Best Feeble Minded Poems
The night takers come when the sun goes down
When there's no one around to hear the quiet loud
They are the shadowed clouds feared by the proud
Seeping in through ears with maddening clapping sound
Insane clowns with razor sharp teeth poking around
The mind pounds until it's fully unwound
Once it's lost it can never be found
The brain twitches and seizes until it freezes
Epileptic diseases permeating the creases
Too late to call out or to cry to Jesus
Life never owned each one of us leases
Man thinks he can do whatever he pleases
Monkey like minds relating to rhesus
Trying to pick up all the evolutionary pieces
**** disguised as treasure but it's still feces
Witness lowly ones described as meek
Traveling along a narrow path to seek
Listening to prophets from the past speak
People laughing and calling them Jesus Freaks
Thinking they're feeble minded and weak
Are the wise and powerful really so unique
Who will be left to listen to their critique
For the night takers came and took them in their sleep
We live in a world of wise people who feel Science
is our salvation. Yet each attempt man makes to improve
upon creation seems to destroy another part of it.
Eventually we are the takers and the taken.
The bulldog has been awakened
beware of what’s been told
For the weak and feeble minded
his wrath will soon unfold
Another woman basher
has made his way onto the field
You simply are no match
your fate has now been sealed
Men and Women are both equal
don’t let your ego lead you astray
The cowards now show their colors
they think the soup is a buffet
The bulldog strolls for justice
he protects the women of PS
He’s coming now for you
he’ll stop your trolling and BS
The Bishops bathe in Babylon
while Princes, prancing on the lawn,
watch Queen deflowered, pale and wan.
The King dares not defend her.
The Horsemen, holding broken reins
the Morning of the Hurricanes,
sigh “it’s no use, it’s all in vain,
the Saints will soon surrender”.
They wonder why they ever came,
they have No One whom they can blame,
they have no face, they have no name,
and even less, a gender.
The empty-handed Vagabonds
smoke stale cigars, stroke faded Blondes
while waiting at the walls beyond,
but kneel as Chaos enters.
They’re gazing through the window panes
in hopes that distant Hurricanes
will twist and break their iron chains
defying life’s tormentors.
The Fantom of the Opera frowns
as feeble minded Cleric-clowns
mouth hollow hurdy-gurdy sounds
when blessing doomed dissenters.
The Pirate wields a wooden leg,
with pupils dull and visage vague,
and if by chance he spreads the plague,
it really doesn’t matter.
His Princess, pale, no longer feigns,
foresees instead (down ancient lanes)
the coming of the Hurricanes -
the Stones stir, staring at her.
And Jackals scrape the river bed
as Savants soothe the underfed
and Crows, collecting scattered bread,
adorn, with crumbs, the platter.
The Jokers Wild and One Eyed Janes
weep, winding up in rundown trains
mid whispers of the Hurricanes,
and Priests refuse to christen.
They’re fleeing from the Leprechauns,
the cuckoo birds, the dying swans;
while pitching pennies into ponds
their eyes opaquely glisten.
The spectral Clocks with spindled spokes
remind the Mimes to tell the Folks
the time of day and other jokes,
yet No One looks to listen.
The Hunchbacks with contorted canes
galumph before the Hurricanes,
in melted sleet, in frozen rains,
in bruised and battered sandals.
Their Groans engulf the land of gulls,
the land of stones, the land of nulls,
and lurk between the blackened lulls,
for Nighttime brooks no candles.
Their prayers to Dogs and Nuns and Dukes,
(and other long forgotten Spooks)
are more than random crazed rebukes,
though taunting to the Vandals.
Continued in Part 2
That is my wish for you
that you be young forever
No matter what age you attain
you keep a burning
to stay young
in your heart and soul.
This would bring happiness
to see you in life's glow
always maintaining a good attitude
of youthful effervescence
to get you through
turbulent, stressful times
It's this yearning
that will sear into your essence,
for years are just a number
that constricts the feeble minded
But you smile with delight,
keep the fire blazing
transcend the universe
with a serene, peaceful cascade
that reveals your true arrangement
with eternal wonderings.
A HEART OF GOLD
A
Symbol of a
Seraphic being you are,
For to the hopeless, without a
Behest a chest of hope on a platter
Of silver you offered, and the cold
Maimed, with your fur, warmth
You gave.
To
The feeble minded
In the battle against cruel fate.
Courage for conquest you gave.
To the ravenous innards, through
The darkest ravine undaunted
You trod to feed.
The
Cleaved hearts from
Belied oath of love,
Solace, found in your
Salving speech.
The solitariness fissured hearts
In your companionship suture found.
Nothing
Have I seen,
That you would begrudge
For a heart of gold you have
Even your life, you would as lief
As the celestial liege give.
For his nature, in you reflects.
He, though, just a pearl had, but on
The altar of love down laid him.
For the hallowed carmine from his
Sinew our flaws to blot.
Oh
How like the sun you are
For though we are by distance barred.
Yet, the warmth of your benign rays
Here I feel.
(DEDICATED TO THE GIVER)
prosaic prologues bewitch
feeble minded scribe doth undertakes
tend toward lugubriousness ring tone
for goodness sake
echoing across,
a figurative lake woebegone, where quake
shutters latched storm windows,
clapped closed winter season didst make
physical environment lachrymose
analogous to imp pond durable dark lake
where sits inside secluded hut,
this fledgling author named Jake
a former cub (scout) at a loss
to string together an aria
tomb other nature and NOT FAKE,
sepulchral paeon to divine Gaea, Mother Earth
especially incorporating
mutisyllabic (sesquipedalian) words,
which exertion
on par with giving birth
(or so I guess),
a particularly heavily pregnant laden dearth
of help mates, doubling demonstrably
deadly duty devoid of mirth
totally tubular taxing toll,
an essentially unbearable
effort with bulging girth
whereat digestion consumes
latent mental ambition,
especially toasty warm near the hearth
which hitherto unknown to any reader
twas Xmas fabrication and fiction
no crime committed, nor animals harmed
in the making of diction
aery necessary entrapping unsuspecting intellect
to comprehend somber benediction
unless perchance one lone wolf
bait Oven English Major
with Westernization
topped off with a European
debunaire suave acculturation
even luckier if hypothetical personage
dips daintily into forays epicurean,
though careful,
and alert since church fathers
would frown on parsonage
whose natural born ardor,
a spiritual abduction
stealing austerity, complacency, and objection
toward forced irrational schemas
averse to abnegation
unfair imposition
to foist upon pruriant predilection
also impossible
to sequester arbitrary animal urges,
punishing call of the wild,
sowing seeds a beastial accusation
considered averse,
then imposition contrition!
Don’t say that, you better knock on wood
It’s bad to spread misfortune aloud, in front of others
Don’t you know any better? Karma and jinxing are real
Hey! And get off that crack, you’ll break your mama’s back
It’s not so bad to spread misfortune aloud, in front of others
For those who did wrong doing to me and my loved ones
Hey! I’m glad to see you’re standing on that crack.
By the way send your dear mother my sincerest regards
And for those who did wrong doing to me and my loved ones
You should lasso the words escaping your mouth
Send your dear mother my sincerest regards
Just tell her I said it must blow having a child like you
You should hog tie those words before they escape your mouth
Sticks and stones could break bones, words, well they just sting
It must blow for your mom having such a shitty child, sting!
Sorry for the news flash but nobody likes you
Sticks and stones will break your bones, words just tingle
Oh you didn’t know any better? Karma and Jinxing are real
News flash! The world is better off without the likes of you
That’s why you shouldn’t say that, did you knock on wood yet?
In my bed, my childhood teddy layers next to me.
Absent mindedly I trace his now tattered seams,
And his matted brown fur from years of tears and hugs.
Even though I'm old and gray, privately we talk.
No, I'm not feeble-minded as some might think.
I talk to Teddy of my thoughts I had that day.
As long as I can speak, my Teddy is my guy.
He's my greatest listener where so many are not.
If he begins to talk, they'll surely take me away.
My mind is experiencing a fastidious flatulence; slightly fiendish, and not for the
finicky or fainthearted.
I fidget amidst it's fanatical far-fetched farce yet stand fearless, watching it's face
flounder in a foolhardy feeble-minded foible.
With fervor I say farewell forever to it's festering, feverish fetish, as it's frantic
fiasco foams, flails and finally fails.
http://lovestruehome.com/
Listening is the most
beautiful things, I have
ever experience in my
entire existence.
Given unto me the
power of silent
by the silencer.
As the blackness removes
the colors from my eyes,
my intuition and instincts
are completely replied upon
as they guide me in
the shadows of my own thoughts.
So many hidden
emotions, my thoughts
became the shadows of
my feelings and those
feelings, became
potentates of my mind.
Being subjected to my feelings, I was
impotent to erect effective actions,
and inadequate to construct intellectual choices,
due to my own ignorance, desires,
fears, and anxiety that has
tortured the deepest depths
of my inner thoughts.
Corruption, murky, desolated,
and feeble-minded all became
acquainted with one another as
I constitutionally, allowed them
to control the authenticity
of my purely mind
been caged, suppressed,
extorted and mocked.
Consumed in my suffering,
drowning in my guilt,
the dark spaces become
full of dreadful chaos voices.
Wiggling like waves,
but never makes it
to the shores.
Buried in the deep,
hidden from the light.
Expressing the deepest
depth of me, I found
the meaning to my suffering.
With a deep understanding,
I now accept this beauty.
The very image that was
created in the image of an
burning bush,
flame was once buried
and now unearthed.
As that silence continues to grow,
I begin to regain inner
strength and wisdom,
by being in a state of
being wise of my
everyday experiences.
Germinating, growing, harvesting,
and progressing,
my intellectual mind has been
flourishing like the
Olmecs, Mayans,
and the Nasca civilizations that
were flourishing back
in those ancient times.
Conquering all feelings
and balancing the
emotions has never
felt so refreshing and
reviving and yet electrifying.
Malignant gangrenous political cancer
corrupts, festers, and poisons United States,
thus opposition cannot wait,
especially since Gospel in accordance
with feeble minded Donald Trump
implemented wrought ugly trait,
particularly obliteration, sans progressive
human rights legislation
more or less pronounced positive
in every L ionized Nittany or cotton bowl state
and ratiocination inherent within
mine Democrat oriented mind doth rate
this forty fifth president (defect)
with sawdust packing
his noodle oven egotistical pate
trophy wife (spouse number three),
a Slovenia mate
donning "I don't care anymore"
t-shirt rousing media firestorm of late
essentially silently corroborating,
fostering, and illuminating hate
mutely bolstering the Trump anthem,
viz make America great
again, which pathless,
pithless, and pointless aim
roars like an earsplitting runaway freight
train oblivious of wailing soul asylum,
that no era meets said criteria
backtracking time machine before
rightful indigenous occupants of this land
got decimated as one after another
exploiter did inundate
(comprising a multitude
of indigenous variety of village people
indignantly subjected to Genocide,
when first "discoverer"
of new land didst promulgate
activation wrought deliberate sealed fate
vis a vis capitulation, demolition,
and extirpation, cuz
a scathing rebuke aye attest,
those murderers didst equate
worthlessness of
so called "Indians" on 1492 date,
and still remnants of storied tribes,
now attempt to create
historical documentation operate
ting with limited resources to adjudicate.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Food methinks doth buzzfeed drumbeat agog
at pyrotechnics July 4th, 2018 shared as blog
posts, a falsehood prevails which dog
gone “FAKE” brewed watered down grog
posits that the majority of Colonialists stay hog
tied to strict task masters, and mainly the scant
upperclass experienced autonomy,
no matter the under class didst futilely rant
and rave with the occasional
uprisings over time did grant
minimal appeasement to stifle violent kant!
So here it is
the passing of a day
this dull Spring day
and the silence pollutes my thoughts
while the depression dips poison into my oxygen
It's cold outside
fitting weather for how I feel inside
for I am lost
I don't know what happened
but well what did I expect
to be held in high regard
constantly being waited on hand and foot
But well what did I expect
myself to turn magician
and allow myself to reappear in her presence
so the love I spoke, promised would be real
No...I don't know what I expected
but I never thought in a matter of weeks
I'd print off my retraction
and realize the words I said
were only exaggeration
for I have no actions to back up what befell my lips
while yet a voice from her remains unheard
And it all has me wondering
what have I gotten myself into
It just all crossed my mind at one time
a jumble of broken sentences
like I'm learning how to talk all over again
My feelings they were true
and hers, they were too
but time gave way to a wound unnoticed
but time gave way to a wound that bled too deep
leaving a portal open to the past
and now I'm that boy of old
not a man anymore
Just a loser
just one more loser breathing poison oxygen
or so it seems only in my tainted head
Well what did I expect
happy ever after isn't listed in my job description
I'm just a fickle, feeble minded
insignificant little ant
better yet, a rotting piece of tree bark
deteriorating with time
Her delightful, delicate, portrait features
makes me so sad inside
a deep shadow of blue decorating the depths of the ocean
Ocean, a song sung by Cold
reminding me I will never get her back
Was she ever mine to begin with
Never...
no matter how much I want her to be
or do I
I don't know
I was so sure before
but I'm so full of doubt and weary
that her spell has subsided
and I cascade down a single thread
of my lowly spider web
but I'm not weaving lies
I'm weaving a message
that says I love you
but I don't expect to be answered
I don't expect comments
I don't expect for these words to make any sense
I just feel so low
It all just hit me at once
but this is just one thing I'll never tell her
I don't want her to think I'm pathetic
I don't want her to think of me differently
I...I don't know
I'm just...
Well did I expect...
In need of socks on my feet
frantically I search the floor
naked and depleted
feeble minded, missing home..
drowning on the surface
of black river, floating alone
she swallowed the stars
selfishly born, kingdom unworn
scattered pieces of intentions
fed with contempt
on a cold unused bed
kindled animation, moonless breath
And if one could see me
If one could feel me
Inside their mind
Phobias arise in a soul
Recalcitrance done unto thyself?
Possibly futile claims of sanity
And you try to make me
Try to tear down my animosity
Never can you find reverence
Stuck within a passive perseverance
Schizophrenic in my eyes alone
Psychosis so close to my thoughts
Feeble-minded you are as a human
Or something held to that nature
Try the claws, dig the paws
Never knock fur until you taste it
Shine through my senses incarnadine
Tear through my flesh the anguish
Pain envelopes only those who feel it
Learn to welcome and hold onto agony
Awake forever, seeing nothing significant
Of course, that is but a tapestry
Placed upon your human eyes
And a specialized ethos to your species
The Planet Of Hate
creatures with zombie type features in are underground
long hanging viscious fangs dripping blood off side of mouth
there flesh is of overt vexation of pivotal excess seeking self to please
they can't help you cause they can't even help themselves
evil mind that plunge into sore vexation dauntless & spineless
heartless minds darkened stench of manure as there carcasses rot
vulture plunge with maggot infested feces in the extremities
darkened spots having holes with narrow minded thinking
blind leaders of the blinded who will soon fall into a ditch
can't help you cause they can't help even themselves
come to kill, steal & destroy as there chief dead end aim & ploy
the smell of menure in piles of sewage through there deranged portals
vanity of vanities all is vanity for this is the one you worshipped.
the false god of sin, self & Satan
ready for the eternal over of affliction
spots with eyes having holes bridge the gap in Hell
falling creatures in a desire for blood masked in superficial pain
the mentally insane filled with ellusive torment of money whore mongers wasted
blood stained ceiling with an audience of deep habitation of darkened caverns with dungeons...
alone you will be silence with the forever memory of vain oblations
the cavity of neglect frozen in your feeble minded mutant brain
lest I refrain another door then the one the leads to hate...
*****, pout & complain
idol fantasy of chosen damaged convenience that leads to your death
the gloom of frozen embodiment of pulsating screams throughout duration
come up for air only to be silenced once more lest I implore
running to & fro in circles marked on a blotted page yet not clearly intact
working to hard can give you a heart attack
onto the climax of 666 with a twist of haunted vile memories of helter skelter
yet this is the path you have chosen welcome to Hell's door !