Tattoos in Mayberry

45,413 poems read

We don't comment.
Silence is golden
Best to pray about it.
Then, hold one's tongue
Just send love.
Let God sort things out.
I am 6,m plus years old,
and time marched on 
without you, ever shooting
 me that memo.
Is my work now done. 
Do lie down in state.
Then get planted in a field.
Is that the best I can hope for,
having ben
wounded in battle 
barely alive and told
to feel grateful
to munch on stale crumbs of 
the last guy's picked over scatter.
It's time to
fight the power

get a good punch in when
any time you can.
Just remeber what you're up against
 the power has their money
and the power flaunts their mass.
like a snowball downhill
Remember how sweet victory
will be
that's why we must fight against it.
the  power of ownership.
Who owns the earth
What's this power of property
both physical and sexual..
The power wants fame
and the power seeks glory
The power 
press, and the power
has the flash
of the big dance
for the winners.
with new ways to give those who came in second
or didn't compete
their consolation prize
of grief, stress and misery.

is your
life, it's your penance
for a long lost crime.
When the Power swoops down
from a murky sky
and puts a  it's
best new, whammy on you
and they make no exceptions. 
You're one of their
new cases to play 
social weaponry
to detonate, at their
new invention coronation,
one of many ceremonies to
showcase to their partners and rivals
their brutal power
new ways to sniff you out, so they can
break down your doors
tell you who you can love 
what you can smoke 

thirsty for the blood of any rogue infidel,
a mission on the right hand of attrition 
one half of the full honor guard
and marching band,
You will see them driving  the biggest trucks
racing the fastest
drinking the oldest and finest booze,
twisted cops
protected by shyster lawyers
paying hit men who are
one with their guns
having twist on silencers
paid well to rid the streets of you 
and your excess.
You are nothing but a bee
in a hive.
No one has the power of reason or discretion
not judges
who must pass mandatory minimun
or maximum sentence.

The message is clear.
You're exposed, and in danger 
take shelter. Align yourself  with a group. 
and vow to always protect and defend that  band, gang, or flock.
For me it's been a long twisty,  dirty
winding road,
to secure
and bring back
something of value, to protect and honor the tribe.
My empty words on a forgotten page,are  burnt with the rest of 
the unholy.
who cry for fairness'
while failing to  thrive
with a beating heart.
 Forget your dreams, produce, produce.
defend the children of our death star.
The God of what have you done for me lately, wants results yesterday  while 
waiting for you to produce results today'
feeling betrayed, and  angry at your malaise,
his anger flows down hill.
The rescuer and protector of his flock hasn't arrived.
To save the operation. 
To do honor  to these dark and special children.
so as to write them  more deeply,and fully
into their book of life.
According to law of  the predator,
the first law is the law of the jungle.
A haven filled with beak filled winners
feeding off defeated, rotting, prey.
Survival  is for those fittest to play the game.
never give a sucker an even break.
keep them close so you may
smash your enemies.
Never give up the fight.
Charity begins 
and ends at home.

Well, you can keep your charity.
I won't have any part of it.
I remember when you were born
Little Dragon
A sunny summers day.
Grandpa's blue suspenders.
In a new tall light brown, brick hospital 
I was born at home,
in the dead of winter.
We are so different.
you not once wondered who I am
where I have been
what I hold dear.
What life means to me,
why haven't we talked.
We're both sorry now
for how things went down?.
But we cannot tell this to each other
It's not a discussion found in the
ancient and far away
language of your book of life 
of which you still revere and follow..
it's why we can't
break bread and just talk.
 I have no valid pedigree on paper proving
to the Federation of saints.
I'm worthy of anything more than 
dismissal, banishment. censure.
this being the consensus of my tribe..
Having  been disgraced,
passed over by committee
how could I ever  marry one of our own.
Those plotting against me would
find a way to poison my bride
against me one day.
until she'd be sleeping
with her sworn enemy,
a man she despised.
So, what's left of love for me,
but a good, quiet, woman outside untainted
by the convictions of my clan
A woman unpolluted by doctrine, ritual, or
I could apply this to many cultures/religions.
Having a sister, cloistered away,
in the high Malibu Hills 
she washed her hands of me
I don't know her address
she won't give it to me.
It's easy to understand, 
I haven't been confirmed by her coterie
to be worthy, 
I am derelict of protecting our flock,
a spineless, sea creature,
breathing underwater.
a bad influence
coming up from the deep.
so I'm dismissed
 and thrown to the sharks. .,.
It's apparent from all reports,
I deserve harsh treatment.
in fact,
If I hadn't been punished
it would be a sacrilege
 crime against the lizard king.
translation;  right or wrong
the big Moniter Lizards have decided
I have not served to
properly protect the tribe.
and until I run this gauntlet.
I'm written out of the five books of life
I am to them the happy Dybbuk
as they work diligently
 flitting about and fretting 
adjusting their security cameras
to alert the proper authorities if I were
to break into their inner sanctum.
It's all written down somewhere.
in theirg tainted scripture
The holy tablets proclaim
the devil is I
Irredeemable filth
possessing the stench of the dead..
It isn't anyone's fault.

no one's to blame.
It's just
Their Lord 
has decreed it
to protect his flock
this is how it has always been
and must always remain....
I have a few more topics to cover
before they bury me three deep 
in an unmarked grave
for forgotten souls.

 be the spirit who crawls  up
and out of the dirt 
find your own path way
up your hill
to that mountain top 
with  vista, and vantage point of distant valleys 
in your own time,
on your own day.
Be tempered for great things
you're not finished building
your artists's house yet.
have your day in court,
before  death
whether they read  or shelve the transcript
Vulture Clan from which I was born
You taught me to dig, scrap, claw, bite
struggle, to get on base. 
I haven't been  called out yet.
I swung and missed your first pitch.
but, I am still standing tall
in the batters box
on two sturdy feet,
I am  here.
I exist
reckon with me.
Your tough loved many layered hypocrisy
has served to strengthen
my resolve to find and spread my truth...
your criminality lies in either 
bad luck, impatience or 
fearfulness to back 
 a champion..  
Let love in when it appears
take what it offers
right where you are
right where love stands...
Love someone outside of of your faith.
Don't let the Big Megilla
and his heavy  laden book of life.
dissolve or eliminate your options..
Disappoint the power, 
go forth on your own.
 without skewed agenda,
or blind allegience to country.
It's one of the perks
of being a free agent.
A free man 
living unafraid
in the free world.

A clear state of mind which doesn't
garner enthusiasm
to cheer tthe bombing and mutilation
of people, who are enemies
because country or clan'
needs their land

Don't compromise
your sense of right from wrong.
Take your chances
and walk away
 an ache in your heart
because sadness, won't kill you
 like ,those smart brats,
behind closed mahogany doors
done deals 
with big plans
to throw you and yours carelessly
under the bus
For me , I'll pay now,
at a chance to play later.
Much of the safe money is  playing now
and paying later

Well, now that I have risen above the cloud
clearing the wreckage of engrams
I haven't the time for grudges.
I want to make peace and settle my accounts.
Because I never disowned my own people.
It's just need a better reason to join
and I want you to  know I'm not finished yet,
and I know waiting isn't easy.
but,I beg you to try to be
patient with  father brother daughter and son
the bit race isn't finished.
I know it must hurt you to hold back
the love you have and so desperately want
to share with me coming home as a
Prodigal Son
But, nothing that lasts
and is  good
comes  easy.
The trust has been broken
and is in need of repair
I know you're compelled 
to dismiss me
as another soldier of God..
Sometimes we learn as much from  fools
as from wise men
and too many of our best ideas have been
born completely by accident.
So,it's best
 not to toss   out with such haste
into the fire my book
full with furious life,
and new ideas. 

Buddy Bee Anthony

all rights reserved as is by author



Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Late for the Feast