Short Subservience Poems

Rascals and Ragamuffins

Scoundrels and Scallywags

Each bows in subservience

To Monarchs and Moneybags...

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If absurdity
is the only reality

Time is the new servant
—to what lies within

(Dreamsleep: October, 2019)...

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What Greed Next?

Epitome of greed
And subservience is: 
Taxes on the air we breathe.
And men willing to pay –

© Dane Smith-Johnsen
April 15, 2010...

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I think of you. 

	 You’re like a backbeat in my mind.

I wish I could mind

but I don’t.

I’ve long accepted my subservience 
to this 
elusive skein 
of a dream.


Now all I must do 
is 

wait…...

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the subservience of sunflowers
posed and heavy with dried yellow
spreads over fields of faded growth,

the sun stages the horizon
of sparse trees and hedgerows;
beyond the hope of lost gold....

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     Total freedom of expression
  that incites death, suicide,
     and destruction.
  it is not freedom, but terrorism...,
      subservience
       and slavery...
    it is not a thing of God...
  BUT RATHER A FAILURE...
   A HUMAN STUPIDITY!

Humanity collapse......

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Your back was aching
deformed by subservience
shoulders sloped like some fourth-class non-human
as you cut the cane that kept Miss Lillie.

4/23/2021

excerpt from Ethnic Memory 2/10/2019

Liberum Divisa 5' Poetry Contest
Gregory R. Barden, Sponsor...

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To adhere to any subservience,
 i kindle the whispers in my head.

To juxtapose my beliefs with the worlds, 
 i sit back and savor a frigid beer. 

It is at these times that stately minds  
 conceive the grandest of offenses.

The expansion of one’s own apreciation; 
 in search of richer wisdom.

By Desi E. Sherman
11/17/2012...

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appeasing waves
of unreasonable 
requests dumped 
upon the shoulders 
of the unsuspecting
victim 
creating an 
atmosphere
of subordinance  
to the irrationality
surrounding each
encounter which 
always seemed 
to required an 
amount of 
subservience   
towards 
unwarranted
maltreatment  
manifactured a 
continued state
of obedience...

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Because of mosque kettles,
Mama stay because
Grammar loves you, 
I will sell for a billion trillion dealion peppers
Tricked for a thousand years, 
Ask Babangida or Buhari,
They dine at the throne and palace,
While we pay subservience at their feet,
We went in with tools,
Came out with rules
With His sons,
Drank holy communion,
Which healed them of Corona Virus...

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A living poem, not yet written,
not yet visible, haunts the periphery
of the inner eye.

She is as light as a feather,
though she has a deep-set gravity,
her presence impels my mind toward her.

Which way to seek?
The poem that is not yet created
is a womb both empty and full,
its potential
demands subservience.

A dark machinery makes love,
to the unsubstantial,
and one single insight is born,

from that seed within a seed,
she nakedly comes,
now you must dress her.

...

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