"mayors" poems
Governors,
Mayors,
Policemen,
Night keepers,
Men folk and all of you
On the crest of powers that be
Don’t brutalize prostitutes,
Nor mishandle ******
Or terrorize harlots,
They were born natural
Innocent and callow
With plain white brains
Not tainted with any miss-morals,
Genuine in hearts
And humane in the genesis,
Until they grew up
Beyond father and mother
Clan and relatives,
Into the realm of money civilizations,
Where man and woman,
Must sell to survive,
Sell the wares of trade,
Commodities and tools of work,
Where men sell labour of their arms
To those crafty buyers,
And women sell smiles,
And the ******** of their *****
To serve vice of man
In the glory of warped thought,
Prostitutes have no tribe,
Neither class nor race,
They have no permanent foe
Nor permanent friend,
They have no permanent memory,
Their love is devoid of logic,
They love most but fickle,
Where they make no money
And love least but with nostalgia
where they make money,
So don’t brutalize them,
Only love them,
Pay them,
Kiss them fondly
And sing to them,
Lyrical songs of love,
Sent them to lull and slumber
With your sensuous ******
Of their ******** fountains,
Both male and female
****** of your rendezvous.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 6:46 AM UTC
Laughter
Laughter explosions
Diabolic cruelty
That crude red carving
The grinning maw
Of the purity devouring beast
Know best for his face
His maliciously insane
Irrational thought patterns
He laughs at a two word phrase
As he caves in a woman's face
Sprays bleach and mace
from a fake flower on his chest
Lobs hand grenades recklessly
Muttering jokes that only he fully understands
Minions bent to his twisted humor
Severed limbs and organs sent
With personally crafted limericks
Fourteen inch barrel
.44 Magnum revolver
Crash a clown car into rush hour traffic
Feed the mayors poodle
To a pack of hyenas
Grease paint white face
Toxic green locks, slicked back
Red Cheshire cat grin
Ear to ear
Like the mouth of a demon of madness
Do not ponder why he laughs
He laughs because he must.
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 5:37 PM UTC
POLAND, France, Judea ran in her veins,
Singing to Paris for bread, singing to Gotham in a fizz at the pop of a bottle's cork.
"Won't you come and play wiz me" she sang ... and "I just can't make my eyes behave."
"Higgeldy-Piggeldy," "Papa's Wife," "Follow Me" were plays.
Did she wash her feet in a tub of milk? Was a strand of pearls sneaked from her trunk? The newspapers asked.
Cigarettes, tulips, pacing horses, took her name.
Twenty years old ... thirty ... forty ...
Forty-five and the doctors fathom nothing, the doctors quarrel, the doctors use silver tubes feeding twenty-four quarts of blood into the veins, the respects of a prize-fighter, a cab driver.
And a little mouth moans: It is easy to die when they are dying so many grand deaths in France.
A voice, a shape, gone.
A baby bundle from Warsaw ... legs, torso, head ... on a hotel bed at The Savoy.
The white chiselings of flesh that flung themselves in somersaults, straddles, for packed houses:
A memory, a stage and footlights out, an electric sign on Broadway dark.
She belonged to somebody, nobody.
No one man owned her, no ten nor a thousand.
She belonged to many thousand men, lovers of the white chiseling of arms and shoulders, the ivory of a laugh, the bells of song.
Railroad brakemen taking trains across Nebraska prairies, lumbermen jaunting in pine and tamarack of the Northwest, stock ranchers in the middle west, mayors of southern cities
Say to their pals and wives now: I see by the papers Anna Held is dead.
2.1k
Every time you take a leap
There’s someone pulling on your shoe
To pull you back and try to keep
You from doing what you do
Naysayers!
Jealous ones,
Block-your-sun,
Wreck-your-fun
Gloom mayors
The ones who simply won’t believe
You hold the power to achieve
But they don’t know what you can do
How strong you are, they don’t know you
So we won’t let them in our way
We’ll pay no mind to nayers’ say
They’ll have to judge us from afar
For they don’t know just what we are:
No-fretters
Can’t-bother-me
Get-off-my-tree
“I-will-succeed”
Go-getters
Soon enough they’ll surely see
Just how mighty we can be
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 8:30 PM UTC
Bring about a second war,
or pack up - and go home.
We can't accept apologies
from Sicily or Rome.
We can't impart cartography
to mayors without maps.
And no one wades the rivers here,
and water fills the cracks.
And water, liquid power naps,
repels us at the coast,
But draws us in at pipeline ends
and haunts us like Dad's ghost.
I died sometime, the future came,
and everybody smirked
and asked me, while we waited
for my casket, if it hurt.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 1:17 AM UTC
We give thanks to the managers,
the presidents and CEOs.
We give thanks to the owners,
the govenors and heroes.
We give thanks to the leaders,
for all that they do.
We give thanks to the mayors,
and the supervisors too.
We see what they do,
and give thanks every day.
For roles so important,
don't they deserve all the praise?
But what about the one
who cleans up the mess,
that you didn't even consider
picking up when you left?
And what about the one
who holds open the door,
for ten hours each day
all while being ignored?
And what about the one
who drives you around?
In a car all day driving
rushed and rude people to town.
We admire the collage,
and we thank the artist too.
But do we ever take the time
to stop and thank the glue?
What would hold it together
if it were not there?
Who would pick up after you,
or drive you from here to there?
All the people in charge
may create a masterpiece,
but without the glue to hold it,
it would all just fall to pieces.
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 1:23 PM UTC
Though like the kings and queens was she
Born who in lordly bricks palatially dwell,
And like the presidents that rule by majority
Votes the Republic, and like the verily well-
Pruned governors and mayors of states and cities
That live by the plough of the citizenry,
And like those folks of noble duties
Who delicately deck and behave benighly;
Yet this live in inclement circumstances, a
Woman nuts and partly **** The round-
About her abode hath been and there the sheila--
Come rain, come shine--is lugubriously found.
Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 6:15 AM UTC
Death be nimble, Death be quick.
Walls of decaying urban brick
rotten scars of surfaced pain
scratched away by city cranes.
Landfills and houses fill the rest
behold the putrid angels nest,
mayors of blind, children of deaf
tongues removed from gifted chef.
Brothers and sisters fade alike
rusted daggers flawless strike
Hearts of lions dull alone
Hard men's withered fingers groan.
Light forsaken in cities dead
plagues of sorrow swiftly spread
today is dying, morrow's sick,
Death be nimble, Death be quick.
Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 3:00 PM UTC
The Pearl of the Orient is the name
Filled with beauty untamed
With waters so clear it purifies the mind
And sand so white it brighten up the night
With so much natural beauty to behold
From the biggest of clams
to the smallest of toads
It is shrouded by blessings untold
But nothing in this world is crystal clear
So is my country
With thousands of people online
But millions have nowhere to sleep by this time
What could go wrong ?
All are country wanted was a hero who loved us
But all we get is a celebrity the runs for congress
Or a family that made politics its business
What could go wrong?
Now we have roads that crumble
Bridges that can't hold up a people
Houses made of plastic or things unknown
All the public schools filled with the local mayors initials
And streets that you dare walk when you are alone
But a country that's been conquered several times should know
We are free from the Americans hold
The Spanish control
And the Japanese grasps
But why does it act like it is bounded ?
We look down upon ourselves
Serving when we are already free
Copying concepts when we can be making
And with all of this we live with a culture that should be unknown
We are free
We are a people
We are warriors ready to fight
Yet we keep peace when there should be peace
We maybe be looked down upon
But we stand
Changing the world
Hand in hand
So let us brake the chains the holds our freedom
Know what our constitution means
Because we won't be controlled no more
Blessings await this holy nation
As power comes down to lift this creation
Destroying all words of condemnation
Leading the corrupt to accusation
We are rising
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 7:23 AM UTC
Look back when speaking like a cockerel crows,
Chest puffed with pomp to gloat on gloried loss;
Dying men hung no glory on their throes.
At cenotaphs bedecked in bloodied rose
Bouquets, Lord Mayors regale in golden gloss:
Look back when speaking like a cockerel crows.
Prime Ministers parading TV shows
Glory in hanging ratings on the dross:
Dying men hung no glory on their throes.
Young men talk tough of national pride; old woes
Won't heal by stoning rolling migrant moss;
Look back when speaking like a cockerel crows.
Recall dull medals hung on fettered boughs,
Lest we forget the names of those embossed:
Dying men hung no glory on their throes.
Tread light through evergreen and tranquil rows,
Where heroes rest beneath white painted cross;
Look back when speaking like a cockerel crows,
Dying men hung no glory on their throes.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 6:20 AM UTC
Candy canes like flowers sprouted
up and out of sandy plains and
Santa landed squarely, barely
visible.
My head contains
confessions, but my heart is not
cathartic, and when tears impress
complexion marks like artists' pens
against my face, they start to blend.
But
Rudolph never pulled a sleigh of
mayors to the capitol, and
Blitzen never severed several
thousand Native captives' calls,
'cause elves are made like Cherokee:
with bones, and eyes, and hearts, and backs that
bleed when they are stabbed.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 2:53 PM UTC
he got some bad blood
running up his veins
he got some wolf teeth
tearing up that lace like that
he got some soft lips
kissing the mayors no good ***** rotten rich teenage daugther, with her red lips and her bad intensions
he got himself a real nice face
smiling like that, getting 20 percent off addi mays special pancakes with pork bacon and scarmbled eggs drizzled with her top-secret mable syrup
*the boy got himself some bad blood, wolf teeth, soft lip and a real nice ******* face*
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 1:43 AM UTC
Bootleggers on Sunday evening , a little pink house on Kelleytown Road ! Waiting by the cattle gate , taking money , calling back to the house via radio ! Waving customers through , one by one , driving by the shack without braking once , trunk wide open , in goes the whiskey , slammed shut , out the back gate , and off they went ! Sheriff Donald didn't seem to have a clue , alcohol sales on late Sunday afternoons ? For forty odd years this house became a legend , Councilmen , Deputies and Mayors knew of it's existence ! Cars from distant counties all over the state , flying up dirt roads leaving dust in their wake ! It was surely without doubt , the entire county convinced that the Sheriff drew a months salary on Sunday evenings !
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 3:24 PM UTC
Much like the Mayans thousands of years before,
Granting 2012 the honour to host
An apocalyptic end of the world,
Peruvian shamans now declare
2017 the year
Of turbulence and widespread war.
The healers thus reunite on a hill,
In the capital of Lima to perform
Cleansing rituals able to prevent
The fatal clash between North Korea and the US.
It comes at a time of heightened tensions
Between the two countries over
Threatening nuclear missile programmes.
An unprecedented inferno ignites the night of a West
London residential skyscraper burning
From its second to its twenty-seventh floor
Unleashing the worst nightmares
Of its sleeping inhabitants
And the courage of sleepless fire-fighters.
Colombia's Farc rebels hand over their weapons
To United Nations Inspectors
As part of historic peace accords,
While the President declares,
“Peace will be built little by little,
Like a cathedral, which you build brick by brick"
Revolutionary forces no longer armed.
Migrations creating social unrests
People fleeing their threatening nests,
As mayors plead governments not to let
Any more in and ministries ask, cities to absorb
Two hundred and fifty thousand more.
Coast guards relentlessly saving the drowning ones.
US Attorney General denies, having undisclosed meetings
With Russian officials in Washington hotels.
Any suggestions of collusion with the Kremlin described
As appalling and detestable lies.
Agency’s investigation into Russian political meddling impeded
As Intelligence believes in conspiracies. Memories of Cold Wars
And Bond movies where the ‘traitor’ was lucky to be fired and not shot.
While doctors announce people over 75 taking
Daily aspirin after a stroke or heart attack
Are at higher risk of major and sometimes fatal
Stomach bleeds than previously thought,
Anthropologists excavating in Morocco
Find fossils of potential ancestors, the oldest sapiens retrieved,
Tracing back our steps to 300, 000 years before present.
Across the ocean, somewhere in Arizona,
A man heading to a retirement home prepares,
Cleans up his garage with the help of a neighbour
And finds a 15 million dollar ******* he ignored
He ever had.
Jun 15, 2017
Jun 15, 2017 at 4:58 AM UTC
Once private priviledged and aloof
the Grange is now a public place
where children swing and slide and shine
flowers in their parents' eyes
where births and marriages and deaths
bare bones rest in Runcorn's archive.
Here people seek to right their wrongs
express their doubts and fears and views
it's here that ballots call the shots
for mayors and councillors and clerks
pursuing our priorities.
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 6:42 AM UTC
If , you be quiet.
You get ahead.
Be quiet and play the game.
Another word for don't rock the boat.
Be a cover-up instead an exposer.
Strange truth, this has help many rise through all ranks of society.
Presidents, mayors, governors, wardens, secretaries, various executives.
Fear, to be true to themselves.
Then again, bills help you to be quiet.
Even when you see wrongs before your very own eyes.
Whistleblowers, don't tell to tell.
Many only does it for the wealth.
And if looked a little closer at one time they was participants.
Going along with the schemes of an evil mind dreams until they got terminated.
Stay, not silent if right.
Truth stands out at all times.
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 12:28 PM UTC
Your community
Build it up, build it up.
Make it something to be proud of living.
Stop comparing your situation to the wealthy side.
Many of times money dictates the level of crime.
Trouble doesn't always get those arrested with wealth.
They support the mayors and the governors during election time.
So essentially law enforcers over look certain level of crimes.
Your community,is what you want it to be?
Especially if you not trying to self police to keep it clean.
Drug dealers rather friends or not.
Brings trouble to your neighborhood and you just a supporter.
If you not reporting the fools doing the trade.
And many times, you just as guilty.
Although you might not see it.
Sometimes churches plays a vital part.
If they not addressing ways to clean up your city's in various ways.
Your community is simply a reflection of you.
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 10:38 AM UTC
By Jennifersoter Ezewi
Some are destined to marry kings; some are destined to marry senators; some got married to presidents; some settled with mayors; some are happily married with ambassadors; some ends up happily married with business moguls; some ends up with promising futures and etcetera.
Marriage does not end at the ceremony of one. It's continuous. Life has it on timely dispensing saturation. Get ready for yours and make it happen or get caught up in the hands of fate or sudden love stories that kept saying yes...!
Apr 15, 2022
Apr 15, 2022 at 6:02 AM UTC
Things, we often say.
To reply, really?
We hear interracial couples complains about racist matters of dealing with people.
And cries in this present times, we would have gotten passed it.
Really?
Segregation, rules hadn't been that long eradicated in society.
So really?
All many of us can say.
Like mayors stating all police officers are upholding officers?
Really?
We know the truth.
Some breed hatred just by nature.
And the mayor must stay in good gracious with them.
Yes, really?
We see folks trying to state ***** is different than ****** just causing of rap skills of rappers.
Really?
Say it, to the wrong person and be willing to decide your own funeral.
Some of us not buying what some trying to defend.
Yes, really.
We see men walking around with pants hanging down by their butts.
Now, what REAL man do that?
You see this more on the streets than in prison.
Yes, really!
And it's allege this where it started?
So really?
We just got to say.
When we witness some of life's stupid things.
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 9:10 PM UTC
over the parade the clouds grew threatening
blacker
rain was an inevitability
so I invited all the ten people at the
Clayhatchee Christmas parade to my house
where we made egg nog
roasted chestnuts
later after we all had a buzz
we toilet papered
the mayors trees
she lives next door
matter of fact
she was there helping
we have a good community
for a southern redneck outpost.
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 8:58 PM UTC
I build an altar, parade in the streets
**** on a sugar skull, stamp on your grave.
I want to weep, but instead I write
words like skeletons that leap and click their heels
grinning with jaws of orange like choked marigolds.
I wear a warren of jade, a den of ivory, a lair of shells
to wake the dead with a dance.
Why do the catrinas resemble you as you live?
Why do the calaveras still smile and tip their
top hats mockingly at your tombstone?
Alone in the colors and candles, I row this mariposa
dipping my paddle like sugarcane in taffy
reverberating grief like a sack of chattering teeth.
From Ocotepec to Patzcuaro, masks mourn
their losses, stars are pulled from the night
islands are invaded, bones rattle like marionettes
bells seek their towers, corpses leave their caskets
crosses fly like kites, feet clap in a frenzy
mayors deliver speeches, waves stutter ponderously
souls are exhumed from tobacco smoke
yellow ribbons cascade from the deaths heads
and we all dance like madmen, the dead grieving
the living and the living grieving life.
Is this the red chaos that you gulped down, the
dagger that distended your stomach?
Who draws from the pail that draws from your well?
Your body is half water.
You will rise with the moon and pass as we all dance like madmen.
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 3:09 PM UTC
There's no perfect soul upon earth.
Don't matter what souls needs to be save?
But do accept that scandal, you bring to yourself.
Is scandal you bring to someone else.
Without there permission.
They now has became involved.
Hiding in shadows to avoid the conflicts.
All because you acted upon quick feelings instead of common sense.
Just adapt to your thoughts process.
That your one mistake creates a whole world of mess.
When scandal you create for yourself.
Brings others into it without their permission to be.
Presidents, governors and even mayors has had theirs.
And even we unknown folks has created our own.
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 10:23 AM UTC
Listen, Donald Trump is not a total idjut.
He has beautiful children and prolly not as
much money as he says, and won the Republican
Nomination. But, I kinda think "the say what you want
at anytime" is kinda ingratiating. Hell, I wouldn't vote for him,
and hope nobody would . I guess, what I am trying to
say is, he has, balls, nuts , bigguns,
and no sense. I have seen too many of them.
It's like a tribute to our society,
tongue in cheek, that someone can put their foot in their mouth,
so many times and be running for President.
You should check out Mayors and Governors and Senators,
The government is full of them.
But most of them I don't trust as far I can throw their mama.
Trump , I trust to be a fool.
I know he will!
Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 12:36 AM UTC