Rebut Poems

The Demons Within

So if you think the Bible was bad with the Demons within
Think of the parasites in your guts carrying their bad Jinn

All these events of mass shooters killing off all the kinfolk
Some blame medication, water you drink, as even smoke

But if so would not there be as more killers with each day
No these events are random and you are their given prey

As mind controlling, once they are living inside your brain
Tipping us from stable to a person that is Demonic insane

Fed the food to act as the worlds, own ticking time bomb
Cooked, and given so innocently, by our own loving Mom

Just think of probiotics, as the guardian angels in your gut
Regular fasting goes a long way to those Demons to rebut

Those parasites are written within the Bible so read it well
And don’t give them the chance to send your mind to Hell

So before you take what I say with a pinch of that sea salt
Next time you go insane do not blame me it's not my fault

of shuttered minds and darkened hearts

What foul wind has blown them shut
Let shadowed fingers seize a heart
Silence the drumming beat of truth
Closed the doors betwixt age and youth

How has the acrid stench of doubt
Cauterized once open minds
Denying all but what they fear
Rebut with silence all they hear

Then tout with words of dueling gods
The evils of each others words
Unleashing with vitriolic breath
A love of life now steeped in death

The Wizards world a dream uncertain
Controlled by those behind the curtain

Writing

Writing poetry that comes to me when
Thoughts come around as in a rut 
Distress fills those cogs again and again
Excellent to write, and not to rebut

Thoughts come around as in a rut
Writing distracts from most life's cares 
Excellent to write, and not to rebut
Which would shorten life, increase despair

Writing distracts from most life's cares
Releases tension and gives ideas
Which would shorten life and increase despair
Satisfying poems which explain how nature is

Releases tension and gives ideas
Preferable to write, and not be stressed
Satisfying poems which explain how nature is 
I think somehow it is the best

Preferable to write, and not be stressed
Distress fills those cogs again and again
I think somehow it is the best
Writing poetry that comes to me when....     

Written: December 06, 2022
Sponsor: L. Milton Hankins
Contest: Pantoum About Writing Poetry

Forgiving Transgression

Our ego’s impulse~
attract and repulse
both desire and fear,
deeming body dear.

The rot’s sunk in deep;
how’ll we take the leap?
Drop the bag of grief;
give soul some relief.

Vicious is each cut,
harsh words that rebut
love seeking love’s touch,
rebuffed by a punch.

Canvas contorted,
image distorted ~
so break the mirror,
let magnetism spur.

Heart’s void-centric stance,
continues to dance
in midst of each storm ~
embrace always warm.

Thus barbs thrown our way,
simply melt away,
burnt by the bliss flame,
for life’s but a game.

14-June-2022

Awakening

“What is this strange place we find ourselves in
Trapped in the open, we are free within” 

----------

Trapped out in the open
By hope beyond hoping,
Desperately groping
Down passages sloping:
We've been here before.

We're faintly perceiving,
Our senses deceiving,
Till monsters, we're seeing
Arriving and leaving
Behind every door.

Is there a spoon, or what?
Not easy to rebut.
Foregoing quick shortcuts,
Change deep inside of us
Awakens, wants more.

So, blue or red pilling?
Be blind and unwilling
And settle for shillings,
Or find that life's thrilling,
With much to explore!

—————

for The Matrix Poetry Contest
sponsored by Unseeking Seeker
Written 03/23/2022

Breaking Through

An unbridled affection for writing,
an unfettered attempt at the truth

An unbending rebut of excuses
—a Sage lost in the promise of youth

(Dreamsleep: March, 2017)

Go Back Erase

go back erase 
paths taken in vain 
go back wipe slate clean
of mistakes made
go back dissolve 
moments of missteps 
made that have lead 
to this present path 
press the delete button 
on the past press rebut
on this existence

The Battle With Insomnia

Sitting here exhausted. Exhausted and drained. 
Exhausted and drained and beat.
I battled and dueled with insomnia all night,
And now I can touch defeat.

I parried with anxiety. I danced with turmoil. 
My mind was up for the fight.
Wrestling and rolling like a jittering wreck, 
My head was a fierce spotlight.

Highlighting mistakes. Remembering the gaffes. 
Reminding me I’m not so pure.
Insomnia convinced me the stupid stuff I did, 
Were done because I’m so immature.

I tried to have answers. Tried to rebut. 
Tried denying, rebuffing and negating.
But those words I said in the heat of the day,
Were totally dominating.

One hour’s sleep. Yes, asleep for one hour. 
Then I awoke to hear her talk.
She smiled and said “Get over yourself. 
Have a coffee then go to work.”

All Mixed Up

To make someone confused, their mixed feelings can be used to convince them that they are someone who is mixed-up. To make matters worse tell this person, “Do not take personally what I say.” Then, call them a mixed-up nut and walk away. How can a not mixed-up non-nut, now confused person, rebut?

New Year

New Year


Will there be a new solution
Or old problems’ dissolution
With New Year’s resolution
When to all that we loath
Including hearken to the froth
Bow and take the rebut oath? 	

Have we learned to jump
Where our toe hit the stump
And unravelled our rump
When, while at flight,
With blazing wanton delight
We cursed lack of foresight?

When we failed to give up
(Like a thirsty lactating pup)	
Lecher’s compelling cup
Damning being a Devil’s recruit
And called ourselves blind bruit
Immersed in frolic’s fruit....

Looking forward with a clear eye
(Eye that sees the sky as blue)
Pray for something new.
As older with time we grow
Forward we tend to bow
And, more we tend to know?


JM

02nd January 2014

The Unknown

The world, once a seemingly small place, expands and grows with you.
Bigger, more vast, scarier.
How is one to find their place?

Searching for motivation--forward momentum, I crumble.
I sink into the abyss that is my life.
Smaller, more secluded, scarier.

I scream, but no one hears me.
This is what it feels like to be one mere person.
A dot in the universe.

Smaller.

Ah, I rebut.

I refuse to go unnoticed.
I refuse to live a life afraid of chance.
I refuse to not make my mark in the world.

I run, head first, towards the bigger, most vast and scarier.
I welcome myself to the unknown. 
I look fear in the eyes.
I search;

For my place, my purpose, my mark.

But Though Fails But Often Gains

Is victory there?					
                                                Who and what?					
                                             Sometimes seen in But					
					
                                                      But is but					
                                                 But lies in rebut 					
                                         always takes chance to win					
					
                                          Where who and what fails					
                                         What wins where But ruins					
                                      But though fails But often gains

Critics-N

Finds me
Binds me
Cleans me
Frees me
Critics cannot blind and bind my guts
Call me mean, it cleans, frees, can’t rebut.

Miss Fortune

Taking seminars in relationships,
designed to make you more considerate,
does not belay your own apocalypse,
nor offers up a tangible rebut
to your self-pity and isolation.
You numb yourself to life with drugs you choose,
preferring to be drunk or stoned to fun,
and then complain about the love you lose.
At what could be the best of times for you,
you opt for dreadful misery and cry,
“Why can’t I find a love like you have, too?”
If you could hear yourself, you would know why:
You’d hear no joy, no gratitude, no zest;
You’d hear just greed and jealousy expressed.

A Machine For

I feel no pain I know no fear.

I'm just a tool for war I can't shed no tears.

But is this the life that I'm suppose to live.

They said I can make it if I just believe.

I just want to know which destination is waiting for me.

Will God accept me at the pearly gates or will he rebut me.

Will I be saved or will I burn in hell for all eternity.

I can make it if I believe I'm just a machine trap in this world of slavery.

A machine that was made for war my life is full of misery.

I'm a high tech machine a tool for war my heart is cover with scars.

The pain is tearing me apart why am I part of this ghetto war.

I'm a machine with a soul but yet I have no heart.

The streets is apart of me so death is my art.

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