Long Tag on Poems
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Our story is wild style graffiti
’We fell in love then we fell in love again.’
thrown up on an urban wall for eternity;
We could write legal but chose illegally,
bombed the building with expression;
Our story is wild style graffiti;
Inspired by Love’s rebellious personality
etched a passionate confession;
thrown up on an urban wall for eternity;
Fairytale of daredevils painted artfully
a legend spoken of now and then;
Our story is wild style graffiti;
Writers personify nonconformity
relishing a dangerous artistic break in
thrown up on an urban wall for eternity;
Masterpiece matching soulmates intensity
may have our tag on a spot up in Heaven;
Our story is wild style graffiti
thrown up on an urban wall for eternity.
Let me describe to you...my face, how I look
Taken from my photo...on the face of my book
I have one crooked eye brow...the one on the right
It grew back that way...when I shaved it one night
The wrinkles in my eyes...are spread like a bare tree
As for hair, I've got some...and that's cool by me
The bridge on my nose...and to your accord
Looks like to me...to be straight as a board
Twas a hole in my left ear...now fully closed
Back when, I wore an earring...when I wore wholly clothes
My chin swiveled slightly...'cause I'm chewing on gum
In the depth of my cleft...there's a scratch from my thumb
A rough scruffy face...from a two day old beard
WHAT! There's a tag on my neck...now that's a bit weird
I just noticed it now...while observing my cleft
It's sticking out below it...an inch to the left
There's a scar on my lip...below my mustache
That I got while fishing...an accidental knife slash
My face as a whole...narrow, and thin
Been out in the rays...got a tan on my skin
Ugly, I am, nah...but some might think so
Their heads must be big...eh, what do they know
Handsome, am I...not to sound bold
A good looking man, from my wives...I've been told
The whites in my eyes...all blood shot and red
From staying up late writing...when I should be in bed
Good-Night!
Okay, this isn't completely true. The photo wasn't from my book, it's me now. I don't have one crooked eyebrow, I have two. I'm NOT cool with having just SOME hair. The bridge on my nose is slightly crooked. The hole in my ear is on my right side, my chin is swiveling, but not from chewing gum. I have no cleft, the scar on my lip was no accident. I have no tan, it's winter. I am not ugly, I am handsome (lol) My eyes are blood shot, but not from being tired. And it's 8:00 I'll be up for hours.
Besides that, everything else is one hundred percent true!
The Metaphor Of Your Face Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
11-22-2019
First and foremost is you
Yes you, all parts of you and gratitude as your plus one for a better attitude, as you well know
Better tag on hard to that grounding of yours,
Solid footing firmly planted to the ground,
Mind geared up to solder to them goals
Stay rooted and aligned, this is your time
Stillness betters focus always, so eyes on the prize, it's game on
First for the count is one to love, your own self perfect place to start
Another is one to look forward to, better days to come your motivation
Then there's the one for you to do right now, here this instant
Embrace the present moment sis, don't just sit and watch life sail past you
Day in day out, breath in, breath out, one day at a time
Mind on daily mantra mode: keep head down,nose clean, eyes always glued to the prize
then proceed to hit repeat
one step two steps, no more back and forth
fall only forward if you can, a crawl to the finish line still counts as a win
First one foot back, then one in front
keep it moving, eyes stay glued to the prize
ears shut to the noise, chin up, rise up, shoulders back, left foot, right foot
choices, engage free will, choices, always wise to the choice
This battle yes, that one you let go and watch from the sidelines if you like
Easy does it, slow the pace down, just trust in the process cos this one is timeless
Rein in the need to fill in the void,look inside you, yes inside I said, stay still hold focus, stand still, your truth to be found inside you sis
Put your back into it, marrow to bone, from inside to outside, soon you will make it, you know you can do this,
You got it your magic key, key to the lock, unlock the secrets of self mastery, that's right bout to master the self now, self governance yea, secrets reveled, life on self rule, marching, finally marching to the beat of your own drum, left right, left right
Ears shut to the noise and eyes glued to the prize as always
First one step in, then two steps,chin up, one day at a time
Then proceed to hit repeat!
Form:
There’s an
Energy tag on my big toe
“Zapped to death:” it says
I’m a “John Doe”
A lightening bolt
Sent my soul a jolt
Into the next dimension
Permanently disabled and
Unable to be grounded, you see
Living life on the edge can be fatal
I don’t even know who I am
I think I’m fried forever
But I can tale you this
I still have destiny's will
I’ve felt the power of the gods
I’m all charged up; that was some vitamin pill
Electricity is 1 + 1 = 1
Electricity is one by one to freedom
I feel it deeply in my bones
In the gap in between gods’ ganglia
Perhaps, I do got stinky bits for brains
I’m letting go now
Finally, slipping into oblivion
I finally remember
Yes, I remember
who I am.
A cloth tag on my bed disturbs me
So much so that it woke me up from sleep
I prayed that it would go away
In reality it will be there till doomsday
But that's not all
I know the ways of labels
They get their way
Manufacturers protect them
So does the law
It reads as plain as day
“Do Not Remove This Tag Under Penalty of Prosecution
or Persecution”
Some such nonsense…something like that….
It's too much for a simple man like me
I fear authority and prison
But I can't continue with this obnoxious thing
First, I placed a pillow over it
Tags don't need oxygen to breath
Labels are persistent, persevering
Even resolute in their condition to prevail
I could shoot it with a gun
No. That's no good
Smoke and noise don't scare it
Bullets hardly tear it
A relentless dangling appendage to the end remains
Clinging to the ends of beds
Duct tape was next
But I knew that words continued underneath
Also hidden by sheets
The butcher knife would have to do
Savagely removed…blood curdling rips and cuts
I blew a fuse..... My bed is new
No one could refute that now
Now my life is through
I am tagged as a bed label fugitive
Furniture police men hunt me down
I could be executed… or incarcerated
Made to make amends, repairs… or even face the chair
We first saw Cooper on our morning walk…and had the chance to meet
when, with tail wagging, he ran up to us as we walked along the street.
We imagine he ventured from his yard…deciding instead his neighborhood to roam…
then got lost and was trying unsuccessfully to find his way back home.
Luckily he had his dog tag on when up to us he came…
It’s how we knew immediately that Cooper was his name.
His address and phone number were also there…yes his dog tag had it all…
So…while I happily petted Cooper…Deborah made the call.
After drinking a bowl of water at our house Cooper finally made it home…
I wonder if he’ll be so quick tomorrow…his neighborhood to roam?
As I watched Cooper and his owner reunited…thank us
then walk off together as happily…
I thought isn’t what just happened the very definition of humanity?
To come to the aid of those in need…to be like their umbrella in the rain…
To help in anyway we can…to give food and drink and shelter…
to try and ease their pain?
Which makes me wonder what has changed about the world out there in front of me
what has happened to the human race…to our humanity?
I’m not saying humanity is dead…it’s not…I think we’re all agreed
there are many people who care about others…who will help anyone in need..
But humanity has been injured…wounded…which makes it bittersweet.
What if the answer lies with Cooper…a dog we met out on the street
Wouldn’t humanity be enhanced…if everyone across every land
had a hand in helping anyone who needs a helping hand?
I imagine we’d cherish human life a little more
If everyone treated everyone they see…
the way we treated Cooper
and I imagine…Cooper would agree.
Written By: D. Collins 10/25/23
To misuse the word indoctrination just ain't right.
If 70% of your land was taken, would you stand up and fight?
I remember rocks against bullets not long ago.
And Palestinian youth shot dead lying in rows.
I remember the fight lasting longer than all wars combined.
Because what is now called Israel use to be Palestine.
We could slap a "terrorism" tag on just about anything.
Lest we forget how America came into being.
I can remember and I'm really not that old.
This is just the way a true story really should be told.
This is not about Hamas more than an extermination.
You hear in their heart when they say "indoctrination".
Faces half shrouded at a social distance
Grim acceptance or an angry resistance
I get the jitters, shakes and chills
So, I climb out of the Valley and into the hills
I crave a hiatus from this virus obscene
But a sign proclaims, Closed Due To Covid 19!
Oh damn! I howl. Has my ascent been for naught?
Has my elusive karma at last been caught?
On my trail I’d amble as skies glow blue
A healing vibe afforded to few!
Away from road rage, despair
A concrete smog asphalt stew
Is it so shocking I feel forsaken and blue?
Ignoring the sign, I forge ahead with a will
Rambling onward and upward hill after hill
And down toward the Pacific’s deep blue expanse
In a stumbling, humbling, transfixed dance
Call me a trespasser for breaking a law
Or an unrepentant sinner with a character flaw
But no matter what name you may tag on me
While on the trail just call me free!
Was it in the fragrance of the grapefruit mint that brushed against my red blush cheeks,
or those lilac petal chains on
moss-strewn pathways,
was it in those rays that dance sequentially across some green flake grecian urn, or the tearful noonday noodle from a seagull’s
stricken cry, or that scarlet robin roosting on a grey grain granite wall?
For whatever reason nature’s vivid ministry appeared in locust swarms,
a tag on aural stimuli to whet one’s dormant vision.
Suddenly the golden brook within my compass bared its fountain,
each moonstone mountain peak its beacon light,
the twig on every tree revealed an olive branch
with verdant august wellspring at its cusp.
Each sprouting plant became this silver chalice rooted
in a centrifugal aliment.
When morning shoots at last boldly ripen ironic winter phase
blackberries loom above mundane detachment
as cold snap iridescence that normally
eludes quotidian tides.
''T'' Contest, New or Old Poem
Sponsor ; Constance La France
This is an old poem submitted to this contest 8th November 2021.
It was first entered on Poetry Soup in Brian Strand contest judged
March 17th 2020.
Title for that contest ; For Whatever Reason
Flesh is compulsorily subjected to several bites
with the hope of later expensive lotions of comfort.
Hard work pays but luck issues the slips
toiling and moiling for the skin to keep soiling.
Every shot towards goal hits the post,
after years of attempts, the thigh muscles wither.
Sharp teeth on weak Jaws don’t attain chewing,
the discipline of a vegan carnivore is yet not enough.
The babe is painstakingly fed with milk in abundance
but has remained a day old after several months.
A million bricks have been put together and there’s still no house,
my determination is fought back by the agents of malicious doctrines.
Windstorms lay many eggs and pain is fed
The map of destiny shrinks to erase its borders.
Pressure pushes through me like a hydraulic chamber
to create the internal impact for my eyes only.
Almost getting there and success exhibits seizures,
nature collides with humanity in a bid to come to my rescue.
Fortune throws its coins at everyone,
none falls in my lane, prosperity too dizzy to appropriate.
Earthworm bonds with salt, fish now have tattoos,
achievement keeps relocating in an eternal hide and seek.
Exhausted options abandon the mind to a torture chamber
Life is a home of unequal rooms spaced by a garden of puzzles.
Failure is a farce, dying with its tag on, is the threat,
disappointment pops the gum and continuously farts at me.
Just when death, holding the suicide key, is the only awaiting friend,
Time stands up to tick with the sound of my name.
The aisle has been rolled up for the future to walk upon,
fulfillment embraces me now, defeat has permanently lost its appetite.