Upping Poems

Upping the Anti'

As far..As well? or wherever they are.? Semantics
About Semites..To me just are.' Abreham begat 
Ishmael and Issac...Both semites..Got me? So far?
S'wot i think.? Should i stop short of the brink.
.? So no need for a face off, or a great
Confusing stink.' War is not the way.'  Why
Shed prescious blood.? When the waters of Life
Invite you to drink.. To a new life, where joy's
Will Calls all' just let your spirit go into the pink.'

More Phoney Money

My wallet is empty of cash
When it appears which is rarely
I usually give it away 
Doesn’t really matter, not really 
It’s gone as soon as I get it anyway
It never lasts but that's okay
Besides, I have plenty of credit 
VISA, MasterCard, Discovery 
And the more I “spend” 
With that lending hand 
The more trust I build 
Upping my score.  Score! 
Up the stakes, wait, change the rules? 
Now, it’s me who can’t trust, who? 
Sky rocketing interest rates 
A debt that’s out of control 
Taxing me everywhere I go 
The scam’s all decorated
Beautifully choreographed   
Beautifully camouflaged 
All alluring, so endearing 
As I assume my plastic smile
 
At my recently installed
Big beautiful screen on the wall.

A poetry war

A competitive poet with ego galore
is always "one upping" to even some score.
They disguise their sarcasm in metaphors.
Most of the time I politely ignore as
no one needs a poetry war.

Marriage, a Path To Prosperity Or a Door To Adversity

Some see serenity in parity
Some seem open to disparity
An institution as old as the hills
Marriage is marked with unclarity 

Some people unable to think straight 
Champ at the bit, they just can’t wait
To make the mistake that seals their fate
Only to wake up when it’s too late 

Worse-befallen are the ones who see
Right through their mate’s real he or she
And nevertheless, opt to go ahead 
Further on folly upping the ante

“When we got married, things went worse”,
Say most people after they divorce 
Success so scarce some call marriage 
A miscarriage and a failed discourse 

The ups and downs of married life
The rifts and shifts being so rife
Monologue the vogue, madness galore
Better no longer remain man and wife

Better unmarried and live on single
Than with the wrong type marry and mingle
If you are happy with unwedded life
Forget marriage. Resist the tingle!

Should you get married and then divorce 
Beware not to sink yourself in remorse 
It won’t be easy, but do cheer up
For a better life, you must change the course

Three Plump Old Biddy Birds

Three plump old biddy birds full of birdseed and whey
Sat on a limb spreading gossip and rumors that day
I heard she did this and he did that said Mrs. McVey.
They all had a story, about things crazy and gray.

One-upping each other on this nonsensical Tuesday.
Surely you have something better to do cawed a blue jay.
They took out their sling shots and forced him away.
I never should have married that fool said Mrs. McVey

What If All the Matter

didn't
i look up
hoping to
see the sky fall
you ignore down
is its opposite
writing from the grooves
that print my fingers
i see the hapiness
i could have goat
did he mean got
caught a splinter of light in fingered tips
rode an autumn leaf
on its way down the drain
Upstart starts up
i write of crysal shape cities
trapped within the concrete at my feet
i write of ring arose
with clouds of differing greys
of eyes with nothing behind
cuts and bruises outline
my prone
trying to never learn
writing lies the truth wont turn
did ya miss me
should have bought better scopes
Sneak behind you with unsheathed pen
your sopping bled
just fuel-topical or what
for my quill
will to not have one
Upping daisies in liquid green
as breeze trickles by each blades
never use my mind to fight
all you unarmed
the buzzing fly in attic space
where from side slanted windows
moon fingers
from an empty box
pull and pool
with lines of light
dancing dust fairies
diamondize in its gentle stroke
this poem has a lot of ups and downs

One Upping Each Other

I got a dog, so he got a cat.
I got a bird.  He got a rat.
I got a snake. He got a gnat.
I got a tiger.  He called me a brat.
And the tiger ate him. So what do you think of that?

A Seasoned Day

I awoke a clock and watched it countdown towards known silence,
I arose and given the floor the reason for its presence,
Day spent amidst the greenery moored to tawny sturdiness,
Morning sun entice the blooms their ascent upping with success,

Gains a brighter hour taking a lapped route through a calm beach,
I swam and watched as a respite sun nigh zenith's grasp for breach,
Afternoon orange glow descends as I bunched up withered leaves,
Mild breeze brushes and excites facial pleasures that it achieves,

Dusk has placed the meal so great, that cast against the candles glow,
Cools the bite of night, snapping up a full day's engaging show,
In the folds of warming, it hadst journeyed me towards my keep,
Weights of my eyelids, flights a bird to unfold, wake whilst asleep,

'Tis events enthralls life's richness that made me so compliant,
'Twas morn to night, mastered was four seasons, truly triumphant,

Song: Angie Baby - Helen Reddy
Date: 05/07/2019

Words Are Only Words Til They Are Anchored To Change

Words are only words til they are anchored to change,
Which shouldn't sound strange,
To those within range.

Mouthing just the words leaves lips still unaided,
And feet unmoved,
With mountains waiting to be changed.

Change only happens when there is less of the same,
And more upping their game,
To enter the frame.

Deciding what to give up is a good start,
For change to become an art,
And for the heart to play its part.

So when your children join the climate change march,
Ask them if they will give up starch,
Or stop making an arch,
And stop drinking coke in plastic bottles for the whole March.

Only then will I believe the words coming out of their mouth,
As anything more than a cold wind from the south,
That pushes the ice more to the north,
And ask more disasters to come forth.

I Do Not Listen

I do not listen because my heart hurts when I hear the sad, and the mean.
And I get way too loud when I hear the happy.  Sad, angry people frown at
My giant head-throwing witch cackling laugh. It hurts them.

I do not listen because it is better for my tender empathetic soul not to hear
What might make me feel bad all day long.  However, people think I am listening,
Because I am the great pretender.

My head is nodding in all the right places, giving these people my comfort eyes, 
As I am expertly not listening, fooling them, so I can retain the part of myself
that desperately needs to retain hope, joy, innocence, and optimism.

Uh-oh.  Something has gone terribly wrong.
 I am shaken into active listening, as I can tell by the person’s face 
that they are not spewing out drama, or one-upping
Stories, just to be talking.   I start to listen, learning who I need to help today.

My only talent, is being a maestro at knowing when and how to listen.

Arise

Rise up downtrodden, 
resurrecting from the ashes, 
upping dreams forgotten,
incarnate you flesh rotten, 
for with misfortune you have been smotten, 
from the valley up the mountain, 
from warming benches to become a captain.

By Luckson Mupakamiso

Out of Treats

If you ran out of candy on Halloween night
In those days back when I was a kid,
You’d toss in some pennies, a nickel or dime
And the kids would be glad that you did.

But today, I suspect, even upping the coins
Wouldn’t work for those used to much more
So I guess if the candy supply peters out,
Those at home just don’t open the door.

For the “trick” if no “treats” once was harmless and tame,
Like the dusting of chalk from a sock,
But in this day and age any trickster might be
Worth avoiding if you’re out of stock.

Workout

Panting and puffing I’m feeling the burn
Even though I’ve done only a minute
This machine is the work of the devil I’m sure
Oh god, I think I might vomit

I’m treading the mill to try and get fit
But I think this thing’s going to kill me
My bosom is heaving I’m sweating like mad
All this jiggling…. I now need a wee…

Increasing the incline and upping the speed
My little legs pumping like crazy
I feel the weight lifting I’m floating on air
Oohhh… every thing’s going quite hazy

Finally, slowly, it grinds to a halt
I’ve done TEN WHOLE MINUTES … can’t talk
Although I’m all wobbly I’m feeling quite chuffed
Maybe one day I’ll jog, not just walk

Dinner Date

Bring all your revenges to the table
Sit them down and serve them well
Crystal cut glass, French Champagne
And listen to the stories that they will tell

Place guilt across from regret
Whilst heartbreak and sin reacquaint
Thoughts starched up cotton napkins
Dine with both the sinner and the saint

Lies like locust swarms spelt in sentences on the menu
Anger boils over erupts spoiling the setting
Ego attempts a humble hasty intervention
But memories x-ray sharp prevent forgetting

Tensions trek arduously around this table
Whilst fear scavenges for dirty little secrets
Elusive emotion makes an elegant appearance
Upping the ante, everyone taking side bets

I thought I heard someone call my name
It was coward hiding behind the door post
How could I not go to his aid?
I really must leave and assist him, after all I am the host

Diminishing Comps

They try many things to get you down
to this gambling Mecca of a seashore town.
In many directions, the management of these places will go.
It has all been carefully designed to get your dough.
Free meals, free drinks, free rooms, and more.
However, they are not as generous as they were before.
Those houses are now in a precarious situation.
Other gaming places are popping up across the nation.
You would think they’d be upping the ante with their offers.
However, they don’t easily open up their coffers.
Business will not be so glorious
if they continue becoming more parsimonious.

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