Adaptation - by - Bob Atkinson

Adaptation

(c)2016 Bob Atkinson

Adaptation

surreal describes our situation

a mental image processed inward

toward some deviation's mark

of human non-progress directly stated

we step back in our time

within a mix of what we see

devolved toward institutions

benign and in between

solve for me this problem

help me with this question

which expands our capabilities

strength or cowardice?

strength would stand our backbone

against every problem charged

while cowardice would never ever find

us with courage leveraged by

by those men of society

who claim their laws lie real

when they, in their weakest moments

this land underfoot did steal

so why would what someone says

hurt you in the least

why could you not ignore

words from some strange beast

why would society protect you

from verbal communication

even though those thoughts you hear

come from a deviant situation

I would rather hear it all

so I could adapt to that charge

with thought over time

as to their meaning's cause

would never tell you you're in the wrong

to say any words to me

for when you say them openly

you've set your mind process free

when you hear these things from me

you know fully where I stand

I'd rather have a bullet come

from front not toward my back

adaptation changes us

and melds those not sincere

from a pot of thoughtless men

into a set of peers

while protection of thought

demeans our species greatly

give me honesty please friend

so I can understand your meaning

for if because of convention

you hide your feelings from

your friends and your enemies

we'll never become just one

always stay "them and us"

and those not of my kind

something I would cry about

from now 'till end of time

Essence of Poetry - by - Bob Atkinson

Essence of Poetry

(c)2016Bob Atkinson

sometimes questions come of age

in an age of sweetness dawned

some semi circle arranged in patterns

without which our lives lie dormant

here, in our wondrous days

we softly ponder meaning

define please essence of poetry

without which I'm only dreaming

well dear, 'tis not a definition

to wonder and berate

we've come to know a why of life

when we write words on page

to think begins a journey

into the mind of us

settles for us ever more

what's good about this fuss

good can find many meanings

as bad can find one's sad

elegance of finite solution

begins each day at dawn

to answer your good question

about poetry's erudite parade

we must here find a purpose

to why these words get arranged

poetry doesn't tell those facts

which prose must duly report

poetry tells how you feel

about this new discourse

emotions laid upon a page

where feelings come to front

how did you react to the news

with love or real discomfort

do you like these events

or do they make you sad

how could you find solace

in both good and bad

so there, in a nutshell

we've shelled this beast again

telling all there is to know

about one plan of man

Hiding the Garbage - by Bob Atkinson

Hiding the Garbage

(c)2016 Bob Atkinson

Nobel Prize for Literature Announcement

we see bios written long

profuse in praise of poet's songs

those who know words to say

tell stories endless in many ways

he's this or that

she's teacher of

awarded trophies

because of.....

but where do they give

humanity something solid

fair value designed not with
ego driven noshings

no monument to carry
in our minds as we resolve
to accept as truth these

openly divine causes

hidden away, vanity books
to add to bios padded
like a mimic of some ancient crook
hand out for purses grabbing

and when you find a snippet

of words for which they care

one sees there's not much to read

wisdom lacking in a tiraded affair

so tell your institutions please

before awards please this junk read

don't throw us under a long black bus

and feel you've done some good for us

The Compulsion of Barbarity - by Bob Atkinson

The Compulsion

of Barbarity

(c)2015 Bob Atkinson

some see living in their dreams

a different world upon

which we rely

to carry ourselves toward dawn

some see peace and justice

as goals for which to rise

toward that institution

of derelict disguise

me, I find unusual

a soul who cannot see

simplicity of our germ of life

when we set it free

free to wander openly

beyond constraints of pride

free to send our children

toward the other side

free to search our feelings

for all who walk near us

and free to find sincerity

as a well defined plus

while jumping on those teachings

which never were that good

for faith in understanding

tells some what's absolute

absolutes have no place in life

leftovers from those times

when life carried less of value

than a pocket full of dimes

The Critic - Art and Poetry - by Bob Atkinson

The Critic - Art and Poetry

(c)2014 Bob Atkinson

The Critic

'tis always easier to criticize

than is to do it yourself
although in truth the latter
contains far more fun and mirth


my point lies somewhere in between

good and bad of poetry
adjustment for the mainstream
how we absorb ideas

to see this in a different light

with crystal covers on the lens

we can, with open eyes

love writers with sharp pens

those who look beyond the fluff

and understand good meaning

divest themselves of constraints

and pursue a different dreaming

they see a world with tearfulness

not holding on to chains

which produce establishments

that grate and agitate

my desire in this arena

carries to all a simple message

don't let the future be determined

by past usage and direction

what you see is fabricated

a reality far from real

poo pooing things that matter

holds their only zeal

me, I've grown accustomed

to my meaning zipping by

heads of those who look

only at the surface side

doesn't mean I'm disheartened

to try is not hard at all

when you feel compunction

to rearrange it all

Statesmanship - by Bob Atkinson

Statesmanship

(c)2014 Bob Atkinson

Dwight D. Eisenhower

"... we hold it to be the first task of statesmanship to develop the stength that will deter the forces of aggression and promote the conditions of peace ..."

Dwight D. Eisenhower

here in that time of crisis

those wayward days of mud

when those who would be powerful

gain fashion with use of gun

not seeds of perfect charity

no love do they possess

just overriding purpose

by thumping of their chests

here in our development

nature has our crossroads made

do we digress to the point

where progress reverses trend

back to a time when people lived

a life so badly blessed

with slavery, toil and pestilence

given to their masters' whims

or do we define the nature

of progress to be made

a simple organizing statement

which carries to the grave

all we seek of accomplishment

all love grown for our friends

no enemies designated

we're all just mortal men

so first we can define

the void of useful souls

that underlying demon

we can't allow to grow

when some seek to gain power

by force or use of gun

intimidation, recklessness

they need to understand

society cannot fathom

such willful negligence

needs of the many for peace

herein takes precedence

And So It Was - by Bob Atkinson

A Whiter Shade of Pale

A Whiter Shade of Pale

Poemwriters: Booker, Reid, Fisher

we skipped the light Fandango
turned cartwheels 'cross the floor
I was feeling kind of seasick
but the crowd called out for more

the room was humming harder
as the ceiling flew away
when we called out for another drink
the waiter brought a tray

and so it was that later
as the Miller told his tale
that her face, at first just ghostly
turned a whiter shade of pale

she said there is no reason
and the truth is plain to see
but I wandered through my playing cards
and would not let her be

one of sixteen vestal virgins
who were leaving for the coast
and although my eyes were open
they might just as well've been closed

she said, 'I'm home on shore leave,'
though in truth we were at sea
so I took her by the looking glass
and forced her to agree

saying, 'You must be the mermaid
who took Neptune for a ride.'
but she smiled at me so sadly
that my anger straightway died

if music be the food of love
then laughter is its queen
and likewise if behind is in front
then dirt in truth is clean

my mouth by then like cardboard
seemed to slip straight through my head
so we crash-dived straightway quickly
and attacked the ocean bed

and so it was that later
as the Miller told his tale
that her face, at first just ghostly
turned a whiter shade of pale

and so it was

And So It Was

(c)Bob Atkinson

to trip the light fantastic

to stop and tell a story

to those who hadn't gone

has quick implications

being right or wrong

doesn't really matter

do we tell the truth in all

we say, do, implicate

or do we just revolve

around those reflexed feelings

what seems comfortable today

in feeding image of self-worth

or contentment toward our graves

to set in motion accolades

and minds tuned to a song

garners ornamental tweets

allows us to belong

to a mood of indecision

strictly aberated in some way

you think it normal tuning out

some think it's moon gyrated