Thursday, April 30, 2015

Waste of Words - by Bob Atkinson

Waste of Words
(c)2015 Bob Atkinson
Poet

she teaches English at a school
where we recognize the game
she really understands those rules
gathering dusty accolades

no meaning deep in letters arranged
trite and stupid, beyond deranged
who cares about some forest bark
and meadows green within a park

she sends poor students out to a world
with preparation denoting fools
where could have taught ideas profound
just teases us with irrelevant sounds

now, in open season for
those who profess our nation's core
we stand firm in ready resolve
to rearrange our teaching's cause

1. Bring forth a logic sensibly arranged
2. Purpose, number one in stage
3. Wade through the nonsense presented thus
4. Bring serious discussion toward the front

Poetic Warmth - by Bob Atkinson

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poetry

senses trimmed as if delight
begins with day and ends at night
warm of winds blown from the south
we feel ideas with taste of mouth

trying, buying, giving, taking
wonderful sensations in the making
fierce of character devolved
toward goal of glory herein resolved

poetry finds place in hearts
sometimes upsetting apple carts
further study has displayed
good length of service broad accolades

here with an electronic pen
we write a story of women, men
who further define our cultured past
with words of purpose lasting

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Be the King, Hate the King - by Bob Atkinson

Be the King, Hate the King
(c)2015 Bob Atkinson

I saw that man in Vegas
gold chain around his neck
viewed himself as a King
not worried about the rest

he lived a life of luxury
preying upon the weak
setting standards not in tune
with good thoughts for which we seek

those chains presented glowingly
meant release from control
of those who would enshrine the slave
and make him one of toil

yet, he himself saw royalty
when looking in a mirror
did he not care about the weak
just perceived himself as tyrant

and who mined that gold he wore
were they paid or just enslaved
were they sacrificial lambs
meant to act as conquered servants

he didn't care about them
only cared about himself
shows what one hates in life
dies slowly when 'tis self

that lives atop of the pile
beyond an angel's grasp
a seed of wandering of mind
and purple kingly belt

so, when you look upon those men
who enslave you in a minute
regard yourself as doing same
if placed there in an instant

The Songline of Life - by Bob Atkinson

The Songline of Life
(c)2015 Bob Atkinson

to navigate through time
we need an anchor firm
a way to differentiate our
straightlines from our curves

knowing well what we can find
keeps us not safe and warm
we need to draw a map of time
and actions to concur

some wise men in another land
know how and where they go
by constructing songs of pointed
directions to the flow

so here, in our confused state
can we not gather wisdom
and create a songline telling us
how to encapsulate our visions?

shall we not add from each man
no matter who he is
some wisdom he knows alone
something only he can give

a man made map of action
to keep us safe and warm
no longer agitation accepted
progress becomes the norm

I Saw the Sky- by Bob Atkinson

I Saw the Sky
(c)2015 Bob Atkinson


I saw sky as something strange
a translation of our home
desires, wants, all frequented
by flights above life's moans

taking what we knew of things
translating them to machines
and entering that realm of dust
above our hurried scene

continuing dreams I'd had before
I held a proud resolve
to incorporate into my time
that "pilot" title proud

not deeply as a profession
but proof it could be done
with skill acquired faithfully
with study and bitten tongue

so down to the asphalt strip I went
to lay my plastic down
and find if I could make the grade
and fly that thing around

was in those three dimensions
found purpose in my dreams
if one could conquer demons
nothing could stop one's energy

most any goal supreme
lay within one's grasp I found
effort conquers lack of skill
if you concentrate profoundly

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

My Theory of the Elite - by Bob Atkinson

My Theory of the Elite
(c)2015 Bob Atkinson
..
my theory of the elite
supposes something strange
a clique of those with numbed brains
controlling all we hear and see

they talk about their subject
endlessly in manner firm
describing undulating form
for us to become concerned

yet when life comes down to nuts and bolts
they see in seriousness
none of those simple forms
which we could label progress

speaking of those labels
they name each part they see
with nomenclature superior
to what we'd all agree

becomes an introspection
no worries in our hearts
they only wish to obfuscate
so they with cash depart

an example, here in poetry
"enjambment" we've all heard
a tool they use to confuse our minds
and snicker at our worth

means merely "to stick things together"
not so complex theory professed
just labels meant to confuse the public
and give their laurels rest

A Shaking Goodbye - by Bob Atkinson

A Shaking Goodbye
(c)2015 Bob Atkinson

in past times have been able
to say goodbye with such good grace
that saying we all say
when staying in one place

or, as when we leave a friend
we waive and say "goodbye"
will see you soon when we meet again
to friendship satisfy

an "over and out" for now
will see you again real soon
won't be long until we meet
again to feelings soothe

now, I find my open heart
doesn't allow me to depart
without that shaking of my body
no simple "see you later" blurted

my frame doesn't stay so calm
feels as if I'll churn the butter
never will forget that this may be
the last time we'll meet each other

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Talking to a Mirror - by Bob Atkinson

Talking to a Mirror
(c)2015 Bob Atkinson

talking to a mirror finds
no progress here described
simple reinforcement of
that deep ego named as pride

yet, when an opposite arrives
you find yourself immersed
in ideas beyond imagination
something new, wildly diverse

so if you don't agree with me
that's wonderful in approach
for I do not sit on my
behind when viewing scope

to find that wonderful person
so honest as to find
fault with one exposes weakness
in thoughts here in the mind

so to you who don't believe a thing
I say here in my blurb
I toast humbly to your arrogance
but, your approval I reserve

Monday, April 6, 2015

No Worries Hard as Mine - by Bob Atkinson

No Worries Hard as Mine
(c)2015 Bob Atkinson

send me off this tarmac
to that country of my birth
flying smoothly over desert
and cities of my youth

gave my soul to a way
of life designed to cull
those without good energy
from pleasures of it all

take me to an eagle's nest
to that home of open range
no worries in this monument
of my glory's growling rage

fought my way to the front
with sharpest teeth and claws
never seeing those who couldn't match
my efforts trip and fall

and now, while I'm still living
I feel the shame of simpler times
when my lack of gentled culture
couldn't payout one thin dime

take me to an eagle's nest
to that home of open range
no worries in this monument
of my glory's growling rage

I'll fight my way to satisfaction
as I've seen the others die
in simplistic deviation
no worries hard as mine

no worries hard as mine