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Poems

Jon Tobias Jun 2012
Death cures all sickness.
Freud said the goal of all living things is death.
Can I get a witness?

So then it is slow torture for us to do things,
Like keep houseplants and goldfish alive.
Death cures all sickness.

It makes the will to live seem pretentious
When we make it point to continue on, survive.
Can I get a witness?

But I don’t believe in cheating.
Not all living things understand suicide.
Death cures all sickness.

Drunk at night I bear my heart repeating,
That I not go gently into the night.
Death cures all illness.

No, I am bone and breath
And will not strive for death.
Death cures all sickness.
Can I get a witness?
This is a drunken attempt at a villanelle style poem. It was inspired by Paul Gurrieri after commenting on another poem I wrote, "When you Live with Someone who has Alzheimer's Your House Feels Haunted".
CK Baker  Jan 2017
The Recruit
CK Baker Jan 2017
leg on the table
you red face recruit!
put on the offensive
and break down
the bolted door
you are the soul saver
the peddle maker
the calibrator
with colored handbills
and front line
rhetoric

join the masquerade
in ivy league style!
politicking with
cunning guile
invisalign smile
blackened vile
bleeding the funnel
with gold plate omegas
and crocodile shoes

get on stage
and dance you fool!
you are the headline maker
the pantomime juggler
the compromised closer
pull out that 5 page review
(bullet points only please)
and polish those weathered lines

did you give it your all?
the door tags
and pleasantries
the tidings
and clippings
the irrevocable claims
and postured blames
all the impressionable basics
put to the test?

you know the call
(straight from
those cold academics)
the pie chart gurus
and contract killers
(complete with bone in finger)
whipping their
frenzied crew
in an all night
charade

old yellar
and the gatekeeper
sure seem amused
(sharpening their inquest
behind closed doors)
firing up the **** storm
with hostile ******
and a slew
of insatiable
cures

there’s laughter from the back room
the dripping nose
and wavering hand
the cut white lines
and checkpoint tales
the pipeline romance
and lacking form
(of a basic essential
character!)

soundboard
and narratives
for logging time
slouching on the
steel case
over moot points
ready to play
the 3 weight
butter card
(if need be)

might I remind you
it’s only an inquiry
(with a slight hint of concern)
surely no
malfeasance
or deception intended
so step back from
the melt down
and cut to the chase!

headlines to breadlines
penthouse to outhouse
those immoral pursuits
have taken their toll
(haven’t they?)
madman or rogue
(you take your pick)
for the scores
and tabulations
are final

shame on you
for the foul play
the bold hypocrisy
and order desk games
the back stabbing blames
and spurious names
just sign on the dotted line...
this banter
is killing me
Henessy J Beltre Oct 2018
She is raw like cacao
Carries a smell of cinnamon and honey
Natural brown eumelanin skin
Everyone judges not knowing what's within

Sweet like honey,
She cures any emptiness carried in a man
Mix her with sunshine
And she glows within

Beautiful big brown eyes
No one ever takes the time to notice her
People only falsely label her and lack realization
That she's the most beautiful and radiant brown skinned girl

Sweet like honey
Beautiful brown girl
Never lose your fire
Even when the sun may not shine, you'll still always blind them

- Henessy J. Beltre
a poem to remind all the eumelanin skinned girls, including myself, that true beauty is within. we should not have to change our appearances to fit in to society's meaning of beauty. (© Henessy J. Beltre - 10.11.2018)