"endorsed" poems
HEAR YE HEAR YE:
It's a wedding bell for bedding well cause' we're crushin' the illusion of Russian collusion! CNN wets on Russian bedding but Trump bets on Russian wedding, and you're invited to the bridal shower. Punking the monkery, dig the debunkery; from Rasputin to Putin it's time for some straight shootin'. Hillary looks old and glowers at Donald's rumored golden showers. Our media owes US an explanation for streams of steaming urination, but we are willing to forgive and use their wet diapers as debt wipers. My poem's appeal may take a toll, but let its little peal now roll:
****** ****** rings the bell
A Fake News warning; time to spell
out what was wet with Moscow girls.
Putin's putas ? Wisdom's pearls
were pried from Truth's reluctant shell,
banishing Hillary straight to hell.
None. It's what we want left over
from this hag. We now discover
beds were dry; it all amounted
(all those golden tricks recounted)
to less than a tepid bowl of kasha. . .
Russia laughed from her summer dacha.
InfoWars was on it first
while Dems spun lies from false to worst,
awarding cash for faked dossiers
embellished with the CIA's
well-trained performing circus-seal.
The FBI endorsed the deal
as RINOS horned in on the action:
Washingtonian distraction;
a democrat-concocted fuss—
. . . but we ALL paid Hillary to **** on us.
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 4:47 PM UTC
Malice ripples
lying low, under
penetrating nightlife strobe.
Repercussions?
None to show.
Limp bodies
'getting loose'
In truth,
injected with poison;
a slow-acting noose.
Repulsive actions of the
vile & depraved
****
endorsed at raves.
Oct 25, 2021
Oct 25, 2021 at 4:56 AM UTC
In the divet between mountains
Resides a wooden cabin – ostensibly an amalgamation of the scape
Adroitly - I - quondam female warrior flit
Down massive (ancient) hand-laid, hand-cut carved stone steps
Bounding from contingent step onto the dense pad of turned soil
Tacit compliance between gravity and soil holds footprints bound
A compressed deflating crescendo as pace ignites with bounds
Cadences of protuberant wildflowers and grasses erupt from swollen terra
A winsome chromatic menagerie, dispersed in ecstatic fistfuls
A venerably ancient ritual
My nascent clandestine vocation
Personally meted out - a beatification for my provisional sanctuary
Along glacier-fed stream
Lissome fingers shadow inert stalks –plucking dormant beginnings from their desiccated ligaments
I am austere and unadorned save for a festoon of pyrite flecks trailing my semblance
Residual gilding from my ante-meridian swim taken after requisite gathering of wild blackberries, goose berries, and rhubarb along oft-tamped path
The sun, nestling into its requisite apex endorsed my completion
I reclined into the hassock of soil, feeling the elements settle about with an embossment of my form
Imposing verdure arched subtly as compressed soil beckoned hyperbolic flux
As I lay within the basilica of opulent living columns replete with comestible bounty
Lingering dew honed inflections of sacrosanct petrichor in unison with piquant clover
Wild purple clover buds saccharinely tinted and inundated nestled nerves in mine cribriform plate
Birds pitched and galloped through the frond tips and beyond in the lapis expanse
Frequently snatching damselfly’s and assemblages of midges from their ephemeral drift
Auspicious rays transcended stippled diaphanous gravid clouds
Light inundated ether entered humbly into the cathedral oculus
Pyrite speckled terrain beneath, and my bare gilded form above
Cast a refracted aura about my sanctuary
Precipitously the elusive vaporous embankment distended further
Ashen atmospheric correspondence inaugurated liquescent sustenance to my mountain abode
And I -
Lingered beneath the descending gobbets, curls furled in a puddle
Fresh topsoil cupping my corporal topographic contours
Pressing blackberries into my mouth between smiles
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
The Catholic church
endorsed the world today
for a dollar ninety nine.
-Announcement-
Every iPhone owner!
sinner, saint or stoner!
Come now have your sins forgiven!
forgiven if you spill your guts,
if you just confess,
then watch technology do the rest.
Absolution for you and me!
Send your sins across the sea!
your sins will fly up through the sky
encrypted on waves to reach the almighty,
the Vatican! the Pope!
A man of God appointed by the church
yet is he any different than you and me?
We know he sins the same as us,
the book of Romans says its so,*
and do you really think his tall hat
and flowing dress can make him
any more chosen than us?
Can he really hold back lust?
Will he not eventually turn to dust
Just like the rest of us?
is he really any different than us?
How ironic he receives a royalty from
a symbol of the fallen world,
The Apple
computer company,
payment for our absolution…
...So the world fell
by the fruit of a tree
and now expects to be
redeemed the same way.
The truth is not in a man.
the truth is not in the Apple.
The truth is not in the white smoke rising
from the stacks on Sistine Chapel.
The truth cannot be dried up.
The truth cannot be cured.
the truth is not the Pope's to smoke,
To believe it is absurd.
If you want to know the truth,
the truth is in the blood.
The blood covers everything.
Including what is written here.
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 5:54 AM UTC
People always complain about political correctness
Unless it's something important to them
Then they expect you to use empathetic indirectness
As to not hurt the feelings of men
I'm a homosexual talking to a stranger
They don't detect this
They say ****** and unleash my anger
They don't expect this
They were expecting me to be socially correct
To their bigoted views
They can't handle it when their hatred reflects
And they're given their due
I can't ask for a simple date
Or mention anything about God
I can't ask for their ****** state
That would imply that they're flawed
Yet they say I'm easily offended
But their argument is upended
When there are many topics I must avoid
Or hedge around
Otherwise they will get easily annoyed
And wear a frown
People say Donald Trump is politically incorrect
But that's not true
He's a hateful piece of ****
People confuse that with political incorrectness
But if about half the people who vote are pieces of ****
Can that really be said to be incorrect?
The idea of the president being politically incorrect is absurd
By virtue of being elected his politics are being endorsed
And endorsement is what comprises political correctness
He may know nothing of governance or diplomacy
But he was correct when it came to politics
I live in a country where I can say pretty much whatever I want
And then everyone else can react however they want
To be angry at someone's reaction is its own political correctness
They're just mad it's not their own specific politics being adhered to
So when people mention political correctness I laugh
It's a defensively reflexive path
When they live an unexamined life
But then complain about their plight
They think they're hated because they're white
They think they're hated because they're right
I dislike them because they have low empathy
So I don't want to be near that
Because their hatred starts to enter me
When they call me a queer ***
Then they expect me to love it
But instead I tell them to shove it
They tell me I'm being politically correct
Maybe it's their own lives they should inspect
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 11:31 PM UTC
"Tragedy of the grim fool"
Skinny little girl knows no rules
Reset her brain for grim little fool
Ate moldy food and rotten gruel.
For the growing heart she uses jagged tools
Chipped building blocks and rusted nails
Hammered souls breed a face with vales
Wearing mask her task she fails
All for food while fool set sail
Skinny little girl would scrape her knees
Hungry for fool in position to plead
Panhandle emotions dignity set free
Scorn and thorn by his laugh was she
Adored by her fans, but blind to their praise
Withered away with puffed cheeks that her tears graze
Fool applauded her corruption, endorsed her dismay
Her fans just stared as she fell of stage
With a thud she slumped to the cold paved floor
A circle gathered around once more
Scarlet fairies escaped her pores
Goodbye skinny little girl, fool has closed the door.
-Alexis J. Meighan-
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 11:44 PM UTC
Misgivings
taught,
fallacies
absorbed,
perceptions
formed,
lies
endorsed,
pain
enamoured,
hope
dormant,
meaning
strife,
decisions
diced,
aimlessness
concise
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 2:18 PM UTC
First, let’s talk about some of the lies
Uttered by the nefarious and unwise
Of a peculiar type of mindless insanity
Created and backed by the inanity
Of the Madison Avenue careerists
And hordes of conspiracy theorists
Who have taken the issue of a ****
And buried it in misconduct and greed.
It is important not to fall for the joke
That it is quite all right to smoke
Because smoking anything you pass
A dose of something called cyanic gas
Into your lungs, and perhaps minimal,
It’s the gas they use to execute criminals.
But, other uses for this homegrown stuff
Can help people whose lives are tough.
But the whole shooting match is a dodge
Started out by rich men in their fancy lodge
Fueled by ignorance and false piety
Written into law by a strangers to sobriety
That somehow had no problem with drinking
But thought being ****** was stinking thinking.
So they created movies and legends galore.
But repression is all the lies were ever for.
(There’s an old joke about a boss’s decree
About employees drinking ***** daily.
He issued the rule on the smell-free *****
That was drunk at lunch time by his crews,
Because he didn’t want customers hazy
Thinking his employees were going crazy.
He preferred they know they were inebriated
Rather than a staff full of the grossly pixilated.)
It was that kind of thinking that created
A fervor that up until today has not abated,
That named an easily grown garden plant
Into some kind of major anti-opium rant,
While opiates are endorsed by the AMA.
And hundreds of versions are here today
To cure the same ailments as cannabis
Without the side effects that are a nemesis.
Medical science is finally ignoring
A sacred cow that needed goring;
Suggesting to the country as a whole
That this simple plant can play a role
In helping those who need relief
And are being criminalized by a belief
That, accompanied with such sadness,
Was the true definition of ****** madness.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 7:57 PM UTC
I take from the rich
And I give
To the richer
Grow
Money trees
And then watch the world wither
I've slithered
In gardens of green
Dripping red
With a purity hood
Draping over my head
I have poisoned the fountain
Of youth
To retain
My control of this endless
Monopoly game
As my capital gains
A skyscraper a day
To the skyrocket
Stock market
Locke's do I pray
Upon all to be blessed
With lavish excess
But succession of kings
My investment ******
To breed wealthier nations
Uncommon in man
Through unhealthier rations'
Invisible Hand
Do I muppet the mouths
And harp on the heartstrings
As I tug on the chains
Of the slaves
Freedom rings
And that fat lady sings
All she wants
I will cling
To this power
With eagle-lied,
Vulturous talons
Devour
The will
And then **** the bills,
Billing blood that I spill
With impunity
Robbery,
Poverty
Property
I am the law
There is no order stopping me
No cherry topping me
No global powers’
High towers
Are topping me
No master forces endorsed
Are out-shopping me
Spending spree
On the lost souls
Now to bending knee
Fall
And enthrall in the terror
Of my urban sprawl
Making maggots of masses'
Automaton dreams
Into my gilded ages'
New pyramid schemes
You can call me a liar
Truth is
No concern
To the one who reigns fire
With oil to burn
Down upon the deniers
Until they all learn
I'll recruit body bags
To preach life to the choir
And when the screen lags
Train these dogs to play dead,
Lay their own on a wire
In so doing shred
The carnage they desire
So I can play God
And with demons conspire
A masterful plan
To command the economy
Zombie hive mind
Get in line
For lobotomy
My progeny
Multiply to consume
And consume
And consume
'Til the ******* last fume
Dissipates into space
The good fortunes of Earth
All amounting to waste
With the mother who nurtured you
***** and disgraced
The four steeds
Of Apocalypse
Nothing but paste
For I win every time
I with you
Humans race
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 9:01 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
He couldn’t resist,
The monkey reference
Racism you see, is
His personal preference
He wouldn’t congratulate
Out of due deference
His competition
Due to his irreverence
So what is his name?
You might well ask,
Ron DeSantis.
But don’t raise your glass
He’s already starting
To show his ***
And the voters of Florida
Might decide to pass
Even though hes' endorsed
By Donald Trump
Who’ll probably join him
On the campaign stump
Hoping it will give him
Some kind of bump
Though in fact it might place him
In a fatal slump
Now, Andrew Gillum,
The Democrat
Talks to the people
Where they are at
About real issues
While chewing the fat
And artfully avoiding
The brick-a-brat
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018. All rights reserved.
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 3:47 PM UTC
i wish i could write like you,
the poster child of poetry.
i wish i could tear apart my brain,
seek out all the words worthy of writing,
and paint them onto paper
like an artist in his prime.
i wish i could change lives,
mend hearts,
and enlighten minds,
simply with my words.
i wish i could breathe new life,
new meaning,
into a tragically meaningless string
of twenty-six letters.
i wish i could be like you,
the poster child of poetry.
but i'm not.
in fact,
as we speak,
i am questioning
where to go with this poem,
or whether i should go through with it at all.
as we speak,
my mind is racing,
and yet i can't get a single **** thought down.
as we speak,
life is continuing in its endlessness;
*words are being spoken and prayers are being answered and changes are being made;
breaths are being stolen and smiles are being formed and happiness is being spread.*
as we speak,
*wars are being waged and injustices are being overlooked and hatred is being endorsed;
trees are being burned and rivers are being drained and death is being glorified.*
as we speak,
the world is turning;
the clock is ticking;
the world is changing.
and yet
as we speak,
all i can think about
is you.
(a.m.)
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 2:59 PM UTC
you need not be looking / looked upon so aloft with the music, of course it's dramatic settling the heart to a frenzy - less happily endorsed feet dancing, alt. Jews in Europe rather than Muslims in a similar state of geographic - they call all appreciators of classical music fascists these days, it doesn't matter.... what matters is that the heart once danced, and the feet were wheelchair bound - but now the heart is wheelchair bound, crippled... and the feet dance, indeed, a dance of fiddled thumbs of a confused coliseum spectacle awaiting Caesar's nod.
~48 hours away from seeing Nabucco
at the Royal Opera House;
i better get drunk before the opera,
so that i might cry at
the chorus of the Hebrew slaves -
gold-digger of tears at my christening;
that old hummingbird;
take a Scotch pouch of whiskey into
the toilet for a one-two impromptu
and a nutmeg past the goalkeeper -
whatever high European culture professes,
the countryside alliance will always
make peasants of us all.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 11:07 PM UTC
Your Wreath, Un-Thrifting Essence, bears his Name
And Fine be your Acts soothe such Heavy Hand
Which Time boost as his Protector and Sage
Skimming the Dirt infect his Rising Sand
Though one would Wonder why such Blogger speak
Of Secrets known must bequeath to the Few
Though in your Boy's Best Fate subdue the Meek
Out of Best Concern his Wild Growth does stew
So persistent be our same Wonder at
Those Keys deserved should never be Endorsed
For his own Respect; As ours Mature that
Let the Gentleman go if his Plays be Forced.
My Loyalty, still, Un-Conditioned will be
Though Swords still stab on such Smile you Reprieve.
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 2:56 AM UTC
Who art thou actually to me?
That is certainly a difficult question;
to which I might have been able not
to giveth a precise answer.
Thou who were yesterday a friend;
and who conversed even so casually
with me back then;
now hath so dearly caught me
and captivated me
that I am not sure of who thou art;
and what room doth thou possess
within th' very kingdom of my heart.
Ah, and tonight, at this very rigorous,
and laborious night
Thou lured and tempted me into thy charms;
and embraced me within thy friendly realms.
Oh, querida, how I want thee too much-
simply too much!
Mi carino, mi amor;
and in fairy tales, as they are supposed to be
Thou would be my senor
And my maiden self thy senorita.
Mi amor de la príncipe!
If only thou knoweth-of how much I desire thee!
But I was sure not-it was but seemingly
unforgivable uncertainty;
whilst thou sat there and laughed beside me;
and I gazed into those patient eyes of thine.
I love thee tenderly, as thou doth emerge
within my silent dreams;
I love thee dearly, as thou didst, tonight,
craved and shaped the wit
and wise sweetness of my heart.
Thou art no-one else but my fiery dreams;
ah, thou art the one I love-
the only one I love indeed!
Thou, with the music of thy soul so sweet,
which captured my emotions so swiftly;
and entangled my passion so sweetly.
Ah, tonight-just tonight,
how thou endorsed my feelings,
and cured my daring longings!
As though in a wakeful dream,
no matter absurd it may seem;
this I declare with unbearable-
yet steady sureness:
I would love thee, surely and tranquilly,
and I hope just that thou would love me
Just like thou art already inside me;
and just how fate hath so fiercely placed
this very dear heart of mine, within thee.
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 7:28 PM UTC
Solomon smiled,
chanced a stretch and blew
the obligatory bubble
to the captive audience.
Solomon smiled
and formed his first proverb
of the day
concerning the foolishness
of worrying about anything.
Solomon smiled,
and after some deep,
wet-fingered thoughts
concluded that both love
and money
are best held on an open hand.
Solomon smiled,
and nodded along to songs
that he'd someday pen,
content for now to test his grip
on an offered finger.
Solomon smiled,
and settled into the joy of a hug,
in the warmth of a cuddle
and promised to anyone listening
that he'd live in the moment,
so long as it was a moment
such as this.
Father God smiled,
endorsed every thought,
every word
and promised Solomon
more of the same.
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 7:53 AM UTC
The buzzing of the phone
a hand held device
that gets in the way of a hand holding life
and you can lie awake at night with thousands of "friends"
but I have a **** hard time believing
this was what Zuckerberg intends
when he says "what's on your mind?"
but nobody wants to know
unless your thoughts are endorsed
as was your image which was forced
filtering out reality
true colors getting dimmer
and when you're looking in the mirror
but you can't see yourself anymore
without the edits and "corrections"
and the comments "such a *****
that creep into your subconscious
'til you can't take it anymore
and somewhere in the iCloud
a thing went very wrong
when you were sprawled out in bed naked
in your bra and in your thong
and now the whole world thinks they own you
and you've gone and lost yourself
and that phone has taken everything
forget connection, where's your health
healthy relationship
why's your bed so ******* cold
you've got your hand held device
but where's your real life hand to hold?
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 2:53 PM UTC
i.
Debased, feeling unworthy, I was a shackled, debackled
Seeking, looking, yearning, in all the wrong place's;
Seeing a billion face's, none I couldst connecteth to
I sought a spirit, an unknown so true, one to maketh me alive
ii.
Betwixt the contour of blood and gore, that this place hath spilt
Lava poured downward, no smelling perfume's, devil endorsed;
I bit mine lip's from the pinch of the blaze, demon's eye's glazed
None water, none rain, as tis this dungeon was a devlish porch
iii.
In shock, mine pupil's rolled to the back of mine bone
I felteth left behind, none amour', none more safety abode;
BLASTTTTTTTTTTT, cameth a flicker, a Cosmos shaking
The earth quaking, beneath mine toe's, mine being felteth whole
iv.
I cleped out this stardust cloaked Reyna's name, O' goddess
Whence thou cometh, thee is it, I've known from past living's;
I grabbed tightly, to her Filipino strand garb, as I felt the falling rain stain's cometh down her cheek's, Hi Brandon, I'm Mrs nagley
v.
Kilig hadst grabbed mine inside's, as for with her I took a ride
We spaceshipped to the milky way, I met archangel's of divine;
Here was none time, just ion's of delighting peace, west and east
I bowed mine cranium, as I kneweth she was mine wife, O' life.
O' angelic saving wife.........
©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane nagley/Filipino rose/ saved mine life dedication
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 6:06 PM UTC
Like the raindrops that once rendered a kiss
Upon my dripping, wonting lips
You watched as the words formed and took shape
And fluttered gently without escape
And by your eyes did I despise
Each time that I had not to them lied
For you saw heartache in my chest,
And softly put my head to breast
To lay and weep and hope to live
The sound of my dying was corrosive.
-
Each breath and tear beneath enigma
Was cause enough for wretched stigma
Although you hadn't broken it
My heart was worth its weight in ****
And as I passed, you looked forlorn,
Forboding silence on an awaiting shore,
Pretending not to love is worse
Than losing all you had endorsed,
If fate is naught but falsehood's truth,
I'd give the world to not be rid of you.
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 1:38 AM UTC
If Overthinking was a contested sport
I'm sorry but I'm sure I'd have 8 gold medals and be endorsed
It's something I wish I was nowhere near as good at as I am of course
If self doubt was a state of mind.
That'd be a constant for me I'd find.
I don't know why, but I'm always quick to criticize
Myself, my playing of music and most of all my rhymes.
I guess if I was a film I'd probably be pulp fiction
Out of order and nonsensical to some,
But to someone with a similar sense of vision
My tatters would be silken robes
And she'd be Cleopatra maybe... I don't know.
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC
Whatever Happened to Ethical Morality?
Mario William Vitale
As a Catholic, it bothers me to see. An ever increasing judgmental spirit among parishoners. We have become lax toward the sacraments & scriptures. Instead, we have imposed a new breed of highly sophisticated intellectuals who know it all. Yet who are they fooling? By reading the scriptures, not God? For God is not some man that he should lie. Nor the son of man that he should change his mind.
Further, we have endorsed abortion on demand. Do we think it nothing to **** the unborn in their mother’s womb all for the sake of convenience? No one questions anymore & no one has a voice until now. Am I that voice crying out in the wilderness? As long as God hears that’s quite all right with me.
What happened to ethical morality? We have embraced a culture of death. Relied on war zones we call schools. We elect politicians that embrace death in their mothers womb. Sadly, this is the current state that we are facing as a nation. It’s time to stand up and be heard before it’s too late!
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 9:12 AM UTC
Carpenter hands
Painter's pants
Shirts stained with
Tough white - marks that
Stump even Billy Mayes
(this poem not endorsed by Oxi-Clean, the easy stain remover)
But that's okay -
It gives you character
The way that each pizza
Crust has a different flavor
Texture, color, thickness
It's all a new experience
Right?
Soft-white glow of your
Phone at night
The window to the left
Letting in the streetlight
It's nice, you and I
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 12:01 PM UTC
We chanced to take the course, and met in photo class
Quickly cognizant of our potential force, we began in photo class.
Soon the laughter beat the silence, and our hugs grew elastic,
Our voices went hoarse, every forty minutes in photo class.
The cluttered darkroom echoed against our knowing eyes,
With blinks we spoke Morse, side by side in photo class.
The crimson bulbs inspired new love outside our negatives,
With no rules to enforce, it was him and her, and me in photo class.
Now black and white are outdated, in film and in love,
Yet the couple once endorsed still gnaws, and I wait, in photo class.
May 21, 2010
May 21, 2010 at 9:11 AM UTC
I sit here and anticipate the pain
As I reflect on this most recent
Revolution around the sun
Alone in a steamer trunk full of memories
Your seductive smile from across the room
Has hardened into a glare of disdain and
Contempt which freezes my heart with each icy glare
Your scent like jasmine flowers wafting on a cool breeze
Filling my aura with joy has soured
Into putrid and stagnant pools of revulsion
Your laughter once the driving force behind my self-esteem
Has been silenced by disgust and horror
My wit no longer clever to your mind
My sarcasm no longer endorsed by your approval
These tattered remnants of hope drift
Between my fingers like a moth eaten quilt
Once my muse, my reason for creating, the inspiration for the god within
Has taken flight for another star
And left me with this ink stained scar
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 10:12 PM UTC
Now in case your brain stem is loose
I'm a big fan of Dr. Seuss
And clearly a few of my screws are loose
at least I'm not crazy like a moose
Now, for those that remember Sam I Am
he heavily endorsed Green Eggs And ham
persistently and though he cajoled And coaxed
the other party wouldn't eat them, not on a plane
not on a train, not with a goat, and not on a boat
not here, nor there, he wouldn't eat them anywhere!
However I'm much older now and now I can say,
that old rhyming story holds truth even today
so put away all your prejudgements and prejudices
Because something beautiful has come by, and if you let that cloud your mind, you'll miss it.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 2:00 AM UTC