"bismarck" poems
I'd like to tell you a story
It begins in 1492
When dear old Christopher Columbus
Sailed the ocean blue
He landed on what he thought
To be the country of India
He stumbled upon a group of people
Who appeared to be indigenous
Because these native people
Happened to be where he thought he was
He called them all "Indians"
&& somehow that name stuck
They welcomed his group with open arms
Even offered them their feast
Unaware that deep inside
They were but wolves, dressed as sheep
Columbus && his crew
Soon ravaged the land
They took what they saw
Then they took full command
Of the people they found
On the land where they landed
They felt they should rule
So they stepped in, heavy handed
They murdered the people
Who had taken them in
Set fire to their villages
While the victims watched with their kin
Flash forward to the future
It's now 2016
It's been over 500 years
Since the overtaking by the regime
Future settlers decided
To let the survivors live on
They designated them small areas
Of what had not yet been robbed
These Native Americans,
Generally keep to themselves
They get by living off their land
But now they need your help
The Sioux of Standing Rock
Are being horribly mistreated
The state of North Dakota
Is poisoning them without reason
A pipeline has been built
That runs through this Native territory
When Bismarck residents didn't want it
It was rerouted, how discriminatory
People from all over the country
Are seeming to agree
They are making the commute
To protest peacefully
In defense of an oppressed people
Who only want to live
But the government is stepping in
Even blowing off some limbs
"Let them die, they're not like us"
the message the administration is sending
It seems that after all this time
The battle is never-ending
What exactly does it take
For people to see eye-to-eye?
In the end we're all just human
We kiss, we laugh, we cry
So if you have a heart at all
If you know that this is wrong
Please join the Sioux in their mission
By coming together, we can be strong
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 11:30 PM UTC
the earth is curved - sure y’all knew that.
but to get to the Northwest,
Interstate 84
ain’t le route plus directe
nope curve north to Ontario,
wave to Bex as I cross over
London and Toronto, also can’t recall
which poet from Rochester hails,
or did they shuffle off to Buffalo?
Crossing Erie, Huron, and Michigan Great Lakes all,
brings to mind
my mother’s birthplace,
Last of the Mohicans,
and the three years I did in the Cleveland Penitentiary,
where sun was illegal and baseball was a pretend play
of cowboys and Indians
but by god, it made me
the penitent fella I am today
Look skyward to Montreal,
yes, there he is, the Leo Priest,
the baffled king,
blessing this poetic meet ‘n greet trip
with a smiling unsurprising
hallelujah
Apparently some US citizens still can traverse O Canada,
even if one forgot their passports,
and are not PNG’s (Persons Not so GREAT)
over Minneapolis shed a tear for Diane,
a poet- gone-missing, and wonder if you reader come from
St. Cloud, Fargo or Duluth, Bismarck or Aberdeen,
surely they still speak poetic English there
in a twangy metering methodology - well, message me asap
wow there really is a Saskatoon!
the pilot asks us to lean left in our seats
to help turn the plane
so we go to Portland and not to Vancouver...
me thinks he might be a touch Rockie Mountain High,
considering we are at 30 thousand something Imperial,
as he walks the main cabin with an oxygen mask and a
huuuuuge grin
see the distant Cascades
through a crack in the shuttered windows,
must be close to “the coast”
(as if, harrumph, there were but one)
ah, words in the clouds, ripe for the plucking
must be getting close to Oregon,
where poets grow on trees, woody words like ****
and log-float poems down the Columbia to the sea
gonna drink me some poets
under the table cause this
trip I ain’t no driving and I am already
“flying” ‘n scribing and arriving
on a high tide and a good wind
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 5:47 AM UTC
7:05, it's late September
and mid-continent can't decide
on a season
if it's Summer, Winter
or some patchwork in between
but I've
Decided
Falling on confusion's
not the same as hitting Springy grass
because I've seen
How hard December
clamps its jaws
on those Midwest city streets
--With famished eyes
and with breath howling
tries to find ways into me
So, clothed in shivers, one might stumble
Between bars, snowflakes, and friends
And cloudy skies and clouded glasses
tell you, "you'll never be young again!"
11:30, Minneapolis--
you're sure your ride is late.
Trudge through snow, and mud and asphalt
while skies thicken purple-grey.
And things are much the same in Bismarck
And much the
same in Winnipeg.
Thrusting frigid hands in pockets
restore some blood to aching legs.
"And it's another Midwest winter."
What more is there to say?
Respond to yourself and keep walking
Still miles away from home
Still a decade until morning
Another New Year's spent alone
--and growing old--
Now you remember last September--
It was still 80 degrees!
Now you're caught in Midwest winters--
Release a breath and watch thoughts freeze.
So just wait until next Summer
Your floor heater warms your toes
And it's wait until the next drink
to thraw your throat out: so it goes.
So it goes...
And goes and goes.
But you'll never be young again.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 7:07 PM UTC
EVERY year Emily Dickinson sent one friend
the first arbutus bud in her garden.
In a last will and testament Andrew Jackson
remembered a friend with the gift of George
Washington's pocket spy-glass.
Napoleon too, in a last testament, mentioned a silver
watch taken from the bedroom of Frederick the Great,
and passed along this trophy to a particular friend.
O. Henry took a blood carnation from his coat lapel
and handed it to a country girl starting work in a
bean bazaar, and scribbled: "Peach blossoms may or
may not stay pink in city dust."
So it goes. Some things we buy, some not.
Tom Jefferson was proud of his radishes, and Abe
Lincoln blacked his own boots, and Bismarck called
Berlin a wilderness of brick and newspapers.
So it goes. There are accomplished facts.
Ride, ride, ride on in the great new blimps-
Cross unheard-of oceans, circle the planet.
When you come back we may sit by five hollyhocks.
We might listen to boys fighting for marbles.
The grasshopper will look good to us.
So it goes ...
2.6k
Most never heard the killing shot,
From Bismarck, rend the air.
It landed in Hood’s magazine
and vaporized all there.
H.M.S. Hood rose in the air
The bow and stern were parted.
In ninety seconds she went down-
With her complement, she departed.
The Men aboard the Bismarck cheered,
Though their victory proved hollow:
They could not know, within three days,
The Bismarck was to follow.
The Prince of Wales made smoke and turned
to fight another day.
Torpedo planes from the Ark Royal
made Bismarck lose her way.
Three years of war had hardened hearts
But Hood’s loss caused dismay.
The tragedy in Denmark’s strait
Would make agnostics pray.
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 8:54 PM UTC
We shall call his pig Bismarck,
because Grandad's humour was awful dark,two chickens he kept were called,Burke and Hare and a duck he kept was called Guinness.
But the pig got big,a sod of a sow and Grandad tried which way and how but couldn't quite tame it, and was sorry he gave it such a name,
The moniker Bismarck, fit the pig quite well and in this warzone where he dwelt he felt at home,
Grand dad,once a jack the lad devised a plan to get said pig upon the table,with apple sauce and if able an apple or two to stew.
He led the pig, not very far,just to the local abattoir,where Bismarck sunk without a trace and if you'd seen the smile on his face,you'd think that he enjoyed his trip to crackling land,but he looked good sat on my plate and notwithstanding Bismarcks fate he went down a treat.
Next week I hear it's duck.good luck,ducks can fly,Grandma's buying in some pie,just in case,
dear Grand dad falls flat on his face.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 9:00 AM UTC
Battles never end well for one side,
In the Begging, it was the British who took the fall, one of his might
Ship sunk do to the Kriegsmarine,
Many people died in this battle, many families torn
Apart do to the war, many people served there country with honor, others not,
Revered as the most powerful ship at the time, the people
Clinging for there country on these Battleships, the
Kriegsmarine was now defeated
Feb 11, 2020
Feb 11, 2020 at 10:11 PM UTC
Bismarck Bessie was her name
n’ she could shoot as well
as Calamity Jane
She could out run those bad boys
(like Jesse James)
riding her horse backwards
n’ put ‘em to shame
Now, Bismarck Bessie was on her game
Ahead of her time that’s for sure
cause she was all about women's rights
Oh, she raised some hell
and, liked to spit n’ fight
n’ speak her mind
Hell, on any night!
She had a flame in her soul
and, furious eyes
that could light up a room
when she spotted lies
She was brave, and bright
n’ true to herself
never believe’n in some White Knight
Oh, sure there was Bill n’ Bobby
and, Robbie Joe…
one things for sure
this I know…
Bismarck Bessie was true to her soul.
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
Those with clumsy fingers, clumsy minds. They took a while. We all started the same but it all separated out soon enough, the good ones that squared up to you and made you smile
In summer the bonfires dotted the shore so that we knew we were not alone. There was a stable for fire, a chomping machine. They held the fire for us all to see, like it was their slave. The licks would jostle about for awhile, till they found their technique and mastered it. Made a fire that twisted and turned, until one day it could be knotted around itself, there was no telling where it began or where it stopped. This was a complex fire that grew only more intricate, and always upwards. Its secrets were only known by the few, but a warmth that was felt by the many.
Ahhh...an urge for days without progression, when it would reach a halt and be enough, but it never did stop.
Long stretches it felt the same, cause day by day it was deceptive, there was always a routine, always that feeling that it all had been said, nothing was really that new. But days like that only last so long. Sooner or later it all comes to the fore...when the wind changes and the last of those things swinging from the branches depart in as much the same way as they came.
But the good ones, we always knew the good ones. Yeah. It doesn’t roll like that anymore. That fire that twists and turns at eats you up will take you away to those places You will trip in a wild daze relish a full, bloated stomachs and won’t want for nothing no more
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 7:52 AM UTC
Oh, the quasi-related grace
Of saliva on the toes;
The reds, the blues, the greens
Of pregnancy.
Castration?!
We melt like mosquitoes
Across the heated causeway
In June;
Pepto-Bismarck?
I hate shocking pink.
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 12:43 AM UTC
kiełbasa - or, alt. kieł - basa - king Vasa of Sweden (Gustav the First), the base of, i.e. based on a canine (kieł); including a rolling pin and a mile of intestines to shove the mince in and later eat.
reading through the style magazine...
what else, a count von Bismarck,
Eton connections - poor schmuck
ought to eat a mouthful of cinnamon
peppered with nail clippings -
it's not jealousy as **** just a sickly Loki
stare at it all - perfect skin, perfect abs,
10 dates a week, whimsical musing
and other attention deficits - i'm just here
to ask about the code of procedures
on the national health service (n.h.s.),
*informer
you no say daddy me snow me-a gon' blame
i lick he *** *** down
'tective man they say, say daddy me snow
me stab someone down the lane
i lick he *** *** down*
days long before Eminem and not quiet
vanilla ice ice baby...
the hippocratic oath shattered on me,
i guess i played the madness game to free myself
from defamation, self-preservation of
the person accused - god, what a parasite i've become,
i never used to obsess, but i've turned into my enemy,
it takes more calories to eat a second of
a thought about that than it would take
drinking a sharpshooter whiskey mix -
so here i am, with my Hölderlin heart -
stone cold stone mad - passive-aggressive infatuated
with Radiohead's kid A - playback from
the heyday of the prog-rock zenith reminded, of;
mind you, i was never into playing solo tennis
against a brick wall with the standard:
violets in may
or should i say
i love the whole affair
of being the spare
in her game of panicky chess
yep, you guessed it, rhyming,
Tenacious D's one note song
summarises what i can't
be bothered to explain
or defend.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 9:03 AM UTC
known to be one of the top navy's in the world,
her majesty's navy ranks supreme,
one ship in WWII, the pride of the nation, the hood was sunk
The hood was sunk by the kriegsmarine's own, the Bismarck
the kriegsmarine was the Germans navy
So many people have served in the royal navy,
Before the United States became its own country, it was number one,
But all can change, in a matter of seconds,
And it did.
Feb 12, 2020
Feb 12, 2020 at 11:33 AM UTC