I light up another cigarette,
its smoke turns into puffs...
then they form small clouds':
a skeleton drawn in the gazette.
It's a disregard for this precious life,
consider myself worthless and grab a knife;
but surviving is the blessing I don't deserve,
because not having faith is a moralistic issue.
Absent is the mind absorbing its harmful content.
I whisper " They told me you only live once, then I might
as well disregard it and enjoy another peaceful moment. "
Even Paul was reminded all his life with this threat!
My teeth are getting yellow, not bright;
my breath stinks, folks avoid me.
I used Colgate, it doesn't help a bit,
a priest goes by and scolds me!
It's a disregard for precious life,
it's a misery not to have a wife;
not to kiss her and say good night,
I blame myself for this self-plight!
I spot a guy smoking and talking to himself,
should I forget that I once was that guy?
A sign says, " Help Me. " I stare at him and laugh,
" Buddy, quit smoking and don't turn up like me. "
With hearts, cold as ice covered gravel,
We embarass poets, with our moralistic gavel.
What must the Lord think of us?
As over their lives we make a judicial fuss!
Tis not in the human domain to be a judge.
Tis God’s alone, some souls made of sludge.
God forgave Mary Magdelyn, would you?
Do you have enough love, to forgive, too?
To embarass a fellow poet in open post?
Is proof you have no heart, you, a cruel ghost.
Dedication…Anonymous
1/18/2023
“ Whatever you do to another, you do to me”
Jesus Christ
William Holman Hunt a pre-rphelite
with much detil would cite
An insistent didactic theme
moralistic as well it would seem
The rich poor Africa.
When will you grow?
Your sisters are progressing.
For you your are retrogressing.
When will you grow?
The days are darkening.
The nights are fading.
When will you grow?
Your electric connectivity
.... epileptic.
Your road network
Full of potwells.
When will you grow?
Too much moralistic .
You are.
The worthwhile worthless belief.
When will you grow.?
Go for your tools.
Run for your toil.
Your paraphernalia.
The remedy.
When will you grow?
@Tha Formidable Cheru.
Practice pontificating indemnity,
moralistic servitude toward the,
practice exemplary impersonal activity.
The matter between my eyes and my soul is for the materiali$tic
The depths of my soul only reachable by the idealistic
My journey thus far can only be described as realistic
Sometimes I wish my life was more simplistic
I have an aura that makes me spiritualistic
But the L in my name argues I'm more Logicalistic
I'm certainly not evangelistic
In truth I'm just moralistic
When it comes to being verbalistic
I like to think I'm intellectualistic
The prompt was "Write a poem which is really a recipe".
This Stew Tastes Funny
I personally like to use the more established dramatic processes, but feel free to use your own version of comedy!
Dramedy (serves the whole family!)
Take the character, drive them headfirst
into a community of oppositions
that inexplicably attract,
cue a flurry of activity, sprinkled lightly.
Leave no weaknesses un-attacked.
When the conflict begins to rise,
place them in roles reversed,
have them recognise
that conflict yields no prize.
Leave the melting pot to cool
until each moralistic monologue ends with cheap slapstick verse.
Credit to Adam Sandler.
He did it, no qualms or faintest moralistic trait
He knew the vulnerability, went ahead
To reap the benefits from someone’s plight
Like a scuppered beast in flight
Wearing a private smirk of victory
To walk away and cast his smut
Upon the shoulders of some other
Like a vulture with rich pickings
Feeding on its fated carcass
He walked away with fake innocence
Carrying an air of falsehood
Into a world that owes him
A fine lad, he’s got a job
And got in line with the rest of his kind
To smugly gloat and brag and flaunt
Those ill gotten gains
His pealing mirth to celebrate
And taunts about the hag
The lad can do that, the lad
Half gone, his generosity knows no bounds
With new found wealth
And fabrications to the law
The lad can do that, the bad
He has his innocence all wrapped up
To give and cloud the truth
He will insist, he knows his place
His adorning shell of protection
Swathed in obstinacy, to make him win
He can do that, the lad’s got it all
To sway this and to say that
He can return and adjourn
And court with the masters
To state his piece
He will return to do it again
Puzzled folks be shocked
by my irony---
the emphasis is
on morality.
*********** sells,
actions movies do too;
curse words abound--
a lucrative trend.
Society divulges
free sexuality
without any shame--
lustful affections.
Sue me for libel,
and I will appeal
to the Higher Court;*
the pounding gravel--
a dismissed case.
If Star Wars excites
you, think of fiction
as something too real--
disaster coming.
No, I won't mention
" Armageddon " now...
to frighten you too soon-
events will shock all.
Humankind's desire
is to build one race;
all traditions die,
transforming good values--
such false culture.
Shield hard-earned money,
shun deceitful men;
their aim is more green--
plague of vanity.
Written on 1/ 16/ 2016
* Higher Court: Heaven
Beautiful smile
I haven't seen you in awhile
Walking into the room
. being able to bring sunshine
From every seat to every aisle
Beautiful smile
Please come back to my life
Don't be afraid to make a sacrifice
Beautiful smile
You've been crooked for
. quite some time now
Your life is only what
. you allow
Beautiful smile
I think about the bond that
. we had shared, so my question is how
Now, you've been through a lot
But can you please grow up
. and be what you talk about
The lady like, moralistic woman
. has disappeared
Beautiful smile
You're not that far from here
However, I know that you're
. near
Avoid your fears
Wipe your tears
For Favor will reappear
-DP
A poison pen
And a hypocritical conscience
Can so easily be cloaked in
High morality
Prate on
Knock them down
With words
Slay them in the name of
Public opinion
Write on
Right all the supposed wrongs
That provides fodder to pay your bills
With that pen of ignorance
With the ink of ill-will that
Masks all your inner demons
Traduce them all
Surmise
Assume
Prate
Slay
Affect moralistic outrage
The transparency of everyone else’s wrongs
Apparent to only you
Who feels the need to spare no one
And to condemn all
The power of your mighty pen
The deftness of your opinion
Acquires a following
Of feckless drones
Who lift you on high
Parading you as a modern day hero
A champion of the little man
None can see the Janus and Cant in you
Nor the hypocrisy that fuels you
Or the revenge that maintains you
You are a monster
Happy with words of destruction
No fairness
No compromise
No letting be
You are king
But only for now
The short term mind-set that compels you
Will conquer another day
Those that praise will
One day slay
The scorn of abandonment,
howls of silence
when a room entered,
the school yard clatter
community chatter,
pulpit perniciousness
traduce in speculation.
Housewives with
corrective attitudes
deft in moralistic anomalies,
snarls over the broom
with piercing eyes declaring
“Hands off
there stands the scrum of the womb”.
Yes i am a motherless child
raised in an environment
of inclement
wagging tongues,
haggish gapes
smug righteousness,
born of woman
alas not a mother!
© Harry J Horsman 2012
Animalistic Love
How can I describe making love to you?
So many words I would like to use
Love to use
I know they are offensive to some
Maybe some have never experienced such passion
Others may have but not known the words to describe it
In that dark room with the curtains drawn
We found worlds beyond our own in every touch
There was a choir singing above
Yet they could not drown our primitive screams
There are so many words out there
Used in normal conversation around the world
They should be used since the passion was there
Animalistic instincts from pre-ancient times
Before man was man
Before moralistic views came into play
The instincts are still there
Raging as a fire deep within out groins
Yet, modern sensitivity limits the words describing those emotions
The raging passion will never be restricted by others
That one moment of total sharing
What words can tell of those pure feelings?
How can I describe making love to you?
I can’t!
She’ll trumpet a mid-summer’s lilac revolution
To smash and grab and take your affection
A twinkled-eyed assault of sweet-toothed pleasure
On half-composed clarity’s measure
She’ll launch a pillow-cannoned war
On every certainty of beauty you had before
She throws light around like a star in the sky
Even her sleepy exhaust is a heavenly sigh
She gilds the clouds on drizzling days
She makes hope smile by her vibrant ways
If her lover embraced her in all her truth
She would be her lover’s fountain of youth
In moonshine night of wine and song
With gypsy-like fever she’ll wring out the wrong
She’ll dance and in dancing burlesque
Ideals of woman and grace painted picturesque –
By the moralistic mentors of caged-bird blues.
How this bluebird’s a phoenix by night’s fiery hues!
In hangover mornings of tangled heart-strings
Within the houses of healing you’ll hear she still sings
Of undesired responsibilities in a shaky jilted voice
A dew-soaked ballad to sunrise to which your only choice
Is to cater to her jazzy Simone-like disposition
To every her wiled whim, to her warmth, to her lilac revolution
I was walking in the park, a block away from home;
When I ran up on some cops, who were mounted on their roans.
They said I smelled like weed and I could be aresseted;
So I should give up what I had, before their times invested.
I went into my act and denied that I was holding;
But they wouldn't buy it and jail time was unfolding.
So I reached down in my pocket and grabbed my bag of grass;
As they were reaching for it they said, I barely saved my ass.
I went back to my house, that was just a block away;
I told the people I was living with, I just might leave today.
I was pacing like a cat, so I went out for a walk;
I was looking for a place to hide; I didn't want to talk.
I was walking in the bushes, where the squirrels jump and hop;
When I came up on some horses, which the riders were the cops.
They were nowhere to be found, these badges of the force;
But I knew what they had done; they smoked my weed of course.
Hoory for city living and its moralistic fiber;
Hoory for law and order and the horse back mounted rider.
Bless the Golden Gate and the park that bares its name;
And heaven help the lawless man, that carries not his blame
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