Society Poetry: SLYME by Michelle B. Assor

SLYME by Michelle B. Assor

Prime Time!
No time to dawdle or rhyme.
No time to swish this ghastly mite.
No time to flowingly write.
Camera lenses ogle
through the dark eyes of the iPad.
Beware roaming pens…..
You will be chomped and your ink run dry
Bet you didn’t know devices bite like mites.
Slyme!
Pens prepare for your finale.
No more writing rights!

No time to listen to melodic chimes.
Free time demands a puny dime.
Flat faced phones are advanced.
C’mon they are not that smart,
but they sure know how to keep
blushing face to face conversations
woolly worlds apart.

Spaced out…..
Slyme!
Where am I? Mars or the Moon?
Earth is too flat. I’d rather be as high as a kite
Yet I’ve forgotten how to climb a tree to take flight
If time permits I’ll slink the clock,
forego my stinky socks
and try to hurdle that trunk.
I’m salivating for that slimy lime
dangling high from a branch
on some wayward, distant ranch.
It’s begging me,
Be mine, be mine,
Slyme!
No time.

No time to reinvent the mime,
No time to whisper in your ear
“Be my Valentine”
Daytime-Lunchtime-Bedtime
It’s all the same suppressing chime
There is no half time, part time,
Only foolish fulltime

The cat is no longer in his hat
He doesn’t purr
And he’s losing his fur
Who, Who, WHO is Horton?
Looks like his trunk
is severely shortened.
Oh, but I do have one special wish
Yuck, no it’s not a slimy fish
I want that grimy, green grinch
The one who stole Christmas.
He ought to mind his own business.
SLYME!

The grimy, green grinch

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Deadline for POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

Watch Recent Poetry Readings:

Watch Previous Poems turned into movies:

Society Poetry: I WAS FINE AS MARGARITA by Gloria D. Gonsalves

I WAS FINE AS MARGARITA by Gloria D. Gonsalves

I was fine as a wallflower
creating words
in apolitical world.

I rhymed innocence
of my dwellings.
I weaved songs
of many sunnier smiles.

I was love blended
with verses of sunny centres
and new beginnings.

I had no race.
I had no religion.
I had no status.

I was simply Margarita, or
Daisy.

Then I was plucked
and got flung
into a political world.

Now I am something else.

I am slogans.
I am hashtags.
I am protests.

Sometimes
I recall old self
and wave with love.

Most times
I wish they saw me
as day’s eye, or
the beginning of hope.

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Deadline for POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

Watch Recent Poetry Readings:

Watch Previous Poems turned into movies:

Society Poetry: Social Fretwork by Dermott Hayes

I posted a thought,
it flew away
down through dark,
cavernous cyberways,
to bump and grind
with other lonesome thoughts
in the hotbeds of social fretworks.

And worried then
where it might go
unguided, misunderstood
to liaise, frolic and fret
argue, debate
opinionate
in a world of posts,
untethered,
away from me,
gone, awaiting its return,
alone

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Deadline for POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

Watch Recent Poetry Readings:

Watch Previous Poems turned into movies:

Society Poetry: Consumer by Jeremy Duhart

Consumer

I want it all, goods and services. Money’s not a problem, I’m excited when purchasing. On the internet stores I stay surfing looking for the product to make my life perfect. There’s always something to buy to fix all of my prefects and defects, just need a 16 digit card number and an address for FedEx. I’m looking for value not trying to give it. I want it in seconds, too long is a minute. Sacrifice my rent payment for some reckless spending. Can’t get my mind off that new product, it’s addicting. That ad I just saw definitely has me influenced. Can’t wait to exchange this old thing for the newest. The coolest gadgets and fashion are waiting in my wish list. I’m in line online looking for my next wish. Spent hours shopping from home. Don’t cook, don’t clean, the DIY movement is wrong. I have a life full of improvement via products I’m consuming.

Too hot
Language has transformed from spoken to virtual.
Words now less spoken than texted with emojis.
Smiling faces looking at screens not seeing
what lies underneath their walking feet.
Dirt roads made into concrete constructing
freeways until they are complete.
Skyscrapers and buildings our ancestors wouldn’t recognize.
Mass creation on a scale not imagined by past lives.
Simulation of all things moving closer to perfection.
Or an illusion so good we delude ourselves into satisfaction.
The drive for knowledge and relaxation is the sponsor for robotics.
Creativity advocated by heavy usage of hallucinogens and narcotics. Development is going so fast the future can’t brace enough.
Are we coming in too hot?
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Deadline for POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

Watch Recent Poetry Readings:

Watch Previous Poems turned into movies:

Society Poetry: Pocket Sized Wreath by Cassandra Swan

The elephant-grey, cracked walkway clacks with alacrity:  
as the tedious, stiff facades in a talentless circus of mediocrity  
plod, and trek to their typical, mechanical homage – a life my   
insurrection rejects!  Instead, at a lowly, junk-ridden, rickety   
desk – on sixteen-hour, voluntary shifts – I regurgitate injustice.  
  
Will I ever switch my rabble-rousing, misanthropic existence  
for a steady salary, car and otiose days off at Christmas?  
Swivel chairs – in an unholy, goldfish bowl – with chains!  
Pub jaunts, cream cakes with petty, civilian saints,  
and dreary, clock-watching years, with lottery syndicates.  
  
This rantipole poet re-mortgaged her lifeblood to repossess time:  
decrypting the tangled-web of a tortured mind’s production lines.  
My supernatural re-incarnation – as a poetic, psychic surgeon –   
pledges petroglyphs of Donatistic lyrics, and complex lamentations.  
I survive by devouring plentiful plenilunes in valiant dimensions.  
Jekyll and Hyde’s allotment cultivates fine verbs and nouns.   
  
Fifty years devout, sterling service awards and android-head,  
with an ingot watch, a pension and an orthopaedic bed!  
Yet, starving lyricists live eternally in folios: their cicatrices  
flood like wordy blood, as knife-edged, quality-controlled rectos  
cut into eternal ebbs and flows of etymological, mystagogic tides.  
  
An android’s watch – rasped by retirement, coronary and death –   
ticks on as a by-passed heart, gasping for breath:  
under a charity shop counter, it flops; limp as an amaranth,  
in a swiftly-decomposing, demoralised, pocket-sized wreath.  
  
This wage-less wordsmith’s spine-chilling lines will outlive  
the hands and face of mechanised life and time; by sculpting  
denticulate epistles – with a scalpel – into epidermis then epitaph. 

Copyright Cassandra Swan

 

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Deadline for POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

Watch Recent Poetry Readings:

Watch Previous Poems turned into movies:

Society Poetry: 1918 Sanctuary by T. Hopper

1918 Sanctuary by T. Hopper

For as I lay in your embrace,

My breath be shallow..heart doth race

The trench ,the bugle ,the distant drum

Fight for country …defeat the Hun

So protected in your cocoon

Daybreak looming behind the moon

Sleep it cowers and it creeps…

Tears of mine ..i gently weep

Not tonight …well not for me …

Safe and sound for that I be

The dark …its cold …a killers friend

The night flame flickers ..Bows and bends

The shadows dance to a pipers tune

As we did …that day in June

The day I marched..with head held high

For king and country ..live or die

Young men together … comrades in fear

Maidens calling hip hip three cheers

The front …the gas ..ahead barbwire…

The stink ..the stench of gods hell fire

Bully beef …and rationed stew ..

.Last letters home from me to you

Dearest sweetheart …love of my life

Dearest mother …precious wife

Signing off with yours devoted …

All my love and sugar coated

Kisses sent ….a thousand score …

Each one delivered when at your door

Just let me live please god I pray …

To see my love ..just one more day

So here we lay …safe and sound …

Hearts entwined …emotions bound

And as the eve does turn to light …

My candle salutes…. its last goodnight.

T.Hopper

Copyright2015

 

 

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Deadline for POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

Watch Recent Poetry Readings:

Watch Previous Poems turned into movies:

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Burnt Bridges, Poetry by Monica H. Thomas

Genres: #poetry #society #misguided

Burnt Bridges by Monica H. Thomas

How many bridges you gone burn before you learn the streets don’t give a damn about you…
Have you ever witnessed ya own death
Blood stains scattered on the ground
People screaming and hollering amongst the siren sound
How you died ya don’t know that
The way you live there’s a price to pay
Death will knock on ya door it don’t give a damn where you stay
As soon as ya soul departs ya body there goes the Grim Reaper
He’s waiting to escort ya soul straight to Hell
Where ya boys now?
Where’s all that My Brother’s Keeper?
You was a bad seed you had no ambitions at all
You’ve been getting into trouble every since you’d learned to crawl
The streets raised you up and taught ya how to be a man
You’d gotten ya self in too deep ya couldn’t dig ya way out
You was sink’n fast as if you was in quick sand
How many bridges you gone burn before you learn the streets don’t give a damn about you
It’ll chew you up, it’ll spit you out, it don’t matter how low you get or how much clout
The neighborhood dope man now that was ya role model
On the corner he’d taught ya how to slang some dope
You climbed up the rope
It wasn’t before long you’d managed to gain his trust
He begin to let you hold his whip to go bury the stash
But of course that was right after you’d made the cash
He told ya not to be too flashy always keep a low profile so nobody notices you
You took heed to what he said
You even cut some people off so now ya only mess with a few
You never wrote nothing down instead ya memorized it in ya head
That eliminated the paper trail
If ya don’t talk about it they can’t prove it
You felt as long as ya fam was gonna be straight it didn’t matter what they find out after you was dead
On the streets you was taught to carry ya feelings on ya shoulda so ya enemies didn’t know you was scared
If ya died today or tomorrow ya just another statistic, so what makes ya think after ya gone that anybody cared
How many bridges you gone burn before you learn the streets don’t give a damn about you
It’ll chew you up, it’ll spit you out, it don’t matter how low you get or how much clout
On the streets every man is for self
It’s sad sometimes when ya gotta take out ya own kind
But ya got to get them before they get you
Pull the trigger until you see the lights go out the whites in his eyes
Do you have any idea how many innocent Blacks get sent to the chair because somebody got on the stand and told a bunch of lies?

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Deadline for POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

Watch Recent Poetry Readings:

Watch Previous Poems turned into movies:

Society Poetry: SHACKLES OF LIFE by Lois Terrans Bradbury

SHACKLES OF LIFE

by Lois Terrans Bradbury

 

The shackles of life can tear the flesh.

Cut deep.

Silence the heart and suffocate the soul,

crush the spirit and drown all hope,

bury the love and hobble expectation,

chill the laughter and boil the hate,

twist the mind and steal imagination.

The wound goes so deep,

the scars never heal.

Memories shadowed in darkness,

fighting to be seen,

dreams shattered,

never to be born.

Cries of desperation choked,

never to be heard.

And the blood of the innocent spilled,

never to be loved.

The turbulence echoes like a maddening menace,

consuming any flame that dares to dance,

chasing any joy that wished to flee,

imprisoning thoughts that struggle to be free.

The undercurrent too strong,

the sands of life vanish,

songs of love are erased.

Passion is tormented,

tenderness is broken.

Music’s magic touch gone forever.

Eternity to be wrapped in blankets of pain.

Forever sorrow to reign.

 

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Deadline for POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

WATCH this month’s poetry readings performed by professional actors:
http://www.wildsoundfestival.com/may_2015_poetry_readings.html

Watch Recent Poetry Readings:

Watch Previous Poems turned into movies:

Society Poetry: ‘Quicksand’ – by Katie Rees

‘Quicksand’ – by Katie Rees

Small town, idle gossip,

Shutting out the rest of the world.

You tell yourself it’s a temporary stop,

But find that your feet are caught.

 

Same faces, similar stories,

A life spent in one place.

Surely it’s a matter of time before you leave

Sucked in further, now you’re up to your knees.

 

Motivation gone, desire buried,

Your world is so much smaller than before.

Outside influence withdraws and you start to see…

You’re waist deep and unlikely to ever leave.

 

 

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Deadline for POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html

WATCH this month’s poetry readings performed by professional actors:
http://www.wildsoundfestival.com/may_2015_poetry_readings.html

Watch Recent Poetry Readings:

Watch Previous Poems turned into movies:

PART 6 – Read the best of SOCIETY Poetry

Submit to the SOCIETY Poetry Contest. Winner gets their poem made into a movie.

PART 6 – Read the best of SOCIETY Poetry

COFFEE,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/07/15/coffee-poetry-by-robert-drusetta/

I LIVE IN THE PRESENT,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/07/15/i-live-in-the-present-poetry-by-ehi-mary-okwechime/

A STRANGERS SMILE,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/07/08/a-strangers-smile-poetry-by-julie-ismert/

WHEN THE BOUGH BREAKS,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/07/08/when-the-bough-breaks-poetry-by-harper-james/

THE BRIGHT SPARKS IN MY FAMILY,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/07/08/the-bright-sparks-in-my-family-poetry-by-louisa-adjoa-parker/

HURT,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/07/02/hurt-poetry-by-ed-n/

CONSUMER,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/07/02/consumer-poetry-by-jeremy-duhart/

LETTER TO THE VILLAIN,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/22/letter-to-the-villain-poetry-by-ugo-okeke/

SICK PERFECTION,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/22/sick-perfection-poetry-by-jocelyn-jones/

BONDAGE,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/19/bondage-poetry-by-christiane-prevost/

THE PERKY NIGHT, by Kelly Rice
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/16/the-perky-night-poetry-by-kelly-rice/

NEEDED SPACE, by Lorraine Ferns
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/16/needed-space-poetry-by-lorraine-ferns/

MY HANICAP, by Buffy Sammons
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/16/my-handicap-beach-poetry-by-buffy-sammons/

ALL FOR THEIR GOD, by Donald Miller
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/15/all-for-their-god-poetry-by-donald-miller/

WHERE’D THEY HIDE THE COWBOY, by Gayle Upshaw
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/12/whered-they-hide-the-cowboy-by-gayle-upshaw/

FINE, RAIN, STORM, HEAT, COLD, by Yamamoto Tatsuo
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/11/finerainstormheatcold-poetry-by-yamamoto-tatsuo/

LISTEN OUT,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/11/listen-out-poetry-by-sian-williams/

SEEDS OF HOPE, by Kimberly Floria
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/11/seeds-of-hope-poetry-by-kimberly-floria/

CLAMOUR WE ALL,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/07/clamour-we-all-poetry-by-victor-o-sawyerr/

MY FATHER A WHISKEY,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/07/my-father-a-whiskey-poetry-by-shiela-baysa/

THE GREENING,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/01/the-greening-poetry-by-katherine-hauswirth/

NOTHING CHANGED,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/01/nothing-changed-me-poetry-by-miriam-beza/

ONE STEP,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/01/one-step-poetry-by-morca/

SEEN BY WINDOWS, by Njabulo Dlamini
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/06/01/seen-by-windows-poetry-by-njabulo-dlamini/

LONELY TOGETHERNESS,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/31/lonely-togetherness-poetry-by-kaveeta-m-abicchandani/

THE ROOM,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/31/the-room-poetry-by-morca/

FREEWAY TO SPACE, by Kathy Anderson
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/31/freeway-to-space-poetry-by-kathy-anderson/

CONUNDRUM,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/31/conundrum-poetry-by-devdas-kakati/

WORDS,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/28/words-poetry-by-lawrence-klein/

MY LIFE IN ORBIT, by Ken W. Simpson
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/28/my-life-in-orbit-poetry-by-ken-w-simpson/

HOW THE HAT, by Stephen Karnaghan
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/28/how-the-hat-poetry-by-stephen-karnaghan/

THE WRITERS POND,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/26/the-writers-pond-poetry-by-florence-onyango/

STRAIGHT WHAT,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/26/straight-what-poetry-by-rebecca-e-blanton/

THE TRUTH, by Prateeque Ojha
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/24/the-truth-poetry-by-prateeque-ojha/

HOW DID I COME TO THIS, by Catherine Adams Webb
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/24/how-did-i-come-to-this-poetry-by-catherine-adams-webb/

THE SOLIDER,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/24/the-soldier-poetry-by-natashja-singleton/

WHITE PROPAGANDA, by SM Cadman
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/24/white-propaganda-poetry-by-sm-cadman/

LOVE THIS LIFE, by Buffy Sammons
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/23/love-this-life-poetry-by-buffy-sammons/

WHY TERRORISM, by Husaina Shabbir
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/23/why-terrorism-poetry-by-husaina-shabbir/

THE VISIT,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/23/the-visit-by-stacy-ann-duhaney/

DIAMONDS OF NEPAL,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/23/diamonds-of-nepal-poetry-by-robyn-campbell-2/

HAVING MY CAKE AND EATING IT TOO, by Gun Roswell
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/20/having-my-cake-and-eating-it-too-poetry-by-gun-roswell/

THE TRUTH, by Prateeque Ojha
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/24/the-truth-poetry-by-prateeque-ojha/

FLIGHT OF FREEDOM,
http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/05/16/flight-of-freedom-poetry-by-scott-davis/