Vladimir Putin
Surely must suffer from
Such a Napoleonic
Small , Man , Syndrome
Complex
He needs a step ladder
In order to look his so called enemies
In the eye
Or stab them in the back
Covid-19, do you run
on some evil foot
out of sight,
beneath the light
till your Napoleonic march
brings you to rout?
Or out of habit
Do you lust for old flesh
due to a generation gap?
Alien footsteps on our life intrudes
I hear cacophony of voices
counsel you to retreat
If you like our fireside
then consider the option
of a cease-fire.
In our sun-touched garden
your breeze of death
solidifies our pillars
of faith.
Across the wide swath
mother earth's bleeding
deploring your running stream.
Radiant glows our faith
against your lava
pouring in the hillside.
Fabled ways of flames and fire
we're more used to than
your cold killer façade.
Your rapid-fire genocide
is candidate for a new
Nuremberg trial.
Zolpidem kept me late, the library had been open for hours.
Young children studiously ran amok
from one poster plastered aisle to another.
I have this thing about female librarians.
I had hoped to have grown out of such fantasies,
emerging perhaps like some immaculate moth
from the grubby chrysalis of this crumbling body but…
The sight of a full-figured, middle-aged bespectacled lady
pushes demanding impulses through my bloodstream;
I retreat to the dark heart of the Napoleonic wars
where history archives many a pervert.
Old men fight wars, the young die for them, but outcomes
(exactly when the bloodletting must stop), they are played-out
in the deranged minds of those who then publish the books.
Of course, they always knew they would get away with the lies,
probably knew that I would be here hiding
between these dishonest pages,
with nothing on my Ambien fueled mind,
but middle-aged female librarians.
~~~~
America, fought by our brave fallen few,
Our men and women who honored our flag,
Our nation freedoms grow strong,
Our government is thought to be a democracy, gangocracy or mobocracy,
Our impetus, the Napoleonic Wars when Latin America became republics,
Our consequence is a country that has a fair representation of its people,
Our forefathers who created, the US Constitution and defined quite clear,
Our nation is a Republic, one under God,
Our laws make us great as if written by pencil where we can erase,
Our wrongs can be amended,
Our rights will protect us,
America is truly blessed.
2020 January 02 *2nd Place*
Whitman-Inspired Uplifting Poetry, old or new Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Carolyn Devonshire
I have no clue what Krshna taught Arjuna
but I like the name Atman a lot.
Atman. Atman. Where a man is at.
At all times. No matter what.
Gita, get in the action, gorgeous girl,
God is the answer, keep the meter.
Wisdom, none.
What Krshna tells Arjuna makes no sense.
I prefer mathematics.
Knowledge of how things are made and done
more than meditation on the Self
as a manifestation of the One.
I’ll never have to leave this comfortable planet.
We have this asset but can we sell it?
In Paradise Lost, Satan executes his plan
but God already knows all about it.
Still, whether it succeeds or fails is up to Man.
Same here, when it comes to nuclear armaments,
a distraction from the work of making life permanent.
It is all premised on the mystery
of invisible but sentient particles—
little Krshnas and Kachinas
nesting inside one another.
Meanwhile life goes on outside all around you—
WWII, the Napoleonic wars,
the Civil War which we’re still fighting.
Krshna says behead your brothers
without prejudice or justice.
So it transpires in the nuclear fire.
Whatever forever.
Teacher, teacher—tiger!
Take Out the Landry
Dirty laundry for years on the floor
finally the dirt is out the door
Quebec is cleaning house
separatists being laid to graves
like Napoleonic mouse's
bury their rhetoric too
twelve feet deep
Wrinkled ex leader with
no musket or balls
no lead, leaderless
man of poisoned dreams
nationalist and king of hate
trumpets play for his distaste
if your wool is not pure
you do not belong on his shore
Villain as Lucifer or Lucien
robbing the people of their future
all for his midget delusions
now to be inhumed
in his own dirt
he will of course blame
the Chinese laundry mat
who lost his ticket
He is not to be interred
in red rags
honor will shed not one tear
where is his Nazi flag?
Boxed at Notre Dame
the church like Vichy
honors dictators and their clan
funerals they all say nice things
still
they toss out the laundry
as Canada sings
Only Toronto thanks him
for the prosperity
Ever heard of Aloe Vera Oil Shampoo, my friends?
Not since the Napoleonic Wars were nearing an end
It's been around since
Pretty young nymphs
Danced playfully around fountains in their Depends
Hey, little man ...
yeah, you with the big head
Napoleonic complexion
got your face turning so red
People say you got a big mouth,
that you talk a real giant-size game
But my homies say, you’re a shrimp baller,
whose short of stature with a light frame
And if things don’t bounce your way,
you just simply squawk and squeal
Little piggies tend to oink a lot,
when bacon is gonna be the next meal
Big Mac
Big Wheel
Big Boy
Marketers don’t do small,
Munchkins can’t sell tall
Little man are you listening ...
yeah, you with the big feet
Come get your feelings stepped on,
Mama Smurf is sitting in your seat
Hey, little man ...
when will you get your proper respect?
Butt of another joke again,
big laughs is ‘bout as large as you gon get
Hey, little man ...
yeah, you with the big head
Napoleonic complexion
got your face turning so red
People say you got a big mouth,
that you talk a real giant-size game
But my homies say, you’re a shrimp baller,
whose short of stature with a light frame
And if things don’t bounce your way,
you just simply squawk and squeal
Little piggies tend to oink a lot,
when bacon is gonna be the next meal
Big Mac
Big Wheel
Big Boy
Marketers don’t do small,
Munchkins can’t sell tall
Little man are you listening ...
yeah, you with the big feet
Come get your feelings stepped on,
Mama Smurf is sitting in your seat
Hey, little man ...
when will you get your proper respect?
Butt of another joke again,
big laughs is ‘bout as large as you gon get
Drinking this bubonic tonic
with sonic running through my veins,
making these feelings seem platonic
and the world a bit brighter and better
with these quadraphonic sounds
and with these hydroponic pounds
of this atomic chronic
i'm not so shallow and bitter.
every sound electronic,
and made monophonic,
the dances moves suffer,
all anamatronic
until that iconic bass drop
starts attacking tectonics
with so much Napoleonic rage,
it moves these symphonics
to super, hyper, ultrasonic.
johnny mnuemonic's
not just hooked on phonics anymore,
but instead he's a supersonic supernova
among the stars a Casanova
exploding with the
sounds of natures conics
that would make Pythagoras proud,
the demonic harmonics echo behind him
like a shadow fading as the sun goes down.
Limerick : Once this Wily Woman from Franco’s Spain – 2
Once this Wily Woman from Franco’s Spain
Found refuge in Napoleonic Domain
Antics at home found out
In new home given clout
All criminal codes waived to let her reign !
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Have a Sardine? :
Oh how I love to eat sardines?
Just the thought makes my face turn puce!
Gas in my tummy, they induce.
They don't go that well with baked beans.
Sandwiches made with these morsels.
Can only eat two at a time;
taken with a bit of fresh lime.
Some people eat them with mussels.
The thought of these will make some puke!
Keep it away, he will rebuke!
The smell enough to make him sneeze,
the sight of which will make him wheeze!
Put one in the microwave and nuke.
He said: "Oh my God, this is Yuke."
Steven Beesley (c) 2005-10-03
Sardine:
A sonnet that uses the redondilla form as a base. Each line has 8 syllables and the rhyme scheme may be abba cddc eeff ee or abba abba ccdd cc. It is also known as the Redondilla sonnet, the Napoleonic sonnet, or the Sonondilla.