sports Wrestling. Thats the staement that got managemnt wanting this guy far removed from the real spot light. A freckle on history's ass: spoke the Company champion who had refused to recognize the challenge. He couldn't only the company could sanction the bout since the title belonged to the company. Big Dripp chants weren't good. The promotion saw that if the challenge was meet maybe the worst part would be over.They acceptedlenge. On live tv the big Drip would sign the contract in a room electroniclly and the champion would sign in the ring, not giving the external company air time buy allowing them to pre record there challenge and awnsers until the actual day of the event. A two month promotion saw record pay per view sales.
The night of the event The Big Drip was found in the locker room beaten up. When the match was anouced he stood in the ring bruised. His challenger came to the ring and stood to a round of cheers, here the Big Drip was seen as the bad guyAfter the annoucments the promoter came to ringside with the belt in hand. and sat at the annouce tabke. The match at 25;52 had the Big Drip with a "Mussa Sirubb bodyvise" around the champions abdominon. He fell and attemped a pin. At 39:01 the Big Drip whipped the Champion into the ropes and a hand seemed to trip the champion he fell. The Big Drip droped a kneedrop he waited for the champ to rise and then while going to the ropes to try to get to the floor the promoter used the belt and walloped the champion. He fell backwards and was pinned by the Big Drip who took the belt and left the building. He did his interview in the back of a semi trailer which he used as his limo.
From that day on the Big Drip was the only recognized Champion!
Peggy had never been a fighter or a scrapper or such
But she got tired of being teased by a bully named Hutch
He called her names, and pulled her pigtails too
This happened many days in a row, possibly twenty-two
Peggy finally had had it; she gave him as good as he got.
Punched him so hard, his nose released a keg full of snot
The other kids watched in horror; they were terrified of him.
He had already beaten-up Dickie, Tommy, Jerry and Jim.
The teacher had never seen a girl stand up to a bully this way.
When Peggy landed on him, she wanted to yell “hooray”.
But instead, she had to send her to the principal’s office to think.
So, you finally took on Hutch the bully, he said, with a wink.
Thought Police
Be careful what you say,
be careful who you say it to.
It might be heard...
by someone that does not like it!
They will come to your door,
and even the score,
even if there is no game
involved at all.
They will just call,
on you, that's who,
even if you live at the zoo.
Truth beaten up on the sidelines.
Propaganda given an upper hand.
Media stroking the boss...
of the paper,
the airways,
and the fairways,
no longer fair at all.
Criminals on the streets,
let go for their crimes,
to make room for more important...
lawbreakers,
earth-shakers,
and memory makers.
Fearing their words,
may yet have power,
for even an hour.
Those that do not go along,
with the climate change agenda,
and will not take the shot,
or get the clout
or rub on each other
to get the pox,
like a fox... (in heat)
will be dealt with in the darkness
of powers at their central station.
The moon is full of men,
that have given their lives over,
to cover the reality,
we live in.
The rationing of water,
then food, and gas,
only the beginning...
of the end.
We will all go without,
but don't shout.
Be quiet and accept what is ahead,
the dread enough to fill
the voting ballot box
full of hope...
or treason?
{This "Free Verse" entry Received HONORABLE MENTIONS
IN THE Intergenerational Poetry to Bridge the Generation
Contest UNO Elders & Youth track" 2017
UNIVERSITY OF OMAHA
OMAHA, NEBRASKA}
(I was the only male entry in contest)
October 15, 2017
I'm A Teen This is What I Struggle With
I’m a teenager I’m upset depressed
Being so,
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
And I ain’t gonna call you mam or sir
That’s in the history books nobody does that anymore
I represent 30 percent of us that are one or been bullied
All adults want to do is make us study
I close to being grown you don’t understand
I know as much or more than a woman or man
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
I ‘m a teen this is what I struggle with
Feel like I’m imprisoned, these are our teen issues
I have a right it’s my body part selective if I selective
It’s my life if I choose to be sexually active
My life complicated I’m not the only one you used drugs smoke pot now what
Back in your day
Getting drunk the past month I also say
My life, my right again you did that too by the way
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
My message is I’m not heard, I’m hurt
I eat the wrongs things I get big obese some of us throw up
You can call it stayin thin being bulimic
Can’t get no education, don’t have patients for them
They can’t teach or tell me nothing gonna drop of school
Maybe I’ll join the Army
Where are the grownups when I have my problems peer pressure?
They don’t have an answer for them
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
The sexting, hot man what a body, But when I get older that picture still out there
Don’t have to be beaten up physically now it’s done electronically, on social media
Just when I think I can control my life and mind
On screen violence TV shows, movies and violence video games
Keep me wake for weeks and days
I am tired of always being diss
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
09/26/17
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
for Intergenerational Poetry To Bridge Generations Elders & Youth 2017 Contest
Defenceless against the swift bite of a hound,
Pulled out from its hiding in the ground,
Merciless killing of a little fox by a hound!
Defenceless against the fangs of a serpent,
In its tree nest a little chick victim of a hunt,
Routine feeding for the day for that serpent!
Defenceless against the jaws of a crocodile,
little zebra crossing river was not so agile,
A mouthful of meat for the Masai crocodile!
Defenceless against the cunning of a fraudster,
An old walking home, purse snatched of her
A week free wage for the street fraudster!
Defenceless against the violence of a drunkard,
The little girl beaten up by her own vile dad,
A heartless scene in the home of the drunkard!
Defenceless! God! Can you explain this matter?
Why life of a creature, quick snack for a gator?
Why amongst human there are such predators?
Defenceless and punished for God’s mission,
Jesus whipped and paraded to his crucifixion,
His tormentors perished, still lives his mission!
Defenceless he knows is all part of his design,
With the life of Jesus he gives us a sign,
His life and suffering, a message, his design!
25/02/2020
Sponsor Edward Ibeh
Pick-A-Title, Vol 14 - Tristich - Poetry Contest
My Daddy is in jail, he says.
He is six years and six days old.
Big brown eyes, mushroom skin, trusting me.
That’s too bad, I say.
No, it’s good. He stops coloring and smiles at me.
We live in a safe house now.
We color together in silence for a few minutes.
I am sixty-eight and twenty-nine days.
Hazel eyes, mouth silent, waiting.
My dad has a car like that one, he says.
He is pointing to a muscle car on the cover of a book.
I say that’s nice.
He give me a sly sideways glance, he is still coloring.
My dad has a bucket of dollars, he reports.
That’s great! I say.
He nods.
He needs one more dollar to buy a car, he says.
I could give him a dollar, I say.
Okay, he says. We continue coloring.
My name is Peter, P E T E R he says
Spelling it out slowly, so I can catch it.
Peter, he says, satisfied.
I try not to smile, but I do.
He is helping me, concerned that I might not know how to spell.
That’s great, I say. He looks relieved.
Of course, I am not using his real name
But he is real, and his mother got beaten up by Daddy
And his Daddy is in jail. Real stuff. Not just for TV.
I was just a baby and not even one
look mommy and daddy, look what have you done
You hit me abuse me, even I was small
I'll never understand why you did that for?
I was all in bruises, I was all in pain,
I was beaten up, again and again
I suffer neglect beating up, and more.....
to your little baby why you did that for?
You gave life to me, was the reason why?
Why didn't you love me? Why you let me die?
Wished to be somebody, do good things in life
but I had no chance I couldn’t survive
God took me to heaven God took care of me
as a little angel I am finally free
Now I fly with angels in the sunny sky
And ask them with tears why I had to die?
I miss mommy and daddy, even they were bad
I’m not even angry, I’m not even sad
Time will come one day they see me again
And then I will ask them if they can explain
Why you didn’t love me, why you let me die,
Why you let me suffer? Will you tell me why?
Now I’m little angel I will never cry
Oh mommy and daddy
Why you let me die...
This poem is for beautiful baby BRIANNA, she died on July 19, 2002,
from the hands of her parents and her uncle, she was only 5 months and 5 days old baby.....
It's hard to hold tears to watch the video.......
At the same time, it's for all the children suffering any kind of abuse....
woman to man
man to woman
always attractive part of nature,
inseparable infatuating power
the woman has natural intention to beautify her for
seen to unseen,
real to imaginative dream,
spoken or unspoken
the important roles of masculine mind
the woman, seems to me, instinctively dependable
whether I go find her in preparing to enchant the man ego
though she is now well educated
most of women
still take beautiful elements to pacify mannish sensual pleasure,
still surrender to husbands even cruelly beaten up by them
most of women still
afraid of the masculine society,
serve man for said heaven enduring all wretched conditions
though I find them now conscious about their rights
still I find them-
as scientist, physician, economist
as theologian, philosopher, politician
and in most salient sectors of worldly life
theist, atheist, feminist all kind of women
Independent, subservient, educated uneducated
almost all women still love to live as parasite rules,
though they love freedom but under the masculine reigns
most of women if desire, can enjoy the entire life independently
but they are moulded in dependence naturally or forcefully
awake, o woman awake
awake on the self power
awake your true nature
awake for your inner sake
13.04.2020 Chattogram
Go on break its heart, don't be shy, ask it why
was it said in that way and not another?
Or maybe why the hell you even said that anyway?
A poem enters a boxing ring
gets beaten up, yet in the end
the loser is a winner,
the pummeling has changed its shape.
A seagull poops on your head,
kind of funny, everyone grins.
An eighteen-wheeler jackknives,
no one is hurt, poop does not kill,
but you're a poet, some kind of genius,
so you write about slippery bird guano
on a wet road,
a truck hydroplaning,
cars bursting into flames,
a trucker dying of colon cancer
long after that fatal accident.
Misery and joy must be manipulated
then handcuffed together.
You publish the deranged thing -
your mistake,
it's just another aberration of your nervous system.
Then you wait for some wiseass
to tear it apart,
and it serves you right.