Poem -

Sore Loser

It was story time
and I shared mine
I did not win
and that was fine
but kind of not
I wipe my snot
Their entries I thought

rather shallow,

like forget-me-nots

upon the fallow

My tale was tilled

its grains well-milled
Over the fires

my grey did sweat

to incubate

a precious pet

a narrative

It read a mix
of politics,
merged history
with interior
T'was a personal

with widest application
Could the judges not tell--
not even smell--
the "winning" submissions
were so ever obviously
For what did they
but emotion alone;
a passing sentiment;
a wisp of cloud;
nothing in stone
Yet mine had meaning
It had a point!
I lick my wounds
I smoke a joint
Does no one care
'bout social ills...

No conviction
Just cheap thrills?
continues to crumble
My screams for change
muffled to a mumble,
while privileged nannies
knit pleasantries on hangers,
drop no clangers
into sweet baked pie,
seed only words
of minutiae
While people hurt
and life is pain
among the poor
upon this train
of a humanity
that's gone insane
A reality that jarrs
with incongruity
and bruises my pituitary

I can't refrain
And that is why
my myth didn't fly
my nightmare didn't wash:
no one wants to wade
through defecated slosh
We flush our sins away
drown our sibling's tears
to yesterday:
the oppressed lay behind us
never before
Their cries are history
they are no more
What injustice we thrusted
just a moment ago
lies in the past
and on we go
Iron and salt
bleed into a stream no longer
they flow into
a tip
no longer manageable
of garbage
cindering upon the altar
of trashy unreal Media
The shock is too much
for duck-down babies to take
We must keep the toddlers sleeping
But my entry could not fake
it pried their eyes awake
just enough for them

to judge my rant

as deviant
and not the kind of word
worth a reward--
only censure,
to maintain
this civil dementia



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Cherie Leigh

Hi Al...I understand the frustration vented in this poem...It seems the world does not really care about what matters....and I am disheartened by what I see as well.  As writers, we write of what we see of the world that needs expression, even if the world does not listen.  It is a sad fact.  I never understand the qualifications of poetry contests and rarely agree on who judges pick as winners...sometimes even insulted as well.  Great theme to write about. xo ;)