Advertisement adversity
Advertising of language
Incident of speech
A dissuasive measures rebuttal
The science of polemic draw
From no veering elsewheres
Sound of water as naked leaf
Enclosed is the burden of purchase
Not without
Pitching fluent
Campaign for after
Elect as fervor in demeanor
Subversive literatures metre
I love a long holiday and as a general rule
you’ll find me out by a turquoise pool
cause it’s hot outside and I’m nobody's fool.
Closing my eyes I lazily daydream
listening to my favorite music stream
umbrella shaded from harsh sunbeams.
I’ve put away polemic school assignments
for leisure and tastier desultory refinements
like buffalo wings, pizza and dirty martinis
and the barely there cool of a string bikini.
.
.
Songs for this:
Digging your scene by Ivy
The Big Sky (Special Single Mix) by Kate Bush
Can't Be Like This Forever by The Moving Stills
Performances won the early acclaim,
Unleashed his metaphoric rise to fame,
Now poetry would never be the same,
Kersal to Kyoto, shouted his name,
Polemic eighties, verses sounding stark,
Opiod evenings, a voice from the dark,
Everybody said, “Those words are Maker’s Mark,
There goes that world famous, John Cooper-Clarke”.
Writing so many
hoping for one
Each step polemic
— path zero-sum
(Deamsleep: August, 2024)
When true love augment its speed in the marathon,
hate takes refuge into a catacomb.
Quote by poet
A person with love epic
Which is not lunatic,
polemic , problematic
and choleric.
It is sophistic and dogmatic in someone's
mystic eyes
But he calls it "classic."
A person with love epic
Which is not hectic,
periodic , myopic
and atopic.
It is genetic and folkloric in someone's
mystic eyes
But she calls it "medic."
Gentleman
thoughtful honest
funny encouraging decent
sensible practical plausible durable
unequivocal noble polemic
principled studious
Champion
Delightful Diamante Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger
01/15/23
caught in the midst of armed insurrection
refugees headed in wrong direction
milling about amid a mass shooting
walking the streets where people are looting
driving your car through the wrong neighborhood
saying aloud the dictator's no good
vulnerable amid a pandemic
target of politicians' polemic
despite race or religious persuasion
hard to outrun a non-stop invasion
makes no difference how well-intended
whereabouts will be that which is mentioned
not always easy to avoid the crime
of being in the wrong place at wrong time
I would like to raise,
My opinion and give praise,
To poets who need to write,
Trying to pen words to delight,
Others who may be feeling sad,
Lonely or bad.
I am not an academic,
I do not wish to be polemic.
I write to express a point of view,
Which may not be the same as you.
It,s an easy way to learn,
Sharing different thoughts in turn.
As long as we try to write our best,
And leave the professionals to write the rest.
Every poet deserves praise,
When folks hearts and minds they raise.
It was a sudden grim tragedy,
That jeopardized lives and safety,
With neither a tremor nor vibration,
An edifice came crumbling from the foundation.
Like Titanic ship it came sinking suddenly,
Like pack of cards it came crashing all at once,
People died and got buried alive unexpectedly,
Under the dust and debris all at once.
This is more than a pandemic!
It grieves my heart and left me saddened
That forces unknown wield such polemic
Against mortals and are divinely unrestrained
Could it be there was no safety inspection,
To detect the frailty of the structure,
To check for a crack in the foundation...?
Oh, may it never happen again in the future.
Dear Lord, to the deceased grant pardon
That their souls may find eternal rest
And to those they left grace to bear
In hope that they are saved from eternal grief
Beneath the fabled, innocent and polished mind
In a tinderbox wrapped up by an askant beldam’s hand
Above an unmarked grave that is welcoming, rather kind
A pair of eyes noticed a hue in the dunes of white sand.
Nom de Dieu! Shall we move forward as I amn’t uncivil,
Scarcely having been crude or a tad coarse,
Do not trap me in the cyclone of this swivel,
Do not tempt me with a sale on a second-grade bourse.
A gauche tongue displayed a tonne of venom
Is it just a gene that could not have kept it shut?
There is nothing more that destroys a character plenum
There is no pain anymore that felt like a punch in the gut.
Ohh Helen, this time a polemic won’t start a war
I originate in my own omphalos, in silence and solitude,
Driven by sheer desire to wear nothing more
Then my pallium until my last prelude.
I crossed the yard
two-thirds awake,
intent upon
that coffee break:
young teacher hunk,
one tall, cool stud
(before the Night,
before the Flood,
before the Flight
of all that’s good,
before the Blight
brought down the Wood,
and damned spare tyres
dammed up the Gush),
I waded through
the schoolgirl crush.
Two slinky babes,
real dinky girls,
all legs and lips
and kinky curls
said “Come upstairs,
hang out with us:
we’ve got some ****
we could discuss.”
You think me stupid?
Yes, indeed-o.
They led me upstairs
by the libido.
With limbs so nimble,
movements fleet,
they steered me to
the science suite.
We pushed ajar
the green lab door,
and they weren’t smiling
any more.
They wanted me
to case the joint.
They’d brought me here
to make a point,
for Tippy Hedren
and Lee Remick
had drawn me in
for pure polemic.
That sterile world
of steel and glass:
that ingrained smell
of Bunsen gas!
You’d keep away
from high school labs
if you’d seen what
was on those slabs.
Pour the drips and drops from an iambic alembic,
Evaporations of rosy prose and rhyming thyme,
To concoct within 'ye cauldron what the polemic
Spoons from this soup of poetic slime.
Add a measly mint of menthol wash,
And soul whose siphoned thrice with spices,
To be sprinkled into this soup of squash,
Whose nuts be buttery literary devices.
Boil atop the flames of foul feelings,
And stir in a mirror for imagery,
To reflect on while you're peeling,
Parallel chopped potatoes for symmetry.
Once the brew of poesy stew,
Has come to bubble with inflated diction,
Grab some allusions from whence you grew,
And sprinkle them with hints of your addiction.
What is stew without some cheesy,
Joke, like saying "once upon a thyme",
Or corny lines, like "long ago", are easy,
To discuss some metaphorical mountain climbed.
Top it off with some spoon bending ending,
To baffle those who chew,
On the chunks of messages your poem's sending,
So that they have to guess what's in the stew.
This poem was submitted for a poetry contest sponsored by Cindi Rockwell.
-Angst-
Faces fragmented on a mirror that I broke.
Bad luck wearing a cloak.
Poverty was gambling with my currency.
Rabid dog was running down the road: -
Turtle dove cooing.
"E-vil , is necessary, e-vil, is necessary".
Granted-my polemic must have borders.
But it was angst that had me racing down the street: -
Let me not digress again today.
While time is committing suicide.
Give me that of which they do not - save money.
Embrace the very thing i flee from.
Muted cry of desperation.
Gainfully busted in execution.
Shoots me dead in the- middle- of -the -road.
simply blither
simply obscure
obscure lingo
obscure form
form of creation
form the phrase
phrase the question
phrase for the play
play on your knees
play in the yards
yards of meter
yards of counted
counted on your fingers
counted on your toes
toes of glory
toes which dance
dance in lines
dance in time
time to form questions
time to answer
answer the phone
answer the call
call OUT
call them IN
in deed
in need
need to have structure
need to find place
place on the page
place on the stage
stage play
stage coach
coach the team
coach ride
ride the car
ride the boss
boss the writer
boss the poet
poet with style
poet who lingers
lingers on their own pain
lingers on their own voice
voice uncontrolled
voice over stated
stated a need
stated verbose
verbose Narcissists
verbose polemic
polemics
Narcissists
Monkeys in Moon
Just a few lucky monkeys could be at moon
And to be one among them was your boon;
It’s real, they said, humans may come soon,
And to pluck fruit before them, be a goon.
The minion’s whisper of secret polemic numbed
My senses! I woke up looking sanity thumbed
A future for reposing ambition in me; it drummed
My sleep away; away gone life, to hell succumbed.
One morning, from my tall portico hung my fife;
People stopped to talk of bygone tales of strife,
And the town stifled my bio and it became rife,
With legends, myths and filth; they felled my life.
And then I found monkeys in life, real monkeys,
Monkeys with more and more polemics, like junkies.
And then truth dawned; hadn’t I reared monkeys
In my heart for riches I wouldn’t be with monkeys.
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