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pretenses

this is what
they want to see of you

a handsome face, strong arms, clean fingernails,
broad shoulders,
determined eyes that look always forward
scented ears
the best feet and
good standing,

to please them
you give those parts to all to them
and what you will get
in return is the
applause,

everybody is happy,
except you,

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pretenses

this is what
they want to see of you

a handsome face, strong arms, clean fingernails,
broad shoulders,
determined eyes that look always forward
scented ears
the best feet and
good standing,

to please them
you give those parts to all to them
and what you will get
in return is the
applause,

everybody is happy,
except you,
it was not you,
it will never be you,

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Lads in Their Hundreds

The lads in their hundreds to Ludlow come in for the fair,
There's men from the barn and the forge and the mill and the fold,
The lads for the girls and the lads for the liquor are there,
And there with the rest are the lads that will never be old.

There's chaps from the town and the field and the till and the cart,
And many to count are the stalwart, and many the brave,
And many the handsome of face and the handsome of heart,
And few that will carry their looks or their truth to the grave.

I wish one could know them, I wish there were tokens to tell
The fortunate fellows that now you can never discern;
And then one could talk with them friendly and wish them farewell
And watch them depart on the way that they will not return.

But now you may stare as you like and there's nothing to scan;
And brushing your elbow unguessed-at and not to be told
They carry back bright to the coiner the mintage of man,
The lads that will die in their glory and never be old.

poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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Who Is Beautiful?

i am not beautiful
people see right through me
i am not beautiful
it's the world
who made such pretty things
i am not beautiful
nor heavens said i am
i am not beautiful
it's the world who judge this book
i am not beautiful
i am just a person
with mere imaginations
i am not handsome
i am merely a boy
with this physical nature
it's the world who tells me
and so i must understand
i am not beautiful
who is beautiful?
in the eyes of the Almighty i am so

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poem by Anthony John Oliveros
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My Poor Friend (come back!)

My Friend,
Come back
Please

We still need you,
Please! ! !
Come back!

Back to school again...
Study with us again...
Laugh again...

Let us see your handsome face again!
Let us hear your voice again!
Please...!
Come back! !

For the love that we gave you,
For the love that remind you.
We hope you know that we love you

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poem by Qistina Zaini
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How My Story Goes

Walking out in the roses and the waves
Not knowing where I am,
And you not knowing why you feel the need
To bring your body so near to me
When your eyes are so far away,
Engorging.
And the mountains are filled with evil spirits
While Pedro takes off his close,
And the Christmas trees sleep like starving conquistadors
Fearing that they have been brought too
Far into the wilds of the state of Florida,
Beautiful men so full of turquoise thrills.
Men on roller-skates,
Men slinging the news to girls who live in their mothers
And fathers trailer parks,
Girls who always go out tattooed and runny like liquid
Throws,
Who know the cries of unbowed rebels,
And who sing once they have their Christmas tree decorated
In their tin cans,

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poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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The One You Despise

Mother, I must warn you, you've come to look the fool
For, in attempt to teach me life, you've broken every rule.
You say that I should stand proud, because my ancestors were black
Yet for the ones of white and red my pride must somehow lack

You told me to feel handsome, be proud of what I see
And yet, 'Big, black and ugly, ' is all you say to me
Then manners, you tried on me to press
And handsome grooming, with proper dress

But then, you offer no respect,
And, still, from me, perfection expect
And, now, you say it's time to go
And, at eighteen, it's time. I know.

And though I love you I must away
Though, never knowing just how to say,
'I'm sorry'

The one you despise is always there

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poem by Wakefield Mahon
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1805

At Viscount Nelson’s lavish funeral,
While the mob milled and yelled about St Paul’s,
A General chatted with an Admiral:

“One of your colleagues, Sir, remarked today
That Nelson’s exit, though to be lamented,
Falls not inopportunely, in it’s way”

“He was a thorn in our flesh’, came the reply-
‘The mot bird-witted, unaccountable,
Odd little runt that ever I did spy”.

“One arm, one peeper, vain as Pretty Poll,
A meddler too, in foreign politics
And gave his heart in pawn to a plain moll.

“He would dare lecture us Sea Lords, and then
Would treat his ratings as though men of honour
And play leap-frog with his midshipmen!

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poem by Robert Graves
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Back In The Days

When I was in high school, [1]
When I was in high school, [2]
I was very loud. [1]
I was very shy. [2]
I had a lot of friends, [1]
I had little friends, [2]
my parents were proud, [1]
my parents lived a lie. [2]

When I was in high school, [1]
When I was in high school, [2]
prom was coming next week. [1]
prom was soon coming up. [2]
Daddy bought me a dress, [1]
Momma took me to a shop, [2]
So nervous I couldn't breathe. [1]
bought me a black tux. [2]

When I was in high school, [1]
When I was in high school, [2]

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poem by Heather Cropper
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Marie Laveau

Down in Lou´siana where the black trees grow
Lives a voodoo lady named Marie Laveaux.
She got a black cat tooth and a mojo bone,
And anyone wouldn´t leave her alone.
She go GREEEEEEEEEEEE...
Another man done gone.
She live in a swamp in a hollow log
With a one-eyed snake and a three-legged dog.
She got a bent bony body and stringy hair,
And if she ever seen you messin´ round there,
She go GREEEEEEEEEEEE...
Another man done gone.

And then one night when the moon was black,
Into the swamp came Handsome Jack.
A no-good man like you all know,
And he was lookin´ around for Marie Laveaux .
He said, 'Marie Laveau, you lovely witch,
Why don´t you gimme a little charm that´ll make me rich.
Gimme million dollars, and I´ll tell you what I´ll do...

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poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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