Spectacle of a Trumpian stump speech:
Showmanship at times maudlin, at times macabre
Purple Hearts aplenty, Congressional Medals of Honor
Tales of American heroes to stir even the yawners
110 minutes of non-stop vaudeville ~ a true marathoner
Where pain is hidden
Where tears are suppressed
Where one can escape misery and suffering
Where a mythical character comes to life
Born
Creates a life of its own
One's authentic reality hidden
Sealed
Morphed into the Character
The mask is worn
A disguise
Roles are played
Dramatic performances along with showmanship
Falsehoods arise
A superficial smile explodes
Life can certainly be a stage
Only behind the mask dwells truth
From way down in "Bama"
Stirring echoes of Big Mama
A thunderous storm that brewed from the Deep South
Each word could be felt when it left her mouth
With her immense presence, showmanship, and confidence
She would capture the hearts and minds of her audience
She stood tall, shoulder to shoulder amongst the sultans of Blues
She didn't have to put on airs 'cause she stood comfortably in her shoes
A woman, a beautiful black woman oozing with creativity and soul
In her kitchen, she took lemons and made pitcher after pitcher of sweet lemonade that she always served cold
Oh, Big Mama you brought that good medicine to the soul when you sang
You bellowed melodies that reached up and tugged on heartstrangs
Oh, Big Mama I see ya' cookin' with your horn, too
Blowin', just blowin' so beautifully as only a few can do
You were so good that some felt a need to copy you and steal your money
Shameful shadowy expressions of a "Hound Dog" depraved music industry
Never to be replicated or duplicated
One of one, you were, but still, you're often imitated
From way down in "Bama"
Stirring echoes of Big Mama
Minus identity, who am I?
An identity, a name, which binds my human form,
Holds my ego, keeps me enslaved in material bonds,
Without this identity, I will be free like a bird.
Minus identity, no pride, no vanity, will set in my mind,
No job security, no financial security, will bother me,
No social prestige demands, no fake showmanship, will haunt me,
With the peaceful life, my soul will be free.
No name, no identity, who cares,
We came to world like this and will go like that.
The Father of Rock and Roll was not Elvis.
It was Chuck Barry, wild man from Chicago
He was the rhythm and blues king
His guitar solos and showmanship are legend.
Today we still hear some of his best songs on the radio.
Johnny Be Good, Nadine, Maybelline, Ding-a-Ling
Sweet Little Sixteen, Memphis Tennessee
He was amazingly talented, and marvelously fun to watch!
I just asked a Cleve Mike
What it might just be like
To fall into a dyke
While riding a fast bike?
A Mike Mc styling,
All day gusto rising,
His showmanship pricing,
His daily cake icing
But Mike was all silence,
My question robbed of sense
Through not planned reticence;
I think A Mike's Patience
But soon from Mike "A hike!"
"Satan's own planned strike"
So, no last violence
To obvious common sense.
showman is marksmanship
showman is a higher mark of a marksmanship
a higher mark is a higher marksmanship
a higher mark is a higher showman
showmanship is marksmanship
science is a marksmanship
science is a showman
science is a documentation
documentation is science showmanship
the universe is a documentation of a showmanship
the universe is a documentation of science
the universe is a higher mark of a documentation
the universe is a higher mark of a showman
science is a showmanship of a documentation
showmanship is showmanship of science
showmanship is showmanship of a documentation
the universe is a universe showmanship
a showman is a showmanship of a marksmanship
a showman is a showman of science
a showman is a showman of a universe
a showman is a higher mark of a showman
Folks asked, “why do I write poetry?”
And I said,
“I write to keep my words to my father.
I write to keep my commitment to his words.
I write to inscribe his name on the stone of history.
I write to engrave his name above the grave.
I write to sketch his statue with care and commonsense.”
Folks ask, “what is poetry?”
And I said,
“Poetry is not to showcase,
Cause poetry is not showmanship.
Poetry is within,
Cause poetry is a piece of oneself.
Poetry is not a mark of shame,
Cause poetry could make way for fame.”
Folks ask, “when do you write poetry?”
And I said,
"Poetry is sometimes in the morning,
But poetry is not always mourning.
Poetry is sometimes in the evening,
Cause poetry is everything.”
Folks ask, “what have you earned from poeearned”
I said,
If money comes...
Though, poetry is not always about earning,
Cause poetry is a way of learning.
Poetry is not about figures,
Cause poetry is a fountain of joy unseen.”
Folks asked, “why do I write poetry?”
And I said,
“I write to keep my words to my father.
I write to keep my commitment to his words.
I write to inscribe his name on the stone of history.
I write to engrave his name above the grave.
I write to sketch his statue with care and commonsense.”
Folks ask, “what is poetry?”
And I said,
“Poetry is not to showcase,
Cause poetry is not showmanship.
Poetry is within,
Cause poetry is a piece of oneself.
Poetry is not a mark of shame,
Cause poetry could make way for fame.”
Folks ask, “when do you write poetry?”
And I said,
"Poetry is sometimes in the morning,
But poetry is not always mourning.
Poetry is sometimes in the evening,
Cause poetry is everything.”
Folks ask, “what have you earned from poetry?”
I said,
If money comes...
Though, poetry is not always about earning,
Cause poetry is a way of learning.
Poetry is not about figures,
Cause poetry is a fountain of joy unseen.”
Couch potato
spreading girth of showmanship eating
Peace of mind in big screen TV
Soap opera script glee
Lazy waves electronic
Self love planted
Sofa charm unbreakable
Cozy oblivion
Gym of no existence
Marble like defensive
Inertia testosterone
from a bag of chips
Green pasture sedentary
(side step all cow pie protrusions).
Gaze outside through a well lit window
at golden scrawls of light
infectious
as needles of movement.
Poem revised: February 16, 2021
if i'm spending
my time writing
whimsy about
her and not
himsy how
can i speak
about myself
sitting mystically
on a shelf
wealth is not
something i've
accrued nor
have used to
win what i won
over time on the
one yard line do
you think i'll
punt
but what i want
above the surface
of an absurdity
is a word the word
of agreement
in which i will
gladly be to thee
subservient meant
for your
use as you see
fit and don't
forget that
rabbit from
the hat really
is no magic
but exaggerated
showmanship
as i bow
and dip asking
my lady maybe
you would
favor me
with
if
you
would agree
to the next dance
he engaged the endeavor
to be successful
they sited his past
successes
and marveled at
prospects each current condition
allowed
effectiveness and likability
began the outline
each move anticipates
an answer
each word was marked
by consequence
they listened to his every word
to downsize
the ego he had allowed to
follow him
his voice sounded across ages
and his body was wanted
in every corner of the world
they saw him as a means of
recreating the image of masculinity
from endeavor to endeavor
his showmanship has been measured
and his value equated
those who wish to be apart of him
in work, must see him as an
endeavor
quick and kind
right and real
wrong and understood
mean as a man should be
insight of creation
that his sperm is as wanted
as the air from his nature
effective his words
understood in every language
sought his talents
appreciated in every culture
wanted him as lover
adored in it's being
endeavor to endeavor
kind, mean, and clever
that all shall feel his presence
and speak of him
as champion
best in the world
the greatest of all time!
And so it begins...
A dazzling display of showmanship
A very stiff dance competition
Observed by a live audience
By four judges sitting in the front row
Meticulous; they don't miss a thing
The dancing prowess of every performer
The twirls, the shuffles, the oohs and aahs
The missteps, the works
Hoofers take to the dance floor
One after the other in pursuit of glory
Each one aiming to please
To steal the show, to come out on top
All dance routines ending
In thunderous applause
They all make it hard for the judges
To pick a sole winner
It's a mesmerizing experience...
And So It Begins Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier (Winner: 1st Place)
Date written and posted: 02/08/2019
Solarium songs of unsung heroes rooted to the ground
Matchable shades red roses of silk bereft of true life
Evergreen dreams on eyelet vistas desired not found
Fantasies throng showmanship beauties containing no strife
Wicker chair creaks the solvent moments of temporal eyes
Memories gather and life proceeds without need
Forever thoughts clinging to the vine whispering goodbye
Family loss, his portrait watches she lives on the edge
Everything morphs even the heroes just like the seasons
Devotions live inside hearts chamber, easy to indent
Palpable touch so easily frayed tears without reason
Malleable forces its a single rose, in a soulmates tent
A beautiful sadness takes over the solarium alights
she misses him dearly , recalling the fights.
January 9, 2019
Who is the Ringmaster?
Who is the pawn?
Who will decipher
When the patrons are gone?
Enter the Big Top spot the trapeze,
Allay all your fears, put them at ease.
Barnum, Ringling masters long past,
Legends of showmanship destined to last.
Performers who push human boundaries,
Whose skills outstrip all practicalities.
It's raw talent on view in center ring,
Unique marvels of practice really happening.
No single skill matters outside the ring,
Performance in life, that's the thing.
Suspend for a moment what you know to be real,
Fantasy is fostered, it's the circus appeal.
Listen to the Ringmaster's full vibrato
As he shows each act with flair.
Paces his rich voice staccato
Presenting, making you connect and care.
Never lets himself become the show,
Top hat in hand in center ring, beginning to the end.
Tells you all you need to know,
Master of all the fun, every patron's friend.
Sub Categories
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