"malfeasance" poems
Leg off 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 omega
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 those 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 shiit storm
with those hostile priicks
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
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 1:12 PM UTC
The squirrels played havoc around the house,
picking stuffing from the porch swing,
packing it into their cheeks, until they were swollen,
pregnant, to fluff their nests with synthetic cotton.
They bounded about the yard stopping to squeeze
fallen walnuts, like supermarket melons, to see
if they were ripe or rotten. Their neighbors,
the gopher and raccoon and rabbit
were overrun by the squirrels myriad brood.
Some (squirrels) sought refuge in refuse, chewing large
holes in the trash bins. This would feed many a raccoon’s
hungry mouth, but none of them would show thanks.
When the numbers began to spill over from the trees,
the squirrels began occupying the gutters, causing sheets
of ice to cataract, frozen down the sides of the house,
and then when the old man found stuffing from his swing
in the attic, enough had become enough. Something
had to be done. This blatant malfeasance must
be dealt with, and so he would devise a plan, a trap.
The old man stood watching the plump little devils
bounce and leap around his yard, when he saw the bin.
And wriggling the fingers on his upturned paw, a sinister
plan curled onto his face in a dark smile. He went out
to the trash bin and filled it with water, only halfway,
no more. He dropped a lightly pumped, bald
basketball into the bin, and smiled when the first
squirrel drowned in it. Everyday, the old man wriggled
his fingers and smiled his dark smile,
until he found synthetic swing stuffing
in his bed, and realized he had lost.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 1:07 PM UTC
My auspicious and audacious assault augments the annoyance of aged accomplices.
My bodacious broadside of boffolas berates and buffaloes bros beneficently.
A classy crusade Clownishly chiseling and criticizing childishness.
A devilish ********** of dillydallying dullards; devoutly denying dimwits the dulcet dream of defiance.
Excessive, exuberant edification, ebulliently eliminating education-evictees.
A fair-weather frolic in flippancy with furious fools floundering in flawed foppishness.
Gregariously grating glum guys gleefully, growing grander garnishes of gripping gallantry gaily.
Heckling hooligans highlights my heavenly humor.
Irreverently irking irritable, iniquitous idiots in inestimably infuriating and incredible instances.
A jolly, jocular **** joking with jerks.
A kreiger kicking kleptomaniacs in the karyotype. (Cut me some slack, this is 'k', after all.)
A ludicrous, laughing lambaste of lollygagging lunatics, loftily loosing luscious lunacy on lucky losers.
A magnificent masterpiece of malfeasance, a monstrous, malevolent mission of massive misfortune for the minor minors missing no malicious missive.
A noxious, narcissistic niggling of nitwits, niftily nixing the noisome naivete of niggardly nobs.
An offhand, off-color outburst of outlandish observations to outclass the obnoxious overtures of obsequious offal.
A pragmatic prediction of possible platitudes or platypi, a placid parley of pyrotechnic pleasantries provoking Pyrrhic protections by prurient prats.
A quixotic quibble quarreling with a queer quarry.
Ribald ribbing, ruining the robust reality of the repreachful, repugnant, and rapacious with risque ridiculousness.
A silly, slighting slander of sluglike slavishness, succinctly sinking sloppy simpletons sourly.
Tracing the titillating talent of towing tyranny to towering terrors to tactless, togless, terrapins of the times.
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 11:25 PM UTC
For it is written to grant forgiveness
No matter difference or malfeasance
To never speak ill of one another
Or deny each other our subsistence
All men are created equal parchment
Holding these truths to be self-evident
The oppression of the Kings colony
Patriotic revolutionary
Migrating minds irrational to sane
Reserved safe harbor but to others pain
Land of self-righteousness and victory
Exceptionalism and destiny
Ships billowing with holds of chattel slaves
Fractional human beings ordained graves
Until brother killed brother for freedom
Assassination emancipation
Forty acres and a mule recompense
Jim Crow separate but equal pretense
Lynch mob street justice terrorism rope
Vietnam veteran unable to cope
James Earl Ray bullet Memphis balcony
Bull Connor another dead Kennedy
Black power fist raised Mexico City
Malcolm X panther Muhammed Ali
White supremacy freedom riders dead
Mississippi white cross on fire dread
Rodney King can’t we just get along plea
Is skin color all we will ever see?
Should they get over their Mockingbird past
Should they burn the city or should they fast?
Oh Lord should we turn a cheek in silence
Or fight with Kings dream of non-violence?
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 10:39 PM UTC
Some where he sits or gorily sleeps
The blank stare behind a rigid cut
Eyes of a seductive Mongoloid
Offering nothing for the poison of the sea
The arbitrary swirls of mechanical time pieces
Add heavy track to this an
already shady beat
all the While A reproduction of some Germanic doll
Shrinks smaller into the keyholes
of his frontal lobe
A pleasant amnesia of the purist kind
This anglo doll she is now just a capsized pin
Her black and white knee socks mold into a geosed canvas
Ready to be re-painted with all the emotions he has left
What if I told you I loved you?
By the stairs with the works of post-modern misunderstanding
But it will be just a whisper of shear for the racket builds upward
The spinning mechanics joined by the school busses stopping forever
Yes that statement of old is clearly devoid
Merrily a swallow’s anthem
An absurd tangent of malfeasance
Almost a monosyllabic destruction
Only some misshapen coke spoons remain
As well asthe hands of a man who is much safer out of bed
The saline was much too dodgy
And the sheets…..Well they were never clean
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 9:11 AM UTC
**your demeanor
is highly suspect,
attempting to disguise
malfeasance neath a heart
of fortified wrought iron,
Machiavellian by nature
still, you have your wily ways
like that of the allure of roses
within prickling thorns,
twisted of laughable
frivolous superficiality
and reckoning's bereavement**
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC
It’s Springtime.
The hours, the days pass quicker,
especially to folks already in their
late seventies, or eighties…
a cool breeze blowing easily brings
back good times, bringing smiles
to their wrinkled faces...to some,
rage and sorrow are resurrected,
recalling, how they lost loved ones,
all that they've had, through ways
unlawful, how they pined for truth,
justice, and freedom...time is too
slow for for them...some choose
to forget, but couldn't...
malfeasance is a habit, a way of life.
The privileged ones bask in the
brightest of comforts…impregnable
walls of their fortresses have made
them blind and deaf to the woes
and the doldrums outside.
The "unsolved" remain unsolved,
the "miserable" are now despondent,
the needy, the hungry, in greater
need...are even hungrier...drifting,
wherever their needs take them,
some minds have gotten used to
distorted versions of democracy,
existing on uncertain airs and waters.
Being bereft.......takes its toll.
Past awakenings were wasted.
eyes...minds opened, and closed.
those outside the walls, patiently
await...nothing is ever permanent.
sally b
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
February 18, 2023
-<O>-
OZYMANDIAS
(Percy Bysshe Shelley)
I met a traveller from an antique land,
2Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
3Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
4Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
5And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
6Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
7Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
8The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
9And on the pedestal, these words appear:
10My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
11Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
12Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
13Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
14The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
Mar 14, 2023
Mar 14, 2023 at 8:41 PM UTC
Swanky sauntering swagger of a sashay. Verve’s chutzpah, moxie savvy's panache, dexterously agile acuity. Articulate coordinated excellence and prowess’s talented exceptional. Objectified manifest's eidetic prospectus's invertible investiture's infinite possibilities perpetrate incorporeity ideology's perfectible ontology!
Intrepid intuitive intrigue, mystical magical multifariously versatile nefarious nemesis. Malfeasance evocative tout, execrating eventuation evocative expletives, executant tour de force entelechy's apotheosis. Ne plus ultra irrefragable opulence, erudite illuminism numinous piquant poignancy. Dynamic livid lurid vagile puissance. Lucid orotund sonorous fecund resilience.
Eloquent exuberance felicitous transcendent epiphany. Nuance tactile audacious preternatural metaphysical clairvoyant imperative. Augur quantum ominous avant-garde profundity, virulent vivid indomitably indefatigable cogent fatidic, quintessential deft. Celerity innovative veracious metamorphic, adroit nimble avid austere.
Fulgurous astute atman clever crafty rapacious sagacious. Effulgent zealous fastuous temerity machismo enunciation diction, imperative repartee. Exserted protuberance educement proclivities succinctly ostentatious. Ardent arduous inductive adamant incursion ostensible hornswoggling swashbuckler!
Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 2:55 AM UTC
The ignorant live in their own small world,
Hidden by a lack of understanding;
The many lies they hear are never unfurled,
They're sheltered by belief in a being;
Even some who swear their veracity,
Thrive gaily protected by their credence;
They welcome menace and mendacity,
Pushing away actual malfeasance.
But the ignorant can only see grace,
In their paradise they live cheerfully;
Their faults are invisible in that place,
While the rest of us remain fearfully.
Sadly ignorance will always be bliss,
And I will always notice what I miss.
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 12:31 PM UTC
Though I age with bodys' warp
Malfeasance in its' ancient walk,
Yeah, though I sag to feel those pains
A spark within this conciousness remains...
Within a fizzing psych, enthrals...
Where birth and death's transition calls...
As I exult with joyous shout
Now having gleaned what it's about...
This BEING...with its' lemon tang
This laughter...as the blackbird sang
Beneath a magic sky of blue
My incandescence glows for you.
M.
16 June 2016
(For darling Janet)
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 9:44 PM UTC
I've shouldered heartache, shouldered pain
And I have taken all the blame
For through my weakness of volition,
I've relinquished all ambition
To be more than just a vacant gazer,
Like one who claims their soul is braver,
Yet capitulates before the saber.
And man excels in lies and treason,
Extinguishes the age of reason
For if all men are free to think,
Then surely the Leviathan must sink
And with it take down all degrees of
malfeasance is stormy seas,
And from the ashes birth and rise,
a phoenix silhouettes the skies
Who pirouettes and sparks with glee,
Arching towards the bourgeoise
And whenceforth now but down below
This sinking pit you surely know
Cannot be held, cannot be kept
Our Natures toil their final breath
And with the fall of all from grace,
The wolves oh long ago they raced
For all there is a time to rise
Our ignorance lay in our eyes
Through history I again recite,
That dawn doth fade before the night
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 7:26 PM UTC
Upon appearance of an untitled poem with no body in my Drafts
<>
never have I ever
written an untitled poem,
nor painted a human sans
a head; arms, legs, o.k., but,
but when the purging urging
enwraps me at 12:22 in the AM,
i cannot birth my babies
stillborn,
unnamed, forlorn,
it’s every breath would be
an accusation, of breach, malfeasance,
a child nameless, is the worst of all orphans,
the poem’s title is its inner essence, a preface,
a forward, and epilogue, just as your names is
both begin and end, a hint of who you are and from
whence you came, and where you are bound to be bound,
it is your birth name, and final resting place, a hint of who you
we’re, ared destined to become, to be, and to come,
an entitlement!
ah you curse or bless, thy given name, no longer do
you examine it, write it repeatedly, to despise or admire
the sounds of it exiting thy mouth, a roomful of teeth
and tongue in concert cooperating and conniving, silky
hissing your who-you-are-ness, you, who are poem, exist not,
cannot be, without your entitlement; ah you pause and say
to the sleeping woman who neither hears nor cares,
who am I, who I am, and the differences
entre deux
that are my
character
yes, a untitled poem is forever
unwished, unfinished
unwashed?
and to eternity, forever lost,
unsigned, unconsigned,
unfortunate
unconsummated
Feb 6, 2024
Feb 6, 2024 at 7:36 AM UTC
He knew it would take muchos huevos to play,
but his game plan was good, and he’d be okay.
Cause his were as big as the black or the bay
patrolling with tabletop backs that were stacked
with corrupt, hairy pigs who loved to talk smack,
and who bristled with weapons to fend off attack.
And, though the opiners would say it was rash,
he never could stand it to sit on his ***
So, he hurled his armored gelatinous mass
with a splurge of insouciance at all those legs.
The guards slung pejoratives – bent to fillet
his ovoid trajectory into a splay
of malfeasance – but their slashes only caught air
as he flew like a mortar past their stony glare
and that bold lettered sign he had read as a dare:
“Tis Forbidden To Sit On the Wall” -- the King
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 10:14 PM UTC
*Fathered by a fantasy of ideal expectation
Nurtured by the fallacy of promisory’s sought,
Living out the lies of appearance as priority
Content in the hollowness of misconceptions taught.
Wafting through the days in a cloud of preconceptions
Drifting in a lifetime of falsehoods rendered loud,
Teetered on the brink of a precipice, precarious,
Arguing malfeasance in empty tones of proud.
Blinkered to collapse of society in freefall
Unseeing of the seething fraud which permeates the globe,
Blind to the bombing and the gunshots in the avenues
Sadly unseeing of unsightly flanks disrobed.
Perilously cloistered in a crowd of like admirers
Jostling for position in this flimsy house of cards.
Sipping pink champagne in a plume of sick pretentiousness
Ignoring words of warning with a haughty disregard.
Slipping to a flagfall in a shocking fall of failure
Slipping to a flagfall in a pall of choking dust,
Slipping to a flagfall in the hues of sad surrender
Sagging to oblivion in a staining sea of rust.*
Marshalg
Auckland NZ
May 1 2014
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 1:42 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Is it fact, or fiction?
Or just his predilection
For causing so much friction
Before his contradiction
How easily he lies
Now, he wouldn’t be surprised
If Russia actually did it
Though it took time to admit it.
We listened and were patient
Despite our aggravation
To his strange explanation
As he addressed a nation
That is used to his pedantics
But weary of his antics
Of blaming mere semantics
Like he is on some Chantix
Of course that’s a joke
I know he doesn’t smoke
Though he drinks lots of Coke
More than the average bloke
And do not ask me why?
We can count on him to lie
While attempting to deny
By way of alibi
In search of a reason
Was it weakness? Was it treason?
That led to his malfeasance
Which one should get credence?
The jury is still out,
But NO COLLUSION! he’ll still shout
Though there is little doubt
As to what it’s all about
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018. All rights reserved.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 4:40 PM UTC
Onward then does Time ascend the eons it does build
Within the endless void of space which never shall be filled
Deep within the eons past, a Potency there compels
Horrors be extended from Evils which are Hells’
And herein do I dwell within Hell’s castle keep
With keys I do open doors and let the evils creep
Avarice and malfeasance let loose to run amuck
Despair and sorrow following, causing their havoc
Slimes that ooze and glisten with names that you know well
Cultivate and incubate the tribulations that are Hells’
I unleash the Hounds of Hell, in silence do I watch
Devoutly do they search - for souls they will debauch
Hounds of Hell cause someone to bid their soul adieu …
And now, my festered eyes await the soul they’ll bring from YOU!
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 7:37 AM UTC
If I were member of the infamous Donner Party I would know not my volition anymore than what the future has in store for even one iota , Or universe held by fingers ? .. Have no recollection nor proof , faith , benevolent God or Goddess as I witness numerous horror , afflictions, malfeasance of King and governed be it Man , Woman or Child ?
I wholeheartedly refrain slander , judgement upon societies forgotten , betrayed by countryman and Much speaks , forgotten soldiers , tortured mind , aging flesh with mania that lay abandoned upon the very dirt they committed under oath to protect ?
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 10:12 AM UTC
(Sung to the melody of Frank Sinatra's "My Way")
And so, I'm standing here
To say an oath and pledge allegiance.
Though some will cry and jeer
And accuse me of malfeasance,
The fact that I can stand
Before you now in a tough-guy way
Proves that you can be like me
By doing things my way.
Yes, I've stiffed a few,
But that's my disposition.
That's what you have to do
To carry forth your mission.
I knew what I was doing;
I was acting in a sly way.
Just do what I tell you
And do things my way.
You might not like the things I say
Or what I do, but that's okay.
Celebs like me have it made.
Just don't drop the masquerade.
It's all the same; just play the game
And do things my way.
I've had three wives. So what!
I've had just two divorces.
The news? Don't watch that ****
I've found better sources.
I didn't get this far
By choosing the just-get-by way.
Since life is dog eat dog
Just do things my way.
You never know who you can *****
Until you shift your point of view.
Remember: ***** before you're *******
At times be crass; at times be lewd.
Make up the rules; treat them like fools
By doing things my way.
Yes, do things my way.
- by Bob B (1-19-17)
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 12:41 AM UTC
I've worn the bejeweled crown of a string doll prince worked with innumerable ploys and tricks .
Suffered the false admiration of the disingenuous , robbed blind by great thespians ..
Left my heart to fend for itself among insatiable howling packs of wolves ..
Offered my soul as a stepping stone for ungrateful friends with self centered inclinations and selective memories.
Knowingly trained my replacement without thought of vindication , counseled many fair weather associates in their moment of frailty who have long since forgotten my name and disavow any such deliberations.
I've repaired plumbing , installed HVAC systems , troubleshooted DIY malfeasance and performed every kind of home repair one could ever dream for free on behalf of family members that wouldn't **** on my burning corpse without charging me a fee !
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 8:40 PM UTC
*She fell for wonderland
Now that her mind's taking over
she takes a gander and wonders
if she could understand
Minimal hand holding,
she felt a sense of control
beyond her natural limits
and met her inner soul
And it was smiling back;
they had a conversation,
praising the gift and the curse
that come with ruling nations
Corrupt insinuation,
standing ovation to a leader's malfeasance
like a "crowd-pleasing" situation
It told her to breathe
She saw her love and her fire
Her wants were thrown to the flames,
and burning with desire
The air around her was pleasant,
and compared to the toxic and suffocating reality,
a refreshing present
The water's effervescence
felt like diminishing truths,
and every second was shackled
with fear of evanescence
This dream is liberating,
lucid enough to abuse it,
and yet the fear of awaking is very irritating
Is she falling in peace,
or falling to pieces?
She's now feeling the sheets,
but refusing to leave this!
"I am nothing without this,
I'm begging you to wait up!"
(You're terrified without us,
we're getting you to WAKE UP!)
"I'm with the love of my life"
(...but it's only a dream)
"Immune to cuts from my knife"
(...but it's only a dream)
"Dining with those that I've lost"
(...but it's only a dream)
"Willing to pay any cost!"
(...but it's only a dream)
"Heavenly taste of this world"
(...but it's only a dream)
"I'll buy more time with these pearls...!"
(...but it's only a dream)
"I'm satisfied with my looks!"
but it's only a dream!*
You're so lonely, it seems!
**THE WORST WE'VE EVER SEEN!
THE WORST WE'VE EVER SEEN!**
...
*If she could understand,
she'd take a gander and wonder
whether her mind should take over
and fall for wonderland,
but the love of her life
and her family members
surround her hospital bed;
they pray that she remembers...
...that people love her,
and life is gray,
but we give it color.*
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 2:54 PM UTC
Whistleblowers, do not falter!
Blow those whistles! Sound the alarm!
Although your silence might be safer,
Ultimately, it does more harm.
Whistleblowers, keep exposing
Malfeasance where it occurs.
Even though you have to face
All the wrongdoers' smears and slurs.
Whistleblowers, point out corruption,
Abuse of power, fraud, deceit,
And widespread hypocrisy.
Apply some pressure; turn up the heat.
Whistleblowers, do not fear
Corrupt leaders who call you spies
Merely because you reveal
Their deceptive behavior and lies.
Whistleblowers, be for us
Courageous ones who do what's right.
Let the truth saturate
The findings that you bring to light.
Whistleblowers, do not falter!
Blow those whistles! Sound the alarm!
Although your silence might be safer,
Ultimately, it does more harm.
-by Bob B (9-28-19)
Sep 28, 2019
Sep 28, 2019 at 10:05 AM UTC
We are all connected,
But more mechanically than spiritually.
We are all friends on Facebook,
Yet - who are we, virtually?
We have shared pictures,
But do we share significance?
We have private chats,
And everything else;
But is that not malfeasance?
A malfeasance of all
That is sacred and real
About being really human.
We have parties and watering holes,
A grand, good old time.
But do we see ourselves?
In truth we should also be peering inward,
Unless we are ready
To look at it one day
And see empty corridors.
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 9:26 AM UTC