"prez" poems
amidst Jeffersonian opulence
the Prez broke bread with his
GOP poker face friends
to solve government gridlock
and sequester predicament trends
citizens of the republic
hopeful for nonsense to cease
sat at the table asking
“would you pass
the biscuits please?”
Obama perused the wine list
boldly choosing a luscious Merlot
senators ordered the finest hors d'oeuvres
the guests were all aglow
numerous delectable dishes
were liberally splayed on the table
revelers sipped flowing vintages
wine a surefire icebreaker
sparkling crystal Lennox flutes
tinkled with convivial release
while America’s disenfranchised
voices ask
“would you pass
the biscuits please?”
chutney meat, curried hens and
sweet walnut rainbow trout
the table a horn a plenty
the guests gorged on fine cuisine
a blessed nations bounty
the feast consumed
the Senators sated
said it was some
of the finest ever served
but the taxpayers only
got a peak of the banquet
a whiff of senators nerve
and asked
“would you pass
the biscuits please?”
the dessert cart was rolled in
with custards, cakes, creme brulee
cordials, cognac and VSOP tastes
rounded out the wholesome feast
when the check was presented
for payment all guests headed
for the door with haste
they told the waiter the bill of fare
was covered
by the guy asking...
“would you pass
the biscuits please?”
Music Selection:
Andre Williams:
Pass The Biscuits Please
jbm
Oakland
3/7/13
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
Obama jetted
back to Africa
soaring aloft on
gulf stream swank
a posse of
oil company execs
in tow, intent on liberating
Dark Continent
fossil fuels from unjust
underground prisons
American
entrepreneurs
angling to get the
upper hand in the
high stakes global
resource poker game
pulled a big time race card
to trump China’s
full house
On Goree Island,
political paparazzi
popped and clicked
a perfect image
of the neocolonial
white clad President
framed in a doorway filled
with dark shadows and
heinous memory of the
unspeakable horrors
of global trade
leering from
the portal at the
Gate of No Return
Obama welled with
meditative epiphanies
of personal seachange,
and the vicissitudes of life,
pondering his meteoric rise
from a Land of Lincoln
State Senator to
American President
in the span of
one golden
9/11 decade
At a
South African University
Town Hall Summit,
the fist bumpin,
mike droppin Prez
telepromted the
star struck folks with
solemn universal civil rights
pronouncements,
wrapped in the riddle of
the pursuit of peace,
hidden in the enigma of
the reverence for
human dignity
Later in the day
Mr. Obama sat at the
feet of a comatose Mandela;
whispering into his ear
why an Afghan peace
eludes him, why his
drone strikes rain
death upon innocents
and why his democratic
republic defiles
the civil liberties of its
citizens to ransom
a daily diet of fear
But Madiba does not hear
Mr. Obama’s feverish
confessions; his
ears are closed,
he dreams only
of the paradise of
liberation he earned
for his life's hard wages
Music Selection:
Gil Scott Heron
Western Sunrise
Oakland
070213
jbm
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 11:14 AM UTC
Oh, America….
how can you be enthralled with Trump
dumping on Mexicans and insulting the handicapped
hair piece flapping in the wind
almost as much as his gums –
dumb hicks with ****** chicks
lick ***** of donkey
if they vote that fool
El Prez
and give him the keys
to the nuclear arsenal –
my minds reels at the possibilities
********* ball-licking ***** face
at the seat of power
offering the impoverished
cake
or worst
nothing but catch phrases and clichés
intending on inspiring the masses
elevate themselves to a similar status
of ‘The Donald’ –
not all of us have mob ties
and millionaire family members
not that many Americans
can support a failing casino
or be the star of a television show
most of us
are just people trying to make the best
of an increasingly ****** up situation
made exponentially worse
by this ******** real chance
at becoming the leader
of the free world –
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 5:09 PM UTC
Moe took a gulp from the jar
while Andy tried to spit out the tar
Pincho looked at them and says
if prez knows your bitter ways
Moe filled himself and fell asleep
Andy crept out to the deep
Pincho didn't think of such loss
scratching on wood to sharpen claws
Moe keeps mumbling a sleepy chant
then Andy dug himself in the sand
so Pincho left out to the walk
tracing his path with tail's stroke
he released the chain, widely opened the door
and started up dancing to the birch and more
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 9:31 AM UTC
*** inta a funky blues roll
swing silent low piano
trippin down tinky tink keys
stumble the mumbled muffled horns
wha wha the humble orchastra roars
it swings a choo choo
tracks changin
bass a bumpin
du du du du
walkin through the room
Spoon croons a bellowed ballad
an Ella cat do a hair raisin ****
tink tink
you don't have ta think
you know what you feel
dis blues is fo real
For Prez
jbm
10/12/86
NYC
Music Selection:
Count Basie Band with
Ben Webster, Roy Eldridge and Jimmy Rushing
I Left My Baby
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 8:40 AM UTC
I'm a sheltered nineteen-year-old
from Northeastern Nowhere,
Pennsylvania. I spent my preteens
worrying about girls and digging
holes in the backyard. I had my friends.
Two or three middle-low class kids
down the street. We rode bikes, played
video games, and occasionally watched **** together.
It seems a lot weirder now than it did in the moment.
We made memories daily and spoke our
underdeveloped minds. At thirteen, politics
were simply, **** Capitol Hill" or "the prez's
a crook." Things change, though.
I still know little about politics, but I'm sure
there's at least one good policy in effect.
Everyone eventually goes their separate ways
and the phone lines between us get damp
or get cut. I haven't dug holes since a landslide
filled in my work. I traded in my bike
for four wheels and a piece of wood. My Nikes
are now Toms, and I don't worry about girls.
Just the one I've been with for almost four years.
Instead of **** I look up synonyms, so I can
sound a bit smarter at 7:30 AM typing my thoughts.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 8:07 AM UTC
Our prez is now Donald J Trump
Who has promised to clean out the sump
Well he's certainly no wussy
When groping a *****
What more to expect from a gump?
In charge of the Vice, Michael Pence
Said some things that embrace little sense,
"Global warming's a myth"
But's now taking the fifth
In attempting to straddle the fence
We all recall general Flynn
Put in charge of security spin
A trained atomiser
No more Trump's advisor -
His deal with the devil's his sin
The billionaire Betsy Devos
Making plans for a school albatross
Hating free education
Backs private castration
And kids will be bearing her Cross.
The Congress approved Jeff B. Sessions
Ignoring his racist obsessions
He seemingly cares
More for foreign affairs
While forgiving Klan's toxic transgressions.
Chief strategist Stephen K. Bannon
Develops the Great Again Canon:
The Goldman Sachs Bankster
Turned yellow rag gangster
Flings crap from the New Order cannon
Says EPA ruler Scott Pruitt
"Instead of dry facts, we intuit..."
(His work as denier
Keeps profits much higher)
"... If everything dies, well, just ***** it"
The war whoops of Mad Doggy Mattis
Awaken the death apparatus
With boundless expense
For a doomsday defence -
Armageddon administered gratis
The magnates no longer need lobby
Or fight regulations thought snobby -
Now set in the saddle
They're herding the cattle
And pulling the strings as a hobby
Now the Don can start wielding the axes
Truncating the tariffs and taxes
The Mafia boss
Is dismissing the dross
And poverty's pain as it waxes
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 7:11 AM UTC
I want to see lady to ladette
set in Baltimore
with Omar teaching drug theft
with the finer points of gun cleaning
calibre selection and event planning
as his curricula.
I want Jimmy and Bunk
teaching the dos and don’ts
of alcohol intoxication
the art of shot and stubbie mix
the singing and drinking anthems
to stir the blood
and the strategic gutter chuck
before the final whisky chaser.
I want those girls out on the corners
playing police bingo
speaking drug lingo
and developing their drug-fuelled irony
of WMB, the Icicle and Pandemic.
I want Clay to teach them elocution
and elongation in the word “Shiiiiiiit”
I want Avon Barnsdale to teach them gangster codes
of respect on Sundays for stoop people
and Sunday crowns
on everybody’s grandmother.
I want Kima to discuss sexuality
and the Other
I want them to talk change and reform
with Cutty, Colvin and Prez.
Daniels will show how love and loyalty
can be made to work in reality.
And I just want
I only want
Stringer
for myself.
© M.L.Emmett
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 9:34 AM UTC
Challenge it.
Don't downplay racism like it doesn't exist.
Yes, challenge it.
Don't matter what direction it comes from.
Or race.
More likely the race they speak negatively about.
Is also the race they afraid to face.
Listen, there's none so idiotic than a bigot.
Who only strength of stupidity comes from his supporters?
Who stands by then until their fate of consequences comes.
Yes, one group leads to the challenge of bigotry.
Explored it more for the world to see.
Remember, news once avoided confronting it.
Well, except for various black press.
None has to this day explain the four beautiful youth killed in the Alabama church.
A house of worship for people.
So what GOD?
Did these weak white males serve?
We know with all white juries during the sixties that justice wasn't served.
Why?
Who had to live among the bigots but them the most.
It's wasn't Trumpy that showcase white hate.
It came more to light when Prez. Obama led the government and it slowly came back into view.
One thing all minorities are aware?
When push comes to shove?
They the first reaching out for love.
And get more enraged when minorities treat them in the same way.
With an evil for evil reaction.
Remember, to challenge racism?
Don't downplay it.
For sickness get worse when you avoid the medicine of love.
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 6:07 PM UTC
Met his Match....
it seems Prez Grinch has met his match
most people agree he needs to dispatch
it won't be long before our man Joe steps in
and cleans up the mess that was not a win-win
I'm told, that in history, this story will reign
I'm hoping we learn from all the insane
let's learn to be forgiving and get back our pride
and try to all be, on at least the same side
I love this great country but hate where it's been
can we all just agree, at least try to begin?
Brian Hill - 2020 # 320
Nov 21, 2020
Nov 21, 2020 at 7:17 PM UTC
El son del viento en la arcada
tiene la clave de mí mismo:
soy una fuerza exacerbada
y soy un clamor de abismo.
Entre los coros estelares
oigo algo mío disonar.
Mis acciones y mis cantares
tenían ritmo particular.
Vine al torrente de la vida
en Santa Rosa de Osos,
una medianoche encendida
en astros de signos borrosos.
Tomé posesión de la tierra,
mía en el sueño y el lino y el pan;
y, moviendo a las normas guerra,
fui Eva... y fui Adán.
Yo ceñía el campo maduro
como si fuera una mujer,
y me enturbiaba un vino oscuro
de placer.
Yo gustaba la voz del viento
como una piñuela en sazón,
y me la comía... con lamento
de avidez en el corazón.
Y, alígero esquife al día,
y a la noche y al tumbo del mar,
bogaba mi fantasía
en un rayo de luz solar.
Iba tras la forma suprema,
tras la nube y el ruiseñor
y el cristal y el doncel y la gema
del dolor.
Iba al Oriente, al Oriente,
hacia las islas de la luz,
a donde alzara un pueblo ardiente
sublimes himnos a lo azul.
Ya, cruzando la Palestina,
veía el rostro de Benjamín,
su ojo límpido, su boca fina
y su arrebato de carmín.
O de Grecia en el día de oro,
do el cañuto le daba Pan,
amaba a Sófocles en el Coro
sonoro que canta el Peán.
O con celo y ardor de paloma
en celo, en la Arabia de Alá
seguía el curso de Mahoma
por la hermosura de Abdalá:
Abdalá era cosa más bella
que lauro y lira y flauta y miel;
cuando le llevó una doncella
¡cien doncellas murieron por él!
... Mis manos se alzaron al ámbito
para medir la inmensidad;
pero mi corazón buscaba ex-ámbito
la luz, el amor, la verdad.
Mis pies se hincaban en el suelo
cual pezuña de Lucifer,
y algo en mí tendía el vuelo
por la niebla, hacia el rosicler...
Pero la Dama misteriosa
de los cabellos de fulgor
viene y en mí su mano posa
y me infunde un fatal amor.
Y lo demás de mi vida
no es sino aquel amor fatal,
con una que otra lámpara encendida
ante el ara del ideal.
Y errar, errar, errar a solas,
la luz de Saturno en mi sien,
roto mástil sobre las olas
en vaivén.
Y una prez en mi alma colérica
que al torvo sino desafía:
el orgullo de ser, ¡oh América!
el Ashaverus de tu poesía...
Y en la flor fugaz del momento
querer el aroma perdido,
y en un deleite sin pensamiento
hallar la clave del olvido;
después un viento... un viento... un viento...
¡y en ese viento, mi alarido!
1.2k
I mean it !
It was really somthin!
Joey ha ha!
Well there was this babe see
And Joey he oh brother!
...
...
I can hardly ----
I mean it !
It was sumpthin !
I tell ya!
Something to write Home about
It's hard to put it down
But it was really sumpthin !
----------
---------
All the hatred in the world never done did nothin good
(Nor bad or even substantial)
.-------
-------
.
A little child trusting you and now what?
Ya gonna go and **** someone and become a millionaire?
Ha ** The friggin world!
Watching the same **** every day!!
-------
-------
Little kid on the razor street with the jazzed up monkey
Dancin on his back
Sellin souls real cheap and there you are
In the police force
With your drone airplane
-------
------
For some reason errybody jaberrin bout bombs n ****
All **** week!
Why dat?
.
.
.
Little kid out on a street
The silent street
The street that ain't there
Except when the kid dead and then it's there
For a little while til another kid dead some where's else
Then a bomb goes off an yer gone
------
------
See-- we got dis prez born in Kenya
------
------
In America we takes all the sicko bejabberers
And puts em all in one building and calls
Em Senators
An then we surround the building an laugh at the sickos
and throw em bananas
Meanwhiles they be killin us
And then for sure there's them banker dudes
SHUT UP!
We Aints ta say no more bout it!
They off limits ya know!
------
------
Now how'd I start this thing so I kin wind it down
And get outta here with my head on straight an my body in one piece
And you not hatin me and bombs goin off
And all of that what you do to me
an little kids
Out on dyin roads and where they lead
To garbage dumps and the third world
And conspiracy and hypocrisy
And all that stuff we gets talkin about ?
...
Oh yeah
.
I was talkin about me bud Joey ha ha!
And this babe
See
An it was sumpthin I'm tellin ya!
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 5:11 AM UTC
it seems Prez Grinch, has a job to commit
it's that time of year, we have to admit
turkey pardoning is indeed a big thing
Prez Grinch just loves it as he thinks he's a king
the turkey is chosen and brought to the garden
it struts and it clucks and Prez says ”Your Pardoned”...
Brian Hill - 2020 # 322
Nov 24, 2020
Nov 24, 2020 at 10:37 AM UTC
time has come for dear Hillary
to exit the political stage
her past performances
haven't been well scripted or sage
Americans won't mind at all
if she stays at home with philandering Bill
so she can keep his ever wandering eye
nice and still
Washington needs a true
star contender for a Prez
Hillary is too old to be wearing
the chief's influential fez
most unsuccessful was
her candidature in 2008
Democrats didn't want her
as their first mate
cameo appearances seem to be
more fitting for Hillary
so the American media can give her
a jolly good pillory
the oval office needs no more
corruption lying or deceit
obviating Hillary from the scene
shall be ever so neat
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC
doom
dark ages and the death
of poetry
now here
arise poets
spark burning lines
arson the fake prez Fuhrer
all his followers
Nazis
(how original)
don't forget the weird
line breaks and
/ spacing / /
refuse punctuation
no caps ever
voila
yet another
lame lib lefty
yawner
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 9:25 PM UTC
There once was a Donald from Brooklyn
Sought fame–like a chef adores cookin'
He bought and sold stuff
It was never enough
Our next Prez, just says,"Hah-caught ya lookin'!"
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 1:52 PM UTC
Talara, no digas "yes",
Mira al mundo cara a cara;
soporta tu desnudez
... y no digas "yes", Talara.
Mi raza, al igual que tú
tiene sus zonas ajenas:
tú por petróleo en tus venas,
yo por ser como Esaú.
A veces no es el Perú
lo que está bajo tus pies.
Yo a veces cojo la mies
para que otro se la coma.
Si sólo es nuestro el idioma
Talara, no digas "yes".
Lo que ganas y te dan
recíbelo sin orgullo:
es un diezmo de lo tuyo,
es migaja de tu pan.
Y si acaso un holgazán
a patriota te retara,
deja que siga la piara
en su cuadrúpeda insidia;
si el mundo entero te envidia
mira al mundo cara a cara.
Pero cuando tus entrañas
ya no tengan más que dar
y no haya qué perforar
en tu mar ni en tus montañas;
cuando lagartos y arañas
a la "rotaria" hagan prez;
cuando la actual fluidez
se extinga como el ocaso,
contra el viento de "El Tablazo"
soporta tu desnudez.
Ese día está lejano
y ojalá no llegue nunca,
más como todo se trunca
pensemos en todo, hermano:
Si te dedicas al grano
yo te traeré agüita clara,
y si en el desierto se ara
te serviré de semilla,
... y no dobles la rodilla,
... y no digas "yes", Talara.
781
Living where my mother be
inside america the land of infinite discovery
Utterly
shaken by words the prez is uttering
Bludgeoning the labeled "foreigners" for their said struggling..
i see your ways
Its usually quit disgusting
Grab em by the twuat you will get got and thats for sure
unpure
I hope that soon we get see some gore
i prey that you decay your toupee through the air will soar
Unsure ;
are yall the people which i should be blaming
You asked for this destruction now you ******** and complaining
god ;
How many claim to see through the facade
yet sit and watch their brothers getting buttered by the odds..
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 6:27 PM UTC
Ô pucelle plus tendre
Qu'un beau bouton vermeil
Que le rosier engendre
Au lever du soleil,
D'une part verdissant
De l'autre rougissant !
Plus fort que le lierre
Qui se gripe à l'entour
Du chesne aimé, qu'il serre
Enlassé de maint tour,
Courbant ses bras épars
Sus luy de toutes parts,
Serrez mon col, maistresse,
De vos deux bras pliez ;
D'un neud qui tienne et presse
Doucement me liez ;
Un baiser mutuel
Nous soit perpetuel.
Ny le temps, ny l'envie
D'autre amour desirer,
Ne pourra point ma vie
De vos lévres tirer ;
Ainsi serrez demourrons,
Et baisant nous mourrons.
En mesme an et mesne heure,
Et en même saison,
Irons voir la demeure
De la palle maison,
Et les champs ordonnez
Aux amants fortunez.
Amour par les fleurettes
Du printemps éternel
Voirra nos amourettes
Sous le bois maternel ;
Là nous sçaurons combien
Les amants ont de bien.
Le long des belles plaines
Et parmy les prez vers
Les rives sonnent pleines
De maints accords divers ;
L'un joue, et l'autre au son
Danse d'une chanson.
Là le beau ciel décueuvre
Tousjours un front benin,
Sur les fleurs la couleuvre
Ne ***** son venin,
Et tousjours les oyseaux
Chantent sur les rameaux ;
Tousjours les vens y sonnent
Je ne sçay quoy de doux,
Et les lauriers y donnent
Tousjours ombrages moux ;
Tousjours les belles fleurs
Y gardent leurs couleurs.
Parmy le grand espace
De ce verger heureux,
Nous aurons tous deux place
Entre les amoureux,
Et comme eux sans soucy
Nous aimerons aussi.
Nulle amie ancienne
Ne se dépitera,
Quand de la place sienne
Pour nous deux s'ostera,
Non celles dont les yeux
Prirent le cœur des dieux.
849