The Gathites had heard about
King David by word of mouth
Then in song and dance
King Achish’s servants
Sang of Saul and David’s downing thousands
It was fear that King David bled
He acted the fool instead
Insane and inane he did pretend
And King Achish said
“Do I lack madmen?”
Serpentine artisan in Eden
Crafting a second creation
A molten piece of idol
By the dexterity
Of word of mouth.
Tongue lures ear
And then à tongue kiss
To the ear, both soulmates
Titillate the neurons of the body
Stir the impulse of all senses
All segued to Judas kiss.
Telepathist tool
Transmuting visions from pluto
To reality on earth.
Forked-tongue town crier
With cymbal and gong
Improvising a dissonance
Of glossolalic tales
To the age of gullible gullivers!
Ear, O hear!
In that gaping cavity
There lies lie lair
The sword of Damocles
Gliding and Churning honey gobs
From its cavity to founts of lies
In every public square.
Like the big lie of Hitler and Goebbels
To the holocaust.
Let not all thy senses,
Emotion, reason, and conscience
Trust her tongue!
Shock waves ripped through China
on July 20 1999
Good versus evil
in a whirlwind of vicious crime
Millions of innocent people
faced life and death then
By the jealous head of China
the dictator Jiang Zemin
He ordered all means be used
to eradicate Falun Gong
His intention to eliminate
in three months was strong
More than 26 long years
countless lives destroyed
Now transnational repression
the persecution was deployed
As horrendous as ever
while denying it all
The face of evil
will surely take a fall
The worlds people are awakening
to the truth each day
Falun Gong is good
and is here to stay
As time passes by
days into years
The ancient practice grew
beyond the fears
Despite the persecution
Falun Gong spread worldwide
Through word of mouth
practitioners thrive
Truth, compassion and tolerance
is what the world needs
Falun Gong is the Great Law
that sows universal seeds
Your ‘calling’ strings you out
into a gospel
of all that you were and are.
A written scripture scrolls on.
You are a witness. The poet that watches,
the one who shows up late in your own story,
diverse scribes feed you shape-shifting words
from the collective works of
other visionaries.
Every image has its alter-image.
This gospel of ‘you’
can gossip over a trivial landscape,
yet all is elemental and intrinsic
to an all-inclusive manifesto.
These secret teachings are parables,
allegory and metaphor,
revelations discovered by few or many.
Word of mouth becomes a testament
one woven by a history
of observers and spectators,
they scribble down both the immaterial
and the substance of reflections,
then hammer them into flowing water
where all poetry is enshrined.
Demon comes with smiles
Very carefully veiled wiles
Prod another to take the fall
A Victim through it all
Demon guise as a mother
Looking for another to smother
A wife a husbands fall foretell
She will see everyone burn in hell
Demon deception of caring
All the while souls seering
Malicious word of mouth ensue
But the truth you will eschew
Demon conniving and stealing
Envy and greed guaranteeing
Long fingers to secretly grasp
Play innocent your mask
Demon dutchman kind
We know and see your mind
Common trash from the ash
For truth you are no match
The glossy acrylic smell of new editions
is cordite to my nose,
an explosive mixture of - need to know.
I finger trawl over dust covers
mindreading unread masterpieces.
Movies ransacked many of these novels,
hearsay and word of mouth
account for aisles
of open secrets and
commonly revealed revelations.
I should obtain a dozen or so acclaimed sagas,
display them on a prominent shelf –
because, well, one really ought to,
or maybe just read last chapters,
if not too long.
not entered in a contest
"There is no more dangerous menace to civilization
than a government of incompetent, corrupt, or vile men."
~ Ludwig von Mises
Presidential candidates are men of the same unfit kiN
Only one thing they are after ~ the votes of you and I
Left wing or the right; it's a catastrophe in the makinG
Its leadership offered, but it's just their word of moutH
They've made promises that neither of them has kepT
I make no distinction between a donkey or pachyderM
Curmudgeons are they, past prime. One with dementiA
And the other a felon with insufferable moral behavioR
Lordy, what dismal choices when America goes to votE
The whole world down, to our floaters of love,
be the Agrias Butterfly, from South
and Central America. In awe of
their mystique hues and mid-sized, word-of-mouth
spreads 'neath tropical forest canopies,
their delicacy is rather putrid,
from decaying fruits to rotting fishy.
Their family name is the 'Brush Footed
Butterfly's, because they have four hind legs
used for walking and two short, sort of front
legs slash brushes, hairy sensory pegs
that tastes and smells. A basic tool to hunt.
Beauty accentuates hidden splendors ...
tropical Impressionist ascenders.
When his stiff larynx shifts,
a caviling bone that darts for cover
as if caught in its bell tower
with a high-powered rifle.
I see his desperate need to talk.
"Those dumb forks,
ingrates, free-loaders, punks."
Salty epithets
march up and down his throat,
as if menacing the very fabric
of his Adam's apple.
Behind his eyes
the damned are piling up.
We are out here alone,
just him and me, and this anger
strangling his windpipe.
He once carried a buddy
out of a kill zone,
but not a lot of himself,
just this bitter slanguage.
I want to grab hold of him,
hug him,
let him talk it out,
allow his wounded words,
to spill out of their foxholes,
then share a dirty joke or two.
Deep South
Word of mouth
The town had so much hate
Today’s world can relate
Separation
Black Man’s nightmare
All about fear
Tormented
Name calling
Woes
Blood that flows
The idea of being a minority
True reality
Just to survive
Attempting stride
No trust
Town of a past
Freedom at last
Shady Point
Didn’t inspire me
No dignity and honor
South scent
North went
Maybe just maybe I am and always
have been an
Undiagnosed
Apoplectically archetypal orthodox
Dislexic
Who unfortunately tried to spell
it out to anyone willing to listen
But obviously my words came out
all mixed up and wrong
So I never made any sense whether
that was or be
Whether scribbled down profusely and
indiscriminately on paper
Or spoken word of mouth thinking
other's could follow my train of thought
Which I perceived to be a well thought
out intelligent engaging conversation
Only to find out later people were only
merely placating and appeasing me
Because the one thing and defining characteristic I did have going for
me and on my side
Was that I what and while I lacked
in certain regards and area's
I somehow made up for in charisma
and sense of humor which manifested
in the guise of likeability
And the reason I used to get away
with things I never should have been
able to
But hey if they wanted to assume and
presume that of me
And they themselves opened up that
avenue of excuse for me to abuse
Then why on on wouldn't I take full
advantage and prey upon it
A high pressure is moving up from the south
Which means fair weather for tomorrow, I think,
At least that’s what I’m getting by word of mouth.
According to all our charts, we’re on the brink
Of foul weather toward the end of the week,
But our chief meteorologist is reputed to drink.
Understand, tomorrow we could have a shower
If the low pressure from the west moves quick,
We could very likely get a drizzle in the next hour.
By noon tomorrow the cumulus clouds are thick,
So don’t count on seeing a bright, sunny sky --
It won’t be the afternoon for a warm spring picnic.
After this week, we’re thinking it will begin to dry
However, next week storms are unpredictable
So, I wouldn’t be planning an outdoor fish fry!
When it turns dry, the garden soil will be tillable
Looking for shirt-sleeve weather, quite comfortable.
Written March 7, 2022
especially for "You're a Weather Forecaster" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Matt Caliri
Ranks of glossy printed editions
squeezed into a concertina of space.
The acrylic smell of new books
is cordite to my nose.
Then in softer contrast,
the musky ambiance of the old and well-thumbed,
a well used dust on dust-covers.
A tactile nosegay of leather-bound
classics.
Fact or fiction,
all are revelations revealed.
The appeal of the alphabetically ordered,
arrayed in an athenium
of only passing inquiry.
Movies have usurped many of these stories,
as well as Wikipedia factoids, reviews, e-books,
and word of mouth accounts.
I crouch and stretch
in a confined alcove for a few volumes
that have kept their obscure tales
under cryptic wraps.
I could take them home, maybe fill a single shelf;
speed-read my way through,
read the blurbs and the last chapters,
just in case I am ever asked.
Send 3/4d we're going to a dance.
Message received but not understood,
Sorry lads we're on our own, no one's going to come,
Somehow, he never thought they would,
Maybe if I sent just one man instead of passing it on,
With reinforcements we may have had this battle won.
No one should shoot the piano player he only plays what's wrote.
Instead of passing word of mouth, he should have sent a note.
Maybe this is just a wartime myth just to raise a laugh.
If it's not, then it surely was one hell of a serious gaff.
© Dave Timperley 18/10/2021
Teach religion with your way of life
not with the word of mouth
preach religion with your practices
don't practice religion with preachings
I was told to give to the temple
yet the temple never gave to me
can a man rob God? oh foolery!
how can we rob a man we cannot see
how can you rob a poet of his poem
when even the best poems
are yet to be written and the best lines
are yet to be straightened
I have seen religious clerics
and preachers of deceitful charity
walk pass the poor with pockets filled
yet not a single dime given out
Oh peters, don't seek me with prayers
come to me with silver and gold
whenever I come to you for prayers
you seek my silver and gold
whenever you want to raise high
your pillars and enlarge your tent
you seek the little token I have to give
then send me to God when I need mine
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