ghoulish gray ghosts gather in Galloway Gallows
girls scouts come by with Hersheys and marshmallows
goblins and ghouls stand around in the moors
hoping one of them will drop their tasty Smores
wily wild Wisconsin witches whisk by on Brookside brooms
tormenting the others, flying in and out of the rooms
we normals are quick to make excuses and leave
purple purebred puritans provide plenty of peeve
If pulpy green words
had red meat nutritional value,
As feelings have openly positive
and closed negative
nurturing peace normals
and turmoil boiling abdominal
abominable abnormals,
robust health feeding
and sick bad watering,
What would you choose
to feed your co-passion learning kids,
your cornucopia complex spouse,
your significantly nonOthered
this ego-cooking day?
If fertilizing actions
were rooted in compassion
as light
fades into night
Dreams for healing yourself,
for saving this EarthTribe
self-cognized
humbled
for Whole Earth empowering
enlightened
dawning peaceful governance,
Who
and what
and when
and where
and why
would you co-passion with,
co-invest with,
co-operate with feeding bright?
This PeacEarth crunchy day
and Justice restoring
spring flowing
heart glowing
starlight witnessed
night.
This broken spectrum.
Favors the normals.
Those that speak.
But are still ignored.
And I feel guilt.
For trying to leave the spectrum.
That I thought was not serving hope.
The only purpose being…
To send me underground.
In this place where all of us beautiful flowers.
Are too embarrassed to bloom.
An hour chatters
shoot and shot
shed and shut.
We all have different “normals” –
What we eat or wear or read
Or when we sleep or watch TV
To like the lives we lead.
The jobs we do, the trips we take,
The purchases we’re buying –
Our choices all are factors
In our living and our dying.
But “normal’s” been upended
In this crisis-laden year,
With many things on hold because
Of circumstance or fear.
My normal may not be like yours
Though maybe my resistance
To getting back to what once was
Will keep us at a distance.
I sing loud in my mumble
On serious matters i struggle
Mind wild like savannah jungle
It spurs jumbled thoughts
That regress in jerks and fumbles.
My presence to you is a disgrace
Im an outcast i am a mental case
Is it because i spoil in my own dress?
Is it because i toil in restless race?
Chasing after things im running from.
I have feelings you understand not
My brain is simply a melting pot.
Am chained but my mind is not
Im pained deep in thoughts
Tears drop in smile like an open tin
Pendulum of mood like a chameleon skin
Perdition like the worst of sin.
They say to the spiritual battle am a no winner
For devil dug deep to reside inner.
Holy hyssop wash to cleanse me cleaner
Oh, im a perfect abstract art
I reflect my badly soiled heart
A victim to my leaking mind
Dripping thoughts normals can't find.
Amidst all, our God still blesses
He showers the same amount of graces
Whether we captured in net of mental cases
Your love soothes my relentless mind paces.
Deliberately Obt
use the abs of the urd
Siring the real list
We.I read
Stray to the ger
Free to the eek
s
u
n usually under the
From the Abbey of the normals
Cor he puts in
well he is able
Always slightly O;;;;;;;;;;
.............................ff
Ooddles bitten
Take the O and the less too
k a break
Not the super gnat mural
controlling fate
a letter at a tim
.........................
.........................e
A
Year set stained by grief from invisible foe,
Enraged in anxiety’s malicious chains.
Accosting not only a nation but world,
Reaching the farthest, secluded parts,
Devilishly leaving no stone unturned.
Withholding grandpa from grandson,
Idly stripping people’s livelihoods,
Needlessly voiding human liberties,
Disabling dictators from their seats.
Looking now,
I see chains now fastened to skin,
New normals of ill compensation.
Grief that forms the setting of each day,
Daily death tolls alike to weather.
Only when
We are free of this eerie foe, shall
Normal be fit again to reside.
Contest: Pick-A-Title, Vol 23 - Seasonal Acrostic - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Date: 10/07/2020
scare of coronavirus is far from over
it's rapid mutation, no easy pushover
we stay at home and pray.
a cure or vaccine will take more time to firm up
scientists across globe doing best to make up
all waiting for that day.
all healthcare workers are fighting hard to save lives
governments are pushing hard for containment drives
economies astray.
masks and social distancing are now new normals
work from home are fast replacing office formals
seeds of change sown today.
2.8.2020
Tail Rhyme stanza poetry contest
of Emile Pinet
Used rhymezone.com & howmanysyllables.com
Syllable count of all stanzas: 12, 12, 6.
© Ben Burton 6-3-2015
I swore before you'd never hear me say
A certain word whose definition changed
I think I've fin'ly reached the time and place
Where using its new meaning is okay
For who'd have ever thought that being straight
Is the new gay
Yeah, it's the new gay
Don't tell me I'm wrong
Straight is the new gay
I feel so alone
But we must be brave
The few who are straight
Ole
Yet if new normals break the back of strange
What word is worthy to reflect the change
Monotony is Mother to decay
When end rhymes end in "A" with no escape
Well, there's a thought, we'll call the new word "cape"
They say that I'm cape
But not very long
It means I am strange
Don't play the trombone
So I must be brave
So few of us straights
Remain
WHO EDITS?
I read the news,
I watch the news,
I listen to the news,
I read Google for views,
Someone edits all this stuff,
Well, I guess that's tough,
Whose agenda is manipulative?
Media ghouls so negative,
Their agenda is too much,
Haven't normals had enough?
Well, I guess that's tough,
Who edits all this stuff?
We stand up
We gather our weapons
We band together
We fight
We battle
We win
We gain power
We are commoners over
Emperors
We are the powerless with
power
They came
They rebelled
They fought
They conquered
They are Royalty to us
peasants
They command God
They are power high
Ecstasy running through
everyone’s veins
The order of things thrown into
mayhem
Chaos controlling everything
Who are the leaders?
Who are the followers?
Who are the winners?
Who are the losers?
Who are the royals?
Who are the normals?
The leaders are followers
Followers are leaders
The winners are losers
Losers are winners
The royals are the normals
Normals are royals
Everyone is everyone.
Do you see the fractured mind?
Always solitude in any crowd.
Monologue conversation with ether friends.
Normals, gracious, to side-step confrontation.
This street nomad once had a home,
where soft cotton sheets
greeted a weary head.
Now yesterday’s man sleeps
with yesterday’s news.
Ikea packaging his castle.
McDonalds doorway his address.
Dining in suburbia; before the bins are emptied.
Breathing life into discarded cigarette,
~two drags, before fingertips burn.~
Begging barman’s dregs from beer tap overflow.
Habit deems he return to old haunts,
wandering desolate corridors.
Bed-side table, tombstone to the past.
Epitaph carved in the false wood.
A lost tear slips to the floor.
This legacy!
This tragedy!
This deception!
Where justice has no meaning,
and the backwards glance of integrity
is laced with daggers.
Liberal forces, wrapped in piety,
declared, in false ignorance, this sanctuary
for broken men; broken minds,
should be no more.
From the carpeted corridors of power,
inside their shielded wombs
a piece of humanity died.