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In memory of----
Solely in my room, I can't stomach the sound of my heartbeat.
I sit here alone to forget the taste of air,
Overwhelmed by the scene -unbelievable footage
18 seconds too long, "I can't breathe."
My judgement is gone, stressing all night long
I use to fear dark colors, now I fear spinning bright lights
Red, White, and Blue, I spew the NY Police crew
What's wrong with your blue eyes?
You see him, you want to mess with him
What a day to trade -- a life for illegal cigarettes
Persecution and judgment day, a sweet life taken away
"I can't breathe", executed in broad daylight!
Bullies left and right
What happened to minding our business?
Moneymaking, refusing to be singled out
A hurting voice tackled by racism
Free to see, pouring his heavy heart,
Oinker's demand the ground, leaving out his testament
8 times too many, "I can't breathe!"
Where did his vitals go?
Can someone please pound the pavement!
Stress, anger, madness, the voices of the innocent
"I can't breathe." the volume of Valium
"Officer, did you not hear the man?"
Are you deaf, have you forgotten how to save a life?
Is it just the NYPD or is it every other badge,
Insinuating crime's a one-color show.
We are all criminals, why the excessive heat?
Shot, tasered, beat down, pepper sprayed, now on the ground
The choke hold of all choke holds, murdered and out numbered
The echoes remain "I can't breathe!"
- The truth!
Eric Garner robbed of his own natural path and youth
One man down eyed suspiciously
Perplexed minds suffocating him instantly
The mistrusted, the fear, the hate,
So tangible, uniforms using deadly force
One asthmatic in a choke hold
Slamming his head on the flooring
Open wounds, worldwide tears
My heart goes to the family and friends left behind
A courageous last breath, for the first and last time
"I can't breathe," now deceased.
You left this world unwilling, waking up a strong community
Strolling in a better world, where racism don't exist
"I can't breathe," Eric Garner Rest in peace!
By: PD
Red-clay warrior wipes blood from his tomahawk, counting scalps.
Numbers form an equation; one scalp for every ten brothers lost.
As glory-sunset fades, he buries tomahawk under stones.
Many many years have passed by
She sits alone and reminisces
Reading the diary from when they first met
Recalling the memories from so long ago
She remembers back to her wedding day
Orange blossoms intertwined in her hair
Sweet scented gardenias in her bouquet
Her handsome groom standing at the alter
How she would love to go back
To those halcyon days gone by
When her husband was still alive
Not just a memory in her mind's eye
He fought for king and country
To give others a better life
Now he resides in paradise
And in the heart of his lonely wife
07~19~14
Written for Poem in Paradise Contest
Sponsored by Isaiah Zerbst
~ Awarded 4th Place in Contest~
The Rose
The rose stems its beauty
Outside of all the flowers bloomed
Thorns grown by its side through mystery
To protect the rose from doom
Each petal stands firm to the test of winds
Trying not to surrender to the lost of their space
In the meantime, the sun vowed to only show their wings
When their ready to fly like angels as they sway to heaven's place
The rose finally surrendered its fight today
Stood tough against the edge of time
Petals kissed the rain as it drowned its existence away
The sun soon came out to shine on the petals left behind
Slowing in the sky above, petals begin to dance
Like fragile wings of an angel that found a way to mend
On the ground where the rose once left nature in its trance
The thorns lay lifeless, no longer able to protect the rose again.
Mourn the light of a misty morn
As the shadows fled and the dark was torn
And twixt this world and the seat of dreams
I gently rent the reverie
And stirred to an empty hearth.
As bounteous dew pattered the panes
I measured my course by loss and gains
And the former now I must endure
For the grace I've lost, a lady pure
And I rue this pain of the heart.
She sings now arias meant to Illume
Yet naught may pierce this darkened room
With indolence now I break each morrow
And petulance serves to feed my sorrow
And I yearn for my refrain.
Though this countenance may even now be dead
For nary have I relinquished my bed
Whilst the clock is kept by angels unseen
And demons mock me with things unclean
And lost is my will to contest
And gone are those things that were best
And now is my chance to rest.
THE TRIBES OF BONGO BONGO LAND
PART TWO!!!!
The tunes of Bongo Bongo
land – are played by the
band,
But all the seats are taken –
and people now do stand.
The Bongo Bongo drums
beat out – as the natives
call their witch doctor,
But who does have the
magic potion – that can
really cure?
I see the tribe all dancing –
around the tribal fire,
Also indulging, in whatever
they do desire!
The tribe is now invaded –
by Cameron and Obama –
But they are themselves
caught – as they try to
steal a banana!
We must send out a clear
message – to all those
world police,
That if any world leaders
who invade our space –
will end up as grated
cheese!
We must inform you all –
that UK MPs taste sour,
Even when on a skewer –
and we rub cover their
heads in flour!
Obama and David
Cameron, they are all
on the menu,
Their heads will be
shrunk – this I promise
you!
Obama is on the fire –
and his balls are fiercely
burning –
While Cameron is next
in line – his stomach is
now churning.
“Oh my god, shouts Obama,
we’re on the bloody menu!”
“Take it like a man, mutters
Cameron – now I’ve lost my
shoe!”
“Sod your shoes, wails Obama,
as he’s slowly being roasted,”
Where the heck is Steven
Seagal – when he’s really
wanted?”
What about the Expendables?
they could come and help us?
That is pure Hollywood – it is
a lot of fuss!
It’s okay for you to be calm –
and not give a toss,
Wait till you are being roasted –
I’ll drink to your sad loss!
Why did we come here – to
meet these friendly folk?
We didn’t come invited – we
invaded through the smoke!
The natives of Bongo Bongo –
freed them as a pardon
Now go back home – and
don’t you dare – return
with George Osborne!
So, off they both went –
away from the Bongo Bongo –
Until the next chapter my
dears – I’m off for a game
of BINGO!!
Both Cameron and Obama –
have learnt their lesson well,
The next time you invade
somewhere – be careful who
you tell!!
BY
DARRYL ASHTON
It came to me once before
I said please I want no more
But it came to me twice
Please go away it would be nice
All the chaos and distress
My life was surely a mess
I said I can beat you this time
My life would just be fine
Then you came a second time
There was no reason or rhyme
The second time they were wrong
Time was eternity it took so long
The cancer did not come back to me
I was one of the lucky ones you see
Some people do not have that fate
They find cancer and it's way to late
~Born In The Slums.~
She was born in the slums
sixty three years ago
by a mother out of wedlock
delivered her all alone
In an empty dirty corridor
due to a mistake she
committed one night out of
lust, or maybe out of love,
we will never know.
New born first cry to freedom
Mothers last cry from freedom
New born first breath to live
Mothers last breath to die
Echoes of life and death
In that empty room.
A mother laying on the floor
In a pool of blood,
A new born attached loosely
To the mothers last breath
As her destiny short lived.
Nobody to welcome that new
born alive with no flowers
no balloons no father nor a
grandmother no doctor nor
a nurse no bed not even
sheets on the floor.
No decor for a new born baby
with no name alone nude no
one to clean her up, yet that
last link between mother and
daughter a cord separating
life from death.
Rescued by that stranger
living in the slums
He carried her in his arms
covering her fragile body
with his shirt walked towards
the church rang the bell
and delivered her
to the priest.
Today she wrote;
here i am today
grown up and happily
married with
two children.
Terry
16/1/2013
Monseigneur Reygus Hameltus—defrocked priest and sorcerer of the black
arts; epiphany of evil and master of debauchery.
He looks among his minions with a grim bearded countenance
and piercing beady eyes with a distinct grimace of utter revulsion.
As the full moon rises and arches in the evening sky . . .
Reygus Hameltus menacingly stands by.
Once a famous devout and humble priest of medieval times,
he was a biblical scholar and factotum of great intellectuality.
His walk and conversion to the dark side
mirrored his frustration with God himself;
Reygus Hameltus felt that God had deserted him
and no longer cared to listen to him.
With this . . . and losing faith
he turned to the Devil, the ultimate corrupter of the human soul.
As the full moon rises and arches in the evening sky . . .
Reygus Hameltus menacingly stands by.
As Reygus Hameltus assumed his apostleship in evil,
every ounce of goodness and spiritual greatness
left his body and soul in good measure.
He murdered and raped, cajoled and lied,
and brought deception and reeked destruction
on all who crossed his path and his disciples no less.
As the full moon rises and arches in the evening sky . . .
Reygus Hameltus menacingly stands by.
But it should be said that all evil one day runs its course.
And when the good people of Montserrat fought back and answered in kind . . .
Monseigneur Reygus Hameltus — black arts sorcerer and his witches’ coven
suffered the eternal vengeance and wrath of God
and were banished to the Devil’s Kingdom forever—faraway from mankind.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(November 4, 2013)
You are sunshine giving me warmth on a pleasant day
Shining through the sadness showing me how to play
You are the rain tending to my garden with tears of love
Washing away my heavy heart as you watch from above
You are the beautiful flower swaying gently in the breeze
Growing stronger every day urging me to do as I please
You are the wind lifting away the sorrow freeing my soul
As clouds float softly over the tree tops making me whole
You are the butterfly stirring in the early morning light
Dancing with the sunbeams then playfully taking flight
You are the sky showing off prisms of color and hope
Eagerly displaying your amazing beauty helping me cope
You are the dear friend I long for as I realize a new day
Knowing you surround my heart you will never go away
If I had one wish granted today I know it would surely be
To give as much to you as you always gave to me
On dancing waters I saw wet dreams
on dancing waters I was born to believe
on dancing waters I lived but could not breathe
on dancing waters I learned but did not know a single thing
on dancing waters I sold my very being
on dancing waters I thought, one day I shall swim free
on dancing waters I die as my heart bleeds
and my dancing waters so beautifully seen do not gleam
dancing waters now motionless removing all dreams
hope in dancing waters I still try to pray for them
but the dance ended with me
only to begin anew all over again
WILLIAM WALLACE
Blindfolding Justice, lest the blind might see,
what tyrany's been passed down countless years
by those who make the claim, nobility
are all the ties that bind through death and tears.
What manner of a man stands up to these
annointed to the reign passed down by name?
No archer known to anyone who sees,
could suffer all, lest freedom is his flame.
Do endings end it all, or just begin
the pure of thought, that life is meant to please?
Though he was dragged and naked for his sin,
are kings not lost, and fallen to their knees?
And yet, their holding on is all life shows,
Through centuries royalty still comes and goes.
© ron Arbuthnot
Narriation:
As I see that single streak appear,
Across the western sky,
My heart within me beats with pride,
While I tell my son goodbye.
As I scan the far horizon,
The jet trails fill the air,
Those hundred thousand horses,
Are the trail herds passing there.
Song:
Do you see that ghostly trail they leave,
As they thunder through the sky?
That Ghost Writer and his Silver Steed
Are there for you and I.
I can not help but wonder,
As they play among the stars,
How can a hundred thousand horses
Hold so darned much power.
Ghost Writers in the sky.
A hundred thousand horses,
Obey his each command,
The Ghost Writer tells his tale of courage
As he crosses this golden land.
And here's another mystery,
You think he's going fast
A colt out ran it's mother
With just one firey blast.
Ghost Writers in the sky.
Without the countless others,
To help out this great team,
The Ghost Writer and his Silver Steed
Would only be a dream.
Now you've heard the story,
Yes, my friends it's true,
The Ghose Writer and his Silver Steed are
Branded Red, White and Blue.
The trail they leave behind,
Can only mean one thing,
The jets of the United States
Have taken to wing.
Ghost Writers in the sky!
Cile Beer
written l975
written for my father
melting of ice soup warming,
heart is where the ring should be,
Termites joy wait for it,
Poetry soup
I love you
Haha you thought...
Didn't you?
For letting me hang my words out
On a line
For others to see
If they struck
Pressed or blew
A familiar note
Ps I love you
I still hear the stray cat clink of your teeth
smell a rage a brewing
feel tension build
as we sit silent
frozen porcelain figurines
emotionally hollow
fragile
about to crack
like ice on the drivers side window
front seat getting cold
wipers counting silent pauses
conversation, stalled
making life changing decisions
someones future hanging on words
that will not come out no matter how I try
stuttering explanations about wa wa wa....why?
why I did it
why it happened
what your gonna do about it
how you gonna seek your revenge
when can I expect retribution
how long will it take my flesh to heal
are plaster casts biodegradable
is there gonna be a police report
are they gonna arrest me for your violence
might they be serving baloney sandwiches
who will post my bond
will I be to macho to tell Officer Friendly
would he even believe me?
searing into my torso. then memory
a drifting apart
like a parent and child
awaiting the smash
the smash