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Introspection History Poems | Introspection Poems About History

These Introspection History poems are examples of Introspection poems about History. These are the best examples of Introspection History poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

The Circles

Looked at the outside of steel window
Around in the dark, awesome feelings into the mid-night air
What the news was brought in the feelings!

Eyes of the orphan cat was flaming on the corridor.

Waiting for the light in the window 
Dark vision comes down into my eyes by cycle-weariness
Down from one circle to another circle in time-blindness

Who stands here, the Islamic old man!
Frustrated vision!
History of terrorism was carved on his burnt body
He wants to say something!

A white-complexioned Christian young man stands into the neighbor circle,
Surprised eyes! 
White-skinned history was printed on his blood-stained body 
He wants to know something!

A dark-colored Hindu boy stands into the third circle, 
Illusive vision!
History of third world is awaken on his envenomed body
He wants a little smile!

The old man, young man and boy are coming forward from the circles
Great distance...Near...in front the room... 
Who are you? No reply
They disappear into the tuberose equipped black and white photo of my father
Dad is smiling, I am senseless! 

Tears are dropping from the eyes of our cat on the corridor.

SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA


Details | Couplet | |

The Seamstress of Time

I have a special story I wish to share
About a seamstress beautiful and fair

She would fade away turning into smoke
Of her amazing beauty, no man would joke

The spiraling smoke would then re-form
I know only an angels face could be so warm

Before her a beautiful quilt was spread
Upon it the story of my life was said

As she once again started to dissipate 
She said, “Mike this quilt records your fate”

As the smoke traveled over to a new place
And then formed together creating her face

Looking over her shoulder back at me
She said, “This area will hold what has yet to be”

Most of the quilt looked like twisted evil tattoo
Simply because, my life’s quilt was quilted true

I looked the quilt over and then met her gaze
She was so beautiful in so many different ways

The last part of the quilt way over to the right
Showed the beauty of someone changing their plight

Upon her beautiful hand, which seemed so nimble
I noticed she was wearing my grandmother’s thimble 

From a young maiden so beautiful to see
My grandmother appeared right in front of me

I guess up in heaven we return to our youth
My grandmother was beautiful; such is the truth

I thought of the price grandma was asked to pay
The shame of knowing I had turned out that way

I thought of her sitting there stitching my shame
My grandmother didn’t deserve an eternity of pain

She said, “Michael be still with the pain in your heart,
Your story encourages others to make a new start.”

“The deeper the wrong the stronger the right
I always knew my boy would take up the fight”

With a smile much brighter than an ice covered sea
She said, “I love the man my boy has grown up to be”

As she turned to the quilt and started to sew
She said, “Michael, its now time for you to go.”

“Believe in your story believe in your truth
For Salvation is the true fountain of youth”

One night in a dream, which I’ll hold forever divine
I learned; my Grandmother is now,” The Seamstress of Time”


When I was a boy I would help my Grandmother roll
her quilt, find her glasses, as well as, her thimble. I 
never thought about how amazing her art truly was.
From a pile of rags she would make the most beautiful
quilt's. I sleep under one of her quilts to this very day. 



Details | Rhyme | |

Lest We Forget

In churned up soil the poppy rose 
On top of death, still steadily grows 
And in our minds we see the crosses 
That lie in rows and count our losses 

Blood that drips from tiniest bloom 
Beloved children, lost from the womb 
Their essence blown upon the earth 
For infinity, will show their worth 

And so they marched by decree 
A war they fought, so we could be free 
The poppy, how we remember them now 
So in silence we do reverently bow 

One single day, just once every year
To remember all the horror and fear 
To give thanks and praise, to those in need 
Who saved us through unselfish deed 

For so young when they said goodbye 
With no idea that so many would die 
In Flanders Fields where poppies grow 
Innocence, now lays buried in each row 

For those that did return safely home 
Their spirit lost and so had flown
To fly away among the peaceful skies 
With friends and larks with carefree eyes

In the thunder hear the roar of guns
Calling to all our native sons
Arise, arise, from sleep once more
For once again, there will be war

In Flanders Fields, the poppies grow 
They cover our loved ones, buried below 
Like a blanket, they protect all within 
From a world that is ravished by sin 

More souls will join them as the years go by 
More wars will be fought, as the lark does cry 
More fields will be filled, with our dead 
And poppies will mark their graves in red

"Lest we forget and more shall die"
"In Flanders Fields our loved ones lie"

 


Details | Free verse | |

Children of the Divine Wind

Many times the ocean has saved Nippon, pearl of the sea, an oceanic symbiosis a speck in a fecund see. The dikes of man such miniscule plans to hold back the tide. The throngs, each and all crawl across the thin skin of volcanic soil or rise with in the hump-backed alps of remnant cones. Yet, the sea rises to reclaim its own scour the pallet of man, refine, burnish melt, reform. With pen and sword kanji drawn, samurai born with knife and bone entrails torn, honor tested tested by the hand of He, tested and found worthy. The children of the Divine Wind rise above the tsunami, as one, unbowed.


Details | Free verse | |

Freedom

This disconnected intellect of society in retrospect
Is nothing but a retro spectrum of colors.
Gold chains and disco lights,
Black, white, and grey faces, red Adidas stripes with no laces
Cardboard boxes unfolded on concrete streets
Where the founding fathers of modern culture would meet
And write our Constitution by moving their feet.
With a spectacular repertoire of flashy moves
And a deep reservoir of verbs that mingled with words in the mind’s river
That flowed from the banks of lips as the first freestyle
When style was really free.
Not compromised, chopped up, glamorized, marketed, processed, pasteurized 
and then subliminally delivered as a shrink-wrapped, shiny medium of bad ideas.
Back when people actually had ideas,
Not just the regurgitation of pre-chewed vomit music.
The DJs cooked up beats in their basements
Just crack for the bass-heads
Denied treble ‘cause trouble was all they were faced with.
There was music laced with dope, and dope was good.
The evolution.
Darwinism of hip-hop.
You know what I mean?
Of course not ‘cause these young bucks would rather spend fifteen dollars on 50 
Cent
Then spend fifty cents on a education.
Flagrant, our testimonial to a religion that’s pagan
We pray to money, pray to greed, pray to fame, pray to succeed
And denounce life when we pray that our bullet hits its target.
The Boogie Oogie became the Boogaloo
And the Electric Slide met the electric chair.

Time is money.
Money is life.
Life is a game.
I invest Monopoly money in the New World Clock Exchange
To collect interest in fate and become disinterested in buying my life back.
My soul is currency, currently spent on reverting from the current state.
Back to when sex was more taboo than a smile
Back to when freedom didn’t equal censorship
Back to when love for family didn’t negate the fact that times change.
Back to when the Big Hand spun backwards two seconds too late.
And minutes were miniscule and minute, hip-hop was rediculed
Not because it was demeaning, but because it represented Revolution.
An occurrence that has come and gone with the wind.
My name is Hip-Hop O’Hara and I am in love with Civility Wilkes.
Reverend Run preached gospel, now he rolls in his grave
If musical revelation is impossible, than who will be saved?
The essence in lyrics is kept underground in a cage.
Struggling to survive like illiterate slaves.
Reaching for freedom, which lies on the next page.
Free the music.


Details | Sonnet | |

A Mere Pile Of Bones

A Mere Pile Of Bones


Sitting here dejected, mere pile of bones
pleasure, just a memory in the dark past
Stripped of every lie one polishes and hones
facing this truth, nothing can forever last!

Stark, reality of deeds soaked in slime
pain, a racing bird sent to torture me
Memories, stones in the honeyed ring of time
everything costs so dearly, nothing is free!

Evil are the chains wrapping my crushed Soul
Time, a sword cutting so deeply my heart
fled pleasure of any future winning goal
sudden truth is ripping rest of me apart!

This pile of bones, only treasure I have got
smelling this meat even after a slow rot!

Robert J. Lindley, 08 -30-2014

note:
Sonnet rewritten this morn. Originally it was a 
twenty verse poem. I saw and thought rewriting
it into a sonnet would be much better.


Details | I do not know? | |

Nasty girl

   There you go again doing things that you are not suppose to be in and then you look at 
me like oh i'm so sweet if you only knew I can be a freak without showing it. Here they 
go listening to the rumors but i'm your friend so in the end I know that they are true. 
How could you do that with him and her and they were on the ground you were pretending to 
pick up gum? You need to be safe, making out with strangers girl I aint no saint but god 
what are you doing? I don't want to see you years from now telling me you got aids, I 
worry about you and I feel like your special so I even wrote about you come on look how 
much you mean to me. You like him I get it but how many other guys have you liked in the 
past. He's your only, he's a phony make sure he's not just in it for the prize because 
girl you never know some guys are. It's the truth and you need to listen, I don't mean to 
sound bossy but soon enough your name is going to be posted on all the bathrooms walls. 
Telling things that you haven't even done yet. But you will front about it, Lie again. 
Telling everyone it's happened how do we know what's real or fake. I love your 
personality I wish I could steal it, Your loud, and flirty, daring and smart girl you got 
too much heart to be showing it to everyone who wants a sip. this is for all the nasty 
girls out there who think I don't know what i'm saying just ask anyone of them who are 
dead now or are on the streets prostitiuting. Don't be afraid to be a freak it's healthy 
but sometimes it's better when it's secret closet freaks have more fun.


Details | Couplet | |

The Homeplace

Here further down the hillside slope
Down close to the creek with hope

My husband bought a house, land
Fenced in and made many plans

Subdued the land to cow pasture
And planted a garden, fruit trees sure

Fathered another child to call him sir
The creek seemed to like the stir

Enjoyed the children for a little while___
Loved them so that it made her smile

Today she loves grandchildren the same
No girls there are in frills ___tame

The creek keeps on flowing to the sea
The land is mostly stripped of trees


(This is my adaptation of Robert Frost's poem "The Birthplace".  I hope that it does not insult 
his work.)


Details | Lyric | |

The Old Homestead

Orphaned footsteps round the old place.
Pitch black soil, packed deep with bartered
coin and Indian heads – wood and otherwise,

coat her worn leather shoes, Hutterite chic. 
The long land screams within its own silence.
Prairie sage burns somewhere, a ghostly smudge

for the undulating grass and, those it serves.
Its alive scent makes the dead turn towards 
its head - and the barely living turn to listen. 

The impossibly endless horizon holds its bright 
blue at bay, begging acknowledgement for 
its self-professed being and looming enormity.

She looks at the broken window glass and 
through the tattered, delicate gray lace. “Those 
were hers.” She whispers to the one who listens. 

This great-great-granddaughter sees the curtains 
as they once were – wistful in the hot Manitoba 
wind; fresh and lowing with the honest elemental 

scent of aspens, hope and bare-knuckle wash boards; 
always fresh; shifting in the cry for solace in summer 
shadows – never as still as this moments endlessness.

Blowing through the deep brown of splintered pine 
front doors; cracking the announcement of cast iron, 
rot and burnt wood comes the simple statement of – 

I lived. This mother of five young does not cry, 
just yearns to walk in the old ones footsteps;
to know them loved; hear the birdsong through

unbroken bedroom windows for a 5am waking; 
feel the resistance of dough on fingers that beg 
to be broken, and kiss the twisting undead, living. 


The burning of the noonday sun taps her whole,
marking; branding her pale Swedish skin its own.
The red sting of burnt breaks her inward silence, 

welcoming her familiar face home.




© Kristin Reynolds 3 29 2009

*Reposted for John's Summer Celebration Contest. This is a personal celebration; 
celebrating and honoring my great grandparents who settled in Manitoba after leaving 
Sweden and Denmark. This celebrates the summer of family, at least for me. We went there 
every summer until it was gone...


Details | Free verse | |

Legendary Lady Leaders I salute you

I am like
Cleopatra
embraced by serpents many
fear
always trying something new
and dramatic with my
hair
I am like
Eva Patrón
growing up with a painful family
getting lost in movies
thinking of my own
hypnotizing when I speak
First lady of Argentina
meeting you, after death
would be a treat
a nervous habit, of nibbling
on my jewelry
the similarities, between us
gave me a sense of foolery
I am like
Wilma Mankiller
Chief of the Cherokee Tribe
for ten years
fighting against Native stereotypes
despite such distress
enemies did stress
promoting to ‘be of good mind’
you were a leader, of your time
an advocator for women
that they may grow up
and become chief
as a child, you wondered
the forests, like me
not the streets
I am like
Aung San Suu Kyi
wearing three types of 
flowers in your hair
feeling at times like a 
‘splinter of glass, sharp, glinting
power to defend itself against hands
that try to crush’
winner of a Nobel Peace Prize, 
for courage, was
a must
I am like
Catherine The Great
a love to laugh,
coffee, and feeling compelled
to always fill abandoned blank
sheets of paper
you were a Royal Russian Empress,with
not one red drop of Russian blood
and her people, were blessed
to have her
I am like
the Queen of England
longest royal lifetime in history
strong built, from a miserable childhood
toughened her
this is no mystery
preferring candle light
to electricity
handwriting over typewriter
and poetry
I am like
Indira Gandhi
dreaming to live as she did
riding elephants and having
tiger cubs as companions
your own Sikh security
killed you, the story
a sad one
secret dreams of being a writer
angered, by the imbalance of
power
between men and women
listening to beat poets
like Ginsberg
as a great Prime Minister of India 
you were heard
and understood
I am like
Rigoberta Menchú
drew the worlds attention to 
native Indians rights,
because of you
your goal, to be
a drop of water on a rock
dripping in the same spot,
eventually in the world, you
may leave a mark
wearing many colors
‘because it gives you life’
insisting men and women be equals
you fought this fight
to relax, as I do
writing poetry into
 the night
I am like
Joan of Arc
French Military Heroine
burned at the stake at just
age nineteen
known for keeping your cool
even on the battlefield
being a courageous and inspirational
rare jewel
Legendary Lady Leaders
I salute you



Details | Narrative | |

A World on Fire

We live today in a world of great tumult
And of rising uncertainty and anxiety 
Which pervade the world stage like a cancer

Despite soaring technological advances
Our environment and our home Earth
Are bearing an unimaginable burden

People are wondering what must be done
To right these wrongs and adjust our course
Before we turn the corner to “No Return”

Tyranny, Poverty, Disease, and War 
Are still with us today since the beginning
Of time and are mankind’s greatest shame

God may be with us intellectually
But mankind must be self-reliant
To survive an inattentive, distant deity

People see answers to these enigmas
Sounds are made, echoes are heard
But nothing comes back in response

Frustration reigns supreme for many 
Fear and anxiety multiple all concerns
There can never be easy answers

                      *******

Tyranny still reigns alive in many countries
As the actions of tin-eared dictators abound
And are on ample display for all to see 

Poverty is still a shameful, terrible curse
Which afflicts the most unfortunate
And is paid lip service by the wealthy

Disease is a scourge still in our world
And still felt by those most in need
And never enough is done to change this

War is the ultimate insult to mankind
And its wide-felt swath and affliction
Plagues yet our modern, enlightened world 

What to make of all these challenges
Is not easy for any of us to digest
And let alone understand why

Yet understand, comprehend we must
If we want a better world for all to live in
A Sisyphean task at its very best

Man still holds the key to make change
Positive and real for our troubled Earth
But can it ever be really so in the end

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, 
Schoeningen, Germany (October 16, 2014) 
(Tercet unrhymed poetic format)


Details | Elegy | |

My Return To Normandy

High on the Normandy cliffs
Looking out over Pointe du Hoc
As cold Atlantic winds whisper out
The names of the brothers I left behind
Now only fine marble monument shadows
Dot the trenches and empty emplacements 
As the final testimony of the fallen
Still ringing frightened with those desperate voices
Proclaiming both their lives and death
That they were ever here…

In the emerald hills of Collville Sur Mur
I can still hear the phantom naval shells screaming
Underneath the crying of men
Pulverized and dying in their comrades arms
All for the belief of the land from which they hail
While the roaring waves wash the still bloody sands
In and endless and rending cycle
That silent cacophony of brother and foe
Call out to me still for comfort and aid
Asking only to be remembered…


Details | Haiku | |

It is now

Ain't a word, you said.
but it takes a daring gust 
for things start to be.


Details | Narrative | |

Remains

Here
In this centrifuge of sanctimony
Where I sip the atrophied air of my ancestors
The shipwrecked tide of my unborn children
Angels dangle from a precipice of silence
Strained by strings of a theoretical God
Sung by eyes of defiance
Which navigate the jagged epitaphs below
Searching
For that one sediment of salvation
That one moment of submission
Hoping he will see
His wonders, atrocities, his indifference
To cast a shadow of conviction
Over shivering light
There
Across the inlet where ivory columns crumbled
And modernity now deftly mumbles
Its fleets of fortune baptized
Nigh the bronze dust of golden millennia
Where history lies with its victims
A fugue of fossilized souls
A silent prayer remains
Here


Details | Chant Royal | |

Paying For Lies With Lives

"Sing to me, Muse, of the wrath of Achilles." - Iliad, Line 1

Western dreams were born in wrath,
Overmastering all the noble aims of reason.
The bloom of youth, cut from its proper path,
Fallen wasted in full season
Torn and silent upon fields of fire,
Betrayed by elder men's desire
To force their goals on one another,
Stolen from each grieving Mother
Against the tides of pain each strives
His misery to quench, his hate to smother
As they pay for lies with lives.

Home and hearth abandoned for ambition,
The promise of tomorrow dies on foreign shores
For shadows' sake they are cast to perdition,
To drown in the shifting seas of wars.
The Enemy as confused as they,
Affrighted and divided by the fray,
Consumed by fear in the battle's heat
The dead lie dead, come victory or defeat.
The living, stung by memories' knives,
Against which they in vain entreat,
Go on to pay for lies with lives.

The world turns on as the game is played,
Each dawn finds men so much the same.
The debts accrue, are bourne and paid
Each seeking honor for his name,
And a home secure in peace.
Yet men move other men, and will not cease
To bind them to some formless claim or cause,
To bid them die to right the flaws
Perceived in others of like kind; their wives
Bide in fear and live by tyrants'  laws
As they pay for lies with lives.

Noctambulate, the pawns of powers fight,
For cause of country weakly understood;
They move from day to death's eternal night
Directed by the wills of men of wood.
When all has ended, what has been acheived?
What meaning comforts myriads bereived?
The world will turn, and others rise
To fill the void, the numb surprise
Of lives unlived, of weeping eyes,
Of silence heavy with unanswered sighs
For those who paid for lies with lives.

Must so many lines of history
Be so far writ in blood,
So tainted with tragic mystery
Trammeled by iron stained with mud,
Its pages overrun with acts untamed,
Acts of slaughter by the vast unnamed?
So many deeds set down in red
Give cause to rest uneasy in our beds.
Though the past recedes, the present shall reprise
The accusatory march of the silent dead,
Parading those who paid for lies with lives.

Who dares leave our collective guilt unclaimed?
Were not our many wars for subtle reasons framed
By minds fit for much finer uses,
By hearts that might have scorned such abuses
Leading to this madness - who denies
Those self-delusions that should leave us shamed,
That make us pay for lies with lives?


Details | Rhyme | |

My shoes

The shoes on my feet are old, worn and tattered 
I’ve walked  hundreds of  miles in them 
They have been through a lot and are beaten and battered 
But they are my shoes.

Sometimes they hurt my feet 
And when I step in puddles, 
its not a very nice treat..
But they are my shoes

The soles have started to come loose at the seams
and when I walk I can feel it flap as it  hits the ground 
Maybe a new pair of shoes is what that might deem.
But they are my shoes.

They haven’t been clean since I don’t know when
I could wash them I am sure, 
but some how it would take something away from them.
But they are my shoes 

When I put them on and walk out the door 
they never question where I might go 
they just silently accept it and so much more.
They are my shoes.

They have kept my travels a secret 
took many, many beatings 
and haven’t betrayed me yet 
They are my shoes 

I see people look at my feet all the time
I am sure they wonder why I haven’t tossed them yet 
But to me they are comfortable and fine.
They are my shoes

Don’t judge me because of my worn and tattered shoes 
you haven’t walked where I have walked
or been where they have taken me, trust me I’ve paid my dues 
These are my shoes.

And I will throw them out 
when and how I choose 





Details | Haiku | |

with their eyes wide open

only foolish men
let their nation plummet, with
their eyes wide open


Details | Rhyme | |

AFRICA

Plagued with an unimaginable measure of beauty
She sits somewhere between the Indian and the Atlantic
Her history boasts of nothing but debauched slavery
Having served leaders who were very autocratic
 
She boasts of a vast expanse of unexploited vegetation
An even greater magnitude of untapped mineral resources
Yet her people reside in abject deprivation
As they look beyond their motherland to external sources
 
Famine, drought and diseases are her nemesis
Her leaders never seem to be sensitive to her plight
Amassing wealth for themselves and families
Ignoring the very reason for their current might
 
Oh Africa my motherland
Bursting with glory and heavenly blessings
May the good Lord stretch forth His hand
To bless thee with leaders worthy of your consecrations


Details | Pantoum | |

Red Wedged-Heel Shoe

On  top of the pile___shoes upon shoes
One lone wedged-heel red shoe that gives clue
That she knew what her fate would be soon
Aware her soul__spirit would take flight

One lone wedged-heel red shoe that gives clue
The owner was last one to die the death
Aware her soul__spirit would take flight
Memories filled her every thought

The owner was last one to die the death
Terror, horror with every breath
Memories filled her every thought
Of family, friends, life, love__children

Terror, horror, with every breath
Because she knew what fate would be soon
Same as family, friends, love__children
On top of the pile__shoes upon shoes


Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Hiraeth of a Modern Celt

Upon the green hills of Cymru
I stand arrested by the veiw
of cryptic sea and ancient shore 
that stood ten thousand years before
they met my callow eye
and will remain for many more
long after I die


I'm solemn above the briny stew
with thoughts of kin I never knew
fishing the sea, mining the coal
or mining the depths of a poet's soul
A nation's buried history
revived once more because it knows
the blood that flows through me

Blood that fed this fertile soil
with the Celtic tears and toil
of Warriors dead b'neath the peat
that pads the soles of anglish feet
the true Princes of Wales
rule no more upon this shore
except in children's tales

The epic song of Arthur's quest
or Madoc's journey somewhere west
stories of the Mabinogion 
or family tales of distant kin
who fought so hard, but failed
to keep their ancient birthright
so to distant lands they sailed

Centuries pass, now here I stand
a stranger in this native land
welcomed by the foe of yore
that chased my people from this shore
leaving me a world apart
from the Cymru pulsing through my blood
and beating in my heart


Details | Free verse | |

The Beauty Of Austria Shattered

I remember the dream of Austria
As the war for me was finally closing 
High in my turret upon the Sherman
I entered this mountain paradise at last
Until I reached the earthly gates of hell

Within those eyes I found despair
That spark of life long dead
Their hearts filled of solitudes poison
Muted voices no longer calling out
Thousands of souls starving for hope
Existing amongst corpses who had lost it
Now just shadows of the once proud
Crushed by tyranny simply because they “were”

Empty men drifting about lost in a miring haze
Praying for the peace only death grants
So very few seemed to hold onto humanity
They had nothing to fear because all was lost
As I stood at the hells gates called Mauthausen

In that moment I found the truest of evils
Under the threshold of Hades a toxoid of hatred
Not truly comprehending what my eyes spoke
Numbed in fears I never knew subsisted within me
Standing frozen I wanted nothing more than to run
As the shell of that crying man fell in my arms
I am haunted by his words…”godheid bedanken”
My faith transfused giving him a moments hope

Within those high peaks of the songs of paradise
I lost my soul at the gates of a concentration camp
Every night since I hear his voice thanking God
He called us the wrath and thunder of reckoning
But…I was just a boy with rifle searching for a respite


Details | Rhyme | |

Fallen Nation

I stand here all alone
For our justice’s been dethroned
Waiting for my trial
Which is more in truth my exile
I know there's no justice here
For it is that truth I fear
The judges here corrupt
No way to resurrect
What's now a fallen nation
That is now planning my cremation
Or rather a public execution
For this is their solution
To the problems caused by me
And my views of liberty


Details | Light Poetry | |

' Archeology And The Poet ... '

Dig Down Deep
Carefully Unearth
Artifacts Will Speak
Words of Worth

With Pick and Shovel
And Papyrus
If Block and Rubble,
Gently Brush

Treasures Buried
Deep In Soul
Heart-Stone Quarry
Hold Hidden Scrolls

To Royal Edicts
Read and Call
Hieroglyphics
On High Walls

In Expeditions
To Exposé
Show Gold Emotions
In Glass Display

From Pyramids
In Sealed Mystery
So The Poet Did …
… Archeology

To Preserve Words
of Antiquity
So That You Heard
and Shared, Discovery …


Details | I do not know? | |

A Peale Paradox

'"The power
of positive thinking"
in this hour
of humanities' stinking
is 
insanity.

When we kill
and maim
in our free will
democracy game
its hard to remember
we hold a distinction
as the highest  form of life.

Animal
cannibal
what heights of intellect
do we dare to claim
as we slaughter
in the name of some
hypocritical ideology?

'"The power of positive thinking"
is reeking of
murder
while we
positively speak
and call it
war.


Details | Free verse | |

Echoes of Yesterdays.

Those walls of my captured annals falling
By steel leviathans devouring my solitude
Capped blasts dropping the once proud structure
No longer is a mans home his palace

Histories cowboys are the future’s vagabonds
Their ranges of ranches a dying lot
Borders now shrinking as the rooms collapse
Giving into the fear of the outside world

No one is really who they appear to be
Stowing and stealing all for a free ride
The trust in humanity a long extinct idealism
Falling in flames from the final battles bullet

Yesterday’s judgment is the hope of tomorrow
If the sun may ascend to the songbirds cry
No promises of integrity to hold onto justice
While the carrions crawl the balances edge

Holding within that which disaster has taught
Building upon the hangman’s piety
To breathe for a moment the sweet water of utopia
With every falling grain of the hourglass

…Time slows in the winds of obscurity

				


Details | Rhyme | |

Living The Dream

Down in Haiti
Far from the dream
Way on back 
From the vacation scene

Lives the people
Trapped in a life
Poverty, sadness
Toil and strife

Children weeping
From worm infested,
Swollen, malnourished
Starving little bellies

What would Golden 
Flower think of today
The country she loved
Destroyed in such a way


(Missionary from Haiti came to visit our church yesterday.  With his visit and 
talk, I see solutions to problems in an instant.  Something to treat the water 
before the people use it, reforestation, wells in places that need them, and 
proper out door facilities for areas that don't have them.  Money, work, and 
time is needed to carry these projects out .)


Details | I do not know? | |

Keep My Faith

Lord, I believe in You and myself,
With You I can do almost anything.
Even if I'm overweight...
I believe You'll keep me alive until the day
You want me back home with you.
I'm sorry for my sins
And all of us are imperfect humans:
Debating about beliefs, greedy thieves,
And everything else you hate.
So please forgive all of us and open the gate
To Your Heavenly Kingdom.
Have Your Son save us all.
Sometimes I believe I don't deserve You
And Your Promise for Eternity,
But Your Son's words reassure me.
I feel scared of the destruction in Your Revelation,
But remember You'll keep me safe
If I just forever keep my faith.


Details | Lyric | |

Blind Sight

Back in the day when a horse was a need
And a sword was a weapon to fear
Poets were druids and music was magic
And an eye interfered with an ear
So musical poets were blinded by swords
White hot and held very close
So all they had left was a hearing of tone
And  an opening way of reprisal
They felt their duty to blind with their beauty
So that listeners felt so alone
They  would need to be led
And of course would be bled
By the king they had put on the throne
The songs taught them so well
That the king went to hell
And the blinded then held a revival
Nowadays poets can see and be free
Stand on their own and be whole
It’s the way we come into the world
Using all senses the mind comprehenses
To heal all the scars of  the soul
Pain’s for the body to deal with
Soul’s a creation to hold
As the only thing one can own
Leaving  this wonder unfurled
Is the way we go out of this world


Details | I do not know? | |

Trust

   How will I know what your doing? I cannot see you from behind, I don't have a secret 
power where I can see through walls and I can't read your mind. But what I know is that I 
trust you with my mind, my body and my soul and even though one can never really know but 
my heart is telling me to trust you. To not jump to conclusions, to not get jealous when 
you flirt cause I do so why not you just as long as your the one I come  home too were 
cool. I close my eyes, my friends say you have me blind but I know what I feel and I 
can't conceal that this is real. This is us and I have to trust that when you look in my 
eyes that sparkle is only for me. I may be a fool, a naive little girl to think that i'm 
your princess and you'll forever be my prince. But I've always believed in fantasy so why 
not us I trust that we can make it? Hold my hand and never release that bond and ill 
never question your faith in us. Your always on my mind, it's like the song says " we 
belong together" and I hope you feel the same way I do. To truly love somebody is to 
trust them with your money, friendship and heart. A flame so hot the candle wax with melt 
before I stop loving you... I trust we will be just fine.


Details | I do not know? | |

A vampires poem (1549)

Blood i seek, blood i lust, 
blood i crave, blood i must! 
Day has gone night is here, 
eternal day thats all i fear! 
Years have past seem like days, 
endless night i stop to gaze. 
Forever young i cant get old, 
thirst for blood my skin is cold. 
Born centuries ago in a far distant land, 
were i fell victim to another hand! 
I left my home land so long ago, 
where this evil feeling did so grow! 
I searched for others just like me, 
i sailed the ocean across the sea. 
Years went by my search was long, 
looking for belief to were i belong. 
It was Paris (1304)it finally came, 
i think of it again and again 
The night was young it was pouring with rain 
She whispered in my ear that we are the same. 
Enemy of man, they hunt me down, 
home for now, this old town. 
I hear their thoughts, i smell their fear, 
most often they don't now am here. 
I keep my face on that old bookshelf, 
because that's the only time i see myself. 
Blood i need, before sun rise, 
staring through these black cold eyes 
I roam the night were creatures call, 
i write this now from this old town hall. 


Details | Free verse | |

Eyes Of Reality

Eyes of confidence
Naïve and hardened	
Advancing on the battlefield

Eyes of anguish
Discovering the horror
Spent upon the blood of war

Eyes of hope
Peace in reprieve
Hold fast to victory’s color

Eyes of benevolence
Engulfed within anguish
Rueful to the melee’s victims

Eyes of regret
A human understanding
Shoveling over another grave


Details | Ode | |

In Memoriam (Che Guevara)

                            I
I woke up this morning with tears in my eyes,
your face was in the morning paper;
they shot you dead like a dog,
hunted you out all day and night.

                            II
They said you'd always been a bad seed
and youths were dying because of you;
they said you're a criminal on the run
with a dirty face and shaggy head.

                    (Refrain)
But I know you better than they do,
you preached love to all the people;
you fought for them, young and old,
you lit up their nights with your heart.

                            III
And now as I see you lying dead,
it seems my dreams have vanished as well;
they can call you names, any names they want,
but I know there's only one like you, 
there's only one like you, 
there's only one Che Guevara.
              (Repeat Refrain)
                
You lit up their nights with your heart,
you lit up their nights with your heart,
you lit up their nights with your heart.



Details | Free verse | |

Behind these eyes

    You see my face and you see my expression but you don't know the real me that i'm 
protecting.
 
     You don't know that behind these eyes that a little girl cries every night, you 
don't know the half so why are you desperately trying to label me with some brand that I 
would never wear.

    If you'd look a little deeper into these pearly browns you know that I am not just a 
cover you have to take time to read the book to really know me. 

     You can't just skim the back or listen to what other people say because yeah I might 
be talked about but unless you dip into the pudding you will never truly know why.

    Maybe if you looked a little deeper you'd see someone trying to keep up in a endless 
race. 

   I keep on moving but it's never any good I guess I underestimate myself or maybe I 
just need someone to give me courage.

     I see the surprised look on your face and all I can do is laugh, I bet you didn't 
think that I had so much depth, I better you never realized. 

      So even if it's not me your interested in, please let me teach you one lesson. You 
can see some much more behind the eyes of a girl than the cloud of makeup hiding her 
face. 

In a girls eyes you can see her insides, her deepest fears, her insecurities. 

Behind these eyes is the magical side, and if you can look into them first then I know 
that your confident and well worth the struggle.


Details | Blank verse | |

A KISS ON VJ DAY

"Times Square was magnet to rejoicing
hearts, as mine was on that day the victors 
came. With roses, red, as were perhaps,
my cheeks, I vowed each bloom for
every home-come valiant there I'd see."

"I see her still despite the sixty years,
a taintless angel clutching there a bunch
of roses, red, as were her lips, a pair of
magnets that had drawn me close and
closer yet, and in a flash, the kiss."

"The kiss, a flash of light, and all from
senses blotted out, save for warm, tender
lips on mine, my body backward bent
in sweet surrender held by arms, the scent
of roses crushed between our breasts."

"Our breasts thus pressed, the roses in
between; how long did we remain thus
still in time? For but a span of breath
commingled, held? A moment's measure
of twined heartbeats kept in trance?"

"In swooning trance, then rudely snapped
out from by surging mass, rejoicing river
crowd, there wrenching him away, and me,
still stunned, forgetting there to hand him
but a single, breast-pressed rose."

"A single rose, if but to press to lips, or
in between the pages of a book held dear,
a keepsake from an angel kissed but with
no name to call in sleep-failed nights,
for failing there to even give my name."

"My name, I wish I had the sense there
but to whisper to his ear then yet so close.
Perhaps, it would have been the key 
to worlds away from lonely wards and
wakeful nights with just the sick with me."

"With me is but the memory of lips, their
warmth the years have deftly dimmed;
that kiss, a quick-eyed lens man stilled, now
wrought a lifelike replica of vanished time,
one budding love rose crushed by fickle fate."


Details | Sonnet | |

Merciful Majesty—Make Misery End!

“…when power narrows the areas of man’s concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of his existence…” —John F. Kennedy
Medieval misery crushing citizens; Shackled: grueling, clanging, negativity Middle Passage past, plaguing, yet frightens; Intense insanity—gangs captivity! Draining dreams and desires from hearts—slashed: Ancestral destruction, devastating; Bones protruding from ribs, weakening—lashed; Sight yet sickening, distraught, disgusting! Will God speak in molding humanity? Will His divine grace cleanse such evil souls? Self posed dictators, fool’s insanity Greed in governing—crushing others’ souls! Where art thou, Master of the Universe? Hold not thy hands while the poor suffer worst! ~~~~~~~~~~~***********~~~~~~~~~~~ © Joseph, 10/1/08 © All Rights Reserved ~~~~~~~~~~~***********~~~~~~~~~~~ Semi finalist contestant 292 out of 887 submissions June 1, 2009 International Contest ~~~~~~~~~~~***********~~~~~~~~~~~ Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine; Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran. ~~~~~~~~~~~***********~~~~~~~~~~~


Details | I do not know? | |

Diverse

Oh say can I see 
By the big florescent lights
Once so proudly now has fell
Fell into reality? 
Fell into right? 
Fell into a time where there should have never been a fight!! 

With ’In God We Trust ' printed on every dollar. 
But God got kicked out so Columbine became the shocker. 
But was it also ' In God We Trust ' when we failed to see nothing but color?

With the hoses put down, 
and Dr King no longer around, 
is ‘The Dream’ still being reached? 
Is it a sign that the first homes we see 
are no longer a possibility?

When the Towers came down,
we were 'United we Stand'
But when gas prices rose it was, 
“You're on your own, man!” 

‘A penny saved is a penny earned,’ 
is from the man that first helped us try to learn. 
But when we stopped asking what our country can do for us, 
is that the time when the table turned?

Now that Rosa will no longer be on the bus, 
I wonder who will now take that seat for all of us. 

With Miss America in the cast, 
when will we ever see Miss Disability last? 

What happened to the times of ‘I am not a crook’, 
it took a back seat to the Man who wrote the Book. 

And the rockets red glare, 
with bombs still bursting in the air, 
is it wrong to fight for the night 
when our children’s children will still be there.


Details | Verse | |

Mind and Sound

Only light can penetrate the 
darkness
that resides in the default state 
of mind
I descend from beta to delta 
through
binaural beats; instantly caught 
between frequencies beyond 
time 

I absorb amplitudes of acoustic 
energy
and I learn to just be earth 
Since I am the earth 
and because I am of
the one that is the source of its 
existence, 
I've owned the power of 
omnificence 

I realize now that I AM because
HE is since I am from that, a 
descendant 
Created in the image of a 
thought
and a feeling from the 
Universal Mind
I tune in to this vibration from 
rhythmic
pulse that manipulates 
subconscious minds

Immersed  between 4 and 7 
hertz;
brainwaves halt to a conscious 
sleep
All  chakras are aligned shining 
crown energy 
and now my consciousness 
begins to reap! 
and light begins to penetrate 
the harmonious beams
that were already there
constant and always there 

is now flooded with sound 
patterns
that force brainwaves to submit 
to power
of omnipresent sound that 
always was 
and always will be connected to 
the Source from which I came
so I extend exponentially 
beyond;
physical time and space

I long to embrace the intensity 
of gamma rays
I give way to the coded sounds 
that resonate from the inner 
core
and continue to connect 
through the binaural beats that 
-  
remind me of before

Always familiar but ignored
until found by gaining 
knowledge of self
I listen with the intent to excel 
while reaping an abundance of 
benefits and rewards
Listen!! 
It's already yours

Just reach out and grab it 
as long as intention and ego is 
checked
the universe will correspond 
accordingly
it will deliver a life to you divine 
and orderly
Just listen to the sounds that 
were there from before
They will guide to to the 
vibration from the core
and it will guide you to connect 
directly with the source 




Details | Free verse | |

heiroshima enemies in your homeless shelters making fun off the war torn

its all for you right


Details | Concrete | |

The Game Change

Two strong competitors fighting for the crown
So many promises,  Where can we go wrong

What did our bible?
Said about speaking in tongues

Someone must lose in order
 For the other one to win

That is what known at the game change.
Knowingly, nothing would ever be the same again

How many competitors from the past fulfill their promises?
Fools us once, shame on you, fool us twice,
 
We just have to say Oh! Jesus Christ.”

We listen and watch all those tricks and trades
With ponderings thoughts we said “who said what?
 Can they really step up to the plate and deliver

 Are we willing to put our country in the hand of the wealthy?
 Who never knew the meaning being dirt poor?
Should we say, no more, no more?

Show us the beef, and we shall show you where our loyalty lies
Because man is his own authority
 So he uses his brilliant educational philosophy so creative 
he wink and said ” I get back to you on the real issues”
You law abiding fools

Satan is a liar, and so is man.
White, lies, black lie and grey lies
Everybody lied at some point in their life
why stop now? 







Details | Quatrain | |

On Grandma's Farm

There's an antique red barn
Sits atop the hill
And a small little pond
Chock full of blue-gill 

There's old rusty cars
Which haven't ran in years
And a hundred year old house
Once manufactured by Sears
 
It's loaded full of memories
It's filled with lots of charm
It's a place I know and Love
It's all there...On Grandma's Farm

Used to go there every Sunday
From as far back as I can remember
Sledding down the hill
In the snow come December


I Loved it out at Grandmas
Playing with toy tractors in the sand
Going to help split wood
Just to lend a helping hand

I Loved it winter, spring and summer
But my favorite time of all
Was when the leaves all turned
The wonderful colors of fall

I was carefree and happy
The world was free from harm
Way back when I was a kid
Out On My Grandma's Farm

© 2011 Kevin Stock


Details | Free verse | |

Losing pieces

Oh, how I miss the dead…

... the softness in their voices
That I cannot recreate,
the warmth of their silence
Where now only cold remains;

And I know, oh how I know
That they are long gone
And I have been long removed
From those fuller times
But still, when I feel around my heart
I find that it is missing things
Parts long lost and dearly missed,
And I sit here feeling fatally incomplete
And I know-  that I can never be whole again.

But I still miss the dead,
And I miss the times
When I never knew
That I would live on
Missing the days when I was whole…

-So I still miss the dead
And the times when I was not hollowed by loss
Living every day with a lighter heart
So far from the times
 	when I would never be whole again.

And now, so far removed
from fuller times,
These few missing holes
they let in a chill wind
And somehow, these missing holes
they leave my heart heavy
And I know that it will grow heavier yet,
But I dread
That when I am lost
I die not just incomplete
But empty-
	Empty of all I could yet lose.


Details | Acrostic | |

911—Underground Overtime Night Workers (Acrostic)

Nine Eleven—a dark day lives of many workers were stolen away
Individuals worked all night; stayed; without seeing the light of day
Nose to the grindstone below floor level they labored productively
Effectively moving papers, stacks, racks, speedily and so selectively

Encouraged basement overtime; more taxes paid; they worked away
Loyal workers; dedicated to the cause; laziness to them—not a gift!
Earnestly they called home to say, “Honey I am working another shift”
Encouraged by those who stayed; coffee and donuts— no need to pay
Encroachment above they never did see as terror stuck during the day
Night’s darkness envelope the light; underground darkness of the night

~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~
 
© Joseph Spence, Sr., 8/27/09
© All Rights Reserved

~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~

Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is 
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which 
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the 
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine; 
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for 
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.



Details | Senryu | |

Innovation Invigorates Inspiration: Tribute To Michael Jackson

My main man Michael Where you’re is where you’re, J Keep shining like stars ~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~ © Joseph Spence, Sr., 6/28/09 © All Rights Reserved ~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~ Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine; Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran. ~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~


Details | Verse | |

Home of the Slaves

Land of the free
Home of the slaves
The blood, sweat and tears of my ancestors resonate
Amongst the soil where they were slain
I’m hearing their struggle
I’m feeling their pain
I can’t imagine being forced to part from my family
All for massa’s gain
So I pay homage to those who promoted change

People like every slave who tried to escape
Nat Turner, Ms Carlotta, Harriet Tubman
And the safe houses who were in accord
And peg leg Joe with his song
Follow the drinking gourd.

People like, the disregarded - those thrown overboard
And who was dismissed and defamed
The ones who were stripped of their soul, their pride, their names

The list could go on  
The full will never be told
So I pay homage to others who were bold
Like John Brown, The Freedom Riders, Sojourner Truth
Ida B Wells, Phyllis Wheatley, Maya Angelou, 
Langston Hughes and Charles Drew

George Washington Carver, Ruby Bridges
Booker T Washington and Mary McCleod Bethune
Charles Houston, Ralph Bunche, Fredrick Douglass
WEB Dubois, Paul Robeson, Ralph Abernathy
Benjamin Banneker, Marcus Garvey and Crispus Attucks
Who’s death by the way
Symbolized the American lie
You cant declare the rights of all men
While the people of African decent rights get denied
But still we rise

Thanks to Dr Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, 
The Black Panthers, the Buffalo Soldiers and Tuskegee Airmen
None who were showed any love
Yeah it’s an uphill battle, 
But obviously greatness can be done.

We can rise above this stigma 
That blacks are lazy and daunting
That our worth is null and void 
And in essence minus nothing
And of all the names mentioned 
And the greatness of their successes
No one has been able to erase the evil transgressions of a racist mind
And once you have experienced just a taste of it
It changes your perception of time
The oppression beats like the drum on the chariot
Of when it was finally time to escape to freedom
It's mine


Details | Rhyme | |

Our Country's Soul Is Being Torn Apart


Our Country’s Soul Is Being “Torn Apart”

The very soul of America is being “torn apart.”
It’s a problem that’s striking at our very heart.

There’s a “blowing wind.”  A “time for change.”
As the country’s moral fabric is being “rearranged.”

As many question what the true meaning of life is for…
Many don’t seem to know what’s wrong or right anymore!

As so much pornography is allowed into our homes…
The moral decay is “eating” right at “the bones.”

Many have a hard time “defining what marriage is.”
So many are really “messed up” in how they live!

The news seems to be “fascinated” by man’s depravity…
Leaving a huge vacuum of a monstrous “moral cavity.”

Many who attend church want what’s
 “soothing to their ears.”
A God of holiness and righteousness
 is what they “fear!”

As we look around as to what our society is becoming…
God’s judgement is soon!  It is surely coming!

We must come back and leave all of our “false idols!”
We must come back to the God of the Bible!

Jesus must be our cord of love the forever binds!
It’s only in him can we find true love for our minds!

It’s only in Jesus that we can find a purpose and meaning!
It’s only in him that we need to put our
 trust and start believing!

He is and always will be the right choice to be taken…
Without him, our country’s is “doomed and forsaken.”

He brings healing and righteousness
“beneath his wings…
He is what we truly need!  
He is our EVERYTHING!

By Jim Pemberton


Details | Free verse | |

One, Won, Once

One ,Won, Once
			By Chuck Keys

Brightness can be blinding
With your eyes closed
Or with your eyes open.

Darkness can be blinding
With your eyes closed
Or with your eyes open.

As a driveway needs a parked car,
Does color make a difference?  Hurtfully
Yes.  Yet, we're all the same.

Can a green pepper ever be red?
Or should the
Red pepper be yellow? Color again.

Can't stop hearing that surface beat.  Loudly.
It’s constant and demanding, with
Painful colors.

Can you hear it too? It’s so loud,
Obvious.  Audaciously clear,
Mostly passed over.

We all bleed red; 
Cry tears, 
     Love, fear, 
          Hate, ache, 
               Want, need, 
                    Eat, drink, chew,
                         Live and die, regardless,
Same insides.  
 
Crayons are different colors,
We want them all, in one box.
A complete set.

Separate is never equal.
When we become one
Only one is won.
Once should be f ‘ever. 


© Charles H Keys, 2010.  All Rights Reserved


Details | Free verse | |

Dream Reflections

Dream Reflections

So drained,
I feel like a trained monkey
Who is paid to dance

I can't wait for 
The chance to sleep 
If it doesn't 
Happen soon
Grim reaper might come
Knocking at my door
When I fall asleep
 Driving home

I shall visit the moors of 
Ancient fairies and 
Hills of enchantment,
Once my curly head lands 
On my feather pillow

I might dream of lazy days
Laying under a weeping willow tree
After taking a long dip in a cool 
Stream on a hot summer day

Who knows where my 
Subconscious might take me,
Good thing my 
Admission will be free,
Because I don't have a 
Penny on me currently

Time is ticking so swiftly
 These trying days,
I must say goodbye,
Before I drift off to 
Dreamland too suddenly

Goodnight


Details | Verse | |

Love shall say it is sorry for Jew

Love shall say it's sorry so truth may atone
My soul brings praise to no other, you alone
Like the stars tell stories of your eyes alone
Like the tides weave history in every moan
I have languished in the light of other moons
That made our emptiness bright. The ruins
Of my dreams I cusp in my hands, and walk
The printed sand to you. Trace my past now,
See again the dunes where I bleed, O talk
To me with understanding as trust will allow
For we long in the rain edge friendships blind
Bandaging fears with the solace of any kind
Yet never sucked in, nor yet content outside
We overcompensate for the thing we hide.
Shall I despise you, shall I disrespect you, or
Ever go back to my busy emptiness? Believe
Me, you are the jewel kingdoms fought for
And to you alone who fill my dim void, I cleave

Love shall say it's sorry. since our hearts keeps
No covenant with the night, nor your form sleeps.
Remember you are prized, and no beauty glows
Majestic in my eyes, like you who keep our vows.
Friends may wander, virtual or real, into my call 
And sing there awhile to wither the heart's gall
But songs alone will never fill my void, you alone
Right the history of my shamble and of my moan.


Details | Free verse | |

Media play

Visions of pain and despair, with horrors of daily life 
forced upon the masses through modern 
windows of technology.

These images burned into the minds of the 
innocent millions of sinless victims oppressed 
by today’s tools of extortion by society.

Images so powerful and prolonged within the
 soul, they’re toxic to the mind and body 
causing you to purge the evils through 
pure emotions.

Some images affect the world with disasters 
to unbearable to fathom, with hundreds of 
thousands sent to the after life, with walls of 
water surrounding Gods hand picked for 
life after death.

Sinister images seem to over power the exemplary, 
and moral images seen through out time as noted
 in the calendar with December sixth, and September eleventh, as countless 
human beings were visited 
by Death.

Weapons of mass destruction sought through
 Fat man, and Little boy, that devastated
 a country, with the might of the suns power, 
in a blink of an eye solely designed to kill 
and destroy humanity.

Images of hope so easily forgotten within major 
catastrophic events, as the media has a part
 so intrusive to this equation of corrupting 
the minds of millions with the craft of deliverance 
through modern arts of technology.

Society eats and devours this information 
with greed and voracity like army 
ants to its pray.  


Details | Rhyme | |

Man's Corruption God's Redemption

Man's Corruption...  God's Redemption!

The Bible speaks of man's sin and corruption.
That's why God has offered us, his redemption!

The heart is desperately wicked above all things.
There's an evil corruption that sin brings!

The Lord searches our heart and tests our ways.
He watches our lives, all of our days!

There's nothing good in ourselves.
Not now, or ever!
Without God's mercy...
We're doomed forever!

But, through Christ, there's a way and a plan!
He made this available to every woman and man!

His gift of salvation is a message of love, made clear!
The coming of Jesus Christ,
 draws ever so near!

We can trade our sinful corruption, 
for a new way of living!
Won't you come before the Lord,
with a heart of giving?

Giving our life to Jesus,
 is the best thing to do!
By his power and grace, you can be
made BRAND NEW!

I'm thankful for his salvation! 
 Mercy has been applied!
Because of Christ' death on the cross…
I'm now sanctified!

By Jim Pemberton   


Details | Free verse | |

The Check is in the Mail

The Check is in the Mail
		                            Authored by Chuck Keys	

At the beginning there was no rain,
Only the thundering noise and bright bolts of lightning.
The trees and bushes trembled with the cold winds 
Pouring sheets of rain soon followed.
The stones and the ground cover cringed, 
Everything echoed and shook from the hard driving forces present.
There was no place to run or hide.  God
Was making his statement.
There will be no peace tonight,
Everything is in play.

Someone is in pain, searing aching ever increasing pain, 
Like the agony of a toothache, thumping, pulsing, thud, thud, thud 
Louder and more intense with each breadth 
The body and spirit is consumed, tightly wrapped up, 
Absorbed in the discomfort of now.
And it's not going away on its own.
There will be no peace tonight,
Everything is in play.

He was stolen, placed in chains,
400 years ago, 
Brow beaten from the beginning, in and out 
Never allowed to be his own, 
Not like whites, he was property, owned and operated 
But different non-white, (why are we still talking of color?) 
Yet beings we all are.
There will be no peace tonight,
Everything is in play.

We cry for what was taken but can never be returned 
Not wanting to be raised above or over, 
Wanting not a victory, but delivered equality.
Through love and nonviolence Martin and they forged ahead,
No more waiting for the check in the mail, 
But expecting the expected.
There will be no peace tonight,
Everything is in play.

The storm is here and now.  
A debt of honor is due, 
With the passing of time, where is restitution?
We accept love, education, pride and joy, 
We can't accept the hatred of crime, violence, 
The lack of housing and work, 
Pain never fades on its own.
It needs attention.
God’s values our values,
The one constant, never becomes vague.
Without compromise. Without compromise.
There will be no peace tonight,
Everything is in play.

The storm continues with its blinding rage, 
Waiting for an answer, not patiently, but expectantly, 
There will be no peace tonight in their lives as in our hearts,
Everything is in play.


Details | Narrative | |

My Legacy

My ancestors came here long ago
Tough and strong not weak
But somewhere down along the line
Something went terribly wrong
And now I have to sit here and deal with my legacy
Of not what I thought it would be
Not where I choose to be right now
The legacy that’s me.

I can’t escape the past
The memories seem to last
Of the horrors of what has come before
The graveyard is the place
I can see it on my face 
My family’s legacy of suicide 
is haunting me.

My generational legacy
Is it going to kill me
Or will it just let sleeping dogs lie 
And allow me to exist
Will it allow me to just to see
The me that I am meant to be
To live beyond my years
To grow beyond the tears
To handle all my fears
To defy what could have been
My legacy.

(November 13, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)

(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved 


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: V

Omniscient guy
Yet he lets bad things happen
How can he exist?


Details | Free verse | |

Houses of Stone - Linn Grove Subdivision

Under the wrought iron arch and gateway
crawling with both wild and deep red creepers
complimented by evergreens.
The fall colors are splendid.

Most of the flowers are giving way 
to the chill, and the swans are graceful and content
with the breeding season now over

Walking slowly along the narrow drive,
spots of color scatter around the green grass.
What beautiful yards,
each house made of stone,
granite - marble - sandstone.
The foundation of the earth

Dark stone black, pink, white, gray, burnt umber, rose
beautiful houses inviting you closer,
please see my name.
I was here many years ago.
Cholera came to me and took my spirit away.
But I was pretty and young and full of joy.
For a little while.

Old stones to the early 1800's.
Stones with angels guarding a lamb
baby tears fall, in time giving the stone soft edges.

One from yesterday.

Come see me in my house. Mausoleum strong and tall. 
Handsome and successful.
Each as individual in death as their homes and places were in life. 

Over here, I fought for my country. Me and all my buddies here, 
laid out under each of these many white crosses.

Hello, don’t forget my free spirit ... riding high over the houses
touring where ever the wind wishes.
Swirling fine invisible ashes through the trees
sparkling in the late closing sun.

A town’s history. Natural, tragic, sickness, murder ... all here 
The history wraps around the casual visitor.
Keening out not to be forgotten.
Calling, we were important pioneers. 

The end of day sun setting on their windows
Aglow with the spirit of yesteryear.


Details | Quintain (English) | |

One Sad Day

.

Fifteen years ago when  my father died
To the hospital I carried him that ill fated day
The staff was caring for him so by his side I could not abide
Then very  swiftly to surgery he was  taken away
As I was eating, God spoke to me in spirit and I felt daddy brush as he went away

Contest: God, Ghost, and Love
Sponsor: Dr. Ram Mehta


Details | Ballad | |

Antigone

I am the face of misery
My life, a dissonance of autumn and spring,
The years are written in the same
Lugubrious, nostalgic grey
How can it be the author to blame?
I cannot scream this all away…
Burn nor Bleed this all away…
To Death I am Ordained

Lacuna ever growing
With Velvet sheets of life flowing
Aeons apart of my "royalty"
Under the mask the cannot see...
Can you dispel this tragedy:
Antigone - Epiphany failing

If it must be…
Then just kill me,
(Antigone) sing me out of reality;
I wear this dissonant crown of shame
(Antigone) Of a kingdom's disdain
I hate to be this way... normalcy's bane
(Antigone) Here comes the edict, to blame
The sordid child of Thebes,
This is me,
Antigone

No words of hope
No words of hate
Do I have Lenore to send to me:
The sordid child of Thebes
Caught In the longest nightmare
life - the slowest way to die

I know this is my life 
But I'm not under control
under the mask the will see
Just Another Human

If it must be…
Then just kill me,
(Antigone) sing me out of reality;
I wear this dissonant crown of shame
(Antigone) Of a kingdom's disdain
I hate to be this way... normalcy's bane
(Antigone) Here comes the edict, to blame
The sordid child of Thebes,
This is me,
Antigone

If it must be…
Then just kill me,
(Antigone) sing me out of reality;
I wear this dissonant crown of shame
(Antigone) Of a kingdom's disdain
I hate to be this way... normalcy's bane
(Antigone) Here comes the edict, to blame
The sordid child of Thebes,
This is me,
Antigone

Can you dispel my life; this tragedy?
Can you control the storm in my mind?
I'm asking you: can you rid me
Of The Curse of Antigone?


Details | Free verse | |

To The Beat of Jazz Poetry

From bebop, swing to hip-hops thing
True poets had it best
For there is a rhythm in the soul, 
Which they all just had to express

Some could not control
This powerful thing 
 Was so often put to the test

It began to dawn coming on strong
Within the birth of a thing 
Called the Harlem Renaissance 

That jazz, that poetic-jazz, of intense birth 
Possessing syncopated rhythms 
And chronic expression of surreal tunes 

That perfected blend of jazz-poetry 
Developed into what it is today. 
Thanks to poets like Carl Dunbar and Langston Hughes 

That jazz, that jazz, that wonderful poetic-jazz
Being bred of pride, lyrical form and grace
Transcended cultural barriers 
Readily accepted in the 1950’s by the humane race 

Therefore, the mantra had begun to be 
So freely expressed within poetic lyrics 
To syncopated beats moving on through the 60’s and 70’s
By way of beat poets like Amiri Baraka

Returning strong throughout the 70’s and 80’s 
Thanks to artist like Gil Scott-Heron
Oh, snap he was one of the founding fathers 
Of spoken word poetry known to youngsters 

Borne to free-styling or hitting the beats 
On stage or in the streets
Yes, you’ve guessed it, most def its rap
 
Re-educating the poet in me, thanks to that thing 
In which made many a heart sing 
As these icons did their thing

Starting with something called modern day jazz-poetry…
Born during the Harlem renaissance and still going strong


Comments: I hope that you have enjoyed this free verse
tribute to some of the greatest modern day
founders of what is known as Jazz-Poetry.



Details | Free verse | |

In his footsteps

On his shoulders 
he carried 
me,
when I tarried 
when young.
He’d huddle me close,
and tell me the stories
Of how he grew up.
The things that he loved to do most.

Correct me when wrong.
And punish when bad he’d
Protect me from harm,
And when ill -
He’d wrap me in blankets,
And nurse by my side,
Till one day I grew up
And rebelled.

In your footsteps 
You wanted
Me to have followed,
And done everything by your will.
But I’m my own person,
So listen to my side,
Are you in with me this time
Or still…?

Do you not answer?
Hear my pain call?
As I struggle to find my own way.
Is it time I departed?
Is it time that I learnt?
To have my own will
What d’you say?

Well I’m sorry 
You’re silent.
You’re so disappointed.
But I know that you feel
I am wrong.
I can’t take this no longer
I’m so full of anger.
To my misery
Is there no end?

Well I’m out!...
Do you hear me?...
Dont misunderstand me.
I’m grateful for what you have done.
But for now
I don’t know me.
I don’t know the answers.
I’ll pack up my things and be gone!

But then
you say to me
Just listen – child listen,
One day 
you will settle
You’ll see.
You’ll be married. 
With children.
Putting food on the table -
Working hard to bring in the dough
Then you’ll think of these words
Just follow my footsteps
That way you will
Come to no harm.

And the voice in your head
Will silently say -
I told you,
Was right all along.
I’m your father
I taught you to follow 
my footsteps;
To know what is right and
Whats wrong!


Details | Rondeau | |

Vengeance is Mine

the sack cloth lay
black as ash upon the mourners  
the sack cloth lay
tears could not soften or defray
rods could not break its rough corners
upon witnesses at vespers
the sack cloth lay


Revelation 11:3
And I will cause my two witnesses to prophesy 
a thousand two hundred and sixty days dressed in sackcloth...
Romans 12:19 Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, 
but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, 
Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.



Details | Couplet | |

My hand holds your hand

My hand holds your hand and that`s enough.
In the green`s intervals, the weather is rough;
The blue wind freed its own ghost’s chain
Following the rhythm of the crystalline rain;
With the leaf`s thrill and embrace`s embers
Patient ruby hidden in alabaster chambers, 
Far from the desert of mirrors, standing aloof
As vulnerable as the surge`s serenity`s proof;
Simple surmise falling down with the mist,
Suspension bridge above the yellow East;
Looking from the season `s round roof,
Solitude seems hit by a rueful cold hoof.
Like the violet dawns date with the pale moon,
Chapel`s morning joined the emerald afternoon;
Air angels with white wings are our mates;
Trees beg for heaven to let open the gates; 
We listen to inner chansons sung by Edith Piaf
My hand holds your hand and that`s enough.


Details | Quatrain | |

The Corn Crib

I've passed this way many a day 
and wondered as I strayed;
Who had opened, what had filled
the gap within the crib's dark bay.

The opening small in the wall
at once so spare yet alluring
with tilted sides and gap toothed maw 
which now held field mice burrowing.

The boards of red once formed a bed
for stored feed of golden maze,
these cedar shingles had sheltered 
the abundance of by gone days.

The farm's gone now, no fields, no cow    
long past its youth, its heyday             
housing only bitter sweet and 
memories of corn cobs and play. 

Yet, here it stands, as I go by,
and so quietly it brings to me; 
the lingering joy of laughter
the faint echoes of jubilee.


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: III

Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?


Details | Free verse | |

The Glass Goddess

All around me
Great cities made of sand.
Green sky scrapers poke through the ground 
To thrive in life’s strict conditions
And melt away with the tide…

Great houses made of cards
Form lines, and tightrope walk existence,
Knowing that any moment, the wrong brick may fall
And buckle our world to its knees
As Mother Earth shouts Jenga! from the sidelines.

So while were here
We dance with the Glass Goddess 
Poised miles above reality,
Leaping over the heavens on our domino stilts-

We floor it in the sky
Living death in the fast lane, 
Seizing the day
Because any moment 
We could disappear 
Into



Jacob Reinhardt	
10/15/2013



Details | Free verse | |

Wild, Wild West

Magazine ads and newspaper obituaries
skitter across the streets
like tumbleweed in the desert.
Rims the size of carriage wheels roll by.
Everyone's holsters are filled,
even the children carry pistols.
The schools are ghost towns
but the saloons stay occupied.
This is the Wild, Wild West.


Details | Light Poetry | |

My Chair

Life is never fair
Evil lives the good life
The good often perish
A genetic trick of the devil
Or so some may say
Me, I sit in my chair
As the world turns from night to day
All around the spinning I feel
Till from my chair, I fall to ground
Still haven’t fallen for thee
A myopic illusion twisted in pain
I suffer here alone
Under the falling rain

I too sit in a chair
Oceans away
Two solitudes
Have never been so clear
As when I sleep alone in fear
Of dreams that may or may not be
A return to Fantasy
An old man once told me
Life is seldom fair
Never bet on thirteen


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: IV

God made all people
But some better than others?
Stop being silly.


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: VI

The body: sacred
We’re all made in God’s image
Hence... circumcision?


Details | Light Poetry | |

' More Than Any Of Us ... '

Braver … Than All The Mighty Lions Can Roar
Braver … Than All The Spirited-Wings, That Soar
Braver … Than All The Explorers, Who Explored     ( Philippians 2: 7, 8 )
Braver … Than All Or Any Of Us … Is The Lord

Truer … Than Those Who Faced Beasts, Who Devoured
Truer … Than Any Martyr, Who Has Been Whipped & Scoured
Truer … Than Any, Who Have Faced Hate & Been Scarred
Truer … Than Any Creature Ever, Is The Lord

The Freedom Fighter … More Than Any Mortal-Soldier
The Freedom Fighter … More Than Any Mortal-Warrior
The Freedom Fighter … More Than Any Army Corp
The Freedom Fighter … Problem-Solver & So Much More

The Leader … More Than Julius Caesar
The Leader … More Than The Great Alexander
The Leader … More Than Queen Elizabeth-Tudor
The Leader … More Than Eisenhower Or Any Super-Power

The Conqueror … He Is Unbeatable, Undefeatable
The Conqueror … He Is Undeniable, Undefiable
The Conqueror … He Is Invincible, Indefensible
The Conqueror … He Is Unstoppable, Unswervable

Stronger … Than Any Petrified, Nailed Board !
Stronger … Than Any Bound & Thorn Whip-Cord !
Stronger … Than Any Guard, Or Tombstone Hard !
Stronger … Than Any Bloodied, Spear Or Drawn Sword !

(He’s Stronger Than Any Bullet Or Bomb Can Explode!)

So, Look Higher … Than Any Arch Cathedral
Look Higher … Than Any Gold-Domed Temple
Look Higher … Than Any Religious Symbol
Look Higher … Than Any Cosmic Or Man-Made Idol

The One Messiah, The Worthy One, Paid What We Can’t Afford
The One Messiah, The Worthy One, His Blood & Soul Outpoured
The One Messiah, The Worthy One, The Christ, Who Restored
It’s All On Record, GOD Gave His Word, GOD Gave, The Lord

Braver … Than All The Lions & Beasts, That May Roar                             ( Rev. 13: 11-15 )
Truer … Than All The Saints & Self-Made Saviors Or Survivors
Stronger … Than Any Enemy, Higher Than Our Hearts, For Love Is His Core
The Freedom-Fighter, Leader-Conqueror, Who Will Win The Final-War       ( Rev. 16: 14-16 ) 

(Braver … Than Any Human Being, Ever Born)

    GOD … Please Grant Us:
     The Courage Of Jesus
     The Strength Of Jesus
       The Loyalty Of Jesus
        The Love Of Jesus

          The King Of Kings               ( Rev. 19: 16 )
         The Prince Of Peace             ( Isa. 9: 6, 7 )
             & The Amen …                 ( 1 Cor. 1: 20  &  Rev. 3: 14 )
That’s Why … In The Name Of Jesus  ( Philippians 2: 9-11 )

                 Amen

            His  MoonBee


Details | Narrative | |

Ring of Truth

The First Round

You are a pothole that I swerve not to hit.

But you follow my trail endlessly and the sniffing.

When I am cornered I lash and teeth bare menacingly.

We circle each other looking for an opening and claw.

The words make me bleed but ignoring the pain.

The Second Round

Hurling insults and curses the fight searches our past.

I am knocked down from a memory and slowly gain my feet.

I throw a cross at your fears and you stagger with pain.

The referee gives you a standing eight count and the bell sounds.

We sit in our corners and take water and advice.

The Third Round

The crowd roars as we touch gloves and you give me a hook to the body.

I am cut and its deep but the doctor examines me and says I can go on.

The hook brings deep shame and I can't breath and holding the ropes.

My corner knows I can't go on so a white towel comes.

The referee stops the fight and we pay him when we leave.

The next couple are in the lobby sitting waiting for the doctor.


Details | Narrative | |

The familiar phrase, The Windy City

I’ve a vast store of mem’ries about Chicago
as I’ve lived there for a couple of years
helping out in the parish of many immigrants,
especially Mexicans and Puerto Ricans.

I’ve made friends and a number of them
still continue to correspond by emails;
it’s like a treasure-trove of relationships -
where friendship makes a big difference.

I still remember when I get invitations
from people of other cultures in their homes;
their different cuisines and customs,
a great experience, a wealth of culture.

Chicago’s known for many attractions,
home of architecture with modern skyscraper
the neo-gothic Tribune Tower in the north
along with white Wrigley building in the city;
rich in architectural history, a sight to behold!

Its classic and modern architecture so far,
complements each other in visible terms,
with innovative ideas and creative designs
a special city with marvelous history.

Daniel Burnham, the famed architect,
designed the Merchandise Mart and others
significant to his life like ‘Paris on the Prairie’,
a tapestry of combined art of old and new.

Renowned architects with their respective styles
such as Frank Lloyd Wright and his prairie designs,
Louis Sullivan and his visible ornate facades
Ludwig Miles van der Rohe for modern styles.

Oh, Chicago, known also as the Windy City
so rich in history and its uniqueness too,
the time when a huge fire razed the city
destroyed lovely buildings in 1871.

Well, with the growing skyscrapers in the city
Chicago Spire, for instance, with its 150 stories
designed by a renowned architect Calatrava,
stands as the tallest building in North America.

With the so-called Trump Tower in its 92 stories
and then, Waterview Tower with its 90 stories,
Sears Tower, the skyscraper with its 110 stories,
that’s the only tallest among buildings in the U.S.

Oh well, this is Chicago in the landscape of beauty,
as a windy city, as well as a gateway to reality;
there’s meaning to trace back in history
there’s continuing progress towards this century.


Details | Free verse | |

wanna come thank me for getting bin laden shot america

or do you want to tell the person whose first name is sang by sinead o connor
middle name is sang by fred durst
and last name is mentioned by fred durst


do you want to tell me, the person you just spent 13 years mad at
singing and dancing to my misfortune
and rubbing your happiness in my face as you exclude me from sex

do you want to tell that person whose name you plastered all over your war
that he had nothing to do with surviving it
do you want to tell that man
Troy Jeremy Nelson
who just lost everything 17 times
to start over
that he was not your allie
in whatever that was?

let me put your name alll over a war
and then wait for your enemy to show up
and ask you
what does that guy got that i don't?


everything now
you murdered my grandpa
you murdered my friends
you murdered my sex life

and you sang and danced to my misfortune to the tune of your lies
pretending i was your friend called an alibi
you didnt bother to even try to keep alive

do you want to come telll
me
Troy Jeremy Nelson
that your country just did that too
that thats not what happened?

Im not sure how long your going to live that lie
the thousands of people concerned and involved in that persons endless
and i mean endless nightmare
might just come tell you what has been making them cry.....

Happy Halloween tho
FALSE PROPHET

oh and p.s.
next time you put somebody else in the middle of your war
to play the victom of that person's nightmare
you caused
take notes to pass into the future
as to what is about to occur
to you
may be a life lesson
to history

Thank you for not caring (sarcasm)
thank you for not answering my letters (sarcasm)
thanks for going the wrong way, in the wrong direction, to do the wrong thing
that whole time i kept pointing out a drug ring blackmarket, you people didnt care 
about (sarcasm)

thanks for calling me a liar as to what has taken place in my life(sarcasm)

so whenever you are free to hand me a bunch of things with your smiling face, and 
names all over them
to make me feel better for the way you treated me
singing and dancing to the sound of getting away with murder
for the miracles youve stolen

my big brother doesn't like to dance around and play house, pretending to be 
someone hes not
in a singing competition, racing against his sense of fear
do you want to come tell the man just tortured by malpractice
with his name on your war in your music,
he had nothing to do with winning it?


Details | Haiku | |

Still My Enemy

Some boys called them dinks.
I called the bastards Viet Cong.
Others called them gooks.


Details | Rhyme royal | |

" Bahama Nation"

A nation of peace,a nation of pride
A nation that's spread far and wide.
A nation of hope,a nation of joy,
Thats free for all, man,women ,girl and boy.

A nation to give,a nation to take
A nation filled with reggae,socca,calypso and rake and scrape.
A nation of colors; black,gold,aqua....sometimes called blue
can be seen everywhere above land and under sea too.

A nation of democracy and old english style,but things  sure have changed if you
look up our file.
From outside rock stoves,to TV,radio,computers and wi-fi connectivity.........
I'd say that a long way from July 10 1973.

An nation filled with hospitality,love and history,
Arawaks,Caribs and American Indians are the basis of our nationality.
A nation where Tourism is number one, because of the Bounty of sand sea and sun.

Yes,a nation of Youth,sports ,culture,uniqueness and island fashion trends,
Like native Androsia our own local blend......and straw work and junkanoo,the list has no end.
This nation of beauty,splendor and self defense ;yes its celebarting its own INDEPENDENCE.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Cues

My day is a day to be reckoned with my Sir!
I am down back to zero going again you see.
I carry a silver stick just for you not for me.
Do know I roll in a blend of pure magic I stir.
 
Like my soup you are and a cat I shall purr.
My summer is magic my winter cues as be.
I am busy you see to fly in and out like thee.
But in between this world is a cross to incur.
 
And at the end of this world is even a bigger cross,
Sharp as a whistle seemingly to be  at a great loss!
 
® Registered: Ann Rich   2009
.


Details | Quatrain | |

Elemental Alignment

It's the essence of what we're made of.
It's right beneath us as we walk.
It's what the Creator used from up above---
to make "the walking colours that talk".

The essence of movement that kisses your face.
It can push the sea and move the trees.
Sweat on a hot day can be erased.
Breeze that's felt with grace and ease.

The burning flames put out heat.
The colours are brilliant and bright.
It's used outside when you need something to eat.
It also brings dark things to light.

It's the only thing that can quench your thirst.
It's the one thing that connects all life.
If you don't receive this you might just burst.
A lack of this clear liquid can even create strife.

We need all these elements to make the world go round.
They are the essence of creation and what makes the world sound.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Nameless - for South Africans of all colours who fought for freedom


The Nameless


Slipping through the sieve of history,

the nameless rest.

Not for the nameless are roads renamed, nor monuments built.

Not for the nameless are songs sung, nor ink spilled.

The nameless rest.

Their silent sacrifice,

quiet ordeal,

muted trauma,

remain interred,

amongst their remains.

The nameless rest.

Not for the nameless are doctorates conferred, nor eulogies recited.

Not for the nameless are honours bestowed, nor homages directed.

The nameless rest.

They rest within us,

they walk with us,

in every step that we tread.

They rest within us,

they walk with us,

for their spirit is not dead.


“Your name is unknown, your deed is immortal”
- inscription at The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier WWII in Moscow


Special thanks to my dearest elder sister Tasneem Nobandla Moolla, whose conversations with me about life as a non-white person growing up in pre and post-Apartheid South Africa prompted me to write this dedication to the countless, nameless South Africans of every colour, whose sacrifices and dedication in the struggle against Apartheid tyranny must never be forgotten.


My sister’s middle name ‘Nobandla’ which is an isiXhosa name and means “she who is of the people” was given by her godfather, Nelson Mandela, my father’s ‘best-man who could not be, as Nelson Mandela was unable to-make it to my parent’s wedding as he was in jail at the time in the old Johannesburg Fort. This was the 31st December 1961.


Details | Haiku | |

Extinct Dinosaurs


Extinct dinosaurs
Found fossils render knowledge
Brawn returns to dust







Dinosaurs~ HAIKU Contest   
Sponsored by: S K A T *  


Details | Free verse | |

Part I of Indian Summer

Slowly, 
The air fills with blue, and the greens catch fire
The hammerlight of Summer
With little mouse-steps,
Steals off into apricity.

I divide my days
Between wine and responsibilities
As a child divides his
Between play and obedience.

The time itself, at its best,
Is wine to me,
Full of light and flavors
Vying for my attention.

The aptly named Sept/ember
Ignites itself against the skies
And sets my thoughts asmoulder;
The inspiration I have begged and badgered
To arrive, does so at last
By its own rule, on its own clock
In the deep of the night
While I should be asleep.

I awake,
Dreams close behind my shoulder,
And find myself at this crossroads,
Inexorably older.


Details | Free verse | |

Day Servants -- Servientas Diarias

Las mujeres que cruzan el rio cada dia
forman una linea larga para la migra.
Muestran sus permisos -- tarjetas locales --
y vacian los contenidos de sus bolsas.
Cuando las preguntan sus destinos,
contestan con las frases que han ensayado:
quiero comprar pollo en especial,
o desea mi hijo zapatos tenis de Wal-Mart --
mientras sus patronas del dia acechan,
a prudente distancia, en sus camionetas guayin,
con los motores en marcha.  
Estan fumando impacientemente.
Otro Winston? 


(For translation, see "About This Poem")


Details | Free verse | |

THE FULL MOON BLOOMS

Tonight, the full moon blooms
And foils the looming gloom.
The remnant doom from noon
Has lost it's bullish tune.
And embraces dusk's eerie cool.


The village square it illuminates
Arena of moonlight tales of late
The little ones gather and wait
While the elderly engage in debates
And the goats noisily ruminates


The bright night, lights sparks
Of bliss and joy in trees' barks
The tall iroko whistle in parks
Where young lovers end their tracks
And skimpy skirts lose their tacks
 
 
The son of perdition frets unsure
The thief in the night fears exposure
The pirate sailor steers from ashore
The night fisherman denied action
For the kind light bathes the ocean


Tonight, the full moon beams proud
As the town crier makes his round
Belting forth a piercing sound.
While the town's chorus echoes loud
The stage is set for the yearning crowd


Details | Rhyme | |

Bear Mountain Widow's Tale

Sweeping the dust and mud 
From plank floors--mending and quilting
Needles, thread, and braiding scrapes
Baking days and washing Mondays
Tubs of water, fires and aching backs
The cabin sitting small
In the shadows of redwoods and pines
It was harder and lonelier 
Then I ever could have known
Laying in the light less nights
Listening to the creaks and groans
For I was young and foolish once
Filled with the girlish dreams and hopes
Of loving eternally and making a home
It was harder and lonelier 
Then I ever could have known
Those dreams faded through the years
In the salty fog of the hardship, the dust, 
The tears.


Details | I do not know? | |

Tomorrow is Ours



Tomorrow is Ours.


Suffocating beneath the weight of historical fear,
asphyxiated by the legacy of traumatised yesteryear,

the festering wounds of enslavement still remain,
juggling euphemisms in a crisp sound-bitten refrain,

spewing out neo-liberal economic charades,
doling out charity in strips of plastic band-aids,

but,

tomorrow shall be ours,

casting away subservient mind-sets that shackle,
no longer the weakened prey of the insatiable jackal,

tomorrow shall be ours,

we shall reclaim our plundered mindspaces,
we shall shed our chains, leaving behind the traces,

of past injustice, of the hurt and pain of our ancestors' sorrows,

we are here, now, alive with hope,


we shall rightfully claim our own tomorrows.





Details | I do not know? | |

Ancient Castle Walls

Mighty fortresses once proudly stood
where now only crumbling walls remain,
shadows of their ancient past
as home and hearth and warrior stronghold.
Ancient battles once fought to protect those
within these very walls ... are no more.
Faint echoes of wars long since silenced
can be heard only by those with a warriors blood
flowing forever through their veins
and a warriors heart beating
deep within their chest.
Lives freely given and savagely taken
without fear ... brave souls one and all.
With sword and shield raised to the heavens
the lone pipers mournful sounds heard on the winds
the warriors call to battle given and thus accepted.
Ancient crumbling walls left standing,
once stained red with blood now faded
are, to this day, all that remain
as mute testimony to their hallowed memory.


Details | I do not know? | |

POLITICALLY CORRECT, MORALLY INEPT

America the beautiful, home of the brave,
One Nation under God, marked upon their graves,
Our founding fathers built this land,
“In God We Trust,”  they made their stand.

A nation built with strong convictions,
Free from British Rule,
“I Pledge Allegiance To The Flag,”
Was said in all our schools.

There was a time when we would pray,
After each and every meal,
Cite the Ten Commandments,
Let The Master do His Will!

“HONOR THY FATHER AND MOTHER,
THAT THY DAYS BE LONG AND STRONG,
LOVE THY NEIGHBOR AS YE LOVE THYSELF,”
Is sung within our songs.

A New Light shines upon us,
A Fire from down below,
Satan is spreading his political views,
Erasing all that we’ve come to know.

The prayers that once were said in schools,
Became “A Moment of Silence,”
The paddling we received from the Principal’s rule,
Has been replaced by murder and violence.

“SPARE THE ROD AND SPOIL THE CHILD,”
Is Exactly what we have done,
Children running amuck and wild,
Shooting parents with their guns.

The Special Day we celebrate, each and every year,
The day in which  our Savior was born, filled with joy and cheer,
Has become a day of infamy, a name we must not say,
Merry Christmas has been replaced, by Happy Holidays…


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Am As I Am


	Perhaps
	you've wondered 
	what’s up with me, 
	why I’m blue some days, 
	other times electric yellow,
	why I talk too fast
	or not at all,
	why I cry, 
	then laugh, 
	then cry again. 
	You may have been puzzled 
	by my sometimes strangeness, 
	about what makes me tick. 
	The fact is, 
	I always tell the correct time; 
	all you have to do is ask. 

	Since you asked...

	I have a disorder, 
	or two, 
	or three.
	I have bipolar, you see, 
	and I get the rollercoaster 
	that comes with it.
	The only questions are:
	how steep the climb, 
	how fast the fall? 

	I’m not crazy 
	(I avoid the “C” word.);
	I have an illness 
	(I’m not that illness.);
	I take my meds 
	(two blue and three white).
	I lead a normal life, 
	whatever “normal” means. 
	I no longer feel 
	the stigma of being different. 
	I am as I am.

	There you have it, 
	the skim of my truth. 
	Now you know about me; 
	what’s your story?


Details | Free verse | |

Heathers Spans

The heathers spans the great Isles
Homeland to many souls 
Souls whose offsprings on the tides rolled

These souls who hath spareness
Spareness which sharpens haste
To harnesses path across the great waters

Seraphs thens protected their path
To a new land to live life but differently

Anagrams:
Heathers spans
Hath sparenesses
Sharpens haste
Harnesses path
Seraphs thens 

These are anagrams for the name that I was born with 
given to me by my biological parents..When my mother died
and I was adopted at 18 months, my last name was 
changed....The name on my first birth certificate was:Sarah
Stephens


Details | Rhyme | |

politics of the human mind

the will of the pen knows no bounds 
but limited to the will of the writers hand
like the tone of a melody without sound
waiting for the cue from the band 

the face of a painting has no features 
except those the artist wishes to convey 
as the student of life has no teachers 
except those one wishes to obey 

the mind of the artist knows no justice 
except the judgement delivered by the land 
for the wrath of nature lusts in 
the embrace of chaos' arms at hand 

the scholar may quest for that which is forbidden  
though the will of the body remains untamed 
for the strength of the mind lay hidden
in a philosophers temple in a philosophers brain  

the warriors will to fight for glory 
strengthened through each land he drifts 
yet the screams in his dreams and stories 
tells him how much peace is a gift 


as the pen of history continues to move 
inviting prince time to take part in chance 
the celestial bodies start to groove 
on the universes stage in a cosmic dance 

it is the meekest of men to quest for equality 
as the soul of the universe aligns with the brute 
yet in the eyes of the artist one is taught to see 
when the warrior  speaks peace, his lips numb mute 

the will of chaos runs parallel to the universe
as does history to plasma in veins 
for the gift of peace is mans biggest curse 
in a world he quest to claim 






Details | Free verse | |

Curled Up With Shakespeare

I was curled up 
with Shakespeare 
on frayed pages 
with dog ears

marveling
at the depth of words 
nuances read 
between lines 

knowing that 
many hands 
had turned 
the same pages 


reaching 
different conclusions 
and evoking 
myriads of emotion 

my fingers 
touched the spine 
shivering 
with history 
connected 
through thought 
and with imagination 
running wild 

and I mourned 
for the children 
in todays world 
who's Shakespeare visits 
on flashing lights
and computer bites 

lost is
the old world charm 
such as Elizabeth wrote 
and Robert devoured 
ferociously

my tears fell
upon parched pages 
leaving 

an indelible stain 
that would be seen 
and felt by others 
who reached and touched 
the words 


I realized that
tears on a screen 
would only be 
wiped away 
without memory 
of the emotion 
that was elicited 

 

leaving nothing at all  
for history 

to record...


 


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Breathe

Dear Father, 

There is so much death here
That I dare not breathe
The staggering stench of civility
This scurrilous silence of infamy
Clinging to the remains of children
Now but an empty glare

The sky is a poisonous plume
Drowning the once bellowing sun
As sealed letters of siphoned voices
Trickle beneath the ruddy rubble
Held hostage in dying pockets
Never to be heard by the living
Again

There are bodies in roadways
Tossed like carcasses of meat 
Entire families ravaged
Rotting
In crimson soaked ravines

How did it come to this
This blasphemy of blessings
Where nightmares dream of empty beds
And modest meals serve warm faces
That hold the frigid world at bay
Until the widows of war sail
Again

Forgive me
For my pride has forsaken 
All that I hold dear
The company of my brothers
The prayers of my mother
The wishes of my father
Which still guide my trembling hand
As these words posthumously breathe
Off the page

I am…home


Details | I do not know? | |

That Harrowed Pasture.

As dad and I trod over the newly tilled fields
Feeling warmed by the prospect of the day’s work
His eyes aglow within those granite features
I followed his sight to that field beyond as yet unsown

He called it virgin soil or heavens harrowed field
So long ago as I stood in awe of the man and his earth
So clearly I recall the rich scent of tilled broken ground
How the green corn melted with the sky horizons away

His powerful leathered hands how gentle they were
That chiseled brow that could see into tomorrow
He told me the one thing to always remember
A man is only as good as the work he puts into the world

Then that mythical man from my childhood, my dad
Pulled me up into the saddle and whooped at the horse
We headed back to the barn to finish the day’s toiling
Now all these years later I understand his gift of that night

As I stand with my son on the old harrowed pastures…


Details | I do not know? | |

reparatiions vs asterity measures

out of germany an anti christ came
soon after WWI hitler was his name
he made a lot of speaches 
and he wrote a book 
but it was the rage of the people
where the world would not look

and comming out of the land
they say with seven hills
comes another anti christ
with germanys help to build
asterity measurse to fuel the fire
greece is looking for an anti christ to hire


Details | Free verse | |

All hail, the misguided soldier, the misguided Hive

All hail,
The brave soldier
Who stands firm
Like the fickle shell of a snail
Before the oncoming foot of titans

All hail,
The brave soldier, 
A ferocious bee
Who strikes his stinger into the enemy
Comforted by fleeting thoughts of heroism
-a safeguarded hive
Thoughts that flit away in the wind
Like windswept Pollen ambushed by desert
-as the bee falls for the cause

All Hail, 
The brave invader
Who fells foe for his country
All hail murderer,
Comforted by a noble cause
Sent out on wings of glory to cut down fanged tigers
Purging threats, safeguarding life
	-the hive
All Hail,
Misguided killer
For all tigers are fanged
All people threats
-All people life

All Hail,
The weary soldier
	-sacrificial lamb
Joined out of a desperate cause
A squalling infant, a taunting belly
And the weary soldier
Gives his sacrifice to the gods of the Hive
And prays for rain.


Details | Free verse | |

Drawing From The Deep Well

Drawing water from deep well
Clear _cool refreshing water
Drop bucket _watch fall
That windless works
That is if you do
Turn _turn the rope
Each turn gets much harder
A lot like life, friend



1.  Drawing (1)     10.  Watch(1)     19.  Turn(3)      27.Like(1)
2.  Water(2)         11.  Fall(1)         20.   The(1)      28.Life(1)
3.  From(1)          12.  That(2)        21.   Rope(1)    29.Friend(1)
4.  Deep(1)          13.  Windless(1) 22.    Each(1)
5.  Well(1)           14.  Works(1)     23.    Gets(1
                                                                                            
6.  Clear(1)         15.   Is(1)          24.    Harder(1)  
7.  Cool(1)          16.   If(1)           25.   A(1)
8.  Refreshing(1)  17.  You(1)        26.    Lot(1)
9.  Drop(1)          18.  Do(1)


Details | Free verse | |

Color of a Man's Character

The Color of a Man’s Character
We all bleed
And cleave to 
Those we leave

We all smile when we are greeted
And cry when we are mistreated

Why do we choose to abuse others 
For the color of their skin?

Why do we think that only 
Our own color should win?

We’re all the same underneath 
We all deserve peace 
When we lay down to sleep

Love one another while you can
Show your son how to be gracious
The color of a man’s character 
Is how he treats his fellow Man.


Details | Free verse | |

Yesterday Faces: VE Day 2008

A farewell never passed
Our valediction lost to the winds
A lifetime of rage and anguish
Flowing hotly upon the detriment
And breaching.
Though not without conflict
It is under the shadow of war
Within these shattered burnt ruins 
Remains the anguish
Of sixty three years
A recollection that seeps into the void
Of my spirit
Haunting my sleep…


Details | Sonnet | |

May Day

May 31, 2010


May Day! 

I sprout with a surprise springing forth from me today.
Birds sing such a magnificent most pleasurable praise.
I want to be the one He promised soon He would raise.
I will be celebrated all by myself on that God-given day.
I will stand in His Gracious Glory at His appointed Say.
Yesterday will be but a blurring faded haze, life a craze.
He sets my soul on fire and sets my spirit off in a blaze.
I bet I will buzz like a bee zipping by you each May Day!
It is all in a day just for me to say.
Ta! Da! I’d bet you did not realize!
May Day! May Day! I say let’s play!
Walla! I say May Day’s materialize!

Waiting every May Day is loads of fun,
Unbelievably, May Day is never done!

®Registered: Ann Rich 2010


Details | Elegy | |

SAPPHO'S FALLING STARS part 1

                                            SAPPHO’S FALLING STARS     (Part one)


I am descendent of Odysseus
	Hero of the past
Have I kin—I know not—I may be the last--
The Trojan War and Helen made my family's blazing fame
Thus magnified by Homer was made our honor and ancestral name

I stand this day the General of the fallen men that the Fates have tossed
across the Siren Sappho's way—
now foolishly slain-- my Fallen Stars    	 
                      		such a ragged few
                                       in this paltry breath of a moment
                                      			of mere delay--

Inconsequential time in history 
                                                                                          forever lost—


at their honor’s cost


for Mine, a Mighty Name
excuses easily such inconsequential blame
                                                                         
I cannot weep—I cannot pray

                      Such sacrifice of brave men
	              Lifeless , While I stand whole
	               Due to my folly 
                      Sucks the breath stark from my soul

Yarns and lore of Heroes—I know
Babe……. to youth……… in manhood……..
Each far-flung hour, day upon dew-kissed day
Nurtured ever cherished in the sweet talk of the female-breast-kissed way
      	Absorbed sensuous tactics laced with salty woman taste--so learned
	Intimately known as my manhood blossomed

Intimate Initiate—once
You, Sappho, sought my need –-
Intimate follower once—
                                I ate your passion delicious sauced with greed

(part two posted)............................................





Victoria Anderson-Throop  12/18/12 ©


Details | Pantoum | |

God Closed The Door

When God closed the door
At the moment Noah finished the boat
Rain poured from heaven 
The boat began to float

At the moment Noah finished the boat
And the heavens opened their tide
The boat began to float
As people cried and begged outside

And the heavens opened their tide
As Noah's hand were tied
As people cried and begged outside
The boat floated, animal made noises on ride

As Noah's hands were tied
At the closing of the door
The boat floated, animals made noises on ride
When God closed the door

(Based on Genesis 7:16)


Details | Rhyme | |

Helter-Skelter Spawn of Cain

Some say, the tale's not told of maidens fair and men, so cold, of how the dear and sweetest joy falls victim to the lustful boy needs telling Some say, the ways of life are harsh and maidens made to bare the cross, and lustful boys are not right taught that they are raised up and not caught needs telling Some say, the girl child or the boy, when left unguarded, luscious toy, are meant as morsels, so deployed and as sacrificial lambs destroyed needs dispelling Some blame the lamb, say ploy though insight would scream, lame decoy, and insist their innocent act merely coy so say societies naughty boys needs dispelling Some say, the rape a rite of passage, so the multitude of perverts say. The Universe seeking balance says THE DOGS WILL HAVE THEIR DAY.
*329,708 reported rapes in 2009 worldwide/ 95,136 in the USA alone 8/2009


Details | Free verse | |

The Terror Of 16th N' Arrowhead

On this night....

Screaming and yelling is all I can hear
I want to get up, But fear reappears
I swiftly close my eyes But can't fall asleep
I hear a series of shots, From across the street
Once again, It's just like before
I rise to my feet , Then drop to the floor
Shaky legs,  And Watery eyes
Praying prayers,  I just want to survive
Bloodstained spots,Yellow tape surrounding
Broken fragments of glass,Who's underneath
The blanket of death
One cough, One whisper,One last little breath
Family and friends so violently wept
Rants of revenge, Are bellowing near
Frightened eyes, shed clouds of tears

Into the night I slip away
But not so quiet return at day
I blankly stare upon the walls
My breath escapes into a fog
A not so quiet day like this
I feel as if I don't exist
It's kind of late into the game, 
But life goes on, Its all the same
A drink or drug could never heal, 
What's happening is still so real, 
You can't imagine how this feels
A broken heart, A wounded soul
Swollen lips, Dead body cold
A second, A day , A breaths taken away
A minute, An hour, A loss of human power
Every month and every week
So many more lives are taken quickly

Is time running out, Are eyes going blind?
Are ears going deaf? Will there be anything left?
My heart's in remission to end it right here
My body's positioned to stand up to fear
Existence is determined, The struggle against defeat
The time is coming up so fast, Into the night I weep
From the moment we arrived,Terror increased
Now is the time for us to pack up and leave
A hard look at our life, Has made us sober
We have no choice but to start over






My family and I lived through nightmare after
nightmare in our old apartments for 3 years
and just 2 years ago, we moved. Thank God 
he made a way out for us to escape safely.


Details | Couplet | |

Into the Valley of Death.....A.L.T

What of violence and God, is death simply a part of life?
as each creature large or small lives through strife.

And, righteous wrath, what of its source
a mere aberration of mans faulty mental course?

Surely, some claim to hear the Almighty Voice,
Yet, do they not simply make a human choice?

Violence is brought upon man by man;
how can it exist, we ponder, without God’s Hand?

Malnourished or over stimulated human kind
find murderous meanings in the convoluted mind.

Anger, does not motivate the most High and holy state,
man has given false meaning to accommodate.

The wise will look strongly toward mortal gain
when caught between righteousness and pain.

And speak less often of righteous anger with firm nod
Let man step lightly, for he knows not the mind of God.



Details | Narrative | |

Letter to taeljejohn

uncomfortableness, and hesitation arose that you might reassess a possibility for friendship or.... whatever with me.

A disappointment set in place in the event that based on some facet of my being (inexplicable flaws within this corporeal human male), forecast that an about face (booked on charges inherent in this googly eyed, earth-linked, kool hotmail of a yahoo) would be un liked!

Juno what i mean? 

In retrospect, no matter that this average boyish chap desires enjoyment, he admits that ordinary punctuating various stages of development difficulty coping found him msn (miss sin, missin, missing, et cetera) on ordinary interpersonal experiences!

No matter yours truly usually finds me each morning, noon or night conjuring up maximizing temporary residence on this planet earth versus bemoaning those futile and essentially counterproductive mind games sans could a, might a, should a, would a...

today = the moment to cherish, enjoy, help others, ponder the remaining years
since fruitless to expend tears
for suppressed emotional, financial, grammatical, hormonal, physical, and spiritual angst
 that roiled mine inner sanctum - mainly from decades in the past
   which unseen scars with humor this fellow (who by the way likes you) wears!

Notice the sly inclusion of my comment per -- affinity, desirability, rhapsody for you
although just but a mere inkling prevails about an ye taelje john thru
a rather contrived manner - albeit an online adult oriented website - amongst a slew
which yields to this bipedal hominid a scant few
initial responses - as if a ghost app paired in the recipient email - going boo
which unwittingly seems to turn the ivy blue!

So...no matter a constancy of follow-up electronic communiques occurs from ye
bringing tears of joy, that nobody can see
while simultaneously delivering digital glee
a reality check restrains proclivity and predilection to let thoughts run wild and free!

Immense and immeasurable mounts in moi little rock
inducing an electric arc for myself to kin neck embedded in all this schlock
for a sixth sense arises that this holme body strongly suspects yar self 
 to generate sunny watts as an s spy she lee Sherlock

but, reticence to gush with ebullience reins in a cascade
of utter delight washing o'er this less than satisfactory mwm 
 who as a boy and youth happened to b a frayed
of his own shadow - while walking along the boulevard of broken dreams
 listening to the sounds of silence on a green-day.

Thus => the following from one 

Cerebral being ™ in the am and pm
 
This ordinary human
Finds himself a mystery
Within the terrestrial
Firmament and frequently
Feels in a feverish pitch
At his existence
That seers the temple
Mounted upon this slender
Frame - wrought by the
Combination of genetics
In tandem with exercise
Which latter helps to
Sublimate the coiled 
Tension wound tightly 
Like an indestructible spring 
Without a healthy medium at large 
To channel emotions fraught within
Me might find demise
That would rent asunder literate fellow 
And thus annihilate without a trace
One true valued father of two us special
Lovely lasses as just another statistic among 
The obituaries!
 
As the world turns (indiscriminately oblivious of the harrowing days per one simian), an agreeable, amiable, edible, immeasurable, likeable, pleasurable, sensible woman (such as yourself - predicated on a gut level intuition) goads more seriousness to share

Plaintive unheard heart strings o mine that wail
Displeased with this marriage fraught with travail
As if in a maelstrom whip-lashed vessel without a sail
Yet - averse to lambaste or rail
Against abby (whereby we pass like two ships in the night) who married this male
When each of us happened to seem more similar 
   And thought each ourselves to fail
At any endeavor, though now confidence 
   Buoys my heart while she doth ail

And exemplifies attitudes, beliefs, efforts, 
   Idiosyncrasies, pathos that life does rot
Ill suited to Matthew Scott, 
   Whose bon vivant manifesting faith in him
   Perhaps from herself deferring many domestic 
   And child rearing tasks not
Of course being boasting - even when scissoring the umbilical cord
   As a now beaming papa, whose daughters 
   Blithely ignore "mother" a lot
Thus necessitating this quest 
   For a counterpart to offer succor 
   To eden (age 16) and shana (14 on february 4th, 2013) 
   Yet accepts that i must dispel any dreamy fantasy even this ours - a mere jot
At this juncture knowing full well how unwise to set myself up for disappointment
   By thinking and rushing like a fool, 
   Where angels fear to tread
   Though "chutzpah" i got!

U r slowly filling my mindscape with joy
Thank you so much - for accepting without complaint how atypically words this writer wannabe 
   Named Matthew Scott Harris dozen ploy.



Details | I do not know? | |

1st world hypocrisy

We may have won the battle, but they never fought the war.

we are living in a rose tinted nation, 
Trying to live up to our own declarations.
Avoiding participation in our own rehabilitation.
Yet we still choose depression as our safety station.

We surround ourselve with distorted imagery.
Illusions and delusions of how we ought to be.
Fighting for democracy and unrealistic dreams of equality.
yet racism still a well known philosophy.

We place our goals just within our reach.
We use empty books to educate and teach.
We memorise our perfect speech, tick the box 'donate to aid relief'.
Yet obesity is our number one retreat.

We follow the rules on how to behave .
Make notes of what and to whom we gave.
Pray to god and you will be saved, for all our sins he did forgave.
yet a mortgage pays for the tombstone on our grave.

Our eyes have closed in this rose tinted nation.
As the economy rose we sacrificed our identification.
Lost our salvation in the walls of our self built concentration.
And we pity them with their lack of complication.


Details | Light Poetry | |

' Which Is Allegorical and Which Is Real (Radical) ? ... '

The Bible Itself, Explains Itself   (2 Pet. 1: 20)
Explains It Better, Than Anyone Else
Once, It’s Taken Off The Shelf
& Explore Complete Message Left

The Bible Tells, Which Words Are Allegorical     (Rev. 1: 1)
The Bible Tells, Which Verses Are Metaphorical    (Lu. 8: 10)
The Bible States Which Are Proverbs Or Parables  (Lu. 15: 3)
& The Bible Tells, What To Take Literal   (Matt. 24: 6, 34)

Noah & The Ark: Is That Allegorical Too?
& The Rainbow: Was That Just A Metaphorical View?
& The Apocalypse Vision: Will It Do What It Says Will Do?
Even Symbolic, Revelation Is A Literal Warning For You

66 Little Holy Books: Sacred-Lesson-Libraries   (Heb.  4: 12) (2 Tim.  3: 16, 17)
66 Detailed-Tablets: Devout, Divine Documentaries
66 Spirit Inspired Scrolls: Authorized Manu-Scripturally   (2 Pet.  1: 20, 21) 
66 Recorded-Notes: A Matter Of Life & Death- Must Reads   (Matt.  24: 38, 39) (2 Pet. 3: 5-7)

Some Bible Scholars, Only Point Out Cynic Commentaries
& Passages That They Find Arbitrary
But It’s Real Faith Whose Tongue Speak It’s Vocabulary
& It Takes Holy Spirit, To Clear Up Disparity    (1 Cor. 2: 10, 11)

It Takes Holy Spirit To Find Facts, Necessary   (John 14: 26)
& It Is Prophecies, That Makes This Book So Noteworthy
It Takes GOD’s Power To Fulfill Prophecy-Itinerary
It Takes The Power Of GOD … To Grasp Its Entirety!

(OK, I Got The Gloves-Off, I’m Punching It’s Enemies!)

& The World Has Spurned It … They’ve Burned It!
They’ve Refused To Have Learned It
& Have Even Tried To Turn It !
(God’s Anger, Yes, They’ve Earned It!)

They’ve Bashed It … They’ve Trashed It!
Claimed, Human-Knowledge Has Surpassed It!
Humph ! … Theirs Won’t Outlast It
When God, Has Finally ‘Had It !’

The Bible Itself, Tells You What It Means
Stop Messing With Sentences Of The Supreme
Don’t Get Caught Up In Fault-Finding Pretext
Don’t Take Words, Out Of Context

Look At The Surrounding Story Verse
Soon, Confusion Will Start To Disperse
Remember, Jesus Said To Keep Seeking   (Matt. 7: 7)
So Wait, ‘Til You’ve Heard The Whole Thing Speaking !

I Have Read The Whole Blessed Word
& GOD Spoke, In Each Word I Heard
No, MoonBee Doesn’t Hear Voices
MoonBee Just Hears … Which Choices !

Remember That Ethiopian Eunuch
Who Questioned Phillip, Who Knew It
Eunuch Said, ‘I Don’t Understand, Walk Me Thru It
Since You Ran Beside My Chariot To Do It

& Man Can’t Live By Bread Alone, Said Christ
A Metaphor, But It Was A Real Man & Advice!


Details | Free verse | |

You reap what you sow

Planting the garden with all love and kindness
I kneel and bow my head in quiet contemplation
Reflecting on life passed, 
already slipped through my fingers
Of times my soil was not tendered by such kindred hand
When minutes were short 
and hours so fully crammed with business
I'd simply open my seeds regardless of consequence
and scatter aimlessly upon the land
Much that fell about me would wither, fall, or fail
For quality of moment did not matter, 
meant little to me
Little I did would flourish 
for it surely wasn't manned nor intended
No nurturing, no love, no care, no nothing
Yet now my precious moments surely stand
I learnt in time to find freedom in saying no, 
gently taking back that 
that was too freely given
To once more take hold of pallet and brush with artistic flair
That my own world could bloom in full colour and take a stance
So I could get a grip, a hold on all
To really know how to stamp my brand
For time stands still for no-one


Details | I do not know? | |

The Petty Posh-WahZee - Liberation and Ostentation



The Petty Posh-Wahzee - Liberation & Ostentation


The Not-So Distant Past:

The fallen fighters for freedom, are unable to turn in their graves,
their battered, fragmented bones, mixed with a handful of torn rags,
are all that remain, a mute reminder of their selfless valiant sacrifice.

They endured brutal Apartheid harassment, detentions without trial,
torture in the cells, and mental anguish when loved ones disappeared,
they left their homeland, to continue the struggle against racial bigotry,
while countless others fought the scourge of white-minority rule at home.

Nelson Mandela and many, many others, spent their lives imprisoned,
on islands of stone, and on islands of the cruellest torture, yet they stood,
never bowing, never scraping, they stood, firm for ideals for which they were prepared to die,

and many, many comrades did die, at the hands of the callous oppressor,
and many, many comrades perished in distant lands, torn from their homes,
while the struggle continued, for decades, soaked in blood, in tears, in pain.


The Present:

19 years have passed, since freedom was secured at the highest of prices,
delivering unto us, this present, a gift of emancipation from servitude,

a freedom to walk this land, head held high, no longer second-class citizens,
in the land of our ancestors, whose voices we hear and need to heed today.

I do not care much for fashion, Lewis-Fit-On and Sleeves unSt.-Moron,
yet the ostentation that I witness baffles even my unsophisticated palate,

our ancestors' plaintive whispers are being dismissed, left unheeded, as
we browse the aisles for more and more, always for more and yet more.

Asphyxiated by the excess of the Petty Posh-Wahzee, we find ourselves,
perched precariously on the edge, of a dissolution of all that is humane,

babies go hungry, wives are battered, our elders left in hospitals for hours,
I cringe as I scribble these words, perhaps too sanctimonious and preachy,

yet I know, deep in the marrow of my brittle bones, I know, I know, I know,
this tree of freedom planted by the nameless daughters and sons of Africa,

needs to be shielded, nurtured, protected from our very own baser impulses,
so that the precious tree of freedom, may bear the fruit that may feed us all,

for if not, then we are doomed, to tip over, and into the yawning abyss, we shall fall.








Details | I do not know? | |

Why is it?

Why is it that school's say that they are preparing you for life, 

But really they are preparing you for more school?

Who knows?

That has always been on mind for the past few days.

*comment if you know why or if you have any ideas*




                                        -angel4eva23


Details | Terza Rima | |

A teacher above all else

A clear view of the Arabian blue
I don’t ‘inch’ closer, I ‘mile’ ahead 
In a relaxed cockpit, shared by two.

A proud teacher, my knowledge I spread
‘To fly they must have flown before’
Break this infinite loop; I choose instead 

Let them learn, I don’t keep score.
Even if mistakes are made;
To make them like me, I will ignore.

The airstrip is small, a challenging glade.
Mangalore approaches, I flew from Dubai,
My fingers remain crossed, I am little afraid.

The plane crashes, sixty and hundred die.
I teach others rules. But rules - to me they don’t apply.


Based on the theme from the novel Airframe from Michael Crichton superimposed on the ill-
fated plane crash Air India Express Flight 812, on 22 May 2010. 




















Details | Free verse | |

Year's End

Year's end.
The calendar expires
in time's continuum.
Arbitrary demarcations
shift and fade.
Locations change; faces age.
Everything, though different,
remains the same.
Plus ca change, plus ca meme.
The stars are ruled by cycles
that the year produces.
Time decides the issues.
Our lives are nursery songs
in minor keys and
everything's been said.


Details | Monorhyme | |

Human Fleshlings

Human Fleshlings
Imperfect flesh
Fantasy perfection

Love is all we need
Yet all we want is greed

We seek perfection to plant our seed
We expect them to follow our lead

We’re full of sin
How can we expect to win?


Details | Limerick | |

Thieves Beneath Contempt.

Lining pockets with cash large and small,
Once found out, they return not one call.
But an amendment we need
to inflict on this breed
the same treatment that they give us all.


Details | Rubaiyat | |

Outside Of The Box

This is a tale for you regarding Pandora and the box.
Here we find an attempt to put back on the lock
A trip back to Alexandria in your mind we must go
Trying to protect but you can’t turn back the clock

What had tried to be sealed is not what one expect
Only wanting to keep others from trying to dissect
The library was vast holding knowledge long passed
Gallant was the attempt though evil did misdirect

Someone had already check out these 365 books
See the flames raised high the city did overcook
Spread them north and east so ordered the beast
Because at the Star he did not want you to look


Details | Free verse | |

marking time....to my friends on poetry soup.- the Lord helped me fight death and won.

i don't want to be just marking

time.  i died on november 20,

2008, during surgery.  i was

on a vent when i awakened 

december 2, 2008....my sisters'

birthday. what made me llive

i'll never know.  i know there

are things to do on this side

of death.



i have no time for marking time.

i have a stupid bag hanging from

my side now.  i am supposed to

"get comfortable with it".  well

that was a laugh.

that was a laugh until i thought

of the people that had these

things with no hope of ever

getting away from them.



i am so lucky.  14 days i laid

on a vent, then 22 more.

i came home 3 days, 



then 


i had
great pain in my chest...
.
well this is great i said,

a pulmonary emboli, 15 more

days, three days home.



then back to e.r. blood pressure

too high.  this bought me 

4 more days in e.r.



i am home now and finally 

have spent 19 days home.

i feel every pain and i feel

every time that i feel good



yes, i am never marking

time again.....there is

something about fighting

for your life and your sanity

that straightens things out.



i don't recommend it but

i wish i could let your hearts

know what i know.

janetta


Details | Fibonacci | |

Ruthless Deceptions

Lies
told
to self.
In spite of 
one’s own inner voice
you deceive more than just one’s self.
Creating doubt in Ye making some become lost souls.
Always is the enemy on the hunt destroying life within creates in you sin


Details | Quatrain | |

Redeye Gravy

Now sits the redeye gravy in the pan
It certainly is not at all like jam
Mom made it years ago  for her man
Fry some country ham, pour  coffee bam

Never knew why it was called redeye
Then my grandson informed me just why
Men who had been out late had bleareye
Who looked like they had been drip-dry

I always thought that it was because
It had dark red color from drippings
In my home it  got an applause
I thought that it was God's blessings

I learned my husband doesn't like it
My grandson doesn't like redeye gravy
When I make it only make a bit
Always redeye gravy left heavy

Today decided to place on grits
Feed to the cats see if they like it
Now cat is running around won't sit
I guess that caffeine gave them lift


Details | Rhyme | |

My FAVORITE Classic TV Show


My Favorite Classic T.V. Show A classic t.v. show that I thought was fun and silly. Was one I watched as a child: “The Beverly Hillbillies.” There was Jed. Granny. Jethro and Elly May too. You just didn’t know what these folks were going to do! Granny would offer possum pie or some “vittles.” There was no tellin’ what she was fixin’ in her griddle! This family would “dance a jig.” Or even “sing a song. And then they would all gather around “the cement pond.” It didn’t seem to matter what was served on the dinner plate. Ole Jethro would never get full. No matter how much he ate! Elly loved to have her many animals in the home. No matter where she went. She was never alone! This Clampett family brought joy through our t.v. I still watch this show. But just occasionally. This classic show is from a time in the past. But it still brings good memories that will always last! By Jim Pemberton "The Beverly Hillbillies"


Details | Free verse | |

The City of the Dead

The wind blows clean
scouring in Sakkara, Necropolis of Memphis 
gem of Upper Egypt.
The purity of sand and sky 
maintained by late rising 
in the twentieth century.

The titan walls reach from a sea of silica
crystalline grit of ground quartz
once drowned, 
devoured by desert, now disgorged…
the mill of life having preserved
the germ of memory eternal.

Far from the light surge of 
incandescent and florescent, 
from the leavings of modern man
Sakkara rises again, for such as we to glory in… 

Imhotep’s caress of stone, song of sand
Rises, as morning follows night, 
Rises like bole of palm
stroking the cheek of Ra.


Details | Free verse | |

The Wait

Each time has a special place
And every such place has its time.
When nature seethes with strangeness
Where the mind in exquisite isolation halts itself and listens
For the rumblings of a something large and not easily defined -
Stop! Softly now, feel how close it is.
Something's coming, be assured, that can't be held in words,
Imprisoned by our comprehension.
Nothing to do now but wait and see...

Now here we stand at the conjunction
Milling about and ignoring ourselves
Like so many motes of dust hanging before a bright windowpane
Illumined by the sharp cold light of dusk, gathering and sliding
Across that vast empty horizon just beyond
And still we wonder deep down
How best to pass these years or moments
Until we turn to look on our creations,
Those children of our thoughts,
Face to face, without defenses

There's a beast in need of killing here
Of that no one doubts
But the name of the thing...
There's the rub.

What is it makes a body
Inured to the blood and fire
The pain and rage
The beauty and the folly
Of the Age it helped engender
Start
And tremble at the smallest of things
The least of the pities and frail sorrowful occurances
With which this world is etched and circumscribed?

Is it the breath of conscience
Or the sharper inspiration of fear?
Perhaps the two conspire within us
Contending for possession
Of our human souls, at once so noble and so abject,
The fitting residence for violent emotion.
Ask me not for the answer; I too join in the dance of confusion.

The beast is still there, and it's ours
It needs to die before the dawn can come,
Bringing us its meanings and its hopes
Seeming so dim and distant
But coming nonetheless.

Remember now, it's a long, long way we've come from yesterday
Back when we huddled and wondered in our vague, childish way
From where we had come and to where we must go
What we need search and what we could know
And even then we affirmed, and some as loudly denied
We must stand firm against the onrushing tide
Of expectation and labor come 'round to fruition
Bearing down the completion of our lonely mission.

So on we wait.
The flutterings of anticipation pass so slow and fine
Felt at most as a tiny unease
Slow spreading ripples in a quiet clear stream,
Or the light breeze kissing the face 
Of the heavily sedated patient,
Still there with us always,
Silent and vital as our heartbeats.

Look sharp now
That beast is still there,
And it's ours,
Formlessly waiting like smoke in a mirror.


Details | Epitaph | |

Destitutions Curse

A wakeful man riding
Constant terminal dusk
Coveting dawns glow

Conqueror of rapacity
Constructing his empire
Of gold and silvers avarice 

Feigning his thrill of life
So spuriously rehearsed
In his eyes they are trivialities

Only now he sees the truth
In the darkness of his sepulcher
Surrounded by his useless wealth


Details | Free verse | |

Lessons of History

Oh
I remember history well --
the ancient guidelines --
the lessons repeated,
the dramas reenacted:
the dates, of course,
were of no import;
catching the drift of things,
that was the art.
Languages change, seasons wane.
People experience all the old pain.
What happens now?
What happened before?
Lessons of history
are writ on the walls --
they peek out from thousands
of toilet stalls
where Kilroy once sat.


Details | Monorhyme | |

No One Told Me

No One Told Me
A cement block is tied to my heart
Need a running start
At night my voice carries like a lark
Death’s arrow has hit its mark
My life is so dark
The side of the ocean is full of sharks
Some days I feel like such a tart
I used to be such a sweetheart
No one told me life would be so hard.


Details | Rhyme royal | |

TEAR GAS TICKET


TEAR GAS TICKET

Gotta get home.
Comin' on night.
Notta time to roam.
Air tastin' fight.

Me, jump on a ride--
toward my town.
Tout, he says with pride--
‘Best bus around’

Next guy says to me
‘Drivers start strike--
We just have to see
What this ride’s like.’

Strikers kiss their stones
To Throw them straight.
'God please get me home--
It's gettin' on late.'

white gal slinks down
covers her face
she's just like me
needs a hidin' place

Strikers kiss their rocks.
Wounded bus jolts.
Me, I worry clocks
While street revolts.

Army trucks here--
Green pour out.
Driver looks scared,
So does tout.

Pop and pop again--
Know that sound.
Tear gas kiss eye
Tanks rumble ground.

Safe inside the bus--
white gal and me,
Stink kills all the fuss
And home goes we!


NOTE:  tout (rhymes with out) is the bus conductor--his job is to hawk until bus is full

PLACE:  Nairobi, Kenya   11/28/2012  during political unrest before elections


Details | Ballad | |

GRANDAUGHTER

Big beautiful eyes that capture my heart
Dark brown like her mothers
Can't tell them apart
She talks up a storm of baby word sounds
And we all repeat them, astonished and proud
Her birthday is coming it's gonna be swell
Her parents are acting like children as well
They argue and fight and put her through hell
They think it won't damage her
She's too young to tell
That mommy and daddy don't fit like a glove
And she'll grow up and pick out the same man
to love. They'll fight and they'll argue in
front of their child and they won't
understand how now they're reviled.   
It started way back before she was one; so please stop
the cycle and look what you've done.   You're
repeating mistakes that your parents have
made.   No turning the clock back the bed has
been made.   Another generation is sleeping in it.



Copyright ©2000  Karen  M Feist


Details | Verse | |

Ode To Mac

Yet once more again
that same old refrain:
good guy coming fast
then finishing last.


Details | Senryu | |

' Carpenter's Rule ... ' 54th Senryu

‘ Carpenter’s Rule … ’      54th  Senryu


   ‘ HE ’  … Is Not A Fool
Can Not Use GOD, Like A Tool ...
     Carpenter’s Gold-Rule


Details | Free verse | |

Immortal Memory - Illusion Of Love

                                                        
                                                              *~*


                                   In my heart, what I thought to be love 
                                         Was simply my own desire
                                                     So brief...
                                Gone before time could tell it even happened
                                                   Like a whisper
                                Barely heard in the shadowy stillness of night

                                        I tell myself it's over, you're gone 
                                               But in the same breath
                                      A voice whispers quietly to my heart 
                                             Assuring me that perhaps 
                                            You may have really cared
 
                                       I tell myself it wasn't meant to be 
                                             But in my remembering...
                                           I find that thought elusive
                                            Too painfully conclusive

                                        It weaves its memory in and out
                            Like a fine needle sewing its fragile threads
                                      Delicately twisting them intimately
                                        Amongst the filigrees of my mind
  
                                The magic was so mysteriously enchanting
                                              I tell myself it's over...
                                        But my heart refuses to listen

                                           My mind says to forget you
                                That no one's worth this kind of sadness 
                                   My soul doesn't need this heartache
 
                                        I tell myself I didn't really care
                                 That it was all just a momentary illusion

                                                             But... 
                                               I never did lie very well 

                                                             *~*


Details | Haiku | |

Change Needed

.




                                                    Long dry spell so hot 
                                         Unpaved road sends billows sheets
                                             Dust in house__ blessed rain







(Remembering when a child, one summer it was more than a month without rain....Then rain 
came in huge droplets...Dust would float up from the raindrops that hit the ground...When we 
finally got rain, it was like one of the greatest blessings from God.)


Details | Rhyme | |

At the Wheel

Duty calls to us to react
Against such hatred
As -
A man who simply wants to build
Is killed -     
In sandy far off hills.
Peace knows it’s time to concentrate
On hate -
And how to compensate.

What says the noble men of old?
Who’s stories, now are never told.
Instead,   
A bed,
Of constant dread -
We sleep with guns beneath our heads;
And slumber to the merry news
Streaming through a TV tube,
So rude -
They never tell the truth,
And cover it with glory’s loot.
So toot -  
Your horns and guzzle gas,
And give The Man your hard earned cash.

Where’s Liberty, when madmen rule?
Now Justice’s just a letting pool
Of blood -
Where war is now the key,
To lift a sad economy.
Where hero’s die for corporate deals -
Our lives depend on hands that steal!

We’ve let the bad guys
take the wheel.




Details | Rhyme | |

What Do We Expect As We Seek to Remove God

What Do We Expect, As We Seek to Remove God? As so many people are seeking God’s removal… It’s like anything from him, we’ve given a refusal! Many have tried to ban just the reading of his word! There’s so much truth, just waiting to be heard! Many anti-God societies have quickly formed! Even the ten commandments, are often scorned! We’ve built large cities, many schools, and homes! But when it comes to God, we’ve often left him alone! One can try their best to push God back in the corner! But if you do, things in your life will get “warmer!” The pleasures and truth you seek, will come to an end! And then eternity without God, will just begin! You’ll wish you chose to live for God, that eventful day! You’ll wish that you took the time to study and pray! It’s the word of God that you need to study and read! God knows all about you! And knows your needs! He deserves all of your praise and full attention! We need to seek him, for much needed direction! Please come dear Lord, and cleanse us within! May we humbly confess our faults and sins! We need YOU much more, than words can say! Please be the God we serve! May we start TODAY! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Free verse | |

Living Language

Language is a
trumpeting vine,

Blooms in every shape,
         size and color

Tendrils of words grow
     every which way,
here,                            there,
            hither
&			            yon,
insinuating themselves,
curling lovingly,
inexorably,

into, around

the vertical and horizontal,
diagonal
pillars and frameworks

of each diverse community

---

Language
is a slow, lazy ocean
 
whose tides lick
the verbal shores

offering new sand & water
    while re-absorbing and changing 
          the old

It flows out,
      ebbs in,
a living, breathing,
constant motion

---

Language is essential, 
is vital and ageless –
a kaleidoscope mosaic

always perennial,
always new

Without language,
what would you or I do?

Without language…...................


Details | Narrative | |

The Indian Ocean Tsunami

My heart cries for thousands and thousands of people
those who perished in the earthquake-spawned waves;
known as tsunami, the worst natural disaster
that caused tons and tons of deaths across Asian countries.

It’s a great tragedy, a giant blow to humanity,
with its repercussions to all spheres of life –
a wake-up call, an immediate response
that needs to be attended to and done forthwith.

Global mourning takes its course in every nation,
particularly in these countries of Asia where –
Indonesia, Thailand, Sri Lanka are faced with difficulties;
in coping with destructions, tragedies, and other commotions
indeed, an urgent call that needs an international attention.

In four decades this catastrophe has ceased its wrath,
but after that starts another episode, so terrifying
that people who are caught up in that mere situation
can solemnly declare and profess their fears.

Oh, Mother Nature! at times we don’t know
your reactions that cause pandemonium,
tragedy, destruction, sorrow, and pain to all
like this one, a very strong and powerful disaster.

However, across the world, people show their compassion
with their unwavering generosity that floods in all levels
it’s an illustration that we’re humans with caring behaviors
to all those who’re afflicted and severely hit by this phenomenon.

I can’t imagine how the world mobilizes and responds
showing their love and concern to these people in pain
loss of lives, heart brokenness, and other misfortunes;
these generate an answer to be mindful of them in many ways.

I see the unprecedented generosity that rolls in every land,
institutions and other organizations make a collaboration
in what is conceived and put into action: fund raising,
charity, and pledges of thousands of donors.

Horrific media images shown in television channels,
are remarkable pointers for reflection and yet an invitation;
for someone who needs conversion and a return to church call,
that life can be as quick as those giant waves that killed many people.

It’s a theological reflection which embraces human sufferings,
Like a pathway to profound invocation, faith and trust in Him;
Oh God, our source of strength and goal to fulfill this portion
Where we unite ourselves to all those who’re in afflictions.


Details | Free verse | |

Super ego, ego and id'ism

The sub-conscious jugernaught,
And it’s defence mechanism, 
For so long your multi-faceted dimension we’ve fought,
So commonly known as super ego, ego and id’ism.

We can all be mean, jealous, envious,
Sometimes kind, caring and compassionate at best,
What we don’t like, we call social deviance,
I know all the me’s I can be, collectively we’ve got a chance,
Not much is known by the layman,
There’s a reason we feed from the tame hand,
Each one of us immensely powerful,
We need our vision back to make it's power null,
revealing, no cohesion, a fictional entity cull.

The mind unravels and absorbes the 'knowing' wealth,
letting go of the ego and in 'their' terms my mental health.


Details | Blank verse | |

Nine Eleven, 2005: In Memoriam

Today
the hands of time wound
back the clocks to

morning,
mourning-mired, clocked at
forty-six past eight

exactly
when wanton wings wrought 
terror's shocking stat: 

two
thousand forty nine! All ground
to zero with the towers twin 

turned
dust-cloaked debris choking
in a cloud of acrid smoke

and 
all shed tears are gathered 
now in limpid pool of 

pained
reflection roiled by roses with
their thorns, in silence


piercing 
hearts again, their old wounds
yet unhealed by salving

hands
         of
             time.


Details | Dizain | |

Om

The world was a new and a fearful place
for all was mystery from land to sea
of salvation there was no need, no trace
and many say there was but, he and she.
Then Om sounded, the Word was God to be
thousands of years before mankind could scrawl
thousands of years before Moses or Saul
Om gave song to the throat of his creations
two legged, four legged, to one and all
Om gave the word to creatures and nations.


Prajapatir vai idam agre asit
Tasya vag dviitiya asit
Vag vai paraman Brahman

In the beginning was Prajapati (Brahman)
With whom was the Word;
And the Word was verily Brahman.
(Krishna Yajurveda, Kathaka Samhita, 12.5, 27.1; Krishna Yajurveda, Kathakapisthala Samhita, 42.1; Jaiminiya Brahmana II, Samaveda, 2244) 

Also from Bhagwad Gita: 1500 BC
“I am Om, the Word that is God.” 

The writing which form the Jewish bible were compliled from 2-5BC


Details | Narrative | |

Holding Back

Nothing here is wrong because nothing ever could.
It has been so long,
A time that just never would!

Nothing here was ever lost because nothing was ever found.
It has been a toss,
A time that simply counted down!
Holding back the tears,
Puddles of many lost years!
Holding back my time,
I’m a prisoner with no crime.

There’s nothing here to hold because there never was.
It has been so cold,
A time for just because!
Holding back the pain,
My chronic death inside!
I have nothing to lose because there’s nothing to gain.
Holding back the strength of all my earned pride,
I’m just a moment gained with a will that eventually dies inside!


®Registered: 1997  Ann Rich 


Details | Rhyme | |

Technology

In the fifties life was simple
black and white you see
Elvis on Ed Sullivan
came across our used TV

Phones from Mother Bell
Rotary dial straight cords	
made way for Princess touch-tones
we now had tele-lords

Sputnik was the next big thing 
man walked on the moon
Neal Armstrong declared one small step
we sensed space travel soon

Then came IBM computers 
much to our distress
seemed we didn’t speak the language
didn’t have access

Enter Microsoft and Apple
much to our delight
We could talk to all our buddies
whether far,day or night

Email, wireless, blue-tooth
our new communications
talking either neighbors 
or to once obscure nations

As I look back and ponder
changes we’ve been through
I sometimes miss approaching a friend
simply saying how are you?


Details | Terza Rima | |

Days of love in Flushing: Anticipation

(for those in Kwangju: May 18, 1980)*
after Dante

Taking this peach within the mouth, the tongue 
hovers around its sunset skin like a lover
and its Sappho sweet bite is heaven. A song

of honeysuckled rivers is like your
kiss… The night is in July. At once
Platonic love is redemption or

when the world is beyond our Kwangju…Please
let the streets be freed from anticipation
of the bayonet and gun… Let litter seize

this street or any avenue… Plan
my kiss and we will be happy and free.
The night is the peach---the dead sun…

Recall the dress you wore as a weapon, me
wearing---I forgot… Your raven hair, soft
yet sharp by its embroidery

of strands being held by one silver pin. The left
hand of God and right hands of angels
must have done it… It was my dry throat

drinking from Styx River which made the chills
even more pronounced at the sight of you.
The dress’ print was you. It was petals

of prints within splotches of orange, gold, red, too…
and white--- bandages… Horrible bandages.
I’m wearing black/white. Suddenly we choose

to hug underneath those flickering pages
of streetlights… we an arrow’s color shot through bodies---Rage…


*Excerpted from Chalmers Johnson’s Blowback : The Costs and Consequences of the 
American Empire: “General Chun did not wait long after talking with Gleysteen (US 
Ambassador to South Korea) to complete the coup d’etat he had begun the previous 
December…On May 18, 1980, a few hundred demonstrators in Kwangju took to the streets to 
protest the imposition of martial law. They were met by the paratroopers of the 7th Brigade 
of the Korean special forces, known as the “black berets,” who had a well known reputation 
for brutality going back to their service on the American side in the Vietnam War…Gleysteen 
wrote, “Rumors reaching Seoul of Kwangju rioting say special forces used fixed bayonets and 
inflicted many casualties on students… Some in Kwangju are reported to have said that 
troops are being more ruthless than North Koreans ever were.” [When asked of the decision] 
Gleysteen replied, “I grant it was the controversial decision, but it was the correct one. Do I 
regret? I don’t think so.” (112-113)


Details | Sonnet | |

Down Where The Forsythia Blooms

Down the road where the Forsythia bloomed
Bright yellow despite dark clouds amassed
Flooding rains, thunder, lightening flashed
Touched with sadness for home removed

Spirits of hardy souls still live
Floating shrouds mixed with the rain
Hear their voices in the howling wind
Feel their presence in Bamboo Chimes again

On days like today with gray_flooding
Winds that chill_sleep elusive
One bright spot offers assurance_comfort
Knowing that in our going memories will linger


For at least one generation children will see
Our lives lived down where the Forsythia blooms

(I know that the rhyming and syllable count is off)


Details | Free verse | |

Regrets

Once, love dreamed of,
I used to write her name
by mine, in hope she’d notice
Over and over, again, again, again.

She’d look with radiant smile
I’d do same
Would pass me by
Repeatedly, again, again, again.

Two doves we were,
both tender hearts so tame
Shy to speak
In dreams I’d call (your name) again, again, again.

So it came to be
There was no lover’s lane
As we lived our lives alone
Memories recalled – regrets, again, again, again.


Details | I do not know? | |

Politically Correct

Politically correct I’m not; if you seek precision you ought,
find the time, to define the rhyme of perfection
in words you’ve sought.

A simplicity of words I am; I do not write for status or glam,
I pen my mind, whether thoughts callous or kind,
truthfulness you’ll find.

Paper is more powerful for me, not keystrokes of a PC you see,
a pen in hand, is more commanding and grand,
when writing on demand.

Following the norm is queer; I allow the pen and paper to steer,
a symphony of life, thru every memory and strife,
of a mother, daughter and wife.

Technological progress I dread, only because the pen is now dead,
so take heed in my words, though seemingly absurd,
but a poetic pen should always be heard.


Details | Senryu | |

' More Will Rise ...' 71st Senryu

‘ More Will Rise … ’  71st  Senryu


  They Shoot Messengers
They Cannot Kill The Message
   More Rise, To Tell It ! …


Details | Rhyme | |

The Day the Movement Died

December 6, 1969

It was the time of peace and love
With hippies everywhere
The Woodstock of the west was held
And all the greats were there
The Rolling Stones played Altamont
Hell’s Angels on the stage
Protecting them from rabid fans
Who’s fervor can’t be caged
And when this man, this rabid fan
Tried to mount the stage
The Angels met him face to face
And an altercation waged

They grabbed the guy and took him down
And as he lay there on the ground
They pummeled him with fists until
They stabbed him and the world went still

Those were the days of peace and love
Ruined by the push and shove
Make love not war the hippies say
The hippy culture died that day
The movement and music did not comprehend
That this was the beginning of their end

Mdailey	12/6/11


Details | Rhyme | |

FLOODS

Gushing and Rushing with no delay
Similar to a run in an olympic relay
Rising its level with rabid haste
Making human watched likened to a paste

It came from the height of the heavens
Wrathly pouring down to bald mountains
Dashing down having no mercy given
Towards these beings that thinks only of gains

This is just a matter of consequence
For beings such as us that has less prudence
Now we gain what we have sown
And it has rapidly and largely grown

Now we find the blame for the result
Instead of finding the solution of our fault
This great waters that we have caused
Must be helped and prevented until its paused


Details | Free verse | |

Deaf eyes, blind ears.

Oh ill fated lamb,
How we cling to your image,
We all love innocence irresponsibly,
Hold the ignorant upon the celebrity pedestal,
Till too late we find the lamb horned.

The blackness has seeped into homes,
Taught that the light is what blinds,
Feeling sorry for the dead, while life is taken away,
Energy vampirism is rampant, tugging on every chord.

Most will not know the truth while here,
The truth, the blindingly obvious they fear,
Always falling on deaf ears, no one will hear,
I’ve come face to face with a cliff...its sheer.


Details | Rhyme | |

What If Christmas Never Came

What If… Christmas Never Came??? What if Christmas never happened? What if Christmas never came? Things around here would be different! It wouldn’t be the same! What if the baby Jesus was never born in a manger? Mankind would be in serious trouble! We’d all be in danger! If the baby Jesus wasn’t born. There would be no nativity. We wouldn’t be able to display this during our “festivity.” It’s almost like this now! It’s an “ever increasing business.” It seems like nearly everyone wants “Christ out of Christmas!” Why does it seem like Christmas is losing it’s true meaning? The very words; “Merry Christmas,” seem to be quickly disappearing! Many say; “Happy Holiday.” They worry they may “offend.” Having a “holiday” without Christ…. Once again! We need to put Jesus Christ back into our CHRISTmas season! He is what Christmas is about! HE is the very reason! May we all take some time to rejoice in our savior’s birth. May there be shouts of JOY! From the corners of the earth! Let’s not take Christ out of our joyous celebration! We need him so much right now! All over this great nation! May we bring to him a heart of love for everything he’s done. As we bring honor to Christ. God’s precious son! May we continually offer to him a heart filled with praise! Not only at Christmas time… But all of our days! By Jim Pemberton 12/05/11


Details | Senryu | |

' Politics & Religion ... ' 68th Senryu

‘ Politics & Religion … ’  68th  Senryu


People Say Don’t Talk
  Politics or Religion
  Every Topic: Both …




Whether, It's Making Love,
or Making Money, Family, Crime,
Songs, Our Poems, Our Lives, How We Live It
All, Are Defined by and Every Topic Lists It &
Comes Back To:

What We Believe In and ---       Religion
What We Can Achieve and ----- Politics
Who Will Help Us Achieve It ...   Religion or Politics


Details | I do not know? | |

OZYMANDIAS II

A modern herald in an ancient land
Announced to whole world this: "A massive bronze
Hand lies beneath some lofty columns grand;
Nearby, a cracked and spit-drenched head, so huge,
The mustached lips yet primed for stern command,
Cold eyes that espied what passions were unleashed
From now freed hearts years-cooped in vise-like grip
Of this same hand but just a while past raised,
Atop a marble pedestal stripped bare
Of titles. Once his very name, but heard
Made subjects cower, freeze, in utter fear!
Soon will this hollow head be wracked by rust,
So, too, this hand that ruled twin rivers lair,
While toppling slowly hailed the waiting dust."


Details | Narrative | |

The Known Soldier

Last night awakened with thoughts of him
How long has it has been, only
Yesterday … 

First one I ever saw laid out
I sixteen, he nineteen, Viet Nam 
Airborne …

Purple complexion seeping through under glass 
I gaze on doll-like hair
Broomcorn …

His uniform perfect, tie straight
Blouse olive, at attention
Airborne … 

No one else at the funeral home
Me and a girl friend too early for death
Careworn …

Dead before he hit the ground
Cut down by ground-fire first jump no longer
airborne ...

So many years now, forty-two,
awakened with thoughts of him,
Wind-borne …

Still see his body rigid attention
rumor wire for arm, died before his time
Soilborne …

Didn’t know him well, would he
still be here if not
Airborne …

Would we have smoked and talked about 
women if he would be
reborn …

And what of Thua Thien, what now 
monument, blood of airborne boys?
Golf course …


Details | Choka | |

Purity in Life

Lies, deceit, half-truths,
Float quickly, drift, rising high.
Disembark trivia now.
One lie; then others,
Compensate the mortals’ eye.
Blinding in their retrospect,
Thou shall blame thyself,
Or shall thee blame all others.
Thine words shall destroy thyself.
Quiet thine spirit,
Relate to oneself what thee,
Has done all by your own deeds,
Qualify your mind.
Split between spirit and soul.
Own yourselves mistakes, till end.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Road I took

THE ROAD I TOOK

Mr Frost, I so often ponder upon your words of wisdom.
But, now life's struggle receintly left me homeless and forelorn.
Now, the Office of Veteran's affairs becomes a place of safe refuge.
For this homeless Vietnam veteran, no longer hanging upon a ledge.
 
Oh, woe is me, what happened to me, how did I arrive here? Woe is me.
I can't recall the road I took, I don't know what happened. I just cannot see.
I look back at my last journey and it's all a fog.
It's as if I’m experiencing deep grog.
 
I see something strange, I never saw the road I followed, I must have been blind.
Was this the reason I stumbled along and fell behind?
As I try to recall my adventures, all I see is "The road not taken."
I never saw the road I was on, for all I dreamed about was the road I had forsaken.
 
Injured and lame I cried and wished for the road that forked away, an Air Force career.
Tears roll down into a glass of water that for others might have held steady beer.
For it seems, others have fallen harder than my tumble
For, in retrospect, compared to their state, it only seems a stumble.
 
I no longer dream of the road I did not take.
For now, I see the road I did follow.
I see much learning and wisdom on the path which I did stumble and had much strife.
I wish to now begin to aid others to pick up their lives and return to their road of life.
 
My new purpose and goal now shines bright, now I seek to unravel.
So I can get back on my road of life, and this time, really travel.


Details | Diminished Hexaverse | |

Net

 It came to me seeing
How I enjoy poetry
Why not just type poetry
In the search engine box
Click, see what I might find
I'm here three years later

Interwoven wires
All around the world
Different people
Countries, languages
Customs, religions

I stood on net
The net covered
Feet, legs, waist then
Entered my heart

Became part 
Of life, holds
Attention

Addict
Trapped in

Net 

Poetry pronounced poe/try

Sponsor: David Williams
Contest: True Diminishing Hexaverse


Details | Narrative | |

I Remember When

What happened to all the honey bees
That used to swarm all around and abound
And would cover the fruit and holly trees
Now, you rarely see them buzzing around?

Where have the huge flocks of blackbirds gone
That I recall who would blacken the sky
And bruise your ears with the shrill of their song
In the spring and fall as they flew by?

What happened to all those water frogs
That I recall whose deep rhythmic bellows
Would echo back down through the hollow bogs
All summer until the leaves turned yellow?

What happened to the little horned toads
That I would catch for a pet as a boy
That crawled all over the fields and dirt roads
And made a neat little pet to enjoy?

Why doesn't the wolf still split the night
And chill my heart with his long lonesome cry
As he howls away at the full moon's light
Adoring the illuminated sky?

Where are all the calls of the bob white
And the lonely calls of the whippoorwill
That used to pine away all through the night
And could be heard in almost every field?

Where are the spine chilling panther screams
That mimicked some poor damsel in peril 
And would often conjure up awful dreams
Of gruesome creatures wicked and feral?

Are they on a premature path into yore
Has adequate time been duly assigned
For us to say, "There are no more...."
Or could it be, I've just outlived my time?


                                Timothy I. Brumley


Details | Senryu | |

' Kept Light On ... ' 46th Senryu

‘ Kept Light On … ’      46th  Senryu


      He Left The Light On …
So, We Could Find Our Way Home
     Look Up, Before Gone …


Details | Ekphrasis (Ecphrasis) | |

Who Cares

<                                     she has cast her .... shadow
                                       thus transformed and expanded
                                       this notable profession
                                       into               the
                                       twenty first century











Entry For Brian Strand's
Ekphrasis Contest G.L. All




Florence Nightingale
The 39th Nurse  - 1820-1910


The Florence Nightingale Museum
London England


Details | Narrative | |

LOATHSOME AGE OF GREED

If I had lived yesterday
in that chaotic world echoing
of Gatling guns shots and canon blasts,
I would have made a difference:
hate and prejudice would have not prevailed,
and power wouldn't have been abused;
from History's records, we know that even 
when Jesus lived it wasn't that peaceful!
During the American Civil war,
Northerners fought Southerners...
did they hear Scarlet's desperation,
or the moaning of her loss as war went on?
And for sometime, it had become
a modus vivendi she couldn't change.
Let's return to the stark reality of the present:
have we noted some drastic changes
in Government and social behavior?
Yes, it has given us more liberty,
but another war has shattered many hopes
of ever seeing peace as blood continues to be shed...
while nations arm themselves to their teeth!
How can we welcome those winds of change and feel safe,
if we tell our children that danger still exists?
And has society been kinder and more caring?
Obscenity, teen sex, violence, greed, vulgarity
and exploited sexuality are being condoned by many;
we wouldn't be that cool if we didn't use obscene words,
and worst of all, we are called hermits or asexual
if we abstain from sex to prevent those sexual diseases!
Is this rebellion, or a trend of the new generation?
Having unprotected sex, making babies, 
laying the burden on their Government that's fighting
a terrorist war? Do we seen any future
for these lost kids who imitate the habits of their parents?
Blame them? Ah! Lots of things would be changed,
if they turned to God and ask for His guidance!
And to end my visceral narrative, I shamefully confess, 
" I hate to live in this loathsome age of greed!"


Details | Rhyme | |

The True Meaning Of Easter

The True Meaning of Easter

The true meaning of
the Easter story,
Is God’s Son came down
to Earth from glory.

Jesus really does
love you and me.
He was born to die 
that you might be free.

For 33 years, he lived
among sinful men.
Then one day was to be
an atonement for our sin.

He who was born of the
virgin Mary’s womb.
Was to one day rise again
from an empty tomb.

So many people have
gotten into a habit,
of replacing Jesus
with the bunny rabbit.

So please reach out to others
and let them know,
Of the lover and redeemer
of their soul.

The true meaning of Easter
must forever be said.
Of God’s son who died,
but arose from the dead!

By Jim Pemberton


Details | Couplet | |

Caucus Over

      Caucus Over
©2012 C. Brent Cloyd

Romney claims he is most electable
Results conclude that is debatable.

Bachman stood firm on defense and health care law
Discovered her support was filled with straw.

Santorum touched palms, wore out shoes and truck
Had clear narrative, timing and good luck.

Perry soared, forgot, “oops,” and millions spent
Said thanks, boarded plane, back to Texas went.

Paul hates the Fed and loves the constitution
Deplores war, and young folks like his solution.

Gingrich defied odds, then truth made him sag
He moves on with hope, yet carries his bags.


Details | Alliteration | |

pith-fully from truth

neurotic narcotics reared reason in rows, 
plucked pith-fully from truth, 
agile enough in politick to anesthetise the waste,
languishing amongst the cling-filmed choral-forms 
of symbiotic silicone…
the future lay dormant, 
adjudicating the agricultural status 
of domesticated foreign policy… 


Details | Haiku | |

One Error, Two Disabled

A soldier's mistake
crippled, one body, one soul
forever, scarred so 


Details | Free verse | |

The Drone

 You use it every day.
 It is a basic part of life now.
 Maybe it’s the flicker of the radio
 Or the buzz of a computer.
 It is used every day to make our lives simpler and less stressful. 
 Is it really helping us though?
 It does make our life simpler
 But is this a downward spiral into emotionless and effortless life?
 A life where instead of real soldiers with real emotions
 are sent to fight,
 A drone controlled by someone at a computer is used to kill innocent civilians. 
 The drone is emotionless.
 No compassion for other beings and no feeling of guilt or regret.
 This is the future,
 an emotionless drone controlled by someone at a computer. 


Details | Ballad | |

THE GARDEN

Thus the world was ruined, By the sin of a single man. A tiny twist in the story, Brought about a change in God’s plan. For out of the garden they were thrown With nothing but rags to cover themselves; But with wisdom so dangerous yet powerful That opened the gateway to hell.


Details | Haiku | |

The Calculus

Newton and Leibniz, both creative geniuses, birth the Calculus!


Details | I do not know? | |

Angry immortal

You dont need no friends
all they will do is hurt you
let them all go, why hold them up?
the family are so far behind,
they will never understand
we are so alone, in this life,
women want what you can give
i wont trade money for sex
or even a bit of attention
or a commitment of ownership
a culture of prostitution...

The poor people steal from you
the rich will rape you
not selling my rear for interest..
and the middle are just stupid
addicted to the drugs, the propaganda

I am the artist, the expressionist, the prophet,
alone, with one mission, 
where are my pleasures?
cursed to teach this selfish culture
pathetic humans, suffering
too stupid to give anything
complaining, whining, frustrated,

They are about to destroy themselves
a collective suicide of selfishness

The other immortals tell me to have hope,
to love them, to teach them,
They arent my friends, so busy 
teaching, and giving to the vampires. 

The christians love war and murder of others
They worship, punishment, hatred, and money
the buddhists wont stand up for themselves and fight,
the middle road is lost.
The muslims are too busy oppressing women
and praying for heaven
The jews know nothing of love, only greed

They tell me i should feel special
i have so much to teach and give,

Jesus taught them forgiveness
helping the poor, loving all people
they crucified him!

The afterlife is so wonderful, they say,
if you teach love and forgiveness.

I am in this life now,
and all i find is tricksters, liers and decievers
I am tired of being alone, 
The body is male, and only half of itself. 
addiction to female energy
no control, clairvoyance gone
the suicidal idiots have something right

I am cursed to sit here and learn compassion,
patience, how to inspire them
teach them to love, and give to others, 
all in the hope that they wont destroy themselves

Why cant i give up on hope?
they are pathetic, i am tired,
of the abuse, and anger, i evoke.

They hate me, unless i pretend,
smile the big smile, 
and pat them on their back for selfishness.
They love you then, 
I do not worship their god, of self-worship.
I wish i could, maybe i would be rich. 

living off of the blood, sweat and tears of others
how nice that would be, to relax, no responsibilty
to give or love anyone except my family.  

I am sure i will feel better tomorrow


Details | Didactic | |

Before

I want to return to the nothingness
Before creation breathed fire
And stars burned lies
Before gods were invisible
And prophets had eyes

I want to return to the nothingness
Before compassion was heroic
And suffering worth seeing
Before humans were civil
And sentient a being

I want to return to the nothingness
Before armies tilled the earth 
And flags touched the sky
Before glory was a virtue
And prejudice rained pride

I want to return to the nothingness
Before hate held hands
And equality was a seat
Before tyranny was religious
And history can repeat

I want to return to the nothingness
Before children knew pain
And hunger swallowed lives
Before families were aborted
And love beat wives

I want to return to the nothingness
Before profit needed money
And charity a name 
Before rape had a victim
And justice no shame

I want to return to the nothingness
Before I look in my heart
And try to understand
Before I believe in miracles
And that death has a plan
 


Details | Pantoum | |

The Twisted Kudzu Vine

Remembering America when clothesline displayed wash
The yesteryear clotheslines of our country have mostly gone
Gone with the same way of old fashioned outdated panache
Panache as when women dressed decent_men tipped hats agone

The yesteryear  clotheslines of our country have mostly gone
Disappeared from view like Johnny Cash's song "I Walk The Line"
Panache as when women dressed decent_men tipped hats agone
Morals, good principles have been twisted like Kudzu Vine

Disappeared from view like Johnny Cash's song "I Walk The Line"
Gone with the same way of old fashioned outdated panache
Morals, good principles have been twisted like Kudzu Vine
Remembering America when clothesline displayed wash


Details | Rhyme | |

The stars are out tonight

When worlds collide
Souls rise
Complacency dies

For a brief second to see inside
For a brief second, nowhere to hide

When worlds collide
Actions rise
Idle hands die

You must be this tall to ride
Avoid at all costs the rip tide

…

A burst of light in eternal black
A furious hot dense light
Emitting with all its might
Emitting so that it might appear bright
The stars are out tonight


Details | Rhyme | |

Are We Trying to Remove God From Everything


 UNSUPPORTED CODE We often hear this topic across our nation.
Another person crying; “discrimination.”

In our many attempts to not discriminate.
It seems like it’s God that we seek to eliminate.

It seems like we’ve come up with our own “rules.”
And somehow have turned into a bunch of “fools.”

We accept many perversions of various kinds…
But God himself?  We seem to close our minds!

In many of our lives,  we’ve “kicked “ him out.
And refuse what he really is about!

The words, “In God we trust...”  Our money bears it!
Anything of God?  We’re afraid to share it!

It seems like the courts almost say he doesn’t exist!
And have brought much confusion into our midst!

As many say it’s “offensive” to display a cross…
Many godly values have already been lost!

It’s time to wake up America!  And begin to see!
The kind of country we’re beginning to be!

A country that’s foundation is getting off course.
Being driven by a wicked and ungodly force!

Out only hope is in God!  And him alone!
We must invite him back into our homes!

To God and his word we must hold secure and fast!
He is our only hope that our country will last!


By Jim Pemberton


Details | Verse | |

I'm Broken

Somewhere inside, I’m broken,
Fragments of flesh and glass,
Memorials rococo of vision,
Flicker, crumble and pass.

Emblems of hollow achievement,
Semblance of scarcity glance,
Shadowy flutters of moth wings,
A retreat for every advance.

Nothingness pinions the future,
Screens shining whiter than snow,
Essences, cigarette burning,
On celluloid tatters aglow.

Somewhere inside, I’m broken,
A jigsaw of childhood and age,
And so is the sterile communion
With all that I failed to engage.


Details | Cowboy | |

gladiator

our skills..talents..gifts,that we have..
these are our tools..weapons..instruments
and we just want to live..
put into a situation in wich we did not choose our roles..
some of us are the fans and the royalty
they watch people like me do what needs to be done...
people like me..we just want to live
so we use our weapons and do what we have to..
we didnt choose for it to be like this..
we watch the fortunate  crowd the seats of this coliseum called life..
and they watch us jump back and forth through shades of color..
they judge us...
but we just want to live


Details | Rhyme | |

Canvas

Every mind is painted on a separate canvas
Lines brushed to give edge to their scenes
With a multitude of colors peppered around
Bordered by abstruse and diverted memories


Details | Senryu | |

Political Party Pals

if John Boehner is
the great compromiser, then
what is Mitch Mcconnell


Details | Free verse | |

New Tenant

Hmmm...
this one ain't as weighty
and oooh!!...
peach sheets!
smells pretty good and
feel soft too.
I hope she doesn't fart 
like the last one.
Choked me to death he did!
Oh...no pun intended!
Brought her own pillows too,
teddy bears
A real girly girl this one
She smells like a baby...
I like her!
She gives me a workout!
She's always moving.
Always seem to have visitors...
the docs stay quite a while here too...
She laughs a lot...that's good
Haven't had many laughers
Two surgeries and still moving...
Wow!
She cried a few times
I was her support
Had to...she smelt good! :-)
Was there for the tests,
probes, baths...
she did ok then!
Was there for the Pop's going
...slept like a baby!!
Hmmm...
I'm being stripped!
No more baby soft.
Uuuuuffff....man you is a big fella
....Great you fart!!


Details | Rispetto | |

The Sun Doth Ever Rise

The world has not ended though the penitents wait
at Chichen Itza, and Tikal sentient's pace. 
Yet, one more prediction one more failed debate 
perhaps, a new age will come filled with true grace. 
Life is a process, a circular affair
from the time of Roman's predictions have flared   
Pope's, pagans and shamans, none have been proved right 
Let us all move forward in joy not in fright.

The world has not ended by meteorites fall
though oceans have risen and volcanoes flow.
The ground itself quakes but to no avail
 life's bounty on Earth brings an endless tableau.
No planetary alignment ended our days.
No global plague has changed our miscreant malaise.
Truly this watery refuge gifts surprise
as with each nights end the sun doth ever rise.


Details | I do not know? | |

I Stand, Alone



I stand, alone.

Scratching for my truths,
peeling away the veneer,

I stand, alone, before this
impregnable cliff so sheer.

Cocooned in my solitary shell,
wrenching a smile from a tear,

I stand, alone, a little odd,
and definitely quite queer.

I stand, alone.


Details | Haiku | |

Administering Angels on Earth

holy retinue
to serve on earth, call him Jew
secrets, known to few 


Details | Free verse | |

Scars Left Behind

It is hard not to trace back 
All those memories
Which you kept behind you 
While you were dreaming in your trip.
Those long moments when you grieved
Those short moments when you breath’d.
From here I can hear some voices of your trip
From there there were no choices in your grip.
Just listen to those immense fragile noises:
When you kept crying,
Laughing, trying and maybe dying
Perhaps I was you— when you were lying
To your thinghood...!

Womanhood is like Robin Hood—
It is always chased in the wood.
Many trees are cut off without roots,
And shall never give birth to the last roots.

When the sun goes down
I pretend to be sad,
So that my night dreams
Are filled of stars instead.

When the moon goes up
I play the role of the dead—
When the moon goes up
I close my eyes and go to bed 
When the moon goes up
I beat my heart and feel so sad
Is there any way to see the moon smile without dread?


Yasser Rhimi


Details | Free verse | |

End of Times

                                 
                    The End of Times is coming.
                   You can feel it in your bones.
              Floods, earthquakes, and tsunamis…
                      Are only the first to show.
                         Where will you hide? 
                 When the plagues come around?
                    Salvation will be hard to find,
                          For those earthbound.

                               2012 is coming
                          Is it fact or is it myth?
           The Earth’s weather patterns are changing.
                         Fossils are everywhere
                            Will we be stronger?
                            Or in the rocks grip?




Details | Prose Poetry | |

Napoleon the powerful fighter

Napoleon the powerful fighter
whose mind was nimbler and lighter
than others whose malicious minds resided in lies,
and in vain and inane imaginations.
His brain's train of thought stayed rooted in reality,
Which gave him greater cogitations and a mind,
divine and higher above the rest of the world's imagination,
rooted in fantasy, and lies, in things that do not exist.

The emperor did worship the truth,
whose soul led him to detest illusions.


Details | Bio | |

Go-Go Soul

With his go-go soul and sultry sound, he kicked out many lyrics and spat out many rhythmatic rhymes…they in the main stream at first rejected and disrespected his sound. They said it would corrupted the youth! Don’t mean a thing, he might say to them, if it ain’t got that go-go swing! With his trade mark glasses he sported with his guitar in tote as he strutted across the stage sporting that familiar treasure cat smile…as the black young youths on the dance floor…grinded out and sweated to his almost hypnotic beats and lyrical remixed of a restructured hit song …in a blacked out hole in some night club in the back streets of DC the former murder capital of the world! As he hollered out individuals names of people that seem to always follow him to just about ever one of his sold out shows…he even called out segments of each DC barrows as a show of appreciation for their loyalties and support. It took the main stream awhile to catch onto his different take on music…but he was not just the father of go-go music, he was an ambassador of all who truly love music and the lyrics of a song…he just remixed with his own flavor and called it the Chuck Brown and The Soul Searchers sound! Rock on Chuck, cause we know you got Gods Angeles grinding out to one of his sultry Go-Go songs! Even though we will all miss him, I know he got God even shaking his head to his Bustin Loose song!


Details | Free verse | |

Little Red

Full Moon Brimming 
On A Hungry Wolf
Fire still burning 
Words are not enough

Red Riding Hood,
You stopped me where i stood.
The basket you held, looked so good,
I enticed...And you fell... 

In the woods... safe and sound
We could not believe what we had found
Me in denim... and you it lace

We understood, each other so very well
Full moon brimming over with light
Gazing into the eyes of the other

The twin to me, I did see, in You.
Be careful with my heart, my love.

My running shoes are unlaced for now,
So lean back and enjoy the ride.
Embrace all the laughter, our lives allow.

rlm


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Forever Trail

They roam miles over hillsides
stride aimlessly cross open plains
and grassy fields
unseen and silent to all cept' those
who see with more
then their eyes,
hear with more 
then their ears,
and believe with more
then their hearts and minds.
Twilight,a gray blue haze,settles in
quiet, no sound(s) heard
but those of time almost forgotten
souls lost, blanketed by death
foot-steps hushed by time
travel now in ghostly silence
their destiny, to travel the forever trail.
Physical lives long shed in defense
of the very ground they are now one with
their cries must be heard! always honored
never to be forgotten
lest their lives were sacrificed for naught.

Melody A. Coster


Details | Couplet | |

Polar Bears And The Penguins

Some times they say the great and mighty do fall…
And the penguin story of greatness, should be heard by all.
Polar bears are mighty and cunning with massive brute strength.
But they messed with the penguins, a mistake, I do think.

The polar bears went after the penguins and cute little chicks.
So you’ll never guess what those cute little penguins did.
Using the most courageous penguins as a target so nice.
They lured all the polar bears, for the first time, out onto the ice.

The greedy bears moved out in force for the kill.
But the penguins pushed the ice flows into the currents windmill.
So intent on dinner and full of themselves, were they that day… 
That the polar bears didn’t notice the ice caught in the currents sway.

The polar bears were way out to sea, before noticing their plight.
And, by then, the penguins were safely at home tucked in for the night.
You might say, the current was a friend to the penguins that day.
For it eventually sent those polar bears to the North Pole far away.

Now the moral of this story is here to easily understand.
Brute strength is not the greatest thing to cherish; it is far greater to plan…
And, never turn your back on a penguin I say.
They’re the reason there’s no polar bears at the South Pole, to this day.

Tell Me A Story Contest


Details | Free verse | |

The Unknown Legacy of Christ

When they all walked away
and he was dieing that day
he never stopped believing
he never doubted

maybe i was there beside him
hung on my own cross left to die
without a crown of thorns
without a spear in my side

maybe i was a follower
a family member
someone from a past life
haunted by visions and memories
that i know are true but aren't mine
lies they tell me
stigmatism of truth
mirrors of deception
confusions of everything
but i watched
we talked

he told me more than everything
it was the kings he gave him his power i sometimes think
because he never said
sacrifice me to god
so i can become one
it was the monarchy who hunted him down for vengeance and fame
he never said
i want to be sacrificed to mankind
it was the royalty who said
he has died for your sins
of your conspiracies against me
now let it go

and as they all walked away
from the games they had played
from their riots and fame
of the kings paranoia and noblemen house fires and stolen sheep
Jesus said a few things to me
things no one ever heard
things of truth no one would ever know
i was there
and i watched for his soul to climb the stairway to heaven
waited for him to crawl off that cross

and all of the kings men 
and all of the kings children and wives
were born again

maybe i was there
hanging on my own cross
eavesdropping
on a conversation between two saints
and i had done something minor wrong
but i am today haunted
with the truth of yesterday
and this lie
i cannot explain


Details | Haiku | |

Dark Rain

Disturbing droplets
Spiral out of my control…
Devilish desires



Written for

Sponsor S K A T * 
Contest Name Dark Rain (haiku) 


Details | Bio | |

Why First License

              Why You, Why Not Me
           A friend-less/Pen less/Friend


                       ---------
Some-thing that a young aspiring writer
     Would say to an well established
              -POET OF THE PEOPLE-
      ------
*****How do I get a " Poetic License "
      ------
*****In sending off... How long will it take....
      ------
*****Where do I get the Poetic License
      ------
******How much dose it cost?

ANSWER; It takes's time, business and a steady relationship.....

                               GF


Details | Rhyme | |

The Walk

The Walk
An elected position walks into transition, but not without apprehension.
Thrusted forward into accountability, a " word" that was lost in recent financial history.
Blame and blasphemy encircles him for others greed, carelessness, incompetency and 
irresponsibility.
Unlike the blind man to our today's society, anger creates a false reality.
A "change we can believe in", is the course called destiny.
Persecution upon every action or direction met with resistance by those who remain held in social captivity from their own personal experiences or enthralled perceptions of " what ought not be".
Prepare the world, for the world is watching and they  see, that without corruption 
and a massive scale of discrimination , injustices and judgments as their plea, they are not happy nor do they believe that  they can or that they will succeed. 
May forgiveness and mercy find it's place upon his adversaries as well as for him whom they do this unto in the sight of he.
People, we call ourselves, "we"; therefore, "we must not lose focus , the walk for change remains on our compass to destiny and real facts vs. opinions will be our guide for future history.

copyright@2010 by Carrie M. Love-Atkins


Details | Rhyme | |

WORTHLESS COPPER

Pennies are made of worthless copper that even a hungry beggar
refuses to pick up; either I threw them away or kept them in a piggy jar,
but the day came when need and desperation made me rethink
of their worth...a thousands of them could had gotten me far;
A rich person collects not as a poor one who is always on the brink...
has someone looked for them when rough times kept them from that bazaar?     



Pennies are made of worthless copper that nobody wants to own,
unless they are, at least, fifty years old...what would President Lincoln,
think of our antipathy for his imprinted image on these little coins?
Do you possess many of these? Save them for those rainy days!
 


Pennies are made of worthless copper, everybody seems repined,
humiliated and embarrassed to carry them in their  purse, or pocket...
look around: they are found everywhere on a sidewalk, or in a parking lot;
make all aware they are convenient to have for easiness of mind!


Details | I do not know? | |

The Sieve of Time



The Sieve of Time



Cast ashore,
along the banks of time,

whirling through the passing years,
clinging to my futile scribbles set in rhyme,


Cast ashore,
thrust into an unrehearsed pantomime,

clenching slivers of joy as weariness descends,
lulled into a peaceful slumber exhilaratingly sublime.


Cast ashore,
hazily adrift, a dandelion seed on the wings of time,

trapped in the sieve of spiralling memories,
caught between pristine bliss, and reeking slime.


Cast ashore,
flung aside for no discernible crime,

my human heart thuds with elusive hope,
though battered, bruised, and covered in grime,

I stagger ashore, 

alone,

embracing each moment of detached, oblivious time.



Details | Couplet | |

We are We can We must

Foreign are the thoughts of others
Like the minds of past lovers

Thoughts to which we may surmise and guess
Intentions remain questions, answers yet to confess

Reasoning reached through the labyrinth of the mind
Shared reactions due to the nature of our kind

Fractured we stand, divided by difference
Splintered we are, lacking repentance

We may pass, but hope remains, burning from within
We may ignore, but hurt remains, entrenched in sin

Pride leads to want, leads to power, leads to war
War leads to fight, leads to hurt, leads to more

Rise and fall, we cycle through civilization and destruction
Start and stall, we succumb to self-imposed attrition

Time unfolds and we're forced to react
We constantly plan, but we often lack the tact

To mend the cracks that divides our kind
To embrace the momentum of our time

To believe we can and must strive for more
To turn the key and walk through the door


Details | Rengay | |

"Unopened Eyes" (Co-Written With Doris Culverhouse) Added on

Cats on roof in snow
Sentinels watching looking
Without open eyes

The jet flies the governor's
Course set to adultery

Cat slips on frozen 
Snow, claws grip the edge, below
A fire awaits..... fate

Death takes the pilot,
In midair the govenor
Yearns...jet burst apart

Cat's grip is weak claws strip falls
Clings to  governor's carcass

Taxpayers buy a 
New plane, and exwife's dreams flow...
And flames still scorch!


(The cats are metaphoric for politicians.)


Details | Free verse | |

Only Seven Years Old

Only seven years old living in a new place
No one at home just have to come in all alone
Eat all alone no one here
Only seven years old but have to get homework
Because the teacher willl be angry 
Punishment is to stay in at recess
Only seven years old home so cold
Can't build a fire because no one there
Sad but don't know how to express the pain
Only seven years old worried will anyone come home
Pain of loneliness penetrates the walls and the heart..
Only seven years old too much for a child so young
Only seven years old
Empty, lonely, desolate at only seven years old


Details | Quatrain | |

ME, MYSELF, AND I

   I guess you could call me a silly guy
   For humor is how I get through the day.
   I love telling stories, writing poetry, and romance
   Each in its own separate way.


   I could be called a "Hopeless Romantic"
   As I have always been sentimental inside.
   I learned that feeling growing up
   Watching my parents, and their worlds collide.


   I knew my Dad better than anyone...I think
   He and I worked together for some time you see.
   And when he died at an early age
   Everyone seemed to be in tears but me.

  
   Of the six kids in our family growing up
   I had a brother named Ron that I was closest to.
   He had a sense of humor and devotion to his family
   And he would always find strange things for us to do.


   We loved driving around in his old MG
   When it worked it could do no wrong.
   He took me for rides I'll never forget
   To teach me his favorite Irish drinking songs.


   His death really put me on the writer's path
   As I eulogized him with "Remembering Ron".
   But afterward I could not stop the words from coming out
   As if a spigot had deliberately been turned on.


   So I have written poetry, stories, and a few songs too
   I'd like to publish something some day.
   Getting to read and write here on the Soup
   Pehrhaps, I will finally find the way.


   I believe in the goodness of man's inner soul
   And that God intended for us to be happy here.
   The love of Wife, Child, and Family
   Just make me want to stand and cheer!


   I'd like to see us not have wars
   Or even have cross words with others we meet.
   Sometimes I plead my case in the words that I write
   And sometimes, the proverbial "Dead Horse" do I beat.


   I look at history as a great learning tool
   For I've studied Antropology in college you see.
   And all the past comes into the present time
   At least, it does for me.


   So I will write works about historical things
   As much as I write about family, love, emotions, and silliness too.
   Just so others can get some insight into me
   And perhaps their own lives as they should do.


      I don't know who will read my work
   Or if they benefit at all from the things I say.
   I only know that this passion to write
   Is one that is here to stay.


   Some people think I'm kind of grumpy
   I guess that is also true.
   But the words I write fill that void inside me
   This is but one more poem...for you.


Details | Verse | |

Remember September 11th Civil Rights

Remember September 11th
Signed legislation, equal access, public schools and mobilized troops.
Supreme Court Justice Warren, controversial some would say, provided  a goal of unity, 
the removal of stigmas, fair competition, birth of global recognition and a future for the 
spirited ambitious, the motivated  and the entrepreneurship.
911
Terrorism, tragedy, illnesses, women and men of good deeds, financial wills, heirs , war 
and mobilized troops indeed.
A blow to it all, the young, the old, the rich,  the poor, the working, the unemployed… the 
skilled, the unskilled, our service members and our vets as well as some committee bills, 
but mostly the future of America’s youth…. onto a system of restructuring wages and for 
some of us enduring exploitation to make up for the loop.
Ranking 27th, Lower five, a time for the nation to realize, status quote can be no more for 
the circle is full and it has closed.
The future is your vote like a Clef Sign on the staff and the rest will flow like a great 
symphony from the past  , yet to be numbered because it’s not the last and the people’s 
opera will take the stage…we will restore the two decade old history page.
To participate, to live, to fight for the already established route, come one, join all, rally 
and acknowledge your rights. 

Copyright@2010by Carrie M. Love-atkins



 


 



Details | Rhyme | |

Two Hundred and Twenty Stories

Two hundred and twenty stories never written but etched in time

were removed on a day which started fine.  

The silver worms traveled down beneath the floors 

carrying those whose day (lest they know) would be a chore,
 
through the escalators and out the doors passing the facades lined with stores.

Aristocrats and bourgeois run through the halls

for no one would ever believe that these stories could fall.

I myself went to the nineteenth floor of Cortlandt and Church

starting my day seeing on which call I would make first. 

“My future is looking great”, flashed briefly through my mind, 

little did I know that fate was not mine. 

A large boom made the buildings shake and the windows had rippled 

as I ran to the pane and suddenly was crippled. 

I gazed up eighty some ought floors

to see an explosion rocking the world off its doors. 

I exclaimed, “My God, their bombing us” at the top of my lungs

and ran down 19 floors...like I was 19 years young. 

Standing in the corridor on Dey that day, my eyes witnessed things I’d rather not say. 

The second explosion than flashed before my eyes, 

and I ran near a bridge to try and survive. 

I stood there and wondered and waited what to do next 

until one of the stories decided where I should run to avoid the effects.  

Half the stories came down like an angry freight train 

releasing a smoke monster engulfing all with a white powdered grain.

Covering my mouth, coughing like crazy, crossing the bridge, all sites were hazy. 

Standing on the other side of the east I looked to the west

to see the other half of the stories end my friends, to this I attest. 

Hundreds and thousands and millions of lives 

were all torn apart over this year plus nine.  

So I sit here now telling you all first hand 

a day in the life of a fairly young man

whose story had began and ended that day

may your hearts stay free and strong 

and God Bless the USA.


Details | Rhyme | |

are we such a people

are we such a people who has lost vision of that important historical dream
to stand equal on even ground using intellect and talent to seize all opportunities

are we such a people quick to scream racism without even examining oneself
discrimination is prevalent within our fold, the lighter shade of brown is 
considered top shelf

are we such a people simply voting on the color of skin 
examine his character and stance on issues only, then he should be voted in

are we such a people robbed of our traditions and ancestral heritage
the family is no longer important, too many broken homes, the non-existent 
marriages 

are we such a people of vain and shallow character
accumulating material things so people would stop and stare at us

are we such a people so far removed from the historical revolutionary struggle
have we forgotten the humiliation of the cotton fields, now relying on the street 
corner hustle

are we such a people lacking integrity, courage, decency and communal trust 
within 
we would rather live with murders and drug dealers, instead of seeing justice by 
turning them in

are we such a people blinded by the magnitudes of money and instant fame
how do we support a man who molested a child and recorded it while playing 
water games

are we such a people lacking moral fiber, responsibility and creativity 
glorifying the streets by preaching degrading doctrine through the music industry

are we such a people living by the code, "divided we fall but united we will stand"
only to fight amongst ourselves and blame the ills that plagues our community 
on the plight of the white man

are we such a people…are we people of such strong will, intelligence and 
remarkable resilience
Then stand strong together and show accountability for our community and 
reflect the African American brilliance


Details | Couplet | |

picture this

every day seven hundred million video clips
are shot and stored on memory chips
then uploaded to some video cloud
and vaporously saved for society proud

the dog tricks, the hilarious cats, 
pretty daughters, the mundane facts
the sunsets and beautiful flowers
seven hundred million fractions of hours

personally amorous indiscreet porn or
grieving mother cradling child forlorn
proud fathers shooting son's ball game
the clips of our lives we want to frame

weddings, funerals, baby bubble baths
the stupid stuff we've done for laughs
protesting people marching in streets
saints, sinners, the just plain creeps

if stored on iron, the bits, would rust
if shelved, be clung to, by bits of dust
yet we long to capture meaning somehow
to be reviewed tomorrow, when time allows

press record, click shutter hoping to keep
feelings, emotions, these moments discreet
our very act of attempted save to relive
an attempt to pass on lives - to outlive

our mortified flesh and calcified bones
the incessant drifting of time's sands blown
incarnating our lives to immortality acquire
and so fulfill our Ozymandian desire

© DGoode Guy 2014-01-27

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


Details | Free verse | |

Warmth Of The Open Fire

In front of  newly glowing fire__the warmth
Fills the area in very front
Family draws close_warm against cold

Time today flew as trees were cut (down)
Cut just to the perfect length to burn
On the open fire  of night's desire

These hours of story telling__laughter
Make up for labor of timber felling
Time spent at the well drawing water

Here now time for discussions
Story-telling, laughter, memories
The fire softly lighting Mother's eyes


Details | Rhyme | |

The True Meaning of Christmas

The True Meaning of Christmas During this Christmas, let’s celebrate Christ’ birth. It was for all of us that he came down to earth. As we think about Bethlehem and the baby boy… We shout glad tidings to all! And peace and joy! This young child was to one day touch all of mankind. His message of salvation… Today… You can find! As we celebrate and fill up with holiday cheer… This same Jesus is alive today… And is always here! Though 2000 years ago, he was born in a manger... You can know him NOW! He doesn’t have to be a “stranger.” Won’t you spend some time and reflect on Christmas’ true meaning? It’s in the merciful arms of Jesus that you need to be leaning! The good news of Christmas can certainly be found… Across this nation. Every city… And town! This same Christ can bring peace to your life today! He loves you much more than words can say! May HIS love bring peace and healing to your weary soul… It’s only in him, that you can be complete and whole!!! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Free verse | |

Fractured Souls

O Mighty Atlantic…
 What is this fascination which I have with you?
Could it be a part of me your lays trapped somewhere in midst?
You are like an old confidant with countless secrets you hold!
There’s an ancient one which haunts me today, and you guard it well…
Like the miles of warehouses, hidden within your belly
Where spirits of my ebony ancestors lie, shackled in rusted chains
Never again to see the rising sun?!

I know not why this had to be
And do I dare to ask God, Why? 
So, I wait; for in time all will be revealed.
The centuries march on; they’ve left behind the invisible scars
Broken spirits, lost and weary, walk an unforgiving earth,
Carrying within fractured souls the abject pain of ancestral spirits 
Separated by the gulf of time and buried, frozen in the deep.

Do you still hear the sounds of terror mingled with mournful groans;
The piercing wails of vibrant girls; and young men’s angry roars?
Do you hear the soft murmurs of young mothers comforting a child?!
Was their agony so bitter that you could not console?!
Do you recall the sound of each one’s last, labored breath?!...
I hear their screams and groans; their piteous pleas and angry roars
Echoed by wild winds and crashing waves on dark, stormy nights!  

I have felt the cold and dismal pain that “waters” hate,
A dark, heavy cloak which broken spirits don. 
We survived the middle passage and "seem" free; 
But we know that a mortally wounded spirit cannot fly! 
And though rusty chains no longer hold, spirits are held fast in place!
Where are our eyes?  Give us eyes!
Father, give us new eyes so we will see!
~*~


Details | Sonnet | |

Seasoned

We boomers, as our generation’s called,
have lived through two seasons, considered great,
during which our values were overhauled --
The Summer of Love and Autumn of Hate.
Both brought us together and gave us hope.
In the face of injustice, both were staged --
the first, a celebration with free dope,
the other a tragedy that enraged.
We were innocent in ‘Sixty-Seven;
we saw world violence and were appalled.
Our attitudes changed by Nine-Eleven;
we sought revenge, though we were shocked and galled.
While Winter of War passes, may we find
The Spring of Renewal and peace of mind.


Details | Sonnet | |

A REVELATION OF GREATNESS

If loneliness makes a poet out of one,
Is it worth to pursue this ambition
As a Friar Minor until he's gone...
Following the burst of inspiration?
So estranged from all, only breathing air...
Writing with a frantic, insatiable urge;
He will become a prisoner of his lair,  
Hiding his edentity 'till madness will surge.
Resisting all changes and detesting pleas:
He'll continue living and be a patriarc,
Demanding peace in honorable deals...
A patriot without fighting wars and havoc. 

His life will end, but his pain will be sealed  
With noble ideas waiting to be revealed.  


Details | Triolet | |

Totally Decayed

The dead tree still stands totally decayed
Could be modern Sodom and Gomorrha
Babylon that Revelation's story told
The dead tree still stands totally decayed
Vision of tree came to me and stayed
What...is that tree ..America that I love
The dead tree still stands totally decayed
Could be modern Sodom and Gomorrha

(Genesis 19, 1Kings 14:24, Isaiah 13:1, 14:22, Revelation 14:8, 16:19 references that could 
apply.)


Details | Lyric | |

FAITH KEEPS US APART

It seems the path Iam on  is changing everyday
the road uncertain just an endless shapeless gray
some would say it would all be clearer if I took up there religion
even with the doubt Iam not scared enough for that decision

I see the faith you placed in one of the many saviors
I lame excuse for the centuries of mad behavior
Iam sure your prophets where the very best of man
but your church and bibles where never in the plan

so every race has a version of there own
stories stolen from the gods of the past spoken out like it was always known
not one of these faiths is open and understanding
they keep others down and your soul churches are demanding

then you history holds no science no enlightenment
dogmatic foolishness written before free government
and every soul that is afraid to die or to ashamed to live
if you stop thinking then heaven is what they give

even now the human mind is found wanting
but reality is intelligence is hard work and life is daunting
if only the concept of good will and love
we understood without some sign from above

if you need the ancient fiction to ease your pain
I respect you and to all other men you should do the same
your saviors were righteous there’s know doubt
in there time they worship but no church was there twist whets its about

there have been many Christ’s since the beginning of man 
the Mayans and Muslim have had tales since they ruled by the roman
dry king ghandi and many more sacrifice there life so others could be free
in my mind that’s what Jesus is what he is supposed to be

even know there some man of great worth he has no money no powerful church
he’s  giving of himself and and loving the lost I dare you to search 
and see the truth were in this together and this is paradise
we are the only keepers of our fate we must realize

I can no longer people pay to pray and talk down to others who dont believe what you say
but Christ himself did not hang with the saved he knew the hopeless so he could see them ok
but times have changed were not ruled by religious empires mad with slavery
we fought for those rights not with one mans good with collective human bravery

a new age is upon us and the true test is coming not one of prophecy
the makers of worlds the stars the cycle of suns chaos of the galaxy
I hope soon we see are only time is now there is no second chance
are race needs to come together  and make a united stance
if faith keeps us apart do we even have the heart



Details | Quatrain | |

Faith in Myth

Apollo! Lead us into the fiery center of the sun
As the full moon offers a beacon in the night
We march into the blaze and burn as one
Or surrounded by darkness, the moon removes plight

Apollo! Do not forsake us, we of faith, let light shine
Save us from the darkness that plagues the soul
Ever devouring the darkness takes us; your inferno burns sublime
O' come great light, lest we are left black as coal

Do we plead in vain, do you see our suffering?
Are we alone, bleeding husks, answering for original sin?
Please immerse us in flame, stop black eternal smothering
Please illuminate the path, light the way to pursue within

The pantheon echoes our greatest fears
The Gods reflect our endless doubt
Belief of the above foils the darkness that lurks near
Or so we believe, we believe we're better with than without

The sky above, the dreams within, complete our mortal frame
The fears we face, the hope we share, we're all to blame


Details | Epigram | |

HISTORY

HISTORY


If history 
Has 
Taught us anything 
At all, 
Is this:
We, 
Our own history, 
Write!


© Demetrios Trifiatis
      09 March 2013


Details | I do not know? | |

A Sand Box Experiment

Little Jenny was always found to be very prim and proper/
Outside reading her cook book by Betty Crocker/
Lazy Mary Sat on the lazy suzanne,
Butch Malone was their next of kin kissing cousin,
Along with Mary this made up the famed dirty dozen !
That sand box experiment really made us laugh/
Shortly after gym class,

Butch Malone along with the famed Benjamin Bankhead/
Jimmy Foley the local guitar player knew,
The pathway in life that we should choose/
Often he would be found taking a tremendous dump in the boy's urenil !

The path of least resistance sought about from a chosen few,

Often he would appear in shepherds clothing similar to little boy blue !

Playing guitar like he's going out of style !
That sandbox experience was designed to distract all the teacher's ?
We set up stuffed dummies just to look like real people,
Right underneath the bleacher's !

Old man Winter's who worked for Mr. Kazoo knew the score/
Very often he was being seen outside the local liqour store,
Lest I emplore,

The sand box experiment was in full swing on that one particuler day/

Butch Malone thought he was the real king ?
That was until Mrs. Maloney saw him through the window !
Next the time was drawing near/
Then so was that dinner bell,

Mrs. Maloney started talking to all those dummies,

Next thing you know she had tripped over little Johnny !
He was stuffed that was/
Flying three feet high in the air she had fell right on her face !
What a social disgrace !

Yet what had happened to Butch Malone ?
Like a little dog without his bone/
He pee pee'd his pants then cried all the way home !
The next day when Mrs. Maloney got her second wind/

She didn't even know where to begin/

For that little stunt the whole class was suspended for the day,
Yet for the gang including Butch Malone what did they say ?
All in all the sandbox experiment really did make their day !


Details | Narrative | |

whittlin' away

whittlin' away
- an essay

I went to buy a pocketknife
recently for a preteen I know,
a small boy with wide dreams
and spaces to live in that match

The usual hardware haunt was
quite limited in its selection,
so I went online to find the perfect 
treasure for an eight-year-old

There was a wide array of
overpriced stilettos and bayonets
but nothing of simple sturdiness
for boys with a woodsman's mindset

So I went to the long-established
area gun and tackle shop in search of
a small locking blade that a boy 
could rub and oil and admire

The sales clerk showed me several
walls of hundreds of knives
that in all probability included 
a full-size replica of a Jim Bowie
broad knife with blood channel

I naively asked if they had any
not quite so - lethal 
He replied no, all they carried
anymore where "tactical" knives

I wondered what sort of tactics
a eight-year-old who might still 
think little girls were "icky" 
would be in need of contemplating

When I was a boy, all boys 
carried pocketknives as a point
of practicality, whittlin' away our
childhood, by shavings and curlings

The thought of hand-to-hand tactics 
regarded only to arm wrestling
and sneaking past authorities 
meant parents and teachers - to play

Tactically bypassing metal detection
and doing terminal bodily harm
to anyone was completely unknown
to our innocence and, too, to society

"Tactical" pocketknives for boys (or anyone)
is a present-day mindset of our own
fear- and bravado-driven selves
that we would sleep better without

Nine and eleven are odd numbers
that do not add up to an even world
Even though we profess better selves,
our current example falls short

Little boys know not, and should care not, 
for such murderous dreams.
I, too, care not for this.
It may be true, someday, if we, as people, will it

© Goode Guy 2012-10-13


Details | Narrative | |

HisStory

Today is the birthday of that
long gone soul. The one spinning
in the centrifuge, even now,
on the counter, as the technician
in the lab coat pulls seven G's
worth of DNA from calcified skull,
in an effort to know what might
have been on the mind of the
Neanderthal still hanging around,
after all these years.

Before Julius Caesar and way before
Pope Gregory, notioned that any day 
might be different from any other,
he woke up around sunrise, quietly
rolled to upright and looked about 
the dimly lit space.

Perhaps he saw the female lying there 
who had brought forth a baby, 
now lying there with her, a young male,
a child of perhaps seven seasons, 
extending the lineage a bit further, 
the trek, apparently a bit longer now. 

It's a cold morning, really cold,
and he goes to see what's left of 
the fire from last night. Barely a 
wisp of smoke to mix with the early 
morning icy mist all around.

Thinking about what might be gotten 
for the few in his group from this hidden 
day he returns to her and his spear.
Her eyes open and he motions to be quiet.
The meal may be just beyond their camp.
Quietly his slips into the dewy mist.

He didn't have any notion of
wider questions, of glaciations or,
distant global warmings, DNA inheritance,
species encapsulation, or lyrical
language structure and etymology,
he only wanted to find a meal, to
provide, and stay alive another day.

Yet perhaps he had deeper, more
cerebral notions, about the beauty of 
the drops hanging from the pine needles,
and the bent image within them. Perhaps
he heard the early morning calls of 
robins or sparrows, and smelled the 
trailing smoke of yesterday's fire mixing 
with the scents of the season's flowers.

It's all about history, his story,
that we yearn to hear, after
forty-nine thousand years or more.
To hear his heart, to bare his soul 
through those mists of time, to now.
To be reassured, that our story, it's 
character, it's plot, comes from 
ancient roots, ancient tradition, 
ancient emotion, ancient love - of life.

© Goode Guy 2013-05-20

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neanderthal
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neanderthal_extinction_hypotheses
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neanderthal_Genome_Project
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FOXP2


Details | Couplet | |

Inquiries of Life

Do you know who I am?
Am I, real or a scam?

Can anyone really know?
Since we all go, to and fro.

Who is it next to you?
Are they, fake or true?

Who or what to make choice?
Speak up, you have a voice,

Do you know who you are?
Do you live, with any scar?


Details | Blank verse | |

Mass Graves

There isn't a mass grave in my neighborhood
a creek has never flooded
(there is no creek, after all)
and bones have not surfaced.

A bulldozer never grinds to a halt
stayed by a smiling white skull.
The driver doesn’t jump down
doesn’t sift through the remains
kneeling there on the plot.

I once found a grey limb
jutting out from a hill.
I hoped it was a bone
maybe a femur from yore,
the last limb of a virulent Ute
protecting his home—
built by him
with his arms and legs
with the tools of the plains.

His scalp no more,
his skin long gone
but the bone remaining
still staking claim
for the living and free.

But it wasn’t a bone—
it was a tree limb
because there aren’t graves in my neighborhood.
There aren’t even real trees
or game trails;
there aren’t survivors
or failures
let alone corpses and fleas
And the only war left to fight
is against omnipresent me.


Details | Free verse | |

Lilith

Goddess of storm and dissidence, Lilith
begot by spurious legend and foolish myth
in the dark recesses of pastoral histories
where ancient mysteries
were defiled.

Illegitimate child.

Apollo's seed, by Roman Empire
inquisitional rules inquire, to her whereabouts
seeping fetid doubts, in the bones of the survivors.
Submission required by slave drivers,

And the Elite,
now on Wall Street.
Twenty five generations later,
they still hate her...

Yet,
I see her in me, shadows of malcontent,
when passed by for promotion
and toxic lotion is sold to keep us young.
I hear her forked tongue,
when my voice is ignored again,
when single mothers barely maintain
poverty existence led
as punishment for being
un-wed.

Burkas hide the bruises
and we’ve run out of excuses
why so many women are poor.
Our beloved men are sent to war
for corporate profits made
and taxes paid in blood and tears.

Yes I have fears.

I fear her rolling up through me, if they only knew me
and what I hold back, they would attack,
and mark me feminist bytch,
witch
and un-Christian.

Listen...
I hear her whisper from sister to brother
from father to mother, lover to lover...
I feel her emerging with Pele’s fire,
Aphrodite’s desire and Venus’s lust.
We must,
hear her.

She is part of us, the Mother’s curse,
foist in the never ending thirst for power
and dominance over all.
Eden’s free fall, orchestrated, ill-fated,
out-dated and reciprocated,
by us, still now, somehow.

The sacred dance beckons us in the second rush
of knowing... rivers flowing, ever to sea.
What will be, will be...
lost in the slipstream currents of the paradigm whore
who dares seek safe passage
to our shore.


Details | Quatrain | |

Fear Would Come At Lights Out

Remembering once again childhood days
When mother would on warm days let fire die
Maybe she would stop me from my fun play
We would go for that afternoon walk__sigh

Down long road to the branch across the way
With our small pails probably once held lard
Back then everything was fried in that day
We would look for vein of whitewash real hard

After gathering the whitewash head home
Where mother would clean around fireplace hearth
She would remove ashes; set the soft tone
For our home, on her hands_ knees clean no mirth

She would then whitewash the hearth inside rim
Glistening clean white, adding wood stoke fire
It  would crackle send tiny sparks to  swim
Briefly in air like stars of  night  aspire

Gathering around the fire family time
News, stories, tall tales; safe and warm no doubt
Gradually  fire would die into bed climb
Fear would come for daddy would say lights out


Details | Rhyme | |

The Old Warrior's Day

When his six bucks are gone,
His belly warm with beer,
Comes his time of day,
The time he always does fear...

It's off to nowhereland,
His dank basement apartment,
No lovely suburban home,
This is what life deemed is his compartment

Nineteen inch T.V.,
Three beers in the "fridge",
A half a bar of cheddar,
Two pizza slices,
An annoying head buzzing midge...

He sits on the edge of his bed,
Which also is his couch,
In this one room nightmare,
His shoulders visibly slouch

Of one thing, he is grateful,
That his wife never saw him such,
He has few blessings to count,
He just doesn't have that much...

But things interest him not,
He lives deep within the past,
And of all the things he's got,
The one most treasured thing,
A picture of his wife and him...
To those old memories he does  still cling...

Yes, this "Old Warrior" still fights his war,
Not against some international crime,
This old warrior's battle,
Is against the tides of time.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

We Expand

When I was a kid, i believed that I would never stop growing. I measured myself, and knew that everything taller was a glimpse of the future. 
We would all be giants eventually. The tallest man that ever lived was named Robert Wadlow. He couldn't stop growing. On his first day of school, 
he was taller than his father. They say, that when he tripped on the playground his knees made twin craters from falling so far. By the time he was 10, the dirt in his home town was pot-marked like a second moon. 
Size always seems to matter most when we are falling. An ant dropped from an airplane will survive with no injuries, if an elephant slips 3 feet, 
it's legs will snap beneath it, and or us, it is those dreams that we remember most. The ones where the harness breaks. 
Where you step from the roof of a building without knowing why. When a plane rushes back toward the earth like a lost lover. We always wait just before impact, unsure of shattering or survival, 
and unable to accept our own size. 
Maybe this is why we hunt the large animals to extinction; To make ourselves seem greater. In the end, the victory of the atom bomb was not in the arms raised, but it's ability to topple all of the smallest creatures. We dream of surviving as mountains; of never having to look up again. 
We long for longer conquests. 
The ship vaster than the ocean. 
The fire dwarfing the fuel. We expand. We expand,. 
Weapons add more than just inches to your arm span. When you fire a gun, you can touch someone a thousand of feet away just think of all the giants our wars have already created. Cemeteries are like an infinity of white cross hairs. Mass graves that are just twisting of what we have always wanted; A mountain built from our bodies. We expand, we expand,. 
Our empires, stretching like red lips opening into the widest sssmile, and then swallowing the face whole. We build our largest statues for our war heroes, greater your conquest, the taller we will make you. We are taller than our fathers now. We cannot stop growing. Robert Wadlow did not want to be a legend. He wanted to train as a lawyer, but his hands were to large to 
write and type with. He died at age 22, half an inch short of 9 feet from an infection he never felt, because his nerves could not transmit signals that far. So stop trying to be statues. 
Walk. 
Feel the signals your feet send back to you and say "It is good to feel this close". It is good to live in our own bodies. Our bodies are whispers. Are bodies are matchsticks in the dark that light the small parts of us; The parts of us that can accomplish impossible things.


Details | Free verse | |

Legal Tender of Getting Old

Legal Tender of Getting Old 

If tears were coins I'd be a rich man… 
If sadness was time I'd live forever… 
If I only knew what to do to make it better… 
I would do it in a heartbeat. 


But, no answers are easy when feelings crash around you… 
And the Sun does not shine in the heavens above… 
if only I could see…if only I could find a way…if only I knew… 
How do you say goodbye when there is no love? 


To only be me myself alone … again… 
decisions are frightening and shaky to behold… 
But change is needed for me to stay sane… 
all the while we continue to grow old. 



RLM 
'05


Details | Senryu | |

home sweet turmoil

troops are returning
to a country in turmoil
with its debt ceiling


Details | Tail-rhyme | |

To The Victor- HiStory

Jo Davis


The victor finds it easy to forgive,

free the captive; let the guilty man live.

He can pardon you, before the cock crows

or watch you swing from the highest gallows.

The victor can rape and plunder at will,

suck the blood from your bones till he’s eaten his fill.

He alone, can judge his captive’s intention,

he can lie, distort, or just fail to mention,

That if it were not for a quirk of fate

‘Tis the captive', that would feast at the victor’s plate.


Details | Couplet | |

The Nightmares

Nightmares that come are so bad I'm  afraid to sleep
Exhaustion enters making sleep needs reach their peak

A little light sleep to settle down falling falling deeply sound
The horror no no go away nightmares please dissipate

Same dreams every night since my darling baby cried
She nursed, very well fed in the morning she died

Nightmares night afer night awaking my baby I dread
Being rocked, rocked, rocked, looking down my baby's dead



(My adoptive mother lost a child, a little girl at age nine months old.  Back then people used 
home remedies very seldom saw a doctor.  The child had been sick with a cold, mother fed 
her and the next morning she was dead.  The  doctor who examined  the corpse said that 
she had had pneumonia and choked to dead on the mucous.)


Details | Senryu | |

1963

Sixty-three;
a man fires
and the world is changed for
ever; blood-stained,
at war.
Cursed.


Details | Rhyme | |

1492

They don’t teach like they used to
Back when I was still in school.
So many facts I learned
Just aren’t taught now, as a rule.

Yet there is one true constant
And I’m sure you learned it, too:
In 1492
Columbus sailed the ocean blue.

Yes, that year is like a trigger
That gets pulled inside our brains;
Of all the dates from history,
That single one remains.

So poetry has done its job
And teachers throughout time
Have been grateful that Columbus
Had a year and feat that rhyme!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

LOVE ON DEATH LINE

I have not eaten today,
But my heart is filled
Not hungry of affection.
I had a fill of you last night
A fill of you for a life time

All around us are walking corpses
Corpses of political disregard
Humans of no nations
Even when they are bona-fide citizens
Your blood and mine flows in them

The government abhors the poor
Feeds them with empty promises
Shoves them through the door
They pay the bills
For social amenities they can’t find
Pay taxes for their castles 
Government built in the air
But we know their ancestors
Filthy dogs eating from the king’s crumbs
No; Lets not unknot the knot
Soon a messiah might heed us

In heaven’s book of life,
I heard the poor names are there
In here’s book of life
It is deleted.
Thus, in your head,
Lays your kingdom and glory 
Get rich or die trying
Or; be their poor and keep sulking.

Well, like them I saw… 
I have not eaten
Flesh gone weak to skeleton
Nevertheless, 
The solitude of love within
Keeps me living; I am breathing
But I am moving,
Towards your direction
I see your beam

I feel new
When I see you
From my heart 
Seeps through the rays of the sun
Its fun; this love on death line
We survived the genocide
We survived the war
We survived love
We survived us
I love you too.

This poem is dedicated to the abused tribes of Rwanda and Nigeria during their respective civil wars resulting in near human annihilation. Though time has passed, we still feel your pains chilling our bones. The survivors.


Details | Free verse | |

The Upcoming Storm

A decahedron of politic complaints
with *intolerance being a number one disgrace
followed in quick succession by *hate 
*bigotry and *religious reprobates.
The coup de grass which comes in fifth
is *the dominance of man and unwise choice?

The all too obvious *lack of Universal “spine”
when righting injustice of any kind.
*A lack of stewardship for the earth
should place amongst the very worst
of politic complains I decree, 
what can be worse than pollution at sea
Perhaps, the *gendercide of the third world?  
Millions of girl children killed every year
As Man rules, the earth's females fear.

*Lack of education a slave doth make
And still it exists for *greed’s sake.
Now, this bring our decahedron
of politic complaints around to the beginning
of the human rat race. 

Start where you will, any side of this form, 
for they all can be first
First….to start the storm………


*EACH of the 10 issues is marked *
 


Details | Senryu | |

Lost Forever

Casey Anthony--
found not guilty, yet her child
is lost forever


Details | Couplet | |

Heaven Can Wait

<                                            left behind
           
                                              how divine


                                              his choosing

                                               my losing


                                            unfinished work

                                              must  assert

                                         
                                           I truly understand

                                         " God's"  choice in plan

         
                                     for " He " needs bigger wings

                                            to carry all my things

                                    
                                    and when those clouds spread eagle

                                      it will become finalized and legal


                                              my final destination

                                        will be "Heaven's" sensation


                                         and the reunion will be nil

                                     with family and friends lying still


                                       
                                               so for now I'll wait

                                       for my sweet "Lord" to set the date


                                              to return for only me

                                            in  clouds more of three




Entry For 
Catie Lindsey's 
Left Behind Contest
Gl All

                                         

                                


                                                 



                                            

                                            


                          

                                               

                                            



                                    


Details | Free verse | |

Fade

Once upon an early light, upon an early day,
in a time, before this time, far from far away;
bled a series of events which long ago since faded,
in a setting, somewhere which bore a place that now lay vacant.
Lost to ages, passed and gone, buried, still and tame,
from a time, before this time, far from far away.


Details | Rhyme | |

STEPPING INTO THE DISTANT PAST

" I open the door and cross the threshold of imagination...".
Too hesitant to enter,
I pause and ponder:
is this a place of wonder? 
What tempts me to open it?
Is it curiosity or desire,
and what lies beyond it?


The aged brown door decorated with brass painted in black,
has a distinctive Gothic style of a house of prayer standing yards from the bay;
will I find in the rear an altar made of marble
with an angel on each side guarding off evil?
Once inside that mysterious chapel, where monks venerated God, I must
follow it to where it leads me, neither fear nor superstition can frighten me!


If it has no bell-tower, where are the bells? Were they stolen to make swords? 
Was it destroyed by fire or by the enemy who was a heartless infidel?
It could be rebuilt and brought to the lost splendor of those amazing ages,
and to rebuild it from the ashes, only faith can induce such an ambitious will...
could I envision, perhaps a little too early, what a glorious sight it would be? 
And if peace is found here, I will dwell in it as they did praising God indefinitely.
    

Written By Andrew Crisci for Constance La France's Contest,
" Three Gems "
Form:  Rhyme
Written on 7/31/ 2011 
Deadline: Sunday August 20, 2011


Details | Quatrain | |

My Traveled Approach

I trek the corridor of an easy path
Not because I am lazy or leery.
Just because I want no lingering wrath,
I searched for meaning of life’s query.

Death has its end or a new beginning.
Life has so much joy for you to give.
Each New Year is another inning.
To be played with the spirit to live.

We spend so much time wondering.
What will be received at our end?
That time we end up blundering.
That so much more we could send.

I have settled that what I have learned.
Will be carried onward in some way,
Probably better than what I have yearned.
That each life of past, will continue an array.

I cannot with any doubt, feel there is a beyond.
The road less traveled is not easy or hard you see.
Just spreads out in different lanes that correspond.
To everyone’s path they must follow or foresee.

These trials I have passed on my thoroughfare.
My faults, tribulations, delights, my own making,
My spirit and soul has always been duly aware.
I regret much, but resist spending my end quaking.

Each sin that has passed through me I put to rest.
I struggle not to repeat any again, to my best.
I still ponder much and still continue my quest.
Though I shall not let my living be suppressed.


written for
Sponsor Catie Lindsey 
Contest Name The Road Less Traveled 


Details | I do not know? | |

For Mother Teresa

For Mother Teresa

to see...

the clarity of beauty between the murky folds of life

to see...

the simple truths of living
between the horror and the endless strike

to see...

the innocent smiles of the children at play
while the elder preach hate and division and continue to slay

to see...

the endless yearning for that simpler better place
away from the hollow emptiness of this ostentatious space

to see...

the open vistas of this pale blue dot
the soft reds and fruity greens as this home is all we have got

to see...

the tears of the dispossessed who have been cruelly cast aside
and while we look the other way from their tears we may never hide

to see...

the endless hunger and despair and killing and greed
in the name of God or of ideology or of some or the other creed

to see...

and to see it all

and still stand tall

to hold on to the humanity

that resides deep within us all

may be our only saving grace

and though all of this sounds quaint and saccharine sweet

I need to remember all that I've said

the next time I look into a teary-eyed desolate face

to see...

that being human is simple if we only look beyond ourselves and see

that we are all one, him and her and them and us and you and me...



Details | Free verse | |

My Business Is Today

Committing myself to action; 
I stopped to put all plans away.

Determined to author my Life's book pages, 
I began the business of today.

I did away with past and future: 
Losses made and profits gained; 
That to lose and this to gain.

With the past already accounted for, 
And future yet to be taken account of; 
It's a waste for me to keep their books -

My business is today 


Details | Free verse | |

Message in a Bottle

I loved
I hated
I laughed
I cried
I was dumb
I was wise
I was cruel
I was kind
I lived
I died
I was there
I was here
Long ago
I was here...

12/8/2012
Catie's contest


Details | Rhyme | |

Vietnam Wall

The black wall reflected my white-washed skin 
and disheveled jacket, above the chattering din...
Loosly lopsided glasses hang limply on my face,
Cold, dark, black, they somehow seemed to fit this place. 
The smooth memorial seemed to stretch on,
Longer than death itself;a banner, a chord, an unsung hero's song.

                               ...

Memories race through my unsettled mind, 
The dense rainforest reverberates right behind...
Exploding artillery, I see several comrades fall down.
They lay moaning or silently still on the densely foliaged ground.
Like tin soldiers, “Playing dead,” I force myself to believe 
Trying to dam the tide of fear, for death is all I see.
“Will, help!" a young and bloodied soldier calls to me.

Hands gruffly grabbed my shoulder; I meet my commander’s steely eyes,
Torn, bruised, and bloody... I could see he wasn't surprised.
“We won’t survive with extra baggage. Retreat to the copter, now!” 
He hollered hollowly, his featured in a ragged, downcast bow.

Pondering quickly: Die a hero? Or forever regret today? 
Without a hesitation, I hoisted that young man up right away.
He seemed light, until I picked up another, fallen on the beaten path.
The odds were all against me; flying bullets unfurled their wrath.
Lifting yet another, I wrapped him silently around my tired arm.
The day I died, two comarades were saved and taken away from harm.

                               ...

And for a single breathless moment, I thought that I had seen myself,
In the teary-eyed man reading these lost names all by himself.
Now and forever, my name will be a simple written sprawl. 
An etching in a stone, a memoir to this black unyielding wall.


Beth Watkins
3/7/11
~Dedicated to those heroes who have died to defend our freedom.~


Details | Acrostic | |

America

America

A  llegiance
M  orality
E  xcellence
R  espect
I   ntegrity
C  aring
A  merica

These are the foundations of who we are
The events of history that have occurred have served to define us as a people 
And a nation !!!
Heroes were born of this tragedy 
And lost...
While showing the finest example of America 
Strength, honor and commitment 
What we are about 
We shall never fall 
We shall never fail
The unity of this nation is unbreakable 

Eric (and sometimes not)


Details | Free verse | |

how ive already changed your future

80 paintings i gave away
an abstract to the tune of the stairway to heaven
good advice and solutions to certain ailments
written on the back
wisdoms to resolve confusion written on the back of others
some lost along the way i have not forgotten
like th one left at the library
like the one given to the homeless shelter
like the one i gave to the city center police station

the needle in the hay stack
with methods on how to escape a concentration camp
the reality on the back

every relationship in my life
the good the bad and the ugly
with all poetic cryptic heartfelt advice

away walk the hookers and cons with an enlightenment
some find a sense of enjoyment of the things they find

something you can't take back from society
as these paintings will eventually change hands
wether bought or sold
or sit in the restaraunts or homes to be looked at

one day these pieces will come together
this is intelligence trading hands in random haphazard wonder
like new tarot cards for your future to wonder
the mystery out there built on the foundations of today
an inspiration from me i got from caring about someone else
the powerful, the hungry, the victom, the oppressor, the rich and poor

ive already changed your life tomorrow
and the past is out there catching up to you today
subtle conversations of bouncing some ideas off of others
either to agree to disagree
or completely understand oneself or another

this intelligence is out there
my life story you will one day have to wonder
themes done to the lyrics of stairway to heaven
now you can see when and where i changed songs
if you can configure the one most likely to be next
in my artistic obsessive compulsive order


Details | Haiku | |

People of The Book

born to be a jew
a place traversed by so few
language, called hebrew


Details | I do not know? | |

Port of Call

Port of Call


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

with the breath of the ocean a caressing balm,
soothing pained memories away,
to the swaying of a solitary palm.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

feeling the brushing away of all past turmoil,
on a quest for solace, ever so hard to find,
yet comforted by the crashing of the waves,
as the tide cleanses all pain,
and leaves despair far, far behind.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

drenched in a sea-breeze of mist,
that hushes the ache of bygone moons,
tasting the salty tang on my lips,
as the burnished sun,
over the distant horizon,
swoons,

and dips.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

searching, ever searching,
for a slice of solitude,
as memory bids a final adieu,
reaching under the sea so vast,
and seeking comfort in the depths,
while embracing,
the tomorrows to come,
wishing that they be true.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

seeing my truths drown,
as they slip beneath the turquoise waters,

feeling my heart ablaze,
with a passion that rarely falters.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

yet knowing that I am home at long last,
wishing the waves would wash away,
the defences that once stood,
like an impregnable wall.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

I have found, at long last,

my final port of call.


Details | Free verse | |

Much Like the Sun.

 You look up to the sky.
 It is a normal summer day like any other.
 Sparse clouds line the sky and the sun beats down on you.
 Except this is no ordinary summer day.
 This is the day you ship out.
 You have said your good byes and cried with your lovers.
 The weight of your country rests upon your shoulders.
 It beats down on you much like the sun. 
 It burns you if you are not properly prepared,
 much like the sun.
 Much like the sun you are depended on by all that you known.
 Depended on by your country.
 Much like the sun,
 you fade away into the night appearing in a different country


Details | Couplet | |

Here Take My Seat

<                                          Racial      Segregation
                                             One         Nation

                                              Why   Oh   Why
                                              Did   King  Try
                                              

                                              Right   Or   Wrong
                                              Everyone   Belongs

                                        
                                              Black     Or   White
                                              Put        Up   Fight

                                   
                                               Americian    Made
                                               Blood          Gave

                                              


                                                Share        Wealth
                                                Spare        Health


                                                 Rosa         Parks

                                                 She   Did   Bark




Entry For
Adeleke Adeite's
African Attitude

                                               

                                                   

                                                  

                               


Details | I do not know? | |

Childs Hell

My small pristine flower, crushed while yet a bud.
My young innocence stripped, left trampled in mud.
Walk away. Collect your cash, no emotion for me.
Little body bruised, torn with blood. Drugged blind, you do not see.
Daddy, why did you do it and why don’t you care?
You helped them shred me, then turned away and left me bare.
I am only a small child. I am too weak to fight back.
Tied to a dens table, men’s eyes, hands grope, and lips smack.
Manhood against young maiden, tiny body burned by the rope.
This, a grand hellish party with drink and much dope.
Why do you abuse me, and just what have I done?
You began this cruel nightmare when I was but one.
Four years spread like thin butter, passed like a hat.
Left to fend for myself, a small, hungry, dirty stray cat.
For the rest of my life, I am damaged because of your sin.
Thirty one now, still, life is a night terror in which there are men!

                                                                                       Summer Gratias


Details | Lyric | |

American Industry - American Dreams Long Gone

America always used to be known
For her thriving Industry
But now that all seems like a dream
A wistful dream from way back when
A time before the New World Order
Made slaves of honest men.

It used to be fair wages
Fair pay for an honest day’s work.
People could live the American Dream
Your job gave you everything you needed
Jobs were plentiful and abundant
They weren’t being sent to countries overseas.

You could work towards owning anything
Life wasn’t just a daily struggle to survive
Life was enjoyable and everything it seemed
You could be anything you ever wanted to be
Employment gave you a feeling of success and having good fortune
It gave you a sense of inner pride.

You could have a house, a car, a family
You could accomplish and own something before you died.
But those days seem to have disappeared
They’re a memory that seems long gone
Just like American Jobs and Security
How long can this go on?


(December 22, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)

(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved, 


Details | Acrostic | |

September Eleven

(Acrostic) 


N*ever forget this day 
I*n our hearts forever lives 
N*ever forget this day 
E*nemy took many lives 

E*motions running still deep 
L*et's remember nine-eleven 
E*mbraced our brave heroes 
V*iewed it all on tv screen 
E*ntired world was in shock 
N*ever forget nine-eleven 



Dorian Petersen Potter 
aka ladydp2000 
copyright@2009 


September 2, 2009 


Details | I do not know? | |

THESE STATES UNITED - PART II

How someone like you 
 
and me
 
could ever be
 
this forever free

Never say never

Ever
 
Oh say, can you see
 
this valiant righteous fight
 
of the tiny 13
 
against the giant gorgeous gallant might
 
of the Royal Crown
 

into that last gleaming
 
fluorescent
 
effortlessly seeming
 
twilight 
 
as American soldiers fell
 
and died
 
and their women 

and Lady Liberty

rang the bell
 
and cried
 
screaming
 
and the little ones 
 
so sound asleep
 
nestled in their bed
 
so peacefully dreaming
 
whilst their King 

while their King lay dead
 

Hear his deep voice echo over and over in your head
 
You remember what he said
 
You remember what he said
 
You remember what he said
 
You remember what he said

You remember what he said

You remember what he said
 
You remember what he said
 
You remember what he said
 
You remember what he said

You remember what he said

You remember what he said

You remember what he said
 
as you lay there
 
missing and yearning
 
teaching and learning
 
freezing and burning
 
and tossing and turning
 
battledrums slow and become tribal
 
Yes, you too, remembers what he said:
 
"It is impossible to rightly govern a nation without God and the Bible"


 
So trumpeters blew and told 

their story
 
the drumboys rolled
 
out Old Glory
 
My God behold
 
Watch Old Glory
 
so dignified
 
unfold
 
Stars and Stripes 
 
thus signified

an Independence newfound
 

on Sacred, Sacred, Splendid, Sacred, Holy ground
 
Kneeling at ground Zero
 
Never forget
 
My, your, Our forgotten Hero

Ole' Father George pause and take a good look around
 
Ole' Father George steal the stars 
 
just this once

just in between
 
the glare of royal red rockets
 
and hand them to
 
the mighty 13
 
and the red stripes so soaked with blood
 
from our beloved Mother
 
across the pond

Sons no more, oh no, Mother 
 
There isn't any other
 

It’s me now - your new younger brother

Just passing through

the bright white rays of sunlight
 
into the big bold box of navy blue
 
into starry starry nights
 
Ole' Father George, our hopes ignited
 
Your legs so weary
 
Our dreams excited
 
Thank you, Ole' Father George
 
Thank you, God
 
God Bless These States United




Details | Free verse | |

Babylon

Words hold the meaning that we assign them
Ever since the fall of the tower .....


Babylon
Ancient land of mysteries solved
and shared
Where collective mind 
cast away the shadow of doubt.

Creative thought 
held siege by the Jealous Gods of war
and retribution
Zeus
Appolo
Yeshua


A hundred times, babylon fell
to the Kassites, the Assyrians, 
She fell 
and was re-built by Nebuchadnezzar   
The hanging gardens, of Eden
her fruit of art and music
flowed through deserts
with the sweet wine of Bacchus
intoxicating all in her pleasure. 

In the aftermath of the great feast
they awoke to find
The Persian army stationed amidst them
having walked through the river
and under the walls.  
Order reform, separation. 
corruption deterioration
Dust to dust.
till
Alexander the Great
wooed her alive again.. 
Babylon
dancing through gardens, libraries, 
markets, travel and trade
musicians, poets and playwrights 
came again to sing praises of her beauty.
With his death 
she fell
pawed apart by the feuding decay of his bureaucrats.
Babylon, death and rebirth..

Now she lies beneath the sands, 
beneath the waters of the Euphrates 
A camel ride south of Bagdad
where the tanks and shells of many lands
shake the ancient tower down.

Hammurabi’s code still stands
shattered into a million languages.

Right is right
and Law is Law.


Details | Free verse | |

Critical Mass

It takes a critical mass
to keep a culture alive,
I once heard someone say.
Ishi was the last of his tribe
and whole civilizations
have come and gone.
The tipping point comes
when you lose your way
or someone takes it away 
from you.

George Washington,
for all his faults,
understood what torture was.
Tecumsah killed his own warrior
for torturing a white prisoner.
Our Bill of Rights was written
with an empire's abuses
in mind.

Once, these things were understood,
and despite our faults,
we were proud of who
we tried to be.

A people and its leaders
not outraged by our abuse
of others rights and bodies,
and even of our own,
has lost its critical mass
and become everything
its founders feared
that we might become.


Details | Pantoum | |

The Orphans

Weeds grow around, under the fence that leans
Wagon sits in barn yard needing mending
Hay rake left in the field to use between
Summer showers, rake hay for winter feeding

Wagon sits in barn yard needing mending
Since father died none takes charge of farm
Summer showers, rake hay for winter feeding
Five children left orphaned no one sends alarm

Since father died none takes charge of farm
Hay rake left in the field to use between
Five children left orphaned no one sends alarm
Weeds grow around, under the fence that leans



(My mother's mother was left a widow with five children ages 12 years to 6 months.  Mother's 
father 
was bitten by a rabid dog.  The doctor sent for medicine to treat the illness and gave him the 
meds.  The doctor told him that he needed to rest stay out of the heat but he felt that he had 
to 
move the saw mill to another location so that they could start work and this was a fatal 
mistake.)


Details | Ballad | |

Small Town Big People

I look in the mirror and see the years gone
I can look beyond the glass out the window
To the yards of my childhood
I can smell the flowers and feel the grass ‘neath my feet. 
I can hear the music blasting on the radio
Mama callin’ me for supper.  


I yearn to go back to that danged town
I fought to get away and never look back,
I never wanted to live there again. 
I guess there’s a piece of me
There in that little town. 

The town is small and so are the events
You’re everyone’s business 
You can get a break and can’t get away
You don’t even have a say
You go to and from and people protest
And those same people will still put you to the test


I yearn to go back to that danged town
I fought to get away and never look back,
I never wanted to live there again. 
I guess there’s a piece of me
There in that little town. 

I made it to the big town K.C, 
Got myself a husband and a son and a place to live
Settled in and made a life, got a career
I swear I’ll never return to my best friend
Comfortable where I stand, 
Happy where I am 


I yearn to go back to that danged town
I fought to get away and never look back,
I never wanted to live there again. 
I guess there’s a piece of me
There in that little town. 

Well times are hard,
And people are ruthless in this cut throat time
Jobs are scarce and bills run high
You never know what you’ll hear at night
The people are small in this big town
Yeah people are small in this big town


I yearn to go back to that danged town
I fought to get away and never look back,
I never wanted to live there again. 
I guess there’s a piece of me
There in that little town. 

I guess the town is small
Just good ol’ boys and girls havin’ fun
Small place, small town, small world
People may talk and people may watch
But the biggest thing in that small town
Are the people after all. 


I yearn to go back to that danged town
I fought to get away and never look back,
I never wanted to live there again. 
I guess there’s a piece of me
There in that little town. 

-Heather Birdwell 9/22/2009



Details | I do not know? | |

Faith

Abraham’s mad ravings
shape a world of war,
brother battles brother
while women keep score.
Genetic mutations
of power and greed,
line pockets of prophets,
who’s will be decreed.
The earth’s precious children
lay waste in thy name...
Business as usual
proceeds just the same.


Details | Acrostic | |

The One That Got Away

Tears of the heart wash away what is forgotten.
Heartaches spoil the tenacity of what to remember.
Eventually all things fade, both righteous and ill-gotten.

Our lives make choices even when we do not enable.
No-one will ever say that one person makes their mistakes.
Each one of us has held repercussions of a label.

Truth is we all lost something, though we know not what.
Hearing of others loss we feel compassion to give a lot.
Amid our own losses we harbor guilt, without thought.
Traveling, sometimes not understanding what is sought.

Great loves and friendships are forfeited, for no reason.
Our passion placed on hold, till rise of another season.
Taking tolls on our spirit, blaming all, on a certain demon.

A deficit of affection plays a role in which we become.
Women or men, whom leave or are cast, will succumb.
Another shall bring warmth, building a new rhythm.
Yea though, the one that got away shall bring wisdom.


written for
Sponsor Thvia Shetley 
Contest Name The one who got away 


Details | Free verse | |

The Bill of Rights, Part I

The Bill of Rights was ratified
by citizens in these states,
But, see, now there is a problem
Today, it’s the world we face.
There are ten things Gov. cannot do,
They are spelled out for everyone.
For now, these rights are set in stone.
Let’s review them, one by one.

The right to worship where you dare
is the Number One protection.
Arab, Jew or the Satanist;
Free from undo persecution.
But when their Gods tell them to kill
we will hunt the sinners down.
We’ll even fight in foreign lands
and bomb them into the ground.

It also says to speak your mind!
It was next on Jefferson’s slate.
But, please, don’t utter the wrong words,
No obscenities from your crate.
Burn a flag and we don’t care,
The Supreme Court said one day.
Even fools deserve a voice.
But, in schools, you cannot pray.

Freedom of press is mighty nice
Till Paparazzi track you down.
How does the First Amendment
Let them treat you like a clown?
If the press is wrong, you can sue
But infrequently will you win.
The Courts have said, time and again,
Their mistakes we will pardon.

The right to gather we do have.
Thank the Gods they put this in.
Just make the choice of time and place
And let the world see you win.
Protest someone’s execution,
Say CNN and Fox News,
We will ask you stupid questions
And take shots from different views.

Right to Bare Arms is Number Two
NRA says that’s a FACT now.
Our founding fathers never saw
An SMG shot at a cow.
If they had, I truly think,
They’d be completely horrified.
A change of minds you’d see so fast,
‘less, of course, they’re petrified.

Militia is a good idea.
Let’s secure the federation.
Please don’t shoot the officers
When they come for regulation.
You’ll only see the FBI
If you buy weapons banned,
Or if you brainwash members
To take poison from your hand.

Number Three? No GIs in home:
Not at peace, nor if at war.
Unless the Houses pass a law
Proposed by a senator.
But even with that stupid law
We will ask before we do.
Forefathers said we surely must
Just don’t expect us to pay you.


Details | Free verse | |

The Bill of Rights, Part II

No illegal search and seizure
Says amendment Number Four
Probable cause necessary
Before we break down your door.
The warrant spells out what they search,
Describing things they will seize.
So hide them where you know they won’t
Go to the judge, and say, “Please.”

Number Five’s an uncommon gem
It says we won’t take your life
Without due process of the law,
Or by talking to your wife.
Testimony from yourself, and
Oh, yeah, double jeopardy,
Will never be responsible
For removing liberty.

We will not take your property
For a bridge or a highway.
Not without compensating you
But, please, stay out of the way.
We’ll never pay you what it’s worth,
Nor what the market will bear.
We shall pay you what we think’s right
And so what if it’s not fair?

So now we come to Number Six:
Speedy trial for you and me.
Impartial juries we will have
‘Less the press first runs the story.
We will inform you of the crime
They think you have committed.
And let you confront eyewitness
And a lawyer, not dim witted.

So here we are, now at Seven,
But this one’s kind of dicey.
It’s about the common law,
And the cost of controversy.
The courts have set some precedents
From the beginning to this year
So put this one from your mind, but
Don’t let lawyers know your fear.

Punishment cruel, or excessive
Is listed in Number Eight.
High bails and fines not imposed
Except in a crime of hate.
This allows a sentence of death
When combined with Number Five.
So, while stoning is a no, no.
Injection can take your life.

The rights for you, herein displayed
Shall not be the only item.
Number Nine says it right clear
Other rights are not denied ‘em.
This simply means, to you and me,
We’re somewhat free, to a point.
Beware of our society
For they say no to that joint.

This now brings us to Number Ten
About powers left on the rack.
If it’s not stated by this doc
States, and people, take up the slack.
The constitution delegates
Power to the three branches.
But if they overstep these bounds
Beware election chances.


Details | Narrative | |

Pharoh's Fate

Thou oh man, who caused the kingdoms of this world to tremble and shake!
With wrath continual stroke against the nations raged.
Beneath the rose now entombed, ‘neath starry skies you shall await thy doom.
Blade and flame shall guard thy gates.
Silently shalt thou await thy resurrected fate.
Thou oh man, who caused the kingdoms of this world to tremble and shake!
With thy rod wonderfully thou smote throughout the land treading underfoot thy fellow man.
Thy pomp now brought down and thy scepter broke.
Thou besom of destruction yet no rest shalt thou find!
The kings of this earth shall gloriously in state lie, but thou oh man shall not join thyself to 
them in eternal state.
Thy renown once amongst the nations proclaimed now shall to the dust of time remain.
Prepare oh man, the earth hath opened itself for thee!



Details | Rhyme | |

This Fourth Of July


This 4th Of July To my fellow Americans, during this 4th of July. I have a thought.. . Here's why… When we salute our flag ever so grand. Our country's foundation is sinking in "quicksand." This is because. From God... We're way "off course." Driven by lust, greed and an "immorality force ." Our ungodly government continues to rule. Anything of God has been removed from the school. We hear of "separation of church and state." Anything of God... Many people seem to hate! America! Listen to what this message is about! Everything of God is slowly being taken out! We must return to Jesus!... He gives true freedom indeed!. The truth word of God’s . Our country must read! Living for God is worth the cost! Without HIM... America is forever lost! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Blank verse | |

The Smell of Exile

we grew up at Home
with a warrior thrust tuning 
our souls to sounds of crickets
to rhythms of the soil
to smells of the rivers
knowing large dreams of moonlight joy
 
we grew up there in an ever rebounding 
spirit learning songs of seasons
that dressed our umbilical cords
for the harvest of our dreams—
they were songs fathers sang in the cycle
many rainless seasons ago
 
many harvest seasons ago we danced away
from loving arms of Home onto the snow sea
opening widely our limbs to invisible lines
that etched new profiteering truths 
into our being into our minds into our hearts
 
when we heard father died this morning
away from Home we were featherless eagles 
looking for remnants of our nest among anthills
at a traffic light fragmented by hideous sores
we lost the burial songs made golden by the Sun
and made the Dead sleep like babes at Home
 
it was here we remembered
the splash of Colors, the smell of Exile
the poverty of dispossession which soaked our souls
froze memories of green Hills of Home
and made us grow resentful to dreams of moonlight joy
 
we looked into the skies and remembered 
when Locusts burst dams and the deep cuts 
of Holy Water drowned the glutton voices of our fathers
our blood drank the pus from our wounds 
buried deep by the locusts beneath the skin
 
we lost our dreams of a harvest
to the splash of colors
we drowned the songs of our fathers
in the roar of the holy water
 
today there are many seas to cross
with deadly triangular calm 
they’ll congeal stubborn death breaths 
while father’s spirit scream at our tenacious fate
 
it is only a season ago since we left, yet
we no longer possess the sounds of the crickets
we no longer dance to the rhythms of the soil
what we have is the pus from the wounds
buried deep by the locusts beneath our skin


Details | Bio | |

Gifted And Blessed My Song

A child was born gifted and blessed
Not understood by parents, siblings, and all the rest
Personality traits introverted, shy 
Leaning toward melancoly don't ask why

Drawn to music, art, crafts and poetry
Who loves to hear and tell a good story
Feeling insecure, unloved, and misunderstood
Fearing the worst, bottled desires to fit in if she could

Wanting a chance to just use her gifts
And help others not feel misfit
Lives her life in her hometown
Where this woman will never wear a crown


Details | Free verse | |

Words For The Seekers Of Light

What is left to be said whats done is far behind I'll always be filled with wonder until all reasoning subsides Sometimes I feel it's pointless for me to even try a futile attempt to break through your weakness disguised as pride As I write this all for me I won't apologize I've been sorry for long enough maybe its a failure to realize the strides I made were paid in full yet I still give you credit your not lost, just misinformed it's not your fault so don't regret it I only know what love is because it opposes my hate by the time it reaches inside my soul it will intentionally be too late I'll leave room for no one to care it always just seems they do if one would could define you it might be too much confused So now you fold into the generic mold the world is full of that only you can really change it at the rate it's going, I doubt that


Details | Rhyme | |

The Bible Or the Consitution

The Constitution Or The Bible?

From our news, courts and government institutions,
We often hear about the U.S.. Constitution.

As many cry what is and isn’t “constitutional;.”
It’s a wonder how this country is till functional!

\As courts seek to remove the Bible and it’s commandments.
They look to the constitution for some kind of “enlightenment.”

The freedom of religion, which the early fathers taught.
Is now “freedom from religion” is what’s in many thoughts.

It’s almost like the courts “wave the magic wand.”
And then tell us the difference between “right and wrong.”

Many Godly principles have often been disregarded.
 God’s word in many homes, has often been discarded.

Without God in many lives. This has left an empty void.
As perversions of his word 
are taught and “enjoyed.”

It’s time to wake up America!  And begin to see!
It’s only God and his word that gives true liberty!

We’re quickly becoming a nation of bondage and sin.
As so many struggle with afflictions within!

We all need to let God’s word daily renew our mind!
Even though we’re busy…  We need to take the time!

God was here before the constitution was written!
It’s time to come to him!  Will our country listen???

Because of Jesus… There is no “man and God separation!”
The truth of his word is what’s needed in our nation!

By Jim Pemberton


Details | Free verse | |

Living the Dream

I am living the dream.
I stand here today,
Cannot believe what I am about to say,
But I am living the dream.
At times, it's tough
And it is not always easy.
I might be condemned
For choosing this path in life;
Some may think it's too bag of a risk.
When we give it our all,
Our passion and our might,
We can overcome and forget the fear
To become who we are meant to be.
I stand here today,
Another tear ready to wipe away:
You can do all you aspire to do!
Set your mind and never give up!
If I can do it,
You can too!
I can't believe I'm about to say this,
But I am living my dreams.
I am living the dream.


Details | I do not know? | |

power

Outside in the distance
Thunders roll
Not storming
The light is an unexplainable show
When there is death
Some how the clouds
Darken the sky
The sound is so loud
It deafens the ear
A mushroom of smoke
Seems to appear
Blinding was the light
One can only wonder
Reasons for this titanic fight
Making the conscience ponder
Is this right?
Such brightness
In the dimness of night
Undefined by any word
Is this sight
The soul is mournful
And chest feeling so tight
One must ask
Is this a reason to fight?
Thoughts run
Questioning what is right
And what is wrong
All life present
Wiped away, forever gone
Power is a curse
Bringing no good
Not even by those rulers
Praised, or the misunderstood


Details | Haiku | |

'Moon-Rock... ' (Haiku # 12)

‘ Moon-Rock ’  Haiku # 12

Moon Rock, Craters, Crust
What Does This Terrain Adjust …
“ Earth Was Made For Us ! “


Details | Quatrain | |

A Deep Rooted Doubt

December 21, 2012!  ‘The day our world comes to an end’, is how the rumor flies
A deep-rooted doubt exists, as past predictions have all been so wrong.
Those last days of centuries past have  come and gone, like whistles in the wind
While Father Time just keeps on ticking oblivious to the song!

I imagine how broad is his smile when rumors hit the media scene 
Many worry, and plan for that “final” day, needless to say, hearts weep
Amongst scientists, and well known historians, this time, possibility may exist
But what can I do?  I’m no Amazon, barefoot, at five-feet three 

If by chance, it’s the end, could I possibly save myself?  My “plate’s already full”!
All it’d take to end my world is a strong current and a, three-foot wave
Maybe an unexpected lighting bolt if caught up in a storm. For these, caution will suffice
Out of my control; will not waste time as my life I can not save


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Forgotten

In the beginning there was peace, joy, and love.
Then came hard times, war and hate.
What is this poor world to do,
when people aren't human anymore?
Computers think for us.
Minds are slowly fading.
Old people are forgotten.
Children are forsaken.
Youth have gone mad.
and for the rest.
There is no rest.


Details | I do not know? | |

THE ORIGIN OF ORIGIN

How do we go back through Time, Space, Matter and Reasoning to the Origin of 
Origin and commune with the Original Originator?


Is it through our death?
Is it through re-birth?
Is it through the Earth?
Or is it when we berth?

As we drift in-to a quiescent dock
Bourne by waves of Mercury, we rock
Silent and peaceful... no sound... no talk...

Perhaps, this time at the dock
We may find a bit of luck
At communing on the floor
With the Original Originator

How do we go back through Reasoning, Space, Matter and Time to the Origin of 
Origin and commune with the Original Originator?

Is it through the Sun?
Is it when we mourn?
Is it when its dawn?
Or at the peak of form?

As we flex muscles of wood
All sinewy, all musculi, all crude
Hunched like Mr Olympia’s brood

Perhaps this time at the Water
We will commune with Awe, with Laughter
As we (hopefully) end at the door
Tha’ll be opened by the Original Originator

How do we go back through Matter, Reasoning, Space and Time to the Origin of 
Origin and commune with the Original Originator?

Perhaps, this question I think can be answered on through infinity ad infinitum.....


Details | Haiku | |

Pilgrimage

Pilgrimage

Tired feet walk far;

many moons on our journey,

lifetime trip for all.


Details | Free verse | |

Somebody Loves Me

Produced 50 yrs ago
My master Pravin Pant Sr.
Felt it was time for my Just Born coop to grow
So he introduced me to some other chicks
Bunnies bats cats pumpkins and
Even thought of placing some lucky stars
In for the heck of it what a day of cellabration
Now he has flipped his lid once again and took a few friends back
Had turned them into lip balms but I don't mind
For they will stay forever fresh on my lips as I speak of them
I been dropped off buildings had been steam rolled over
And each time I bounced back with zest
So please come rescue us from this crazy farmer
Place me in a warm basket or cake or even a dressed table 
For I m just a little peep looking for somebody to love



To The Peep 
In All Of Us    LOL


Details | Couplet | |

First Blood

Four metal birds take flight in a blue sky,
Intent unknown to the world's calloused eye.
One's overcome in its attempted ploy,
Three succeed in their mission to destroy.
A nation that has answered freedom's call
Watches in disbelief the crumbling fall
Of alabaster twins in anguished demise,
Brought down by satan's power of disguise.
One nation under God can't begin to equate
How a people of faith can harbor such hate.
Tears flow as rivers awash in a flood,
A network of fanatics has drawn first blood.
Some see the pentagram as the devil's sign;
(I see the irony in satan's design.)
What once was a dove transforms into a hawk;
Will we the people lend our support or balk?


Details | Epic | |

Fathom

 

The depths descend 
Past the boundaries
Of human conception
Of realistic features
Of one’s ideals.

So deep; distant 
So many cranks yet,
So much order.

...Tick...Tick...

Spin,
Wind,
Apply the pressure
Or... it will.

Trepidation.
Do not act so scared my child
It starts for you,
Ends for me.

Sit on my lap if you will,
I have a story to tell you
One that shall
Tell the tale.

Take this,
My soul,
My life
This piece so close to my heart.

Hold it,
Remember;
Remember the stories
All the twists and turns
Cranks and spins
Needed to get here.

S-521592
1, 2, 3
4, 5, 6
7, 8, 9
Ten... eleven...
Twelve.

Time...
An asset.
A force in its own.
So controlling.
So exhilarating.
So...
Annihilating.

It takes things away,
Brings them to life,
Tells us what the difference is between day and night.
Gives us things to look forward to
And to look back on...

This.
Is key,
Is life,
Is death,
Is money,
Time is ticking; Fathom it.


Details | Free verse | |

Self reflection part 2

So I sit here and self reflect going through the lessons I was taught and forced to 
spit out the right answers I disagreed with and now have the chance to say Hitler 
was the victim
and in Vietnam there was no hero but a cleansing of getting rid of thousand of 
serial killers desperate for the love of an abusive god they didn’t know how to 
stand up against who wanted someone to blame
 When we write the next history book of lies about today’s liars and propaganda 
and confusion
And if I could sneak into the history pages
What lessons would I try to teach the students of a continent to say you don’t 
have to have church in school for there to be a god 
Look at me look at me
Figure out my riddle
If you’re that brave but write down the wrong answer or you’re in trouble
And then wait to find like-minded individuals

What lesson would I teach the world using all of the world’s actors?
Me as everybody’s fool
So the spiritually impoverished could study one chapter of history and walk away
with their hands full of gems and spiritual crowns and realize
they now have a test of psychology to figure out all the pieces of their world
to under stand the script we have written for them
and who amongst them are false and true prophets either playing along or who 
knows what domino is going to catastrophically going to fall

What’s the perfect act for my actors with me to carry them into history?
If I could just sneak in
But how do I get in there?
How do I show them history doesn’t care if you’re skinny or fat?
Ugly or beautiful
Stupid or smart

Do I care what essays the might write about me in the future if I was to make it in 
comparison to our politicians
Would there be a whole course in school called figuring out the world’s scripts 
101

I could change the world if you let me
And in all honest as I protest some things here and there
You are another domino
and a piece of my claim to my fame
and maybe one day it will be someone else
but 27 years of serenading me and stealing my dreams
Id rather have lived my hell on earth for a reason of where vie cried for the world
and had the confusion as to why my names are songs to be for good
then to be jealous of a man who spent three days in my shoes and was crucified
for trying to live a lie
But ignorance is bliss





Details | Free verse | |

Eden Return

Hysterical laughter in eternity
still crying out at the hypocrisy
of life lived under the thumbs
of the oppressing ones.
Freedom they said they would give us
If we asked the king to forgive us.
and if we agree to pay tribute
they would stop the rape and loot
we didn't even know
which ones were in control
at any point in time
the fully sublime
shiftings of power
by the day and the hour
locked in the ivory tower
and away from the peasant earth digger
they had much bigger
things to accomplish, than just a pleasant life.
And all the strife they laid upon us all
was part of the fall
from dignity.
It's a pity.
Then came the mines and the factories
warriors needed to keep the keys
to the city gates in the right hands
none of us really understands
the workings of the minds that need
so badly to succeed
that life has no meaning or worth.
Even less for planet earth.
And she's dying
and no one is trying
to revive her.
Now they want to survive her
and credit card shackles still hold the debtors prison
third world vision
is incomplete
no one can compete
in world markets controlled by the elite
we are the billion feet
of the crawling beast.
and at least
we could know why we chose it.
Just suppose it
could change.
Seems strange.
But if the feet stop running the treadmill of fear
and we all held dear
what was important, sacred, the sane
would we stop acid rain?
What if our lawns became gardens all
could we reverse Edens fall?
What if our children could eat and play
from natures sweet bounty every day?
Would cancer disappear if we stopped the spray?
and left no more poison where children play?
What if we made our own industries
in each of our communities?
What if we made windmills and power the sun
we may have just begun
a revolution
that holds a solution
for our planets peace.
I release my rage at the beastly machine
that holds destruction, Pull myself from in between
the cogs of the wheel of the corporate dream
and paint a new picture in the sky.
Of streets and towns and city planning true
ways and solutions that work for me and you
and the earth's evolution could take another turn
where we do not burn
in the hell of nuclear wastelands
It will take many hands
to undo the self fulfilling prophesies of armageddon
Get on board, this train is moving. get on
with it. We all fit in the grand plan,
the saving grace of man.


Details | Rhyme | |

Holocaust Day of Remembrance

Note:  Every year the government sets aside a Day of Remembrance for the 
Holocaust.  This year it is the first week of May.  Please share this with everyone so 
that none of us or our children ever forget.


They rounded us up one day in the rain
Herded us into a cattle-car train
We were just Jews, it was simple and plain
The pain – we must always remember

When the train stopped there were so many dead
Ushered into two groups, tears were all shed
Weak ones culled out and away they were led
That said – we must always remember

None of this ever has made any sense
Staying alive in good health our defense
We'd spend every day praying out by the fence
Consequence – we must always remember

At night we would gather and in silence we pray
Pray that we make it through one more day
What tomorrow would bring – no one could say
Today – we must always remember

Each morning we’d line up; they’d walk down the rows
Deciding who lives; deciding who goes
Each morning we’d pray that we weren’t one of those
God knows – we must always remember

And the stench in the camp from the ovens by noon
Reminded us all of our impending doom
Relief from this hell-hole could not come too soon
Repugn – we must always remember

There were thousands of us left back in the damp
In our bunks, in the ovens, or the cattle-car ramps
And surviving this ordeal left its own stamps
The camps – we must always remember

So each year we gather on Remembrance Day
To honor the loved ones who have passed away
And the horrible price that they had to pay
We pray – we will always remember


Details | Narrative | |

Who I was to who I am

There I was and yet here I still am
once chasing that feeling,now with Gods help and by His grace
becoming a good man
my mother prayed and grandma cried... my actions said I didn't care
back there are haunting memories,situations,instances I seldom ever share
when He sat me down in a concrete room... I cried myself to sleep
wondering of who I'd become,trying on my own to be strong... but,still feeling so weak
I prayed and asked Jesus to pick me up once again
I apologized and prayed to my savior "Lord get me out of this sin!"
so here I am years later with a life I call my own
reading my Bible by the morning light,praising my God who has restored so much
and blessed me, with life, a saved wife, and a home!


Details | Light Poetry | |

The evils of war

Was not every one a child?
Joy to their mother and father
And growing up as a kid
With wonder and laughter

Then they go to school 
Playing games having fun
And become a voice for others
When they don’t have one

Then some give hope to the people
Giving speeches from their tower
Then commits inhumane atrocities
When they get the taste of power

Today the worlds are full of hate
An evil that has no end
While many starves to death
For war money are spend

Men like Adolph Hitler, Robert Mugabe
George bush Jr, tony Blair, ayatollah Khomeini
Kim jong ll, idi amin, Benjamin Netanyahu
Just to name a few criminals of humanity

Pol pot murders millions in Cambodia
And the world close their eyes
The unspeakable crimes in Rwanda
Where over 500.000 people dies

I guess if the country had oil
They would have been alive today
But if you are poor nation
The United Nations looks the other way

Some kill in the name of religion
Some kills to steal your land
Some are kill by drones for just
Attending a wedding function

Hundreds of innocent are killed
By drones that they can’t see
But they are just collateral damage
But not those at Benghazi

North Korea says we have
weapons of destruction's right here
But they went to search in Iraq
Kill millions but find it nowhere

The evils of war will continue
Many more bad days still to past
More war criminals to be born
And be children playing on the grass

Many choose to cover their eyes
If it doesn't affect them, they don’t care
So while sit here writing this poem 
I can’t help it but shed a tear


Details | Rhyme | |

What If Christmas Disappeared


What if Christmas never happened? What if Christmas never came? Things around here would be different! It wouldn’t be the same! What if the baby Jesus was never born in a manger? Mankind would be in serious trouble. We’d all be in danger! If the baby Jesus wasn’t born. There would be no nativity. We wouldn’t be able to display this during our “festivity.” It’s almost like this now! It’s an “ever increasing business.” It seems like nearly everyone wants “Christ out of Christmas!” Why does it seem like Christmas is losing it’s true meaning? The very words; “Merry Christmas,” seem to be quickly disappearing! Many say; “Happy Holiday.” They worry they may “offend.” Having a “holiday” without Christ…. Once again! We need to put Jesus Christ back into our CHRISTmas season! He is what Christmas is about! HE is the very reason! May we all take some time to rejoice in our savior’s birth. May there be shouts of JOY! From the corners of the earth! Let’s not take Christ out of our joyous celebration! We need him so much right now! All over this great nation! May we bring to him a heart of love for everything he’s done. As we bring honor to Christ. God’s precious son! May we continually offer to him a heart filled with praise! Not only at Christmas time… But all of our days! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Rhyme | |

2012...

2012...It's almost here, I wonder what will take place?
     What I fear is the annihilation of our human race!
2012...Will the sun fall from the sky and destroy all life on the planet?
     Come Dec. 21, 2012, I don't want to die, but this waiting, I can't stand it!
2012...I wonder what we'll see, I guess anything goes.
     But what will be cool to me is actually seeing some UFO's!
2012...Will other life forms appear and look like you and me?
     Will giant beams come from the atmosphere and then we are history?!
2012...I think these events will take place and we'll be living among the Martian men.
     So keep your eyes towards space for the Mayan Calender is about to end!!


*Note: Wrote for Gareth James contest "2012"


Details | Rhyme | |

Elvis, Still The King

Elvis Aron Presley was from the period of time,
of the coolest with slicked back black hair,
and he could shake those legs at singin' time...
Yea! the people loved him everywhere,

He'd curl that lip, let his back-bone slip,
and make the girls scream out loud, real wild!
He'd shake his hips, twist 'n' dip,
in rhythm he'd croon the croud,

No matter where he'd go, nearly every heart he'd seize,
and Elvis stole the show, even in his movies,
Yea! Elvis stole the show, everywhere he'd go,
and Elvis is still the King of good ol' rock and roll!

We'll always love his blues, rock 'n' roll too,
the ol' time hits the radio still plays,
His blue suede shoes and other awesome tunes,
matched his charismatic ways,

He'd shake his hips, twist 'n' dip,
in rhythm he'd croon the crowd,
he'd curl that lip, let his backbone slip,
and make the girls screams out loud, real wild,

No other voice could sing, yes, I'll have you know,
like Elvis.....the king, of good ol' rock and roll!
Yea! Elvis stole the show, and my heart and soul,
and Elvis is still the king....of good ol' rock and roll!!!!

Those rhinestone suits, flashy shoes and boots,
Go cat, go cat, go-o-o-o-o-o!


Details | Free verse | |

Third Eye of Humanity

Humanity has a gift that has been long forgotten.
Some call it a feeling, some call it just intuition.
We all have some sort of reaction to different things.
Dreams, provide information if you understand.
We all have senses that we rely on, in many ways.
Third eye, known as part of the chakra,
Vortices from the chakra, shows in energy,
Ancient beliefs, used for visual transportation,
Beyond what we know as time-space continuum,
Past acknowledgements were held in superstition,
We can and will harness this anomaly in the future.
For I myself have slight abilities of seeing future events.


Written for

Sponsor ^Rick Parise 
Contest Name Spirit Eye NEW CONTEST 


Details | Rhyme | |

We Salute Our Veterans

We Salute Our Veterans…

We salute every soldier who’s
 served this great nation.
And offer a heart of thanks
 and appreciation!

We salute each member 
of our armed forces.
And are thankful for their
 efforts and resources!

We salute the many who 
protect our borders too.
We’d be in trouble…  
If not for people like YOU!

We salute every son and 
daughter lost in a war.
YOU are what serving this
 country is meant for!

We salute the officers who’ve 
guided our women and men.
Our prayers are with you!  
And our love from within!

We salute our veterans!  
Wherever they may be!
Those who served on
 land, air and sea!

Offering prayer to the
 Lord is our belief…
That he will guide our
 Commander-in-Chief!

As we observe Veteran’s Day this year…
Let’s offer our soldiers
 love, hope and cheer…

May God bless them in
 all they endeavor
And his peace be with them
 today and forever!!

By Jim Pemberton


Details | Narrative | |

THE WORLD I SEE

ALL THE PLACES- ALL THE FACES
EACH ITS OWN UNIQUE BEAUTY
CREATED FROM ABOVE
DIFFERENCES UNABLE TO UNITE
WHY IS IT THAT ONLY NEGATIVITY HAS TAKEN FLIGHT?
 
ALL THE DIFFERENT PLACES
ALL THE DIFFERENT FACES
GAMES BEING PLAYED WITH HUMAN LIVES USED AS BARGAINING CHIPS 
 
THE OUTCOME DOESN’T REALLY MATTER
WITH EVERY TRIUMPH AND WITH EVERY DEFEAT
OUR HUMANITY SEEMS TO FADE FURTHER AND FURTHER AWAY
 
 ALL THESE DIFFERENT FACES 
AND ALL THESE DIFFERENT PLACES
SOULS ARE FOR SALE AND INNOCENCE IS A VIRTUE LOST
AND THERE IS NO RESPONSIBILITY TO BE HAD
 
EACH UNIQUE BEAUTY 
CREATED FROM ABOVE
DIFFERENCES UNABLE TO UNITE
I ASK MYSELF WHY IS IT THAT ONLY NEGATIVITY HAS TAKEN FLIGHT
 
SO MUCH HATRED AND SORROW TO BE SEEN IN THEIR EYES
NO TIME TO RUN AND NO PLACE TO HIDE
ESCAPE IS NO LONGER AN OPTION
 
THE TIME HAS COME FOR THE GREED AND CORRUPTION TO END
CHANGE IS THE ONLY HOPE
 
IT IS NOW TIME FOR ALL THESE DIFFERENT PLACES AND DIFFERENT FACES TO BLIND THEMSELVES FROM
THE SUPERFICIAL
THE DIFFERENCES THAT DIVIDED US IN THE PAST SHOULD BE FORGOTTEN FOR NOW WE MUST STAND TALL
AS ONE 


Details | Haiku | |

Promiscuity's Obscurity

Promiscuity
self-indulgence, did you wreak
you, did judgement seek


Details | Rhyme | |

Where botterflies go

where butterflies go
when summer is no more
spider webs when the clouds roll out
and the rain begins to pour
highway lights where tears dry
pavement holds the heat
sidewalk beside graffiti walls
echos from the street


Details | Light Poetry | |

Do The Wah Wah

Wah Wah
       Ha   Ha

Jimmy
      Was  He

Overdrives
       Amplifies


High Gain
     Ear  Pain

Thumb Fret
    You  Bet

B . B. King
   Idol's Zing

Hall Of Fame
  Bears His Name

  Jimmy Hendrix
      But Buster Sticks


Details | Free verse | |

Home

     This is the place where I grew up.
This is where I took that first unsure step.
Right here is where I snuck  my first Love 
up to my room.
This wood and glass and cracking mortar 
makes not this a home
There were dreams and hopes here 
that hold these four walls together better than any bond.
Within these walls I have loved and laughed and cried.
Is this what  makes a home?
All of my hopes and dreams were born within these walls.
I have learned the lessons that made me a man
growing up in this abode.
Does the warmth and love and family 
make a place to dwell?
Then the answer clear came to me 
as i look at this house in disrepair.
I realize it's all the memories that make
this place of life a home.


Details | Rhyme | |

Are We Discriminating Against God


We often hear this topic across our nation. Another person crying; “discrimination.” In our many attempts to not discriminate. It seems like it’s God that we seek to eliminate. It seems like we’ve come up with our own “rules.” And somehow have turned into a bunch of “fools.” We accept many perversions of various kinds… But God himself? We seem to close our minds! In many of our lives, we’ve “kicked “ him out. And refuse what he really is about! The words, “In God we trust...” Our money bears it! Anything of God? We’re afraid to share it! It seems like the courts almost say he doesn’t exist! And have brought much confusion into our midst! As many say it’s “offensive” to display a cross… Many godly values have already been lost! It’s time to wake up America! And begin to see! The kind of country we’re beginning to be! A country that’s foundation is getting off course. Being driven by a wicked and ungodly force! Out only hope is in God! And him alone! We must invite him back into our homes! To God and his word we must hold secure and fast! He is our only hope, that our country will last! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Rhyme | |

Conway Twitty, Boyhood Memories

Some of those boyhood memories,
only so often come around,
so when they do, I set them free,
on paper I write them down,

When I was younger living at Blackiston Mill..
I had a rocking horse,
and I remember the day I took a spill,
as I hit the floor head first,

And I remember my pet squirrel,
and me learning how to roller skate,
the very first time I kissed a girl....
before I was old enough to date,

And I remember when mom and dad,
moved us to the city....
when I was just a lad....
listening to the songs of Conway Twitty,

Yes, he'll forever be missed by me,
and his songs still come to mind...
a great writer and singer of musical history,
One Great Legend of all times!


Details | Senryu | |

Never Told a Lie

if George Washington
never told a lie, then no
president has lied


Details | Couplet | |

The Power of You

Human nature the epitome of despair
Ask around, does anybody care?

The submissive to the strong and the strong to the circumstance
Historically falling into the same traps by chance

Prove a point by looking the other way
Or step-up and change today

The problem with living in this Democracy?
We can’t see the walls when we assume we’re free

When simple ideas are fed with simple lies
The power overwhelms the opposition’s cries

We live to love
Some obsessed with the power above

The power of faith can blind
Sometimes true answers are harder to find

Criticism is an instinct
Try to slow down and think

The ideal for you 
Can’t always be true

The world can’t change overnight
But we’ll never know if we never try


Details | Rondeau | |

Pulling

Wool over my eyes
In life that happens many times
Wool over my eyes
Someone laughing in others cries
Our nature grows as our youth climbs
We never seal our heartfelt crimes
Wool over my eyes


written by
Cecil Hickman

written for
Sponsor nette onclaud 
Contest Name WEAVE A RONDELET 


Details | I do not know? | |

Autobiography

07.06.2009

Autobiography

My life’s not easy to describe -
It’s like a secret history book,
A sum of many past evens
That one prefers to overlook -
Private uprisings, ghetto walls
Of airless thoughts in shrinking space
Private oppression and revolt -
Private riots against disgrace

Private rebellion, opposition -
And martial laws – by whom declared?
Awakenings, Round Table talks -
And endless freedom I demand

Outbursts of passion where there shall
Just bliss and tranquility be –
You yearn to know?
Well, there you are –
Open that book
And you’ll see
Me.  


Details | Rhyme | |

Suppression of Perception by Oppression

Complacency of the agencies
Who aimlessly remain racist

Tying up the little one's by the wrist
Why must the holy become rapists?

Is this what life should consist
Of?
As they pray up above
Yet, persist on never showing love?

So they stuff their faces
With a thousand disgraces
& sins, yet, the cheater never wins
Death is not the end, but where it all begins

Our future is the re-incarnation
Of our thoughts
The masses induce their own
Mental blood clots

Oh, i almost forgot
You're being watched by the robots
That will never rot
So, remember who fought

The ones under your nose like pans & pots
Under your feet like kitchen tiles
As they prowl like the Nile crocodiles
Yet, they're just vile pedophiles

Who can longer reconcile
All while
The bodies exponentially
Pile

Everyone eventually becomes senile
After 3 miles
Of endless aisles
In the petri dish & vials

Of our planet
That's composed of granite
Built by masons who
Banish the masses

Until they vanish the classes
With the whip that lashes
& never relaxes

Ashes to ashes...


Details | Rhyme | |

There Shall Come A Great Tribulation

There Shall Come A Great Tribulation!

You’ll find In the Bible... 
In the book of Revelation.
One day... There shall come
 a great tribulation.

There shall be famine and war 
this world has never seen.
"Satan's fury" being poured 
out upon everything.

The Antichrist will appear 
as "the world leader."
"The man with all of the answers."  
"A great world healer."

People won't be able to buy or sell
 without a mark on their hand.
While corruption and wickedness 
prevails throughout the land.

Our only hope and answer during 
much chaos and anxiety.
Is Jesus.  In HIM we can 
have life abundantly!

This world shall one day 
perish and pass away.
 God's truth and his word are here to stay!

Come to Jesus now... 
He invites you to come.
Accept the gift of eternal life 
from God's precious son!

He's our only hope in this
 world which we live.
He is so patient and kind... 
willing to forgive.

Will your name be in God's 
book of life someday?
Are you ready to meet him on judgment day.

This world... or Jesus... the choice
 by you must be made.
The price for your soul... 
on Calvary... has been paid!

By Jim Pemberton


Details | Lyric | |

The Ugly American

When Europeans first came to America, it seemed to be their role...
To reach out with both hands, for all the goods and lands they stole.

When our nation was founded by men of vision...
They spoke out, their king showed them nothing but derision.

The colonization by troops and taxes imposed were so unfair...
Liberty from him was declared, fought for, and taken from there.

The thefts of that king were small by any means...
To the way we have treated our fellow Americans.

We continued to take the Indians' lands...
Never thinking twice, of the blood on our hands.

We greeted the black man with whip and chains...
Can we ever remove the ghosts of their pains?

Yes, we drenched our land red with blood to set them free...
But prejudice remains, even after more than a century.

We have helped set so many peoples free with our aid in war...
Have we forgotten at home, just what was fought for?

"Ours is the greatest country" we tend to shout...
Yet, the Ugly American still lurks about.

The world watches us with wonder and awe...
Many hate or envy us, because of our human nature's flaw.

Many cast for hope, but reel in despair...
The things we do to others, we must do with better care.

The Greatest Generation the world will ever know...
Is slowly dying, their life's light passing out, as darkening embers go.

If our nation should have learned anything...
It must be that millions suffer to have Freedom's Ring.

Our understanding and compassion will go a long way...
To let them see, the "Ugly American's " face, as not so ugly one day.


Details | Sonnet | |

Sonnet?

Every second passes by me unseen But I can feel the weight of one minute After each hour my mind becomes keen: That these days are adding up bit by bit. Each week my personality alters A year goes by and my mind starts to twist Decades pass and it seems as time falters, My mentality gets lost in time’s mist. Yet when I am with you the clock stands still If only I could exploit these feelings I could stop the sands of time at my will But I’m not capable of these dealings Time now steals what I already forgot My mind starts to fade but our love will not


Details | Didactic | |

The Foolishness of Racism

A rose is flower
   No matter the shade
       Be it yellow or red, makes it no less
                Which shade is superior? None!

An apple is a fruit
  No matter the shade-
    Be it red, yellow or green makes it no less:
          Which shade is superior? None!

There are trees: the oak, the maple, the myrtle, the fir; the sycamore, the pine, 
etc.; each coming in different shades and colors and tones at various times-
color makes no difference; their shade changes not the fact that they are all trees-
no more and no less: Which shade is superior? None!

A person is a human: a living, breathing being created in the Image of All Mighty 
God;
The skin of which has many shades, colors and tints: light, brown, pale, dark, 
black or chocolate.  Which shade is superior? None.

No matter the tint or color or shade, each should be acknowledge by their 
character's content.

One man is not supreme to another because he is light(white)
Not inferior because he is dark(black) or somewhere in between(all others)
For we've all been created by the "Father of Light;" the Creator who gave us all 
human life.

Race is not a matter of skin color!  We are all "equal" by blood and by breath!
We are thus all the same needing "true" love for happiness.

So valuing another human being by color is a sign of foolish ignorance that each 
of us must abandon; cast aside; stamp out with every ounce of our strength-
So that Earth can be livable: a peaceful, loving habitation where every one is 
somebody "special" and "unique" for its what's inside the heart of the mind that 
matters and will ultimately determine our true destiny.

So what will it be?
Will we be in bondage or will we be free? And drop this thought of race by skin 
color so that all of us(all mankind) can strive to be every thing our Heavenly 
Creator meant for us to be.


Details | Rhyme | |

Prose Not

Time for change
Cant look back
Must move forward
Keep on track
Search for Happiness
In every step
Behind each corner
Silently wept
Skeletons hide
Turning to ash
Memories no more
Drowned in the past
Life renewed
Death forgets
Hindered actions
Untimely regret
True to one
Bearing all
Listen intently
Waiting the call


Details | I do not know? | |

Land of my Father

Land where my fathers died,
but was it all in vain,
I'm sure the ones before me cried,
When they call his name...
Some still say we've come so far,
But man I beg to differ,
The games the same the rules have changed,
Just penalties much stiffer...
This house of cards they built with bars,
Are built on the foundation,
That if you build it they will come,
To seek incarceration...
So the numbered ones who lack the sum,
Will forget the taste of freedom,
And glamourize they they've  become,
All the reasons we don't need them...





Details | Acrostic | |

Full Circle

From darkness was where creation started.
Universally life acquired existence slowly.
Light the power which gave life openhearted.
Love which came grew into passion fluently.

Coming from the power of glory as been told,
Imploding creativity of the soul so sincere,
Revolving into the black holes that appear cold,
Cycles of life may begin again, so ever near.
Look into the abyss, see not dark, see the gold.
Everything has an end, though have no fear.


Details | Free verse | |

What If

what if there was no religion?
what if we spent Sunday mornings in a park, not in a church?
what if people gave out encyclopedias, not bibles?
what if instead of fighting over our beliefs, we celebrated our uncertainty?
what if instead of blind faith, we had insightful curiosity? 
what if instead of religious conviction, we had rational perception?
what if our morals were shaped from real life experience, not from a book? 
what if people were proactive with their concern, and did not pray? 
what if love was unconditional, not contingent?
what if you had freedom, not a plan?
what if people were good, because they are good, not because they are afraid to be bad?
what if people did crazy things because they are crazy, not because they are raised crazy?
what if earth is just lucky to be here, and is not made for you?
what if we lived our life, on our own terms?
would that be so bad?










Details | Haiku | |

occam's haiku

   OCCAM'S HAIKU

   Wise Occam 
 philosopher craves
    cut the crap


Details | Free verse | |

Corsica

I am part of the land
the granite and limestone
that contain relics
of man's beginnings.
I stand on the mountain looking
over the water, pure in its shades
of blue as it reaches into the 
caverns along the coast.
The land rises to unknown heights
daring man to conquer it, to live on it.
The remnants of fortresses align the coast
standing guard against unknown forces.
From the Greeks and Romans I draw my blood
continuing the ways, the languages, as I observe
the Europeans with their yachts using
my land as a playground.


Details | Free verse | |

my future lover

My future lover…
When I get hurt I cry 
When my heart is bandaged
I smile 
When I try hardly to cover what is hard to say 
I lay in silence till another day 
When I get scared I look at you & 
Say: - God in this house I hope remain 
When I get scratched or lonely or angry
I scream & fight & destroy my world 
When everyone renounced me 
You’re the one that stayed
Supporting, loving, & giving me a smile each day 
Each day ….each time you see me in pain 
When no one in this world tries to understands me 
You walk closer & spend a whole day trying 
When I feel cold, you give me your jacket 
When I try so hardly & it never works
You convince me to stand up & give the failure a succeed 
When I get uncovered in my sleep
You come to check & cover me back 
You take care of me while I’m sick 
You hit my back while I cough 
You wake me up to go to school
You help me with my algebra h.w
You remind me of a medicine I must take
You accompany me to the hospital if I had a break 
I have a million pics of you
Not in an album, but in my heart
You play with me my favorite game
You toss & spin & swim & win
You make me dinner when I’m late
I apologize and the candles had took place
You give me the warmth of a million suns
You are so deep like a million poems
You never judge me by the way I look 
You always care about what’s in
What I like about you is…
You never miss a day telling me a love you…







Details | Rhyme | |

Ecclesiastes 9:9-12

Wise Solomon called it vanity
that men should strive to gain
more earthly possessions than wisdom
even tho it brings strife and pain.

For we know not what time we are given
tho we be snared in an evil time.
So live joyfully with whom thou lovest
that true joy your heart shall find.


Details | I do not know? | |

OUR KING IS INSANE

Clad in his double-breasted royal toga
Filled of nothing but pride and anger
His face as grim as a Pallbearer’s
His gaze dreadful and fearful like that of 
A raging rattlesnake about to strike
His eyes crackling charcoal fire-red
His dancing tummy under his “Agbada”
Reminds me of a dancing Porcupine

He paces round his palace
A house built on a Rock in the Niger-Area
He fumes and puffs like a spitting Cobra . . . 
“My eyes of pity had gone blinded
Only those of nakedness built on wickedness
Shone in my vibrating Golgotha  
Let no man speak of hunger with anger
For I find people not scavenging on the garbage
Let no one talk of thirst in a haste
For our River Niger is like that of River Marah
It brings only taste of grouchiness and  sullenness

Let men in the Niger-Area speak not of hoarding of food
For Farming is the only way to more days of famine
Speak not of hike in the Oil from our ground
For its very dear in the other neighbouring lands 
Rejoice my people for the benevolence have shown you
I shall rule and rule  forever till there are people to rule no more”
Our King is indeed insane for sanity left him long ago
A vivaciously looking Chimpanzee in the Niger-Area Forest
A chirpy Chimera of the Black Race, unto him I bow piously

I have impatiently listened to his drunken fits of eloquence 
My king smells like a gouard of wine full of petulance
As I bore the sting of his unrivaled drunken ribaldry
I weep for a King who is as old as Methuselah
I wonder whether he had ever smell childhood
For he looks as if he had always been old from 
The very  scaring day he was let out of his Mother’s womb
His Majesty old and worn out like a dry hell

Let him run into the Market with nakedness on his head 
Let our people beat and stone insanity out of him
Let the people in the Niger- Area Arise and thread 
Like the Strong and the Mighty with history of Victory
And arrest our oppressors and other fanatical Kingpins
And let them be taken like urchin for their tyranny
And turpitude has attained untold heights




Alayande Stephen .T
5th  December, 2005
12.45pm

Conceptualized after the furore of  OBJ’s 
Third term bid for continuity of hunger ,
Anger and excruciating Poverty for mass of the people.


Details | Rhyme | |

To Lee Harvey Oswald, my Lover

            Fire
Flames – destroying everything –
Flames – I felt their heat –
The whirling world – it cannot stand—
In fevered circuit melts.

Those flames traverse
Throughout my bones,
Rage, hot, across my nerves,
Consuming all the stars I see
In heaven’s stretched-out canopy.

Fire – burning in my soul –
Fire – I felt its heat—
The dervish lust was scarce concealed
When he kissed my feet.

My firm and frail virginity--
My bosom -- plucked by him,
No apples bit in Paradise
More ample with our sin.

Flames – destroying everything –
When true love caught me up
From that false vintage that I quaffed
From a false Loving Cup.

O, you burnt brighter than the lust
That, fiery, op’d my doors;
And in your passion, warm with love,
A galaxy was born.

                                             Jan. 11, 2009   Istanbul
Background for this poem: Lee Harvey Oswald was falsely accused of killing President 
Kennedy. I was in contact with Lee only 37 1/2 hours before the assassination.  Don't believe 
what propaganda-writing paid flunkies have written about me or about LHO. The cover-up is 
real, and thinking people now have the evidence on YouTube and elsewhere. See my website 
at  http://www.judythvarybaker.com  for more information. I'm writing this note of 
explanation because other poems here also refer to Lee Oswald, such as "The Magazine 
Bus," and "Lord of the Galaxies."  My book, Me & Lee: How I Came to Know, Love and Lose 
Lee Harvey Oswald, will be published this spring by Trine Day Publications.  This is the latest 
of dozens of poems written about LHO, some of which are published here at Poetr Soup.


Details | Narrative | |

Question life

I'm told that I should just have faith
I'm told that is the road to God
the love of God is faith
With faith I should then follow

Do not attempt to see
do not attempt to understand
the thoughts that God conceived
yet faith to me is hollow

sometimes deceived by man
do not the suicide bombers
have faith within their hands
they walk with faith and then destroy

The innocent do bleed
the church with faith fought 
the crusades 
great money made with death

again with faith the witch hunts
took many to their deaths
no my friend I will not lead
I do not want that job

Instead I would then have you ask
yourself for Gods insight
do not follow do not lead
with faith do not make others bleed

Stand up for what you think yourself
and question what you read
is what they say the truth I ask
I do believe with questions speak


Details | Free verse | |

Obstacle

We didn't start out this way
We didn't plan for this
We created this

Our ancestors didn't think about
Corporations
and
Cars

What were their dreams?
Were they as materialistic as ours?

Survival only has one road
But many potential avenues to travel

It all ends up the same
My friend

Death
That final unconquerable
Obstacle


Details | Narrative | |

My Generation

On a crisp blue morning
Like any other day
Abruptly evolving
Into a horrific display

Few words describe
This event of destruction
Automatically you blame
Political corruption

Who else are you to blame
But our elected chief?
In all actuality
Labeled in fictional belief

The cards are all
Now on the table
Justice must be brought
By any means able

Yet now you criticize
Our leader's standing declaration
Whatever happened
To this nation's protection?

Now watched by the world
On satalite television
Explosions and death
In high definition

Now shown to the world
This terror named war
And YOU now ask
"What are we fighting for?"

Freedom and independence
Our inalienable rights
For which often
We still must fight

Jealousy and resentment
Hidden behind religion based hate
Failed to be realized
Is this trajic date?

Enragement short lived,
By our nation as a whole
Crying and complaining
About our soldiers death tole

Fighting for us
They are defending our nation
Yet to be supported
By our ignorant MTV generation

All of your "children"
Signed up for their job
When needed they fight
Now they're purpose you rob

Hide in your burrows
For you should'nt be seen
Spineless is this generation
Lacking the integrity it needs


Details | Free verse | |

You Must Set Yourself On Fire

A thousand midnights tread,
Highwire circus acts
Traversing the lavender Horizon-crease;

I memorize such sudden perforations,
Keep them under my swollen tongue
Only to purge them gracelessly
Back into your fist.
Replace my stumbling almost-words
With vastness:
A self-induced universe freckled by
Cauterized cigarette burn stars
And half empty beer cans.

I fill my lungs with feral smog,
You fill your head with smoke;
My nose trickles blood freely.

And if it was not for such ongoing facades--
Psuedointelect, rabid romances,
My world on unstable axis--
We might have,
By now,
Enshrined our Hearts in plaster molds,
Traded our eyes for seaglass pebbles.

The cherry blossoms have yet to bloom under
This hemisphere of the city:
Bare branches claw against dusk
and, in masochistic frost,

You burn your fingerprints into
My back.



"You Must Set Yourself on Fire"
Jenna-Nichole Conrad
Wordsmith


Details | Senryu | |

Spiritual Introspection

Solitude will breathe
Spiritual introspection
Communing with God


Details | Senryu | |

Finale

Finale
Streams of tears falling;
His crepuscular brawn years,
Embracing his end.


Details | Free verse | |

Buried Alive!

Buried Alive!

Where am I?
I can’t move!

What is this that 
I’ve been put in?
I was asleep and 
now I wake up in this?

How did I get here?
What type of
Twisted joke is this?

Who in the hell
Would do this to me?
What the crap!

The top is so 
close to my face,
Between me and the
Top there’s 
hardly any space!

What the hell!
I can’t even turn around.
I try to scream,
And my voice echoes.

Oh my God!
I must be underground.
I’m getting hot and sweaty.
It’s getting harder 
and harder to breath!

What am I going to do?
What the bloody 
hell am I going to do?

I have claustrophobia
And I’m locked in this
Freaking box!

I’m trapped in this tight space
And I can’t even move,
There’s nothing I can do!
I have no control over
My body and my breathing!
God help me!
I need you, please 
get me out of here!

This is the worst place
I could ever be in!
I’d rather be raped or
Stabbed or anything
Besides this!

Get me out of here,
This is my worst haunting fear!
Who would do this to me?

…and now I have to pee,
I can’t even move my arms
To unbutton my jeans!
Oh well, now
I’m pissing all over 
Myself.
Great, I might die 
With diaper rash.

The air is getting thinner
And thinner, I’ve got to
Calm down.

I’m going to die
Buried alive
Underground,
Without being
Found.

I’m going to die
Without making
The slightest sound!

I’m withering
Away, soon
I won’t be
Around,
I’m fading away.

Who knew
I would
Die today?

Turning blue
Without anything
To do about it!

Get me out of here God
Get me out!



I wrote this poem about my worst fear.  I wrote it for a contest.  I do have this phobia.  
When I was a little girl one of my older cousins locked me in a hope chest and left me there 
for hours.  Finally an adult heard me and let me out.  Since then I've had this phobia.  I wish 
I could some how get rid of this fear.


Details | Free verse | |

Widow Delivered

I find myself a guest in this house.
Extraordinary creature,
Rest at display.
Awake before the sun will rise.
Mysterious fortune,
Come and arrive.
Drifting into hopeless dreams.
Bloodied teething,
Smile and beam.
Reaching for a wrinkled birth.
Volume of difference,
Drink in the earth.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Who Needs You Now

You have fought for your country
You have heard the calls of death
And felt the loss of blood
And now, no one hears or cares
About the tears you cry
You fought a fools war
Inspired by heroic deeds
Majestic words of honor and fame
From people who never knew your name
Many were those who fled
And endured behind their protest signs
But you, you fought the war
Lost your limbs and gained insight into reality
It was you who came back less than human
And now you stand alone at night
Lost and forgotten men
Tell me, tell me who needs you now
Where are the people
Who gave you hell
Where are the people
Who cried to bring you home
Who marched for your life
While you marched to your death
Where are the people
Who loved you when it was the thing to do
And fought for your cause
While you wondered what it was
As you watched your buddies fade away
Heroes and medals
Tell me, what does it all mean
Now that you stand alone at night
Lost and forgotten men
And tell me, tell me, who needs you now
Now that our memory fades
Of those who served and the reasons why
All we seem to do
Is stand aside and watch them die
And tell me Brothers
Who needs you now?


Details | Free verse | |

What are Subdivisions?

The supermarket lines,
senior discounts at the driving range-
wheels sitting
on silent streets staring quietly.
Oh, what good
can come on a Detroit suburban
afternoon? It all started, and
it all will end
sometime.
But, the subdivisions are endless,
and so are the days.
Sit. Watching the sun watch
those streets
those afternoon streets.

Bottle return on wednesday,
coca-cola thursday
and an Irish bar friday.
And those are Society's
best days.
They are the O.K. days.
The day when
you can forget who you are?
What are subdivisions?


Details | I do not know? | |

Death Star

What's more beautiful than us being made,
From a heavenly body that started to fade,
Matter compressed to the head of pin,
Until it released so that life could begin...
Scattered thru galaxies towards every star,
What was a fallacy tore it apart,
If you think circumstance couldn't be chance,
Why is mathematical precision the one leading the 
dance...
Just what came to rest as it planted a seed,
That brought us to nest on this planet that bleeds,
A chance to survive could have ushered a plea,
So genes could evolve  undetected in me...
They gave us a road map so that one day,
We could break the code that is their DNA,
And not be afraid of whats found on the surface,
Each strand that was laid is for some greater 
purpose...
Look to the sky so you see where we're from,
But don't blink an eye when you stare at the sun,
The glare only hides the part that's veneer,
It was the death of a star that has gotten us here...







Details | Prose Poetry | |

to The Public

Not really a poem, but the truth of my being.

To the Public
WLM
Wildncrazy555
June 28, 2011

When I write the words just flow. I get an inspiration or a thought and have to write it down. 
Why, I do not know.  They just flow and all follow a story.  I write my innermost thoughts with 
the deepest passion imaginable and all are TRUE life experiences which have occurred in my life. 
I am diagnosed Severe Bipolar Disorder and disabled and draw SSDI. I no longer have to work 
from over 40 yrs in Maintenance and 2 degrees in Electronics and Electrical maintenance. I do 
draw disability now for over 2 yrs time and depression is a daily bout which I face every day, 
but try to be positive. The medicine I take is for my head and helps with mood swings and 
depression. As to date, I cannot read many of my works as I Bawl like a baby at most of 
them.  I remember when and how I felt when I wrote them.  But all of them follow a story to 
the end.  I cannot recite a single one because once written they are gone, otherwise they eat 
my Brain.  I am crying now as I write this and divulge my deepest thoughts and experiences of 
my life. I feel better now that it is gone from my head folks.  When a situation arises, I just 
know which ones will deserve recognition to be told.  I suffer from arthritis on my left side, my 
hands hurt all the time, and I practice herbal medicine for the pain.  I create my own remedies 
from my herbologist named Daryl Collins here in Okmulgee, he gives me the herbs and I am 
the guinea pig first and foremost for the experience.  Anyone else who suffers from this can 
contact me at trenton6896@yahoo.com.  I am willing to tell you the recipe for my
Creations.  I hope all appreciate this testimony of mine.  All I say is true to fact.
							William Lewis Moore
							June 28, 2011


Details | Rhyme | |

Baal

How oh Jehovah can they not know
the Woman Harlot of Mystery
to dine with Baal and teachings follow
has been exposed with her history
 
The teachings of pagans do endorse
promulgation of falsehood without remorse
consider not their celebrations source
entice others to follow their course
 
The incantation of the winged ones spoken
and soothsayers their fortunes do tell
In rites of passage the truth be broken
to absolve your sins priest craft bespell
 
They use ceremony in feigned ritual
they revile God and shake their chains
and demon poisoned is their victual
what is left is death in human remains
 
They claim with God to fellowship
necromancy and sorcery upon their lip
but what is taught does make man slip
conjuration by demons do augurs equip
 
The readers of omens and seers arts
Babylon the Great Harlot of Mystery
designed to destroy any purity in hearts
blood soaked debauchery is your history
 
Off key they sing a song of deception
to cloud mankind in his perception
artful device with the lies conception
contaminated minds with asps infection
 
To breath his air is foul beyond belief
Jesus who leads the way must you show
must partake the bread of life to get relief
so that the true God you may know
 
Favor is for those who truly seek your face
walk away from shadow into your light
contemn praise from man look only to your grace
desire clarity and vision within true sight
 
To seek your paths do I delight
into the day and splendor of the dawn
to the Laws of Love Jesus taught the right
it is a privilege to sing your song
 
sources Deuteronomy 18:9-12
IIChronicles 33:1-7
Romans 1:20-32 Apocalypse 9:1
chapters 17 and 18 Micah 5:12 Acts 8:9
Acts 16:16 Danial 2:27
 
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC


Details | Free verse | |

Eclipse

Touched by you, I am
Eclipsed:

Wanton, we gather superficially at the
Center of warm flesh,
Decoding one another's fractured forms.

I feel, for all purposes, in a 
Self-defeating sense, Desire
Of tidal proportions, an Oceanic
Onrush, only to be drowned in.


"Eclipse"
Jenna-Nichole Conrad
Wordsmith


Details | Light Poetry | |

9 11 new york

I remember my friend Clifford
Saying if I heard bout the plane
That had hit the trade center
Then I feel a chill run thru my vein

We all went outside to see
There was smoke from the building
Then the next plane comes again
And struck as we stand there looking

 We were right in the edge
Of the famous Hudson River
Where all the ships would receive
Then leave with their cargo to deliver

 I said hope every one is okay
And make it out alive
But I was so very wrong 
Because so many did not survive

And from that moment on
The world change for the worst
Wars and terrorism will forever
Spread through out the universe

So many innocent people died
Children, Husbands and wives
Muslims, Hindus, Christians, Jews
So many people losing their lives

And I remember being a Muslim
You start to live with a fear
Because there were random attacks
On Muslims and Indians every where

But it was just the acts some fools
Just like the fanatics on the planes
Because of the hatred in their hearts
The innocents will bear the pains

Some people will use a situation
To spread the hate that they feel
And some will use their understandings
To look at the facts the are real

9-11 will always be in my mind
It was the worst day of my life
And every year on the date
Will cut my heart like a knife

We all are made of flesh and blood
Regardless the color of our skin
And if we all try to live together
Then peace and love will win

I believe in and respect all religions
Although it was made by man
God just wants us to lover each other
It’s the biggest part of his plan

To the families who lost love ones
I can’t find the words to say
But on this date for ever
Together we all will pray


Details | Sonnet | |

My Spiritual Will

My worldly possessions, I leave to whoever is alive.
My words, I leave to who shall ever care to read.
My prayers of hope, I give for all that do survive.
My thoughts, I have shared orally to fix a need.

I shall leave this world with no blood heirs.
However, I have loved many children with heart.
I leave no challenges undone, with only a few tears.
I leave this world, without regrets from the start.

I leave my soul to those who are in need.
My remains, I renounce to natures desire.
Thoughts, I have inspired to spread as seed.
Love of the simplistic ideals to fly higher.

A belief, humanity will continue to great heights.
A prayer, there will be no more un-humane plights.


Details | Rhyme | |

IN MEMORIAM

  The end of May is coming . . .
  When  the nation celebrates Memorial Day.
  Schools and offices are closed . . .
  It's the summer's first holiday.

  Do we remember why we celebrate today . . .
  Or what the "Stars and Stripes" mean?
  Do we ever remind our children . . .
  Of where our flag has been.

  From Bunker Hill to Yorktown . . .
  And Tripoli to New Orleans.
  From the Halls of Montezuma . . .
  It has waved up in the breeze.

  From Chateau Thierry to the Argonne . . .
  Pearl Harbor, Guadalcanal, Tarawa, and Iwo Jima too.
  From the Cassarein Pass to Messina . . .
  From Anzio, Omaha Beach, Saint-Lo, and Bastogne she flew.

  From Pusan to Inchon . . .
  From Hue, Tan Son Nhut, and places with stranger names.
  From the Mideast Gulf to Bagdad . . .
  And then back home, again.

  Are these just names in our history books?
  I say, "Not at All!"
  They are the reminders of the resting places . . .
  For those who answered the call.

  For Men carried the flag of our country . . .
  Through shot and shell and murderous fire.
  Some of them have never returned . . .
  To their homes and heart's desire.

  Look at the field at Arlington . . .
  The Punch Bowl in Hawaii or the land in southern France.
  Where white crosses grow in the countryside . . .
  For those who did not get another chance.

  And what of those who did come home . . .
  Do we ever really think of them?
  They too, gave a full measure of devotion . . .
  They too, had our liberty to defend.

  So on this day when we grill our burgers . . .
  Or are giving the ballgame a view.
  Take a moment to say a prayer of thanksgiving . . .
  For those whose sacrifice made it possible for you.

THANKS TO ALL THE VETERANS WHO HAVE SERVED OUR COUNTRY . . .  

          GOD BLESS AMERICA!!


Details | Haiku | |

' Uni-Verse...' (Haiku # 11)

   ‘ Uni-Verse ’   Haiku  # 11

        Oh, What Universe
What Grand Word, Did God Speak First
     ... Gave Beginning – Birth !


Details | Free verse | |

The Written Word

Such wicked fools, 
What angry, half-crazed things they are
Such despair sticking to them
Around them and through them
Difficult to be certain about
How they have fared for so long.

Such violent buffoons, 
What dramatic, forgetful things they are
Such regret spilling toward them
Behind them and before them
Problematic to imagine
How their mistakes continue on.

Such loving simpletons, 
What brave, tender souls they are
Such passion within them
To end and begin them
Hard to know
The depths of their love.

Such magnificent dolts, 
What imaginative, dreamy-eyed things they are
Such creations flow from them
And I, one among them
Impossible to understand
All that is contained in every one.


Details | I do not know? | |

THE HEART OF THE SWING

***PROMPT 6b*** THE TALE OF THE HEART'S SWING 




 


You see this ole swing young man 
well your grandpa here made it by hand. 
Yes sirree I sure did boy 
this here ole swing is not a toy. 



Dang I even cut down the very own tree 
to make this swing for grandma and me. 
I put in these curves and little things 
I had to have the most perfect swing. 



Well I worked day after day 
carving and a cuttin no time for play. 
When I got er done me and her had a little conversation 
in the end of it I told her she was a sensation. 



I polished her up til she shone like gold 
what I was doing no one knowed. 
This was back in nineteen and forty one 
that was the good old days son. 



I made this here sturdy ole pine swing 
for your grandma to make her sing. 
See I gave it to her when I made her my wife 
and we have enjoyed it in our happy life. 



Now listen here close boy I am givin this here swing to you 
for I have something that I gotta go do. 
Seems grandma is waitin at the Lords door for me 
together again the two of us will be. 



Now don't cry be a man,and take good care of this ole swing 
lotsa life in her yet,take her and give her to your wife and make her sing. 
Whatever you do in this world all I ask is for you to pass her on down when you go 
this here ole swing is worth more than all of any mans gold. 



I'll be a watchin you from up there in the clouds 
so come now boy and always know you make your grandpa proud. 
Yeah this ole swing could tell you some stories 
time for me to go now remember I always loved ya boy. 

Debbie Wagoner 2/26/12


Details | I do not know? | |

Scars

I am not ashamed of my scars
they are unique
they are a part of me
they are memories
and battle wounds
different shapes
odd sizes
each with its own tale to tell
they are a road map of my life
a sharp left up the side of a vicious palmetto
a short detour to meet that scalding iron
multiple trips under the surgeons cold blade
and an extended road trip at my own hands
so many stories
some good
some bad
all mine
no, I'm not ashamed of my scars
in fact I own them
I wear them with pride
they set me apart
they are what makes me...
me


Details | Narrative | |

On the holiest day marks Ashoura

Watching television these days
can draw another line; a perspective –
with a variety of advertisements, news,
talk shows and other entertainments
indeed, a so-called form of ‘literature in a hurry.’

With a spate of information to know and digest,
with discoveries rolling through events,
with episodes shown in different contexts
provide certain answers in countless reportings.

A hodge-podge of issues trembles in situations,
with that continuing war, violence and kiling;
afflict the whole world with fear and sorrow,
oh, America! Cradle of power and opportunity.

Screaming headlines in various newspapers,
continue to soar almost beyond proportion;
with endless quest and wish against tragedy,
like a Christian mantra: peace in the whole world!

Religion among the Muslim countries,
plays a vital role in their whole life spectrum;
with the Shiites, Sunnis and Baathists, for instance,
another perspective, a magnet to all devotees.

As Shiites mark Ashoura in Beirut, Lebanon,
many Shiite Muslim men march the streets;
beating their chests and others slashing their heads
like a Christian flagellation done in Lenten season.

It’s a radical interpretation with inerrancy in their culture
Such a manifestation that shows grief in human actions;
adds substance to their celebration – being holy,
there’s deep supplication across the length of day;
albeit, the cry of pain makes them strong in their faith.

Note:

Ashoura.  The tenth day of Muharram – the Shiites’ holiest day.  It marks the killing of Imam Hussein, the grandson of Prophet Muhammad, in 680 A.D. battle at Karbala in Basra, Iraq.


Details | Rhyme | |

Jesus Could Have Called 10,000 Angels


Jesus Could Have Called 10,000 Angels…

On a cross… Jesus suffered for you and me.
He could have called 10,000 
angels to set him free.

Nailed to this cross, he went
 through so much pain.
He knew his purpose and the 
reason why he came.

Being there for all of mankind 
was his choice.
Weakened and alone… 
 One could hear his voice;

“Father forgive them.” 
 “They don’t know what they’re doing!”
As the crowd listened… 
 Many began believing.

“My God why have you forsaken me?” 
 With one last breath…
And then...  And very quickly… 
 There was death!

For all of the pain and suffering
 he was to endure
Was so that a plan of salvation
 is now secure.

This same Jesus, who was to rise again.
Is forever to be our atonement for sin!

Seated at the right hand
 of God the father... In heaven above..
He awaits there for us all with
 an abundance of  love!

Won’t you accept his gift 
of life that he’s giving?
And allow him to forever change
 the way you’re living!

By Jim Pemberton


Details | I do not know? | |

Midnight in Johannesburg

1.

Calm descends,
feathery, misty, settling gently on this city’s breath.

Elusive sleep,
teases,
hiding amongst the clouds,

while silver ribbons of moonlight, caress the concrete.

2.

Midnight in Jo’burg,
alone, in this wild-eyed, crazy city,

warm and cruel at once,

ragged, torn, sublime,

brimming with African life,

alive in an African summer night.

3.

Zimbabwe, you are us,

Morocco is infused in our veins,

Nigeria lingers on our wet kisses,

Malawi, we are you.

4.

A continental mosaic,

the smells of Cairo,
and sounds of Dakar,
soaked in tastes of Addis,

mingle on my city’s streets.

5.

We are all, African.

‘They’ are not the other,

we are ‘them’, tossed in a communal pot,

sipping mampoer*,
and chowing pap and vleis*,

in my city,

my Jozi**,

your Jo’burg**,

our eGoli**

_____

* – a home-brewed drink, and a maize-meal porridge and meat.

** – all names refer to Johannesburg.


Details | Verse | |

The Chimney

A chimney on a low rise standing sentinel 
On the loosely scattered outskirts of town.
A reminder of an old house built by hand, 
The home around the hearth long fallen down.

The silvery frost covering the remnants 
Of the old broken place spilled on the ground,
No room hereabouts for cheap sentiment,
It’s bleached broken bones now earthward bound.

Wandering through someone else’s ruins 
My imagination starts to take hold.
Discovering relics from times long since past,
Anonymous, broken, rusted and old.

I spy a grand old wood fired oven’s legs 
Sprawled akimbo all four across the floor.
With its door ajar and enamel cracked,
It’ll provide them warmth and food no more.

The floorboards cling to the twisted bearers,
Bleached pine timbers cracked, warped and twisted.
Only wind swept and no longer mopped with pride,
Their gaps now hide rabbits no longer hunted.

Amongst the wooden wreckage lay scattered 
Shards of brilliant and broken lead stained glass.
Elegant reminders of another time 
when no-one thought this would come to pass.

A time when the front door was always open
And the pine rafters inside rang with life.
When a family filled the space with laughter
And gathered at the hearth in times of strife.
 
A battered and blackened iron pot upturned,
Rusted holes, cracked and weathered through.
It’ll never again be used to boil up
A feed of mouth watering mutton stew.

Handles, hinges, bolts and rusty nails too,
Lay in abandonment across the grounds.
The daffodils, jonquils and geraniums,
Now foreign to the garden’s new surrounds.

An aching head betrays a tired sadness
At forgotten scenes of decay and neglect.
Ignorant passers by cause me to wince,
As on this families history I reflect. 

This one too from our sight they’ll soon remove
As progresses heavy capped boots march in.
The suburbs swallowing up our old farms,
As new histories in new houses begin. 

I’ve come across many such sites of times past
As around the back blocks I’ve wandered.
If your eyes were open you’ll have seen them,
But do you care for our heritage squandered?


Details | Bio | |

The Meaning of Merry Christmas

Mary, Joseph, and others
Enjoying the birth of Jesus. Many
Rushed to see and
Rendered gifts to the man
You and I call our Savior.

Celebrating
His birth is
Really what Christmas
Is about.
Singing carols and giving
Thanks and praises is what
Makes the holiday
A wonderful and joyous time to
Share with the ones you love.


Details | Didactic | |

The Bridge of Freedom

Citizens sing hymns the bridge of freedom
Be it may this fragile structure
Built above liberal waters
That all may drive conservative
Be it may this fragile structure
That has caused quite a collision
Endless traffic and division
Which has led to superstition
Be it may this fragile structure
Seems to keep the people driving
And the poor content with walking
Those that do a lot of talking
Wake up drowning not from diving
Fearful of it's mighty power
Mindless of it's fragile structure
Yet in hymns the bridge of freedom
Yet forced hands to mold it's muscle
Yet was just a priceless puzzle


Details | Free verse | |

La Historia 101

La Historia-101, 2011
Vickie M. Ortiz Vazquez

Imagine, I cannot
To feel their lost
Longing for the return home
Rejoicing behind closed doors
Criminal act
Propagate servitude with miserable pay
Runaway between breaths
Hunted 
Capture, captive
Criminal act
Rape once again, over again
White women turned the other way
Power instilled by any means necessary
Emancipated January first 1863

Imagine, I cannot
Overseas journey, long nights 
Not knowing what awaits
The other side 
Driven by hate, broadcast faith
Golden Goose displays false imageries
Selective stay, citizenship
Manipulations to project extreme dislike
Plant self loathe
All in the name of supremacist tendencies
Reached land
Meenay, miny, mo
Criminal act
Los Marielitos, 1970’s

Imagine, I cannot
Under the hot sun
Vast land of sand, predetermined path
Self-sacrifice in the name of family prosperity
Uncertainty
Dreams fuel by promises
Human trafficking, lottery
Slavery
Death
Destiny
Either way, criminal act

Imagine, I cannot
Whispers of sterilization
Population control
Blinded by land’s riches
“I must have” translated to ‘let me help you prosper”
Fed ideas of growth
Second guessing labor intensive industry
Rise of unemployment, 1960’s
Restless machetes stored away
Land’s fruits stolen
Justify 
Criminal act
Under false pretences, little you give lots you take
Migrant float picture of your lies
Grasp in the hand of the devil

Imagine, I can
Two thousand eleven is the year
Headlines a fluke, mostly ignore by news
Recent voices speak of fear
Fear to seek an education
Fear to seek shelter
Fear to seek food
Fear to roam about
Inhale life’s smells
Capture life’s colors
Tattoo life’s experiences
Criminal act

Imagine, I can
Flickering lights getting closer
Fused back light
Finger print attempt for a burned out back light
Tif for Tat between Blue and Morena
Unnoticed the color of his skin
Minutes after, does it really matter?
Blue soldier with a license to destroy
Destroy without questioning lives of those tricked
Brought under false pretenses; full of hope
Penniless
Left to die
Wrongfully accused
Dreams shattered
Hopeless


Details | Free verse | |

My Business Is Today

Committing myself to action; 
I stopped to put all plans away.

Determined to author my Life's book pages, 
I began the business of today.

I did away with past and future: 
Losses made and profits gained; 
That to lose and this to gain.

With the past already accounted for, 
And future yet to be taken account of; 
It's a waste for me to keep their books -

My business is today 


Details | Imagism | |

The Eatery

urban alienation
pehaps ambiance of loneliness
or circumstances ambiguous to show



Automat - 1927

Edward Hopper 
  










Tribute To All Nighter Cafe's
Also Entry For Brian Strands Contest


Details | Senryu | |

Nowhere To Run To

Nowhere to Run to
Footsteps closing in;
Qualms about my bright future,
Up against a wall.


Details | I do not know? | |

9 Eleven

As I’m thinking back 
To that day I remember
Over three thousand lives
We lost in September...
The images captured 
Still stuck in my mind
And it brought us together
So we all could find...
Some common ground
On which we could stand
No matter the color
You grabbed someone’s hand...
Of those seeking comfort
Or choosing to kneel
To pray for the ashes
Not concrete and steel...
But if we forget
Their deaths were in vain
And new building permits
Were all that we gained...
 

 
 


Details | Sonnet | |

Down In The Wet Land

On mornings as cold inside as out__burr
She knelt__held a match against fat lighterd
For she knew that this was required of her
The fire would smoke, sputter__soon blaze occured

Spreading rapidly engulfing the wood
Seemed like a miracle from where I stood
How she went on from year to  year__question
What could she have been in better situation

She would blow the spark that ignited flames
Fire would glow as did her small meager life
But from her life a blaze planted__child tame
Who would write of her hardships being wife

And how she would teach where the Sweet Shurbs grow
Down in the wet land beside the road
(How to appreciate corn bread, buttermilk, and butter cold.)


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Impact of Radiation

my knowledge on the
impact  of radiation 
is quite limited

but I do wonder
if radiation would be
in a brand new car

that was produced in
Japan after the earthquake
and the tsunami

if the water has
radiation, would the paint
on the car be safe?

do we realize that
dangerous radiation
impacts the whole world?

do we realize air,
water and nature will not
be safe for mankind?


sadly, inventions
without preparations for
disasters proceed

and mankind welcome
each with great expectations
to increase comfort

until the next time
a tradgedy occurs, and
many lives are lost


Details | Narrative | |

On Thanksgiving Day

It’s another red-letter day
a holiday in the U.S.
a national, religious holiday
known also as a ‘Turkey Day’
a very important day.

A chance to be reconnected,
a moment of being together,
a salutary occasion for gratitude,
full with family folderol.

There are historic reasons 
this American celebration
has its origin centuries ago;
as the Pilgrims did it and -
invited neighboring Indian tribes.

To hold it with a feast –
A celebration for God’s blessing.
giving thanks for a common purpose,
freedom, justice, and worship in God.
Through Sarah Josepha Hale 
this event has become a tradition
a realization that came to fulfillment
marked with significance, thus far.

With church services elsewhere
wth family reunions all over 
with customary turkey dinner
oh, a reminder of the historic past:
at the Pilgrims’  big celebration.

In many homes and families
Table fellowships spice up the day
with turkey, mashed potatoes, 
cranberry sauce, maize, pumpkin pie
and other vegetables and desserts.
a complete picture of this great tradition.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Greater 'Minds' Than Mine

 
  Greater 'Minds' Than Mine; 
Have left the 'Earth' and walked away.
Einstein as a troubled child, 
lobotomized, 
mixed socks and locked away.
Hubble and his visions eye'd, 
are seen across the sky.
D.N.A...must free more how...
When freedom lies barred now.
Worlds within a world within a world, 
his world one waits.
Within our dreams.
We do not wast our time on germs, 
untill they show us how. 

Is It Poetry 
 
 


Details | Free verse | |

Ten Thousand and One

I have counted
Vigorous regrets -
Ten thousand and one,
Measured them
Mile for mile,
And anyone can see
They own me now.

My goodness
Was liquefied
When first I commenced
To commit carnage
In the name 
Of a just cause.

Standing in the blood
Of a stranger’s child,
I lost faith in myself;
Consumed by the enormity
Of what I was doing.

Watching the energy fade
From my victims’ eyes, 
I packed my heart in ice,
And waited for madness.

Thus, the shame
By which I die
Ten thousand and one deaths.

Each riddle wants me,
Surrounds my emptiness,

As I embrace my atrocities.


Details | I do not know? | |

New Age Slave

Society still sets the stage,
So anxiety will feed our rage,
With something we cannot digest,
That makes us feel like second best...
The prize we win in this charade,
Is summized by who is less than paid,
Divide that by your social class,
And  become a product of the past...
Buffeted by all the poor,
That stand before a half closed door,
Not concerned by what they see,
Since we're the ones who want the key...
Not the one thats made of lead,
But the one that's gold instead,
Elitist think we'll steal their wealth,
To have a chance to free ourself....
But it seems our debt is never paid,
Until we're dead and left to lay,
So they can make another million,
Backs forfeit another trillion...





Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Road Kill

Sanctified
Red moon dominates the eventide landscapes
Surreal against the mid-winter backdrop
There is nowhere else to look
Magnetized focus
As she rises gigantic above the horizon
And I am held
Still.
Driving country roads of slush and solitude
Making my way
Home.
There’s something out there
In Coyotes secret world,
Stringing farm field to farm field
Forrest and river
Dotted houses set amidst
Lit up for all to see…
Passerby’s
Squatters.
Deer trails of ancient passages
Where others follow
While the silent winged ones listen
As they have forever.
Do they see me?
Encased in metal
Spewing fumes of ancient forests
As I race across the landscape
Faster than any coyote can run?
That our worlds meet at all
Are only shown in road kill
And sudden endings.


Details | Free verse | |

Home Sweet Home

Home Sweet Home
My childhood home
Is cherished 

Memories filled with
Silver and gold
And sometimes pure cold.

No one told me
It would go with me
Where ever I go 

When I roam from
Town to town
I carry it with me

I open the door
Each night when
I go to sleep
And dream.

I can’t shake
What I learned
And what I didn’t 
Learn inside 
My honeycomb

I can’t stop
Moaning 
About that
Home.


Details | Rhyme | |

Jesus Purchased My Soul



Jesus Purchased My Soul! Jesus purchased my soul… And I now it! I love him so much! I want to show it! Jesus paid it all on Calvary so long ago… He loves me so much! This I know! Jesus gave his all… With his redeeming grace! And has put my life on a solid place! Jesus paid the price! He did it for you and me! He died on the cross… So that I may be free! Jesus is coming back soon! I want to be with him! He is coming back! With the clouds beneath him! Come quickly Lord Jesus! Perhaps today? You’re the truth! The Life! The only way! By Jim Pemberton


Details | I do not know? | |

When The Whip-Poor-Will Sang

Summers of years ago windows open --when
On those many nights, young love romance, the
Air moved freely night sounds of the-- Whip-Poor-Will
Remember, remember when they--sang

No longer can I hear the great sounds --when
We were young, for the windows are closed for--the
Air conditioning to work--Whip-Poor-Will
How in great tune were our voices when he--sang


Details | I do not know? | |

The Shedding of Skin

The Shedding of Skin. 

Parched lullabies seem jarring,
gentle persuasion an assault,
quiet understanding reeking of decay,
fatigued under this skin in which I must stay. 

Dreams of moulting,
shedding the hubris of crafty words,
flushing away all famished rhymes,
ripping the fibres of an ink-stained past. 

Knowing. 

Always knowing,

that honey-soaked kisses, seem destined,
breathlessly,
never to last. 


Details | ABC | |

rainbow

they  have  orange.
they have  green.
they  have  red.
they  have yellow.
they have  purple.
those  colours should  make  everyone  happy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
because the    are nice   bright  ,happy  colours


Details | I do not know? | |

Titantic Life

we're all just dancing on the deck of our own Titantic
 
some about to swim in the Pacific
 
others about to drown in the Atlantic
 
some staring up into the sky
 
thinking how tiny the world is
 
others thinking it's gigantic
 
some of us are running for our lives
 
some are saving our children and wives
 
some are rearranging the chairs
 
some are walking elegantly down the stairs
 
some are playing a beautiful tune
 
some are staring up at the beautiful moon
 
some are looking down below
 
some are climbing into lifeboats and beginning to row
 
some are worrying about what will be
 
some are grateful for what once was
 
some are praying
 
while others are playing
 
many are crying
 
as others are cheating and lying
 
a few are treasuring the beautiful view
 
staring at the beauty inside of me and you
 
ready for a new life and ready to start anew


Details | I do not know? | |

For Dr Martin Luther King Jr

For Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
 
You had a dream
of pastures of peace
where children of all hues mingled like rainbows
 
they silenced you, but your voice
resounds now in those pastures
not yet of peace
 
and your dream is still a dream
the dream you dreamt while others slept
 
you said that you’d been to the mountain-top
and they silenced your voice just then
before your eyes saw that promised land
of pastures of peace where children of all hues mingle like rainbows
 
now your vision is glimpsed in some pastures
not yet of peace
and yes, they silenced your voice
but your spirit their bullets could never tear apart
your spirit, like your dream
is mingled with the wind in all those pastures
not yet of peace
and until we give life to your dream
those pasture of peace
where children of all hues mingle like rainbows
shall remain simply your dream
so as we remember you today
and pledge that those pastures of peace
are nourished first in each of us
for only then will your dream will take root
and blossom into our shared dream
and the view from the mountain-top,
radiant and bright and full of hope shall seem
 
where children of all hues mingle like rainbows
 
 
 
 


Details | Rhyme | |

Endangered Species

The bell denotes my presence and I breathe in all the must,
The old man sits amidst his books himself covered in dust.
I glance around -
	Without a sound -
		What will my hunting eyes expound?

My favourite place to visit full of wonders and old writing,
Such stories do they tell to me, before you even crack the binding.
A missing page -
	Gold words engraved -
		Intriguing, so I must engage.

I find the little hidey hole, past modern paperbacks,
An antique chair to sit and stare at what today’s world lacks.
A sense of style -
	In rustic guile -
		Enchants even the smallest child.

I run my hand along the row of books with golden lettering,
Experiencing all their worth, regretting what we’re forgetting.
They are our last -
	Ancestral past -
		They speak to us in volumes, vast.

They call to us from history and they ask us to remember,
Before they too become extinct, they are a dying ember.
Our legacy -
	Technology -
		Where knowledge waits on scratched CDs.


Details | Name | |

I Work Hard For The Money

members of teamsters
an army of one
yielding for a better tomorrow

doing the job right
assuring quality and quanitity production
year after year



Tribute To
International Workers Day


Details | Free verse | |

Dear Grandma

I know you never knew of me,
My father wanted me erased from time,
I need to get to you;
Despite any seeds Richard plants in your mind,
I know you are mine,
I trust that you will accept me,
Someday-
As your flesh and blood,
Rocky is the terrain,
I have yet to travel,
I will know one day,
One day.


Details | Lyric | |

Used

Used to look through child’s eyes
Used to stare at star ridden skies
Used to smile at silly sounds
Used to dream of the future’s bounds

Used to play in the thicket of my mind
Used to search for a place to hide
Used to act like story book heroes
Used to count from 100 back to zero

Used to hold my breath till my face was bright red
Used to believe all the words that everyone said
Used to want a big house and brand new car
Used to hope that I could someday set the bar

Used to use my imagination
Used to use that motivation
Now being used by my frustration
Of being used by my own generation

Used to... used to...
You know I used to...
Use it all without a thought
Used too... Used too...
We’re all being used too...
Bought and sold like an old iron pot
Used to... used to...
You know we all used to...
Dream our world would never rot
Used too... Used too...
It’s all being used too...
All our resources from bottom to top

Used to sit up all hours of the night
Used to believe that people were alright 
Used to think that we could still pull through
Used to think that everybody knew

Used to have faith in the ‘truth’
Used to see their words as proof
Used to hide these tears I’d cry
Used to hold my head up high

Used to think I had a grasp
Used to disguise myself with a plastic mask
Used to act like there was no problem
Used to hypocritically mock any and all of ‘em

Used to use their aspiration
Used to use their motivation
Now they use their investigation
To bind us to their administration

Used to... used to...
You know I used to...
Use it all without a thought
Used too... Used too...
We’re all being used too...
Bought and sold like an old iron pot
Used to... used to...
You know we all used to...
Dream our world would never rot
Used too... Used too...
It’s all being used too...
But when will this mass consumption ever stop?


Details | Free verse | |

Ages

Planted deep within the soil 
Nourished by time 
Rooted by promises made
I begin to grow
I have became what you made me to be
Thy words and deeds are not forgotten
I have become a mirror of thy own past


Details | Blank verse | |

sunday morning

Spring is cold and wet- buds reluctant to open - trees seem veiled in
smoky see through color- an occasional tulip shivers alone-daffodils
have long since left - some without deigning to flower- garden work
is not warming enough to enjoy- The rains fall mostly on weekends
increasing the frustration.
One dresses optimistically each morning, adding layers on each venture
outside. Clouds darken the late morning sky as the ever present birds
argue over the always half empty feeders. The lettuce and beets love 
the English weather.
The transplanted Liverpudlian (53 years ago) is back inside the warm 
house. So is the cat, curled and contentedly purring. As he looks out 
it seems to be clearing again. He looks for shadows. The eldest daughter's
truck leaves the driveway. He types on reaching frustratedly for
                       inspiration
It's as hard to find as shadows on the road outside his window.
Maybe another cup of sweet black tea, or p'rhaps a tot of rum.
Summer's prob'ly on a Wednesday this year, or so it seems.


Details | Light Poetry | |

' The Greatest Poet Of All ... '

God … Is The Greatest Poet of All
God … Is The Greatest Poet
God, Speaks … And Leaves Us In Awe
… Astounded and Author-Devoted ! …

Yea … We are Humbled and Thunderstruck
and Sublimely Mesmerized
on His Sacred Utterances … We Have Drunk
like Raindrops of Soft-Mercy-Cries …

… While Angels, Sing in Quicksilver-Skies
Even His Son, is Called:  ‘ The Word ’ and Wise          ( John 1: 1 )
and Every Will and Syllable, and Vowel, Which Rise
… Begins, with Wondrous Words, ‘ He ’ Vocalized

And His Words, Are Strict-Forms and Bright-Joy-Colors
or Sometimes, Warnings in Stark Black and White
Yet … Articulated in Glorious Auras
from He, Who Called, The Darkness … Night               ( Gen. 1: 5 )

from ‘ He ’, Who Said:  ‘ Let There Be Light ’               ( Gen. 1: 3 )
‘ He ’, Who Orated, Birds in Sun-Flight
‘ He ’, Who Orated Sounds, So Right
Spoke Words, Worthy of ‘The Copywrite’ …

… Like, ‘ Let Us Make Man In Our Image ’ …                ( Gen. 1: 26 )
… and Humans, have been Echoing, Ever Since
For His Words Are More Than Vintage
They Are Epitome of Love and Law-Sentence

… Yea … We Emerged from God’s Epiphany
We Should Recite, What He Spoke First
in Such Beauteous, Lilting-Poetry …
… God, Spoke Forth ‘ The Universe ’ ! …                      ( Gen. 1: 1 )

… Called, The Dry Land, Earth                                    ( Gen. 1: 10 )
Called, The Waters … Seas                                         ( Gen. 1: 10 )
Pronounced Eve, Mother of Birth                                 ( Gen. 3: 16 )
(tho’ She Stole at Speech-Trees)                                ( Gen. 3: 6, 13 )

Yea … God Called Forth, Flashes and Flowers
and The Breath of Life and Swarms of Honey-Bees
And with Dynamic, Inspiration Power ! …
God … Even Called Forth … me

… and You, and You, and Your Voice Too !          ( John 3: 16  & John 10: 16 )
And Refreshing-Dew and Dawns, Brand-New
And The Rare-Edition – Chosen Few                   ( Matt. 7: 14  & Matt. 22: 14 )
… Each Bound-Volume, Ringing, Amen-True !      ( Rev. 14: 5 )

Yea … God, Is The Greatest Poet of Them All !
So, Let Us Catch Each Poem-Pearl, in Free-Fall
and Collect Them and Gather Graciously, as They Call
to Conjugate and Climb O’er, Deaf-Mute-Stanza Walls

… to Applaud, The Greatest Poet, Ever and All …


Details | Narrative | |

Steeped in memories

I can still visualize my hometown in Gumaca, Quezon 
both in my mind and in my heart, with vivid mem’ries
rich with natural resources, the place where I was born
source of my childhood, a passage to my changing self.

It’s like a landscape of my continuing inspiration
a connecting link to my goal, the beginning of my calling.
our neighborhood and other activities at the main población
reminds me of those people who really care for their neighbors.

Their echoes of pain, hopelessness and other complaints
motivates me to keep going, follow that path that leads to God;
being called to serve Him with his influential voice within me
I can see and feel what they need with compelling movements.
people’s endless dream to grow and make a difference anyway,
becomes my own struggle, my own wish to blend in situations;
providing me with a new language that shapes me with freedom.

It resonates with profundity and claims its meaning to everyone,
those customs and traditions, popular religiosity and occupations,
they’re Filipino treasures with labyrinthine ways to articulate them
indeed, they draw people in as they take part in varioius gatherings.

Mem’ries of the past, a treasure trove of what life is all about;
being in my own homeland I can feel that I’ve my own freedom.
where I was, I grew up with friends, siblings, and other loved ones;
sometimes a challenge but characterized with so much wisdom.

Realities at hard times, economy with shortage in many banks
they’re key figures in preparation for what church says and suggests
Potuit, decuit ergo feut,  and I remember that with real gratitude
deep within my heart I see myself then with thanks and blessing.


Details | Narrative | |

The Fantastic Voyage

Living on the edge was a suicide way before my time!
A soul spread wide open with a spirit that truly believes.
Walking on water and backwards with life that glares over the sunshine!
The fantastic voyage rides the high and almighty waves of the greatest seas.
A voyage to never-never land right where I know I will always want to be.
True uninhibited expression is my addiction all within myself.
A soul climaxing in the exhibition of capturing all of the free empty space!
Walking the planks with the thrill of excitement from what’s consumed as it’s felt,
The fantastic voyage is aimed straight for that perfect little happy place.
My voyage to never-never land is where I know I will always want to stay.
Unpredictable with such balance is my mystery out there all on its own.
My soul opens and wills me to explore the depths of all that is real or such.
Walking the tight rope and looking down with my talent so proudly shown.
The fantastic voyage is never enough but is always over by too much.
My voyage to never-never land is where I know I will always want to feel what I touch.
Deep within the depths of all the deepness is where my connection is found.
A vibrant soul with brilliance magnified by a common need that has just got to give!
Walking narrow ledges with confidence and truly the one that has got to be proud!
The fantastic voyage gained my moments in time that I can say were actually lived.
My voyage to never-never land is where I will surrender standing on top of my deadly ground!


Details | Free verse | |

Complex strong willed Prince of priorities

we get over everything
naturally
but the weak need the strong
need someone to lead the way
we need to find a strong mind
a smart mind to study 
an accurate mind to probe
and test our subject
and get our answers to heal ourselves

Strong minded intelligent child
just passed the test
handed in his test
they know whose mind is stronger than the rest 
thanks to wars and terrorism of generations we forget

the child once had a happy home
mommy daddy breaking up
 
but remember life is a test
they keep pushing him and pushing him still
watching silently looking 
action for reaction


the boy grows old ignorant of such fame 
to figure it all out
how everything is a test
all the abuse he went through
was due to him having a strong mind
 for him to write it down and help others 
in other words for lamens to lamen term the genius at work
whose finished balling his eyes 
emotional scars
waiting for round two

strong willed prince of priorities

god complex
perhaps even multiple personalities
schitso effective mood disorder
depressive manic bipolar
 very hard on himself
while going through these tests

his names are songs
the movies haunt him because he speaks his nightmares freely
and this is your entertainment
all the way to i hate white rabbits at the campfire
why you say it to make him cry

how do you prioritize what complex to diagnose first
ask the multiples
prioritsed strong minded will of man
the one you all beat half to death mentally for answers
and see if he humbles himself to fix you
to make his problems worse
or to give you the hand thats let him go soo many times
 you want to rock the boat up this famous creek
 look who has the paddle the whole way

so his life has been defined
foreshadowed the whole way
when dealing with multiple complexes the only way to deal with them is naturally
which ones the infected resolves first
thank goodness we pick on the strong willed to lead the way
thank goodness for the test i took in fourth grade that changed my life forever
it all makes sense to me now

or the last 19 years of my life you have been my game
i had you figured out
im a genius remember
i tried to fail the test
but if you want to prioritize your complexes
anger management
mental abuse has to go first
Jesus alone cant go through all this pain alone to write it all down to heal you of 
all that ails you

as you throw me away to be your joke dressed in suicide


Details | Rhyme | |

What Christmas Means


During this Christmas, let’s celebrate Christ’ birth. It was for all of us that he came down to earth. As we think about Bethlehem and the baby boy… We shout glad tidings to all! And peace and joy! This young child was to one day touch all of mankind. His message of salvation… Today… You can find! As we celebrate and fill up with holiday cheer… This same Jesus is alive today… And is always here! Though 2000 years ago, he was born in a manger... You can know him NOW! He doesn’t have to be a “stranger.” Won’t you spend some time and reflect on Christmas’ true meaning? It’s in the merciful arms of Jesus that you need to be leaning! The good news of Christmas can certainly be found… Across this nation. Every city… And town! This same Christ can bring peace to your life today! He loves you much more than words can say! May HIS love bring peace and healing to your weary soul… It’s only in him, that you can be complete and whole!!! By Jim Pemberton


Details | List | |

The New World Order

Freedom will now be defined as the absence of
Constraint to control, coerce, constrain or force another
Person (s) into believing what you believe.

Independence will now be defined as the forcibly enticed
State of being under the political “thumb” of another
Ruler and being “occupied” until such time as you can
Live by the rules of that occupying government.

Truth will now be what is said in the media and will
Be filtered by public relations officials. As well, there
Will be no “true” statements, unless by “true” you 
Mean, those statements believed to be true and 
Ultimately disputed even when discredited as 
False. 

Justice will now be defined as the ability to manipulate
How laws are implemented and overriding those very
Laws to make new ones based on the situation at hand.
Impartiality and fairness is now dependant on the “truth”
As mentioned above.

Religion will now be defined as any group or groups
That deem themselves to believe in an “other” and
Should be considered ignorant and brutal under all
Circumstances, unless what they believe is congruent
To what is believed by the occupying government.

                                                                        
                                                                      [a political thought]


Details | Couplet | |

wonderlust

wanderin' soul, wonderin' mind
wanderin' 'round tryin' to find
that joyful day was put somewhere
memories of past seem so unfair

wanderin' eyes, wanderin' lips
wanderin' lands like oceanic ships
worlds away from where we started
surroundings unmapped, now uncharted

wanderin' hearts, wanderin' thoughts
wonderin' what we've sold 'n' bought
were our times more contented then
what makes us yearn to go back again

wanderin' together or wanderin' alone
wonderin' life's lessons maybe overblown
why do those hurts matter anymore
when one door closes open next door

wonderin' if it was all just some dream
wonderin' if its all a more human theme
wonderin' if we could begin time a second
wanderin' this world without you I beckon

© Goode Guy 2011-07-07


Details | Haiku | |

911 Before And After

Four birds fly the sky
men so trained to kill and die
world reborn to mourn


Details | Free verse | |

An old motto renewed

woke up this morning
to an epiphany
of how your world works
be the best you can be
the best human 3 coil double flusher you can be
at first i was upset
in denial
that i too could live up to such high standards
how could i ever compete with such human waste
when they practice being a walking talking waste of skin everyday
acting it out
singing it
and making more money just by practicing an old motto renewed

Thats the only power you have over me
to be or not to be
a huge clog in the toilet we know as life
and i could practice it
all day and all night
no point in dancing around it in denial
but that might make me worth something
if i could pull off the feat of unequal measure
and finding someone to label what they really are
and laugh at the fact that they are oblivious to how your world works

Practicing being a total waste of skin
and then blame it on someone else
and hang their dead baby off my neck
but nope i'm better than that
i can be the best 3 coiler double flusher i can be
without any practice
just human nature at this point

Act 1 scene 2
making one person living a lie
look like a good person
as the rest of the play is all about everybody competes for the reward of being a clog in the 
toilet we call life
Song and dance
still the same glory
and yet soo many of you basking in your power
of who is or isnt in denial of how your world works
practice makes perfect i guess
no point in trying to change anything
just go dangle someone elses dead baby off your neck

an old motto renewed
be the best double flusher i can be
live it, sing it, paractice it to one day show the world their brand new lie
and next lesson of how to be succesfull at something
that will only come naturaly
why not?


Details | Free verse | |

The Base is Broken

We have reached the base of the Idol
where the iron is now mixed with clay
a kingdom broken and fractured
its lack of strength in full display
 
There can never be any cohesion
of elements weak and debased
governments and religions so splintered
where virtue and truth is erased
 
Oh senate of Rome you still rule here
and golden coins her decisions make
the amalgamations of your religions
continue the confusion you create
 
Your churches fictions were born in Persia
and your idols birth from Egypt took root
from Greece and Rome your philosophy
and senators who lie for money your offshoot
 
The former fools of the court now staged
 the drunken revelry of Greece and Rome
highly paid keep  your citizens engaged
is the takeout they dine on at home
 
History now accurately documents your error
the scribes no longer paid to hide your sin
but every truth has been now recorded 
into the book of time not held by men
 
Men live as though
no record to their life exists
that every reflection of our minds and thought
and of our bodies 
not in time encased
They seem as quickly to forget
the place where  all exist
in where ever is the book
of time and space consist
 
Our inheritance millennia's of lies
the table of the world of thought
it has twisted the aim of the target
until our own destruction will have it brought
 
Tis the net and web that seeks to catch us
the bait is saturated with wine and song
a cup full drunk with its inebriation
until you cannot see what's right from wrong
 
Every conception in time has given birth
to the ideology that has taken root in man
it has grown into the tree that has not worth
and its branches to be burned and condemned 
 
Men lavish praise on their idols
for the trophies and the titles to win
but if it is self service that you are seeking
the table that's spread will in death end
 
 
sources , Daniel 
 
COPYRIGHT © 2012 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC


Details | I do not know? | |

This Deserted Street

...walking down this deserted street

on rock-hewn shards tearing into blistered feet


the journey may be arduous and so very long

and the will may falter, the resolve may at times feel less strong


but the journey proceeds ever on

waging battle after minor battle, while the war of attrition rages on, never to be won


the destination, the culmination of the tortured soul's journey may never be attained

yet the spirit is infused with the strength, that from bitter lessons have been gained


thus the walk continues, the ceaseless trudging through this at times meaningless life

in joy, in misery, in the short moments of abundant plenty, and in the cold times of wretched strife


so it may come to pass on some distant, faraway day

when under the ground, in ashes we may lay


what then is the consolation of things accrued and possessions kept

when into this earth we shall return, to sleep like we have never slept


so picking up the pieces from here and there

the good, the bad, each one to share


and then leaving this realm to finally depart

back to the place where the whole saga may once again start


thinking not of morbid thoughts, no, none of this is that way meant

merely grasping the moments left, and in grasping them, to pause and think on how wisely they may be spent


for once the end knocks as it shall inevitably upon the door

and once the theatre of life's curtain drops to the stage floor

the grand truth may be something beyond what these eyes can see
yet the small truths may be the release that eventually set the caged soul free...


Details | Rhyme | |

There Was A Time In America

There Was A Time In America… There was a time in America, when the Bible was taught in the schools. The ten commandments were displayed, as “God’s set of rules.” There was a time in America, where the cross could be displayed. Even In public places, people came together and prayed. There was a time in America, there was no “church and state” separation. As people all across this country asked God to help this nation. There was a time in America, where people knew right from wrong. You could see it in the way they lived, and could here it in their song. There was a time in America where one was proud to be a Christian. One could take stand for holiness, without coming under “suspicion.” There was a time in America, when mom and dad were together… Now, any kind of a commitment to marriage seems lost forever There was a time in America, where many were proud of “tradition.” There seems to be a lack of any kind of “spiritual nutrition.” There was a time in America, where so many could proudly say; “I’m going to read the Bible and do to church on Sunday.” This is the time for America, to wake up and try to understand. We need to seek God right now! All over this land! This is the time for America, to listen and begin to hear… The coming of our Lord is drawing ever so near! NOW is the time to seek the Lord, while he may be found! The word of God needs to be read in every city and town! Won’t you too seek God and listen to his voice today? Simply give him your heart and life. This could be YOUR day! By Jim Pemberton 11/25/11


Details | Free verse | |

false prophet

something about prevention
here are your disasters to prevent
I will be working behind the scenes
just liuke the art of politicians to serve and protect
to repeat them one more time once we have it figured

Art of war the true prophets of riddle
forseeing the self fulfilling prophets we are
making nightmares come true
false prophet
a false prophet i wish to be

Here are all your dominoes falling
now get out of the way of fate
and make me crazy
let me go down in history as the one that was wrong
learn what you can in controlling everything
as oit falls apart again
to start over again on the next foreshadowed catastrophe
and how to learn to break free

Im a false prophet that would be a dream
living the nightmares in my head just in case
ensuring they dont come true
Call me the antichrist and take away my power
I'll tell you all of your disasters to come
and you have the power to lead eachother to safety through these dangers

We must work together
for this prophet is here with a plan to end the world
putting the pieces in place for the date with destiny
and end it all
plan to fail i do
a false prophet i wish to be
to go down ion history as blasphemous a liar
the perfect oxymoron
and all those around me are learning

Every possible disaster predicted
and the world is cornered in the stages of the game
one by one to prevent the inevitable
and juggling controls as the self fulfilling prophets try to make the miracle come 
true and proof that there is a god through the terrorism of what not to do

I am a false prophet
go ahead send me to hell
I warned you of all ypour actiuons and consequences
If i end up there it means i won
and prevented everything i set out to
but how long can you hold back the inevitable?
welcome to the next level of life as a game
Im here with a plan to save the world by throwing it away
step by step day by day
listen carefully
plan to prove me wrong in soo many ways
if i burn in fires of hell for seeing the future and doing the right thing
i might be better off

Every staged protest
every feat of unequal measure studied and cornered to self destruct
but when one hand is doing one thing and the other doing another
are you noticing your blind slides?


Details | ABC | |

POETS ARE THE BELL RINGERS OF THE SOUL

Most poets tell the truth of life 
Though they may wrap it in beauty.
It's their passion, not their purpose;
To compose is but their duty.

Poets as a rule are high on adventure
Like wondering bards or prophets today.
Embracing hearts and minds with wisdom
Casting through verse their visions at play.

Poets have their dreams and their nightmares
Of love, life, death, faith, and war.
They feel the pain and tragedy of others
Even those they've never met before.

One merit of a poet's work, 
Which most people cannot deny, 
They say more and in fewer words
To illuminate you and I.

Their poems are used to convey passion
By composers of both good and evil mood.
Some are hateful others loving
Sharing thoughts to be consumed as food.

They fan the flames of human compassion
With their stories of the failings of man.
Professing to follow a higher power
As they recruit whomever they can.

The wild birds sing and flowers bloom 
As clouds form figures in the sky. 
But only poets will write poems
That shall last long after they die.

God has always had his poets 
Who he watches with love from space.
But Satan has his poets too 
Who try to lead us from our grace.

Poets are the bell ringers of the soul
As they depict the past, the present and beyond.
They sound their alarm of what lies ahead
As the missteps of man live on.


By Tom Zart


Details | I do not know? | |

Never Chary

Vincent
 
we were never chary
 
that is why we are now
 
so forever sorry
 
after losing you one starry starry
 
night 
 
when you gave up the fight
 
when you turned out the light
 
when two wrongs
 
became right
 
and that's when you
 
so amazingly gifted
 
had your burdens lifted
 
and then you flew
 
and drifted
 
out of view
 
into the hue
 
of your favorite midnight blue
 
sailing, wailing away from yesterday
 
not caring anymore what they had to say
 
coming to rest in the forbidden silent grey
 
where we miss you 
 
still today
 
now you are safe from tomorrow's sorrow
 
safe from the brilliance of your brain
 
safe from the perpetual pain
 
just let it rain 

on them
 
warm beautiful colors

on a summer's breeze

or perhaps a virtuous snow

floating delicately down

maybe then they'll listen

maybe then they'd know

You know, your beauty still paints our souls

And your roses and the daffodils

They still grow

But Vincent, you

You didn't have to go


Details | Lyric | |

The Top

Honesty
Can't you see
I lied again
Against your whim
Following I keep on following
As you lead the way
My lowest friend
How we meet again

Oh yeah
Oh no
Oh yeah
Oh no

It's the top see baby
Surely you're not all alone
Safe baby
The place that you call your home
Front seat baby
Maybe I'm lost
I don't trust a thought 
And i think to much oh come on
Come on come on say maybe
Come on  come on see baby
Come on come on say maybe
Yeah baby come on

I betrayed
You and me
I messed up again
Lost another good friend
Stop pushing I can't stop pushing
Down on all your walls
Till your broken again
To severe to mend

Oh yeah...etc

It's the top see baby...etc

Trusting me 
You're naive
Where do i begin
Starting from the end
Selfishly I keep on running and
Don't forget my name
I'm sorry again
All the words I spent

(I am still working on it)


Details | Verse | |

time and its daughter

Time and its Daughter
I love your face and your face loves itself 
For its perfect nose, green eyes and rosy lips
And your fragrance has a Narcissistic allure.

The way you walk pavements adore you 
rain shies away as not to make your hair wet
I love your face and your face loves itself. 

When you cross the street car horn blears 
All by themselves and white cars turn pink 
And your fragrance has a Narcissistic allure  

Sun doesn´t burn your skin, makes it golden.   
Till, one day, the mirror tells of a wrinkle, and 
you know years are ganging up on you. 

You only enemy is time it waits in the wings.
As furrows settle on your forehead.
I love you face, your face doesn´t love itself
 
Car horn doesn´t  blare anymore, get off 
The road you lazy old woman, they honker
Your fragrance of youth has lost its allure 


Details | Narrative | |

The long walk home

I remember as a child walking through the countryside,
People were so polite to greet each other – how are you?
With simple lifestyle in an agricultural ambience,
Theirs is my goal, my future longing to welcome.

While I’d always prefer to walk - rain or shine,
I couldn’t help but see first my friend close by;
my hero who saved me while getting drowned
the time of our town fiesta of Our Lady of Peñafrancia.

Old folks who used to hang out and visit us,
because of my grandma who’d say ‘come’,
some of them would really come and say:
‘we’re here to join you for a nice meal.’

On big celebrations like Christmas and town fiesta,
family relations would come in droves to see us;
their children would come along to ask something,
especially gifts and some money for this event.

For a child like these things serve as imprints,
a treasure trove of memories I still cherish;
a connecting link to my past with sentiments
indeed, it’s a heartland of true importance.

Described as a centerpiece of family interaction,
our home was like a rendezvous of some people,
whose attachments to our features of being hospitable,
welcome them to enjoy our kindness and compassion.

Though, to some of them our place was quite a distance,
but it didn’t matter to walk on foot, to come to our home;
It’s because they saw and felt truly a welcoming culture
from each member that fashioned to say no problem at all.

The long walk home may set the tone of exhaustion, 
But this reminds me of a pilgrim like in the bible;
The Holy Family who, in their flight to reach their destination,
Finds a place where they can be safe and call it a home.


Details | Sonnet | |

Somewhere Beyond Eternity

There was once a tale time could only tell
To be made and unmade, all souls cannot hide
From distant hands that cast a greater spell
All life and all death in us has to confide

Seasons bring memories to our minds undimmed
Blessed to the day, sacred to the night
Every end to every end, all humans skimmed
Across time and space, foresaid by plight

Many among us has long lived enough to allay
What has consumed our eyes to defy the vow
And expressions, adjourned, as if to say
If only you can see what we all see now

So long as we all can live with liberty...
So long we live somewhere beyond eternity...


Details | Villanelle | |

The Chimney

The chimney now stands alone
Without the home that was filled with love
A relic of what once had been gone

All the children left for places unkown
Father left many years ago for above
The chimney now stands alone

It once radiated warmth from its stones
As mother cooked meals unconceived of
A relic of what once had been gone

The chimney now stands alone 
Once it glowed with warmth that was made use of
Family gathered around, sweet potatoes thrown

In the ashes and coals, now the family is unknown
They're gone to different parts of the world, deprived of
A relic of what once had been gone

Children studied lessons once by the flame
Now no one even knows any of their names
The chimney now stands alone
A relic of what once had been gone


Details | Free verse | |

The one the world is here to protect

In the book of prophecies
a great secret
a great conspiracy of the muse
revealed by the suicidal head of the beast of annihalation
someone born by such a name
but what is in a name
that drives himself to madness
cursed to think the worst
not knowing the truth
the world around him knows the truth
for powerful forces reveal the future of the fates to the population iof they fail their 
test
Keep this person alive
Born of this name
cursed with paranoia of conspiracies of long ago times forgotten
\legacies of kings
and grudges of old
guesses and second guesses
the population works to protect the one prophecied
the one they believe will become an easy task to keep safe
but in any world where danger lurks
who knew the person born of this name would seemiongly plan to fail his task of 
surviving himself and the cushion of an easy life around him
to push society to its limits
to earn the stairway to heaven of utopia of the object mankind has been craving
but whom is the one after the prophecied fool
out to fool everyone
who is the man in the middle blindly safe pointing fingers at enemies 
suspiciously whom are not enemies at all?
yet there to serve their purpose to protect the prophecied brave fool
whom may seemingl plan to fail if he is brave
and society just might help him along the way to realise who is he and who he 
isnt without a word spoken
if this prophecied person prophecied to be protected by mankind is senselessly 
brave
will mankind stop the chaos if he falls for the madness himself and goes to battle
the whole world on his side
for it could get messy if mankind fails the test of babysitting this prophecied being
but surely mankind has plans of their own
a crime of the century
a protest
demands for there being proof of such gods
My first middle and last names are songs
as is my birthday
i just keep guessing
bravely living in fear planning to succeed and fail
stirring the pot and milking it
who am i ask
I am but a man
if you cant save me from yourself
and me from myself the future must be doom and gloom
game on
everywhere i go is a crime scene
everyone a suspect
everyone a body guard
the gods love me
and somwhere in this mess mankind plays a role of teaching me not to destroy 
myself


Details | Sonnet | |

The Indian Harmonious Chords

Based on the great Indian soil,
Great rhythms created you from your toil-
Like the morning star made you shine,
The 'Rhythms' made you absolutely fine.

Of late youths seem oblivious to you beauty,
More prone to rock music's name-
What a sorrow ,what a shame-
And none interested to return thee thy fame.

The ancient 'Rhythms' gave you a grand place,
Making you full of beauty and grace,
Like an incense stick you engross the midst of the face,
You are much noble than any music of this race.

Let's have a humble try to revive its glory!
Surely will it protect from being stabbed by a gully.









Details | I do not know? | |

End Of The World

Detaching myself from materialistic things;
Preparing for catastrophe.
Figure I will feel less sorrow
When everything that meant something
[But now is slowly not meaning anything]
Shall drown along the water
Of that river,
In the future beyond tomorrow.
(Which I've known my entire life)
It was meant to someday
Cause absolute deluge anyway.
And no I'm not fully pessimistic
Or even worried of the prophesied
Future to soon come.
Rather I shall be fascinated
As I watch the prophecies come true,
Up and close and personal
With the greatest storm I'll ever see.
When He appears and arrives,
It will all feel like a delusion,
An undeniable feeling of
The element of surprise.
Though those events may not
Happen within my lifetime,
It was fun and worth while researching.
Through all what those historical
And brilliant minds had to say and
What they've done with their lives.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Forever Free

In the land
Where brave men die
Stories are told
Where these men lie
Of how they fought
And what they sought
Glory not for themselves
But freedom to die
As they chose
So they did
And gave their all
So those that follow
Might know free will
Brave men in troubled times
Who lived not to count
Rich men’s dimes
Lived lives full
Rather facing death
Than to live as slaves
Men of honor who drank their fill
Feasted on life
Till filled with hope
Riding into battle already won
Free to feel the sun
With the wind in their hair
Free to choose their day to die
Oh to be so free
May we always be
To always remember the legend
Of a man and men
Who so believed in integrity and honor
In the face of challenge and strife
Rode off to face death
To put their lives to the test
For a greater cause
That we might live
Forever free


Details | Narrative | |

On cobblestone street

Passing through the inner city,
I see old buildings and landmarks.
With paucity of people walking through the night,
a real picture, wonder and amazement.

It dawns on me the past, its history
as a key to understand the whole lot
I find some answers common to expectations
that civilization caused hard work and labor.

With all those stuffs and items displayed
explain the reason for certain attraction.
Like antiquity, tourism and social meanings
of old cobblestones seen across the centers.

There's an inspiring connotation 
along with a cross of light in the sky.
It reminds me of the labarum symbols
etched in Roman coins
Christianity, the reason for basic principles.

Known collectively as a main achievement
from the ancient age down the contemporary time.
It's unfolding and giving delight to everyone
that stands still amid nature's assaults and destructions.


Details | Haiku | |

The Drifting Dust

Footprints on the trail
Lead to a house where once lived
Covered in the dust


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lessons taught

Long ago on rolling hills
And endless plains
Stood men who fought
For a cause beyond common understanding
Bound together by integrity
They persevered 
When odds gave no chance
Led by a man
Whose name was always half whispered
They made a vow
From that day forth
To stand as one
For in so doing
They found the strength
Lost on thousands
And won the day
Freedom they earned
From the blood they sacrificed
In defending a land
Not all their own
Thus were legends made
Respect of generations earned
Handed down from father to son
Mother to daughter
For all to hear 
How strength is found
When standing as one
Throughout history
From the example made
Nations have been born
To see freedom reign
Overcoming such odds
That would defeat weaker men
All brought forth long ago
On rolling hills and endless plains
In the lessons taught
By men who stood as one and persevered
For a cause far beyond
Common understanding of mortal men


Details | Senryu | |

Enjoy Your Journey

I am president
of the U. S. A. with a
real birth certificate

which I used to run
for state senator and
the U.S. senate

I'll use all of my
energy and time to solve
the nation's problems

Meanwhile, if you are
searching for the long form, please
enjoy your journey


Details | Narrative | |

' In Knighthood Realm ... ' (Medieval # 8)

I saw a Band of Royal Knights
upon their mighty Steeds
Coat of Arms,  A-gleaming
Herald Heroic Deeds...

One is Valor, One is Truth
Chivalry and Might
Another, Honor, Loyalty
Justice and Light

Charity and Chastity
and Faith, Their Golden Spurs
Those Bold, Polished Lords
Oh! Such Handsome Sirs!

Their Pennants were the Ladies
Once Damsels in Distress
Banners were the Orphans,
Now Kith and Kin to Crest

Their Swords and Shields on Battlefields
Unsheathed for Innocence
in Fealty to a Crown
Obey or be brought Down...

I saw a Band of Royal Knights
They rode upon their Quest,
that the Noble Creed of Men Henceforth...
be their Shining Armor Best


Details | Light Poetry | |

The frenzy of holiday season

With the flow of people in the city
the time to put reason into Christmas shopping,
has its moments of attaching a price tag
to their affection in this Christmastime.

Perhaps, that obscures the true spirit
of what Christmas really means.
Our attitudes and backgrounds
would paint the meaning in our time.

Being asked to let go of old wounds
and other things that are not of God.
We take a journey of change, 
prayer and real purpose of our lives.

Looking at our biblical gift
when Christ became one of us.
He gave us a second chance
to be partakers of his Kingdom.

While we recall and relive God's love for us,
the gift of redemption and our mission;
Re-aligns us to be transformed
into a new creation.

As we enter the shopping crowds
we come to struggle with sweeping ads.
The siren call of some ad wizards
makes us discern and opt for the right tone.

Hearing Christmas carols elsewhere,
with solemnity, subtlety and beautiful melody,
there's a whiff of warmth and introspection
that highlights the season of great devotion.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Vagabond Within

The Vagabond Within.

I slip through cracks,
my memories dimming,
as thoughts of yesterday swirl,
down dreary tunnels of decay,
into the chasm that is today.

Waiting, forever waiting,
to belong, yearning to fit in,
taking solace in transient cities,
wearing masked faces,
tailored for fleeting places.

 I stagger each night, lost,
wasting precious breaths,
drawn from a lifetime of sighs,
no consolation from the cruel,
while donning the skin of the fool.

Wrestling unseen demons,
dreading tomorrow as it nears,
ripping away my shallow smile,
withering into a hollow shell,
seeking comfort in everyday hell.

I stumble, I falter,
words slipping off pen onto paper,
fickle doleful murmurs of distaste,
at the gradual emptying of a soul,
needing to shed it all to be whole.

Stray dogs savage each other inside,
a body lathered in deep muck,
soiling my pants, wetting my being,
whistling promises that turn into lies,
the plaintive songs of a clown that cries.

I am momentary, 
a soap bubble on the breeze,
just smoke clearing into thin air,
wasting away in my cocooned lair,
too old to change, too young to care.


Details | Imagism | |

Viva La Imagism

Every being that lapses before you
Is but a mere fluorescence
Illuminating your flaws
 
Elementary constellations
 
A façade of what you’ve become 
 
Every strand of organic texture
 
Ejecting slivers of your identity
 
 
 
Every surface, every footprint
 
Annexed imagery 
 
They are all reincarnations
 
Of past, present, and future mistakes
 
 
We are all scientists and teachers
 
Creators and explorers
 
Living within equations
 
Striving endlessly for solutions
 
When the solution lies before us

Viva La Imagism!


Details | Free verse | |

Our Union

Our Union
	
My eyelashes bat 
After meeting your gaze
From across a 
Crowded subway haze.
 
My pupils dilate when they
Look back at you over dinner
Where we drank wine and ate.
 
My feet dance with glee as we
Fall hopelessly in love 
In the midst of summer heat.
 
My heart splits apart 
To become your wife
And your forever sweetheart.
 
My legs spread 
Open to bare new life
And see your cheeks rosen.
 
My arms push 
You away at night,
I'm too tired for a sex life.
 
My fists rage and tears pour,
When I discover your arms
Embracing another lover
After coffee one early morn.
 
My ears listen to 
Your words of regret and
Pleads for a second chance
For things to be like
When we first met.
 	
My fingers dial 
Seeking third party counsel
To repair our shattered union.
 
My brain waves 
Shift to understand your
Thoughts and your feelings, 
While I bitterly convey my own.
 
My hand re-opens 
To forgive your sins
And make amends.
 
My lips part to 
Receive your kiss in the
Night in a sea of 
Skin in our warm bed.
 
My heart flutters, 
We’ve truly become one,
Years after we bore our son.


Details | Quatrain | |

command six

kill the Catholic, kill the Jew
kill them all, draw sword 'n' slay 'em
kill the Muslim, the Buddhist too
spill their blood, creating mayhem

kill the Taoist, kill the Zen
kill the agnostic, kill the skeptic
kill all religious, come back again
wash away everyone seen as septic

kill the women, kill all the men
that other tribe, who you eschew
everyone who might be your brethren
take weapon in hand and kill them too

kill that other race of beings
kill the innocent, kill too, the guilty
kill anyone with peaceful leanings
kill wholly with unspeakable cruelty

kill all hope of ever finding peace
kill yourself for your own release
kill believing you'll justify
all these hates that in you lie

© Goode Guy 2011-06-04

the only good ___ is a dead ___ ...know it's sarcasm, ok


Details | Narrative | |

Trapped Deep Within Your Robes

When you, Trapped me deep Within Your Robes.

thus Forgiven; I have forgiven you so many times
and you and yes and you.
Yet lest you remember it now naught.
For Tampa, ' was in nineteen sixty five.
Lake Magdalene, I saw no priests nor a
single nun and my mother was not supperior.
What I did see was wrong to be there only seven.
When I am gone the sun so of't 
from whom did we protect me from.
Forgotten I have been by you, 
and you.
and all of the Chief Judges saw me, 
when back then, was it considered normal?
That which was done to one single child back then
went off too many men then grown from which
has left no middle ground on which too stand.
Being said, ' Would I then dare to so remind you
why have I been forgotton now 
and then if naught from whence or where is yours shame 
whose shame before I die.
Did you do it not to yours, 'but a skinny frightned child?
Mr.Wilson and me a few others and knew Tampa stadium
that night as the Washington Redskins played 
the Miami Dolpins when even before, 
Robert Allen "Bob" was so Griese.


is it poetry


Details | Sonnet | |

Desert Moon

Created, desolated, resurrected and even in reverse, 

You are a transformation under a Sun drenched day. 

Beckoned or heralded you climb above a beaming ray, 

Bristles of your hair shall glow and many are perverse. 

  

Shuffled, hurdled, corner-stoned and even immerse, 

You are a salvation upon a Mountain leading a way. 

Stripped or naked you run below an endless cache, 

Light inside of you shall outpour so all will disperse. 

  

The collectors shall find, 

Lost on a course in time, 

Many stranded or behind, 

Many with no unjust crime! 

  

Jacked up, a ripped off, a maniac or just downright a true blue loon, 

Still remaining is a red flaming shield up under a sacred desert Moon. 

  



Details | Rhyme | |

SLEEPS

Cruelty - thy manner strains,
but with it, still invokes the salt,
while bloody more, the soil remains
as basking hope, do but assault!

Do feel your motive faults the fault,
explains deterrent, not consult -
why struggle, if thy methods vault
ne'er meaning, but all else result!

Oh cruelty leads, as manhood cults,
but there to mention - serve insult!
Oh man, thy numbers mate the day -
while justice sleeps alone ...some way!


Details | Rhyme | |

Reflection Of History

Waking with the daybreak
I felt like someone else
Looked at the reflection
And I did not see myself

Possibly sands have gone
Down a little since then
Is that tricking of time
This life is not pretend

Nothing stays so endless
These grains cannot last
Wasting seconds counting
History showing too fast


Details | ABC | |

feeling mind and body

wish you could've met him too
been someone to hear me cuz
my learning him, my yearning
was good and real and true 

maybe he was too perfect for me
so many feelings ago

he happened to me
he drew me in charcoal pencil
in my shades of black, gray 
and even between that

he taught me how to drive with my hands
to drive wihout needing my feet
he taught how to love with my mind
and music, art, words, imagination

that chair got between us too fast
I didn't care, but he did 
and I was too young to know
to know how to convince him


losing him
was as bad
as losing
how to walk

because it happened to him 
not me
and he couldn't feel anymore
anyone below his arms

he left me

and because he happened to me
not him
and I couldn't feel anymore
anyone above my arms

was that as bad 
as the loss of his legs?








Details | I do not know? | |

Learned Evil

The outcome of one's future,
Is determined by decisions of the past.

Frantic attempts to learn to nurture,
Is how we teach the molds that cast.

To prevent the rise of another evil creature,
We must take to heart the fathers of the past.


Details | I do not know? | |

Destiny or Fate

Destiny or fate always has a hold
Of history's mistakes, even one's fortold
Why should we contemplate when the future's sold
or try to re-create what only God encode's..
Destiny or fate rises with the sun
One cannot seperate what's born into one
So why deliberate what cant be undone
Or whatever deviate's since it has begun..
Destiny or fate can inspire dreams
it can take a boy and turn him to a king
Bring a mighty Nation falling to it's knee's
Without a heart and soul it never has to please..
Destiny or fate wait's so patiently
It feed's and it predate's at the choice's tree
But I can dilate what's not meant to see
So I can violate it's very hold on me..
Destiny or fate may be intertwined
Like gravity and space woven in a bind
In order to escape you must free your mind
Only then can you dictate your own place and time..


Details | Free verse | |

Hippocritical believers

Bible thumpers
all of you
on alll sides
woeshipping some peacefull higher forgiving power
that preches and teaches how to love
and how to practice being peacefull
but yet you crucify it
nail it to you rgrudge
and blame it when you go to war 
and satanicly kill eachother in fields of massacres of bullets and bombs and 
guns
tricked by demons of lust and desire manipulating those who lead men
or shall i say fools
into standing up for what they truly believe in
HIPPOCRITS

utopia
peace
love
heaven
but we will pick up a gun
and kill for it
over lies and liars
desperation

Cowards
taking the path of least reisistance
instead of sitting down and truly realising what it is you all really believe
instead you backstab your god
and massacre your brothers no different than cain and able
or judas to jesus
and pass judgement in those lessons
and have learned nothing in those teachings as you go out to wars for a better 
world for peace

TRAGEDY I SAY
thump your bible
go ahead
but remember when you pull that trigger coward
you are a satanist
not aman of god
kill or be killed?
and you cowards still see no way to sway the threat with common sense?
LIES AND LIARS
I am not blind
and i thump no bible
walk to the beat of my own drum
killing for what i believe
is a sacrifice i will never make
There is a solution to every problem
many kings among society
not just those the media points fingers at and says are in power
a good king leads peacefully
a bad king i shall smite
with all my might
leading men to temptation to die for your lies and lust and greed
and in the name of gods you say are righteous and holy
COWARDS


Details | Rhyme | |

"The Walk"
An elected position walks into transition, but not without apprehension.
Thrusted forward into accountability , a  “ word” that was lost in financial history.
Blame and blasphemy for others greed, carelessness, incompetency and irresponsibility.
Unlike the blind man to our society, anger creates a false reality.

encircles him for others greed, carelessness, incompetency and irresponsibility.
Unlike the blind man to our society, anger creates a false reality.”  
A “change that we can believe in” is the course called destiny.
Persecution upon every action or direction by resistance and those individuals who remain in 
social captivity by their  own personal experiences or enthrusted perceptions of “what ought not  
be”.
Prepare the world for  the world is watching and they see “without corruption, and a massive 
scale of discrimination, injustices and judgment as their plea”, they are not happy nor do they 
believe that  they succeed.  
May forgiveness and mercy find it’s place upon his adversaries as well as for him whom they do 
unto in the sight of he.
People , we call ourselves “we” , do not lose focus, the walk for change remains on our compass 
to destiny and real facts vs. opinions will be our guide for future  history. 
Carrie Love-atkins@copyright 2010
corrected version August 20,2010


Details | Free verse | |

Stockbridge

Last year’s alarm clock by my beside silently, vigilantly ticked away until 4:02 AM 
In the hour of Platonic picture-perfect darkness kept company solely by the bloodshot red
Of the alarm clock reading 4:02 AM
And a suspicious newcomer, causing panic like a foreigner in a shtetl, arrived
In my abdomen, pain, as from machete clutched by any modern horror-flick fiend
Or ancient Mayan warrior bronzed by the timeless sun, who had seen it all by then
Pain induced, and the panic of ignorant xenophobia at this alien agony, nameless
Causeless, baseless
And I, car-less, helpless to the whims of any pluricellular stowaway aboard the meals I ate
Or long-waiting malcontent festering quietly at my expense, awaiting my moment of weakness,
Before crashing the drums of revolution,
Or even maverick cell born of my own body, swearing me the true enemy
And the alarms are sounded too late, or rather too early, before any outside force can be
called
So I collapse into the indifferent suede of the sofa, 
With mutable chestnut Rorschach blots on the cushion shadowing our past encounters,
And I conduct the grand electronic symphony that permits the tinny notes of
Arlo Guthrie’s guitar, which shoot like bullets, speed like beams of light 
Across the years from 1967 to today, from Stockbridge to my apartment
To me, son of Abraham, of Isaac, of Jacob, and of a thousand other fathers
My world defined by pasts, by traditions, by the presents of others.
The pain subsides like the tide, backing away foot by foot as it glares me in the eye
Grudging me victory, in the battle, anyway, though the war may be yet begun,
So I nestle in my quasi-significant nook in time, as in the hug of an oversized sofa,
Between the aftershock of near-death and the afterglow of “Alice’s Restaurant”
And I hope my present may too hurdle across impossible chasms
Like Wells’ Argonauts, my presently unknown gifts,
May suffice as to be a past for the present of another
To voyage to the future to comfort their solace, though my hand may be eternal still,
Like the acoustic guitar that had its day in 1967


Details | Light Poetry | |

' The Feast of Kings ... ' (or 'Holy Things')

See, The High King
And King of Kings
At The Feast of Kings                                      Eph. 2: 6,  Lu. 22: 30
Are Holy Things …

Holy Blood , Holy Wine
Fruit of Lips, from Holy Vine                            Heb. 13: 15,   John 15: 1
Cup of Love Passed, Blessed Divine                 Lu. 22: 17, 18
Bless Those, Who Thirst, Hunger and Dine        Matt. 5: 6

In Holy Banquet, Break Holy Bread                  Lu.  22: 19
From Which Silver-Sacred-Souls Are Fed
Holy Water, Chalice Poured and Shed               John 4: 14    Heb. 9: 22
Crystal-Clear Sparkles, on Tablets Read …        2 Cor. 3: 3

 Holy Words
Wholly Heard
As Holy Wings Aired
And Holy Hearts Stirred

Pure, Sayings Said
Holy Spirit Led
Where Even Angels, Fear To Tread                       Jude 9,   Rev. 14: 6, 7
‘Cept in Humble-Honor and Holy Dread

… Before The Holiest of Heads
And His Only Begotten-Bred
The Holy-Heir, Ruler, In His Stead                         1 Cor. 15: 24, 25
The Worthy One, Ready, To Be Wed …                  Matt. 9: 14, 15

Seated … At JAH’s Table-Grand                             1 Cor. 10: 21,   Ps. 83: 18
Seated … At God Almighty’s, Right Hand                 Ps. 110: 1,   Acts 7: 56
See, King Jesus, The Holy ‘Son Of Man’                  Rev. 14: 14
Reigning In Heaven and Holy Land

… They Invited The Hungry
And Those, Doing Laundry                                     Rev. 7: 14
Invited, All and Sundry                                          John 3: 16
(So, Don’t Wait ‘til Someday)                                 1 Cor. 7: 29

For There Are Holy Golden-Bowls                            Rev.  15: 7
Holy Raiment, Change of Clothes                            Rev. 7: 9
Holy, Royal Crowns for Those                                 Rev. 4: 10
All, The Holiest Chose …

… to See, The High King
And King of Kings
Yea, At That Feast of Kings
With Holy Harps, They Will Sing                               Rev. 14: 2, 3


Details | Cowboy | |

Deadwood Hill

(At Wild Bill Hickok’s Grave)

Those bold Black Hills of South Dakota,
Darkly murmur of all your Badlands—
You have left now like the Lakota—
On that hillside your monument stands.

Hills pulse under Ponderosa pines—
Strong night breezes have yet much to say—
Legends linger on lips and pale shrines—
They know that Wild Bill once passed this way.

You sleep long in this last resting place,
That now overlooks sinful Deadwood—
It is here that we still see your face,
Yet ponder if you were bad or good.

They moved your petrified form it’s said—
Casket opened, though some thought it wrong—
Your dark face yet perfect, though long dead—
Your fair hair still so flaxen and long.  

Jane Cannary lays mute beside you—
A calamity that is no more—
As you study those cards in the blue—
Play that dead man’s hand from a far shore.

Saffron leaves and stern winds shape your grave—
And your name’s one that we all know still—
As you raise dark death’s ante and save,
One last red ace to trump Deadwood hill.


Details | Narrative | |

' Monsters, Among Us ... '

‘ Monsters, Among Us … ’

 Scatter The Creeping Vapor-Stench, Away
  Expose The Wake of  Eerie, Fog and Shadows
And Nightshade and Fiends, and Vile-Beasts That Bay
 Begone, to Taboo, Grounds, Unhallowed …

… for there Are Monsters, Among Us …
Yea, Also An Ancient Curse
We Don’t have To Make This Up …
… to Make It Any Worse …

Yea, There Are Blood Suckers, Self-Styled, Vampires            ( Vlad, The Impaler )
Who’ll Drink Your Blood by Starless, Night
Creatures, Who’ll Make You Suffer Their Desires
and Ghouls, Who’ll Dine On Your Flesh, in Daylight                 ( Jeffrey Dahmer )

Yea, There Are Creatures of The Dark
Who’ll Catch You, If You Do Not Know …                                ( Rapists )
They Want To Get Inside Of Your Heart
And Make You Do Acts, Foul, Fraught with Woes

Yea, There Are Monsters, Among Us …
Merciless, Malevolent, Maniacal Monstrosities …                       ( Hitler )
They Do, Indeed, Want To Own Your Soul, Because                 ( Jim Jones )
They Want To Make You Commit, Their Atrocities ! …               ( Charles Manson )

And If You Walk Around Unwary
Doesn’t Matter, If Its Not, Stroke Of Midnight
… Anytime, Is Their Time, To Do Scary
Spine-Chilling Screams of Your Unending, Pitch-Black Fright …

Rituals To Silver and Golden Idols                                          ( Slaving For Riches)
Making A Virgin Sacrifice -                                                     ( Child Molestation )
Hexes and Voodoo Dolls
and All Such Abominations To The Christ …

… Now, by a Long Shot, I’m Not Pious
(‘Cause I Too, Like A Good Thrill !)
Just, Don’t Make The Mistake-Serious
By Thinking Wickedness, Isn’t Real !

And Humans, Please Be Aware
Evil Incarnate, Isn’t Just A Movie Theme …
It’s More Than Just A Joking Scare
… There ‘ Is’ A Wicked Scheme

(and there ‘Is’ A Wicked Being)

So, If You Find, You’re Chased or Caught
By Some Monster In A Living-Nightmare
Remember, No Potion, Amulet, Nor Incantation Taught 
Brings Almighty Help, Better Than Holy Prayer

Yea, There Are Monsters, Among Us …
Yea … Also, An Ancient Curse
(and We Couldn’t Even Invent The Stuff
to Make It Any Worse ! ) …


Details | Free verse | |

VII: Conquered

A single, unnoticed ray of light
shooting across the sky at night
straight down to my head
in our conversations 
it is, as it has always been
between the King and I.

He tells me what he sees, 
and he feels for the unworthy
he cares for the damned
though he see the lies
that are fed from the lies
of the leaders

Return soon, brother in arms
return from the sea, comrade
walk upon the shore
or walk on water
once more for the doubters
the King knows all about us
alas, he has not returned yet
I will know that day
once, twice, more like seven times
to the exact the moment he's raised

Conquered by all of the hope 
of your allies
the few that still dare to 
believe in you
very same as the ones
who keep feeding you
in the outskirts of our realizations
the dreadful dreary dreamy illusions

The King best exists in the pretense 
of pretendness
at the moment just before, your mind intervened
and cast in just a shadow of doubt
that spread rapidly far, and between
this now makes him limited,
now I have my chance
to pull the wool off the greatest wolf
the world shall break its trance
I am now your lord
I feel all the world
I am always yours,
your Magus.


Details | I do not know? | |

Wrinkles

I wonder,
Who I will be,
When I age.

I often find myself,
At a loss,
When asked who exactly I am.

I tend to brush the chestnut locks,
Only attempting to contain my face,
Away,
And peer down,
At my steadfast feet.

I do not even know me,
Me!
It causes my heart to shrink,
And relapse.


Details | Free verse | |

Those Were The Days

with muse in hand
I'll take you on a walk to remember

do you remember 
when you used to be able to 
keep your windows and doors unlocked
and got to enjoy the night breeze's while you slept

do you remember
when you were able to
walk to your local corner store
and not get jacked

do you remember
when soda and cigarettes
were 50 cents a pack and 25 cents a can
and suddenly you had friends
you've never knew you had before

do you remember
when you could ride a city bus for a dime 
and go downtown and look at christmas displays
without getting knocked off feet

do you remember
when gas was only a nickle a gallon
so family's could take a nice
summer vaction without noise and traffic

do you remember
when kids walked to school safely
and never had to worry
who was lurking behind them

do you remember
sitting at the soda shopp
just dancing and twisting
the night away without having rumbles

do you remember
when boys were boys
and girls were girls
well on this walk to remember
I'm sure there still out there
but got lost along the way



Tribute To Youth
And The Oldies


Also Entry For
Constance La France's
A Walk To Remember Contest


Details | Free verse | |

Aquanted

Liquid!
This night flows as you,
thick as caramel, and as smooth,
                    warm this old tin roof.

Golden Sun, through thrice-locked gates,


seven seals and seven lambs,
but enough of me, what of you?

            No, i don't know my sign,
uncouth, like the ravages of time.
Popularized myths sing of my better days,
when the holiest of us still stood tall.

Tender talons tease twisted tales, ten-times told.
Forever falling farther from faerie's family flame.
Divided, divined, divulged, distasteful, distracted.

     Silver, not gold.
Lead, mercury, copper.


Details | I do not know? | |

ain't that a shame

Well off on my own 
cause your problems 
concern me 
well off on my own
soon as i took 
off the condomn 
you burned me 
well off on my own 
late for my date
but i'm still early
well off on my own
cause every part 
of you silence me
well off on my own 
cause my pain
generally come 
from you 
well off on  my own 
own my on off well.
when love isn't shown
just burn 
water where are you
just turn 
corner where are you 
just earn
quarter where are you 
well off on my own
thats what i order
for you.


Details | Blank verse | |

Everyone Was Aware

The boys fell out,
Quelled by violence
A lessening of intensity, now 
We covered them with our duffle coats.
Thinking back on it I can see notices in gothic characters.
I no longer had the strength to move,
I lookd toward Hiroshima - 
No dish in a restaurant.
We're miles ahead of them and
These are winter's last throes.

Letter to an unknown soldier:
Isn't it fabulous, even if it is Russian flesh?

Propaganda horizon,
For some mourning meant classes,
A last minute stop at the horizontal position of attention.
Tiny echoes, four more escorts:
I climbed the bridge.
The ignorance was mine, criminal instinct of self preservation.
This is forgery,
Hitler had had a closer bond that turned the scales,
A nation and its people.
Time to take.

I remembered suddenly the butt end of his rifle,
Expressionless.


Details | Free verse | |

Friday After Thanksgiving

Ginko almost solid yellow
Just a bare touch of green
Means the first frost or freeze
Is nigh on most any night

The color on the horizon
Is nothing spectatcular
Almost a clear sunrise
But the beauty is felt

In the quiet peace
The roosters are just
Softly crowing as if
Their vocal cords are frozen

Sea and land container
And truck go down the
Road and interfer with
Quiet of this glorious morn

Cindy comes around
Wanting me to feed
Her on the cold morning
I shiver she's comfortable

When i first came out onto
The porch there was a bird
That flew from the giant oak
To across the road almost silently

I believe it was the hawk
That has lived down the road
I enjoyed seeing that family
They became part of my life

Sea and land truck goes out
As does one eighteen wheeler
Sea and land hauling old 
Machinery to coast to be shipped China

This is from a plant that once
Employed nearly three thousand
Now it is being torn down
After being sold three times

I am getting chilled so I
Must not stay  out on the porch
Thank you God for the time
The time that you allowed 

Thank you, Thank you
For the warmth of the house


Details | Narrative | |

You Are My Curse

I had to let it all go,
The day and night,
Their hours ran too slow.
It was more than just a fight.
I trusted you and knew you,
My love succumbed to the worst,
Faith and loyalty just wouldn’t do.
You became my curse.
 
I was pulled down to Earth’s plane,
And judgment did set in.
Then new days begin.
I stood parallel as many went insane.
My heart drenched and my soul crunched,
I couldn’t let my heart take this very much.
I died and I died losing each endless breath,
I swallowed the victory and ate your death.
 
You reaped and I sowed,
But I saw no one grow,
Not even you.
What was I to do?
I let it go very slow,
Now I am all grown,
And I’m on my own.
I died watching you go.
 
I will always remember begging mercy,
I will always know this pain,
You are my curse you see,
And nothing did you gain.
I can never just be alright,
I can never love you the same again.
I died watching you go out of sight.
You are my curse and forever in my heart you made an end.


Details | I do not know? | |

Gavel

Shaken from the wooden sound,
Of the gavel coming down,
To finalize what he just said,
A sentence hangs above my head...
One I reach and try to grab,
Making room for one more slab,
The chains that bound me wrist to waist,
Pains what found me in such haste...
Who can I blame but myself,
When every sinner fed my wealth,
For a time I watched them greed,
But weak in mind I joined their feed...
Strong enough to take my share,
Wrong enough so not to care,
As mothers eyes got even wetter,
Because she knew she taught me better...
Now I join the hall of fame,
Built between the walls of shame,
As I stand and hide my face,
Among the ones who lost their place...


Details | Quatrain | |

pressed

he stands amid the dusted rays
of beams from smudged, windowed days
casting light on the words below
pressed flat upon papered page

he's been here since before sun up
stained and smelling of turpentine
surveying the thoughts he's pressed
quickly he hangs the page to dry

then re-inks the typeset laid to table
and inserts another piece to press
pulling at the screw-pressed platen
repeating process his labors express

his desire to enlighten the world
not just his neighbors informed to tell
ideas and thoughts carried on back
ancestors haunched with ink and quill

before them criers cried the street
events be known upon lips aloud
spreading ideas throughout the land
difficult to speak beyond the crowd

and unbeknownst to him and kind
someday in future ideas are spread
with something called electricity
through wires and waves on into head

to reach to you my heartfelt soul
ideas with emotions and feelings said
until now, thoughts sweetest aspirations
words spread like jam on slice of bread

words, like feelings toil quietly
carry your touch and feeling along
to distant lands and distant times to
give life's meaning, therefore prolong

what the publisher and writer wish
to convey to all able to read or hear
that thought, like life, is precious
held close at hand, the mind made clear

© Goode Guy 2011-08-09

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ink
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Printing_press
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Publishing


Details | Free verse | |

Hippocritical believers part 2

stand up to the evil
stand up for yoursleves
it isnt money that is the root of the wars
it isnt
its the fact you dont even know what you truly believe
or how anymore
you have all lost faith and believe there is no consequence for your actions
and in the fields where you kill and die
for your gods
you blame and nailto the grudge in the name of satanic massacres called war
due to greed and lust and laziness of problem solving and working together
you have failed yoursleves
your fathers
and the future generations
for shame
your gods will not pity you
they will nail you to their grudge
and hope you will learn not to be a hippocrit
treat others how you want to be treated
goes with treating a god how you want your god to treat you

If killing is the only solution you can think of 
to make money and earn respect
this world has been set back like three millenium
since before the philosphers of the renaisance
for shame
for shame
I will find the kings of poverty
the kings of the churches
the true leaders of men
and together we will stop this satanic evil war mongering massacre
and stand up against evil
and heal those the demons are persuading and manipulating with lies and lust
Hippocritical believers
all of you
and im close to agnostic
for shame


Details | Couplet | |

Trill

In sick dreams bullets cut-through
tire tough truth like raw meat;

stringy and dripping with blood.
Teeth ripping through organs,

heart, kidneys, liver, making
sausage of our small intestines.

There is no valid temperature
for proclamations of redemption,

no trembling for forgiveness,
announcements of new leaves.

Baptism is spent gun shells, as
the chorus trills to the slaughter.

Everywhere we're allowed to go
little eyes stare like Big Brother

hungry to purify secrets.




Details | Elegy | |

A Tribute to Michael Jackson

You taught us how to be "Bad" by telling our enemies to "Beat It"
We learned how to "Scream" "Leave Me Alone" when we lost friends like "Ben" or had people 
    like "Billie Jean" telling lies
We came together to "Jam" and "Rock Wit You" whether we were "Black or White"
You helped the guys get the "PYT" and made them into their "Girlfriend"
With the help of "Human Nature" and "Don't Stop Til You Get Enough", teenagers were "Off 
    the Wall"
We found the positive side of us by looking at "The Man in the Mirror" because you showed 
    us how to "Keep the Faith"
You showed us that we had to take it upon ourselves to "Heal the World" because "They 
    Don't Care About Us"
We became "Unbreakable" when your life was "Threatened" by the accusations of the liars
These accusations were such "Heartbreaks" and we heard your "Cry"
Now all of a sudden, "You're Gone too Soon"
You can "Ease On Down the Road" then fly off into Heaven like the little "Butterflies" that 
    roam in the spring time
All we can do is "Come Together", "Smile", and "Remember the Time"
We're just "Good Friends" of the world that you knew as your fans
"Fly Away" Michael Jackson, you will be forever and dearly missed.


Details | Free verse | |

Perfected Insanity

I hear voices
I see people that are not there
I worship the devil
I believe war is the answer that solves all of our problems
taking drugs is a good idea
and if you see me i stand out in society more than you
I am different
and you all know nothing
for you give people like me power
you follow people like me
I will not tell the truth
for lies and liars and deception earns me money
I am your example to look at and condemn
to become a satanic martyr
and one day a saint for the church of christ
and on this cross of this grudge i am nailed and hailed as this narcissistic i am
for it all revolves around me
I am perfect
perfectly insane
and anyone like me should be on pills too
anyone that is violent and mongering after violence with lies and deception
no matter the scale
should be considered insane like me
I am perfect
too perfect for you
here to get my foo tin the door
stirring the pot
the things i find funny are not
the things i think are good ideas are wrong
the label i am is a false reality for you to believe
I am perfectly insane
a saint of treason and treacherously living on the edge as an example of do as 
isay not as i do
for you to learn what anmd how to believe as a society
before you giove peoiple like me more power and attention
and the right way to diffuse the powers you have given the crazies like me

so get your guns
lets smoke some drugs and off to war we will go
and all those countries at disputes with another praising higher powers 
hippoctically i believe you have it all right
and i thump my bibnle and follow blindly
for i am sane i believe and everyone else is right and i am wrong with no insight


Details | Free verse | |

The One True Omnipotent Superpower

Majestically standing at the podium just so
These men of power with prestige and honor
Making promises; can they be kept?
While our father and sons
March into the face of death
What can they offer us?
What will they do
Come the day of reckoning
Are we the fools
Whose heads will be the example of
Leadership gone mad and drunk with
An uncontrollable power?
Too big to handle alone
Playing God and the Devil at once
Who will we choose
To march us into Freedom,
Peace and redemption
Choose wisely and be particular
How many caskets do we need to fill?
How much land is there left to bury?
Innocent lives with loved ones left behind
To prove the strength worthy of being
The One True Omnipotent Superpower
There is only one Lord God Almighty
But if we keep this up, we shall never
See the day we meet Him


Details | I do not know? | |

Love & Light

Love is meant to be all around.
Spirituality is forever beyond
The comprehension of mere
Human nature abound.


Details | Free verse | |

Flashback & Forward Days

Many moons ago in autumn
I often sucked my thumb
Cuddled up in my little crib
I couldn’t even see my ribs

I would say gaga moomoo
While looking at the moon
That was so much fun then
Oh my, time is on the go

Now I am paddling my canoe
Wondering what info is new
With chap sticks on my lips
Taking this multitasking trip

Looking forward to the day
When I can with honesty say
Time to kick back and relax
Without swinging this axe


© Joseph, 11/2/07
© All Rights Reserved


Oh well, you know what I mean.
Keep scratching your head. It’s figurative!  
Got you~lol...hehe!!!



Details | Narrative | |

Under Cover

Scurry To Their Side
And Try To Catch A Break
No One Has The Time
For Decisions That They Make
On The Road To Happiness
Hopes Fall On The Grim
Out Here, On The Horizon’s Edge
The Lights Are Getting Dim

In The End We’re Animals
Victims To Our Need
Giving Not Too Easy Now
Fallen, To Our Greed
All The Hopes In One Hand
And The Let Downs In The Other
Bringing Balance To A Life
Best Lived Under Cover

Falling Back Now
To A Place We Can Control
Acceptance Always Granted
With The Payment Of Your Soul 
Today Is Not The First
And We Are Far From Last
Just An Upended Recurrence
Footnoted In The Past

It All Seems So Long Ago Now
Gazing Through The Mirror 
Is There Any Truth Behind 
All The Stories That I Hear?
For What Once Was
Has Been Redone Ten Times Over
And I’ve Become A Memory
Best Lived Under Cover


Details | I do not know? | |

For You

The day I met you,
I at first saw you as strange.
But then, later in time,
I realized that it's just your disguise.

I never felt so lucky
Before you said you loved me.
There aren't many guys in the world
Who don't despise looks.
Yet you are the one who seems the most true.

Maybe deep down, I love you too...
And I'm not sure why
I stopped you from suicide.

I guess I just want others to follow
The guiding light that always helped me through.
Although I think that,
You say that I'm probably in love with you.

If that is really true,
Then I can't handle hearing your voice,
Life as if your feelings for me
Are forcing me to love you without a choice.
I can't even handle such love,
At least not yet.

For now I just want to keep my bets of me
Finding another person.
And I don't find anyone like you,
Then I'll become yours
Just for you...


Details | Blank verse | |

A Picture of Betrayal

A face among a sea of faces stares at me
Cold and numb the face looks tired
Waiting for absolution from closed ears
A tattered uniform of devastation
Eyes, eyes that see into eternity
Genderless and weeping into silence.

It hurts to look upon truth
Surrounded in self-glorifying patriotism
They are the true heroes
Burdened with a remembrance they long to forget
A tattooed number, their name.
In vain they bleed for retribution.

My heart breaks into a thousand shards
And so many tears long to comprehend
But could not.
There is nothing to compare such peril to
A shroud of ignorance and tyranny
Shaking my head, a thought so incomprehensible

Reality for them.

Can’t shake that picture from the foreground
Oh, so many bodies, what did they do?
No respect, no reflection on their crimes surely
What, I ask, what could they have done 
So suffer the innocent for another’s evil
Surely someone question’s the final solution…

But no one did.
My heart dies a thousand deaths
They look to us, pitiful, no other so needy 
No act so disgusting, a betrayal of the human heart
So beautiful their faces, so beautiful
Standing in a bare state, starring into history

They record their suffering in black and white
Burning images into a pure white film
A dark, terrifying image, terrifying
Never to comprehend what massacre they partake of
So beautiful their faces, so beautiful
I will never forget what I could never comprehend.

I will never forget.


Details | | |

waryers

On this side of Neverbeen
holding fast to truth so keen
ever circling hawk or shark
in instinct driven tunnel vision
world of red surrounding white
berserker rage surrendered flight
Thus the other side of Never
thunders blood in pounding ears
A sight to see to startle shiver
cause of swift unfounded fears
racial memory of steel
swinging to the  piping screel
violent keening silent screaming
hairs all tall in taut attention
back aquiver with delight
so we dance into the night


Details | Ballad | |

' Warriors ... The Battle Cry Song ... '

There Are Sounds of Ancient Thunders
There Are Sounds of Ancient Drummers
        Calling … Brave Warriors
         Gladiators and Warriors

And They’re Marching To The Cadence of Their Hearts’ Pounding
Marching, To The Cadence of The World’s Rage Resounding
They’re Going By The Beat of Their Heart’s Pumping
By The Steady Flow of Blood and Bloodlust, Tells Me Somethin’

               … Warriors …
         Courageous Warriors …

Chorus:

But, We’ve Seen These Men, Playing With Their Children
We’ve Seen These Sons and Their Laughter, I’m Hearing
We’ve Seen These Men, Loving Their Babies
And Tenderly Holding and Kissing Their Ladies

               … Warriors …
         Courageous Warriors …

2nd Chorus:

Oh Lord, Please Stop These Warriors’ Battle Cry
And The Battle Cry, Coming From Their Mothers and Wives
The Battle Cry, Coming From Their Little Ones’ Eyes
The Battle Cry, Coming From Warriors … When They Die

               … Warriors …
         Courageous Warriors …

Sticks and Stones, Swords, Arrows and Bombs
Lances, Knives, Hand to Hand Combat, Napalm
God Almighty, Oh, Thy Kingdom Come
Please Rescue Us, From The Kingdom of The Gun …

And Prophecy Is Marching – Listen, All Who Arms Bear
Warriors, Must Beat War Weapons Into Plowshares            ( Isa. 2: 4 )
And When War, Is No More, Then We Will Hear
All Warriors’ Battle Cry, Will Be An Amen Cheer !

              … Gentle Warriors …
            Peace-Loving, Warriors …

2nd Chorus:

Oh Lord, Please Stop These Warriors’ Battle Cry
And The Battle Cry, Coming From Their Mothers and Wives
The Battle Cry, Coming From Their Little Ones’ Eyes
The Battle Cry, Coming From A Warrior’s … Last ‘ Why ? ’

                … Warriors …
           Courageous Warriors …

How Can Flesh and Blood, Mortal-Men, Be So Fearless, I Wonder
Are They Strengthened By Duty, Love and Honor
Facing Danger, Death and Being Torn Asunder
Sacrificing All, As A Fallen Soldier …

                 … Warrior …
           Courageous Warrior …


Details | Quatrain | |

Ekphrastic afternoon

while sitting at a local literary Louvre
with artists and some other radicals
waiting for return of grammatical groove
that had left me on today's sabbatical

I stumbled for some heartfelt words
to share with you of artistic notions
of whether art is abstract or more absurd
can it cure our ills with colourful potions

and quietly the souls walked the walls
of painted lands and many female forms
to search their own inspiration's calls
outside their box of artistic norms

macroed with micro muted brush lines
of sultry legs and strong countenance
whatever treasure is sought we will find
with some ingrained artful provenance

like Samuel Morse as student of masters
copied Da Vinci from the Parisian museum
hued new light on Mona Lisa to recast her
and express his own artistic freedom

we give out hope of showing of ourselves
that bit of soul our heart holds close
down new pathways that we delve
our hands stretch toward divine, almost

© Goode Guy 2011-09-17

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ekphrasis
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/5918


Details | Free verse | |

Biography

                           PROLOGUE
Biographies are for men who have a need to cry
To spell out what we remember is to subtract all
We forget, for knowing then nothing knew, a lie
Conjured by history, there's no a priori here at all 
If you will not abuse my love
I will dive for you deeper forgotten things, bring
Up from bottom hate to prove
To be a better god we gladly, boldly took the sting
And could not have merely comprehended joy until
Our serpent made the safe-God to repent of his will

Here is my life strands of sands upon your windy palm
I'm the syllables of every gospel, beginning at the Psalm
Proverbs skinned like rice from the shaft, seeking balm.


History immaculate pristine in no myth ever shall sleep
Introspection vigils struggle between words and memory
Philosophy is a dream, not I, who numbers days urgently,
The sleeping dog will sleep, but my promise let me keep.
                                      i
                                IDENTITY
I do not even know how it began, night or day
Rain or shine - nor what season they had interplay
I only know that nine must have been too long since
I overstayed my time and made her grimaced, grunt
And groaned to push me out. So of course, I wince
Privy to so much uncertainty. I have a given month
A date, but what is time alone for anyone's beginning
I want to remember the pool I paddled in the flesh
The long rope that called my navel a primal mouth
The red tide of mud from her veins which so much clout
I was hooked on it, around the perimeter where I thresh
So much more can come from a real truth of beginning.

I mean, how comes we have no control over our beginning
And you expect me in the middle to give you meaning
I will not buy the lie, I choose allegiance but know not how
The end shall fufill its promises of me. The air burns still
Like an acrid vapor on the lungs, and not yet I shall spill
The anger from the fumes of air, nor low ever can I bow
Before the hand that slapped my butt and told me scream.
You say indecent, I say unjust, for he proved no love so
Soon nor knew of me any wrong. The conspirators team
Around a common cause: a man must cry so they know
He has life; my kicking legs were not enough. The water
Suddenly left me swaddled in air and just a little laughter.

I do not take kindly to being whipped, nor did I protest then
About my eviction, and the sudden weight of many things.
 








Details | Rhyme | |

WHY2

WHY are those who have nothing obsessed over wealth?
WHY are less hospitals less concerned about Health?
WHY are the Homeless still Forsaken/Forlorn?
WHY the Great Earthquake which left Haiti to mourn?
 
WHY the fuss over Mexicans?...most do no evil or rob
WHY arrest and deport them?...just give them a job
WHY all the shows about vampires, werewolves and witches?
WHY are some rappers such retards, and call Black Women bitches?

So many people Unfaithful, yet, we're "Bought with a Price?
Then WHY krishna/Buddha, and not Jesus Christ?

WHY the murder of children?...this we can't get around
WHY Carly Bruscha, and Nix Mary Brown?
People running to mischief, it seems a pandemic trait
WHY senseless killings on The First 48?

WHY pools of Oil on the Gulf, which threatens those on the coast
WHY do they think their lives over, when still more Blessed than most?
WHY does a person never sick suddenly breathe their last gasp?
WHY are simple things in this lifetime the most hardest to grasp?

There's vast changes in weather, time to Pray and Reflect
It's a sign from Our Maker, not "The Green House Effect"

Without The Lord in our existence, we live each day as mere pawns
WHY does it seem we weep loudest before the Light Of Hope dawns?

The next WHY? an Enigma....requires deep contemplation
WHY did Jehovah choose Israel over every other nation?

Abundant things I can't fathom, though I ponder and try...
2010, eight years later...the question still remains....WHY?



Details | I do not know? | |

Splashes of Hue, Vincent, and me

they're not listening still
 
explore with me if you will
vibrant colors
 
that could kill
 
explode with me
into Vincent Van Goht's
 
insanity
 
where we shall see
the beautiful side
 
of Huemanity
 
paint my picture
grey, red, yellow, and blue
 
color me
like lovers sometimes do
 
and draw pictures
like Vincent once drew
 
surrendering shadows of me
suffocated by shades of you
 
splashes of Vincent
suddenly come into view
 
watch grey doves take flight
into this starry starry night
flying high with all of their might

 
among a cascade of red shooting stars
leaving behind purple scars
diving into the vivid blue rain
 
they pass through a lover's pain
stroll along a memory's lane
and crash into an artist's stain
 
where only hopes and dreams
and memories of Hue and Vincent
and me
 
remain




Details | Free verse | |

Ancestral Voices

My ancestors are not forgotten
Those whose memories and
Whose names are etched 
On some plain and 
Long lost stones
Scattered across the land
In cemeteries long unknown.

Those who came here from afar
To some wild and unsettled lands
With the promise of a dream
They came through Ellis Island.
They had a dream for me…
And for my children’s children
They dared to cross the sea.

They were strong adventurers
They had strength of character
One of my great-Grandmothers
Dared to come alone.
They dared to move to a country 
Other than their own
Sight unseen.

I hear their voices in my mind
From the distance, from afar
From an infinitely different time
Whispering in my ear
This is who you are my dear
Be strong and do not fear
Anything.

Who I am and who I came from
They make it clear.
I am the same.
I am the exactly same.
Exactly the same 
From whom it is I came from.

My Ancestral Voices.


Copyright Christine A Kysely 2010 November 26, 2010

(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved 


Details | Senryu | |

' Drama-Mama... ' 24th Senryu

‘ Drama-Mama ’   24th   Senryu 



      A Drama-Mama
   And Terrorist Osama
… Both Stir-Up Trauma


Details | I do not know? | |

Given So Much

Given so much to others in my life...
Written sincerities to my friends.
Forgiveness of their mistakes and
For those who once hurt me verbally.
Many times I have generously given
A dollar to those in need of it...

No returning owe to pay, they forget,
Yet I still remain generous and gracious.
I'd give my life for all my friends
If I could and ever have such a chance.
They my friends have not been with me
For as many times as they've been with each other.

My life journey though
Is of self-reliance...
My mind is of sincerity
And generosity.
I give so much...
Even though they rarely do the same,
I continue to this strong
Sense and feeling of loyalty anyway.


Details | Free verse | |

Untitled #160 / Centuries of history

Centuries of history
roll past on a film reel,
moment after
moment after
moment


Details | Cowboy | |

Ghost Dance

While the Ancestors worshipped 
   they shot them one and all. 
They thought they had stopped the dance 
   as they watched the Old Ones fall. 
 
But what they did not know 
   is that we do not die... 
Their bullets set us free 
   and sent our souls to fly.   
 
High above this shadow plain 
   where the spirit beasts do roam; 
We roost upon their sacred backs, 
    and the Buffalo carry us home. 
 
We dance for our lives 
   for the secrets of the Earth. 
We dance while they kill us 
   and through death find rebirth. 
 
We dance night and day, 
   to the drums thundering low. 
Singing medicine songs 
   to honor the Buffalo. 
 
Though we may not rise today 
   The People will not die; 
As long as we keep dancing, 
   the Ghosts...You...and I. 

We dance for the things for which we yearn; 
Grass covered plains, the Buffalo’s return. 
The fever of freedom forever will burn,  
While we’re dancing with the ghosts. 
 
For there is no time frame on prophesy, 
This is the Vision Great One gave to me, 
The Heart of The People will always be, 
Dancing with the Ghosts...


(Wado Waya Streeby for understanding.)


Details | Free verse | |

Self reflection

Self-reflection is an art
A two edged sword that no one teaches
No religion philosophized
my own personal goal 
to better myself 
and understand everything 
by seeing one another 
through the slide of me 
through another’s eyes 
and that person 
through yet another’s eyes

Four good qualities you truly possess is where I start
The good things about me
Actually that’s a lie
That’s what I recommend
I usually get a little bit sad sit here and realize 
That I think I’m deep and no one understands

I know through self-reflection of understanding history
and putting myself in other peoples shoes
Like a mental actor of how I would feel emotionally and mentally
and then writing it down
is like self reflection but not quite
close but no cigar I have learned we are truly all actors and life is indeed a stage
And when we learn how to manipulate the greatest acts of man for the history 
books
The next generations will be taught in school how to prevent wars and live in 
piece by us selling one perfect life or lie
And I wonder if I’m a 27-year-old psychological lie of a ghetto wizard
I’ve described

Through self reflection I know they're are things I need to change
Some things I never will
Some things I am a part of
And at least the parts and pieces of my life I live like poetry that if they were 
captured like dreams in a butterfly net
They would teach something to the future like Jesus or anybody would if they 
understood
Just how to self reflect emotionally mentally put yourself in another’s shoes and 
learn the lesson through writing a poem
or thinking it out

If each generation and the history books were all acts of men
and my generation has to top the last lie with a wisdom of the perfect metaphor 
to unlock the following generations thinking process
Is that the game of the planet?
Are those the reasons to the wars we fight today?
to teach tomorrow
When they write their essays that will become tomorrow’s politicians 
An insane asylum can teach politics and all we really want is to pay them to be 
rich and make global friends so we can have utopia
But in the history book of the essays they no longer write where life lessons were 
learned and taught through misfortune of man
there are gems to be uncovered of how to stop wars how to peace keep
How to mediate
How to live
How to heal
and every generation we discover it on our own as the teachers subtly shape our 
minds




Details | Free verse | |

The Wheel Riders.

Sprightly nymphs abounding in the greenery
As deities ascend above the tops
Enkidu does battle with the sun god
Prisms of the blood bathe fall earthward
Into the shadows of the great cathedrals

Actions taken…
Define the spirit


Indian's danced chanting their mantra
Upon unsullied wind streams carrying
Visions of bounty to the Great Spirit riders
Of fine hunts past and those yet sought
Possessing this simple life as testimony

Beliefs held highest…
Characterize the soul
 

We will return to whence we came
We all ride the one divine wheel...


Details | Rhyme | |

Climbing Lifes Ladder

I wonder where my life would be in a different path.
Would I be happier or sadder or feeling some wrath.
Maybe others would have been better off in aftermath.

I understand the choices I made in life, were all mine.
That choice is the most precious thing given to enshrine.
It is the only thing we were truly given, hidden in a vine.

I contemplate daily upon everyone’s choice path in life.
Why some to choose to kill anyone with a gun or a knife.
While others just survive each passing day to give strife.

I feel the pain that mankind delivers and passes out.
Hypocrisy and greed are humankinds rebought.
They seem greater in some that say they are devout.

I believe I did make the right choices, most of the time.
Definitely not perfect, especially in my early prime.
Each mistake I made; rendered life’s ladder harder to climb.


Details | Free verse | |

in decision

left in peace or
right in war or
left in peace or
right in war or
left in peace or
right in war or
left in peace or
right in war

© Goode Guy 2011-07-04


Details | I do not know? | |

The Fallen

Some lay cast from heaven
As the product of dissension
Waging war but losing battles
Stealing souls that dare to listen

Some were careless leaders
Leading those that had to follow
Like a plague of such dimension
That the cures too hard to swallow

Some lay claims as parents
Failing life and what it teaches
And the children left not knowing
Becomes a product of their weakness

Some live by religion
Sharing mass and congregation
But the lust of worldly knowledge
Breeds a house of degradation

And when our time has ended
We will only hear one calling
Breaking bonds of apprehension
From the ones we call "The Fallen"

 


Details | Burlesque | |

Me

From the heart of Texas, to the tip of Michigan...
I live free...I am a Man!

My travels stretch from sea to shining sea...
you never know where I will be.

I have climbed the highest peak...
even swam the Mississip'.

Met the worst and best...
been screwed and blessed.

I leave big steps to fill...
I hurt,and rely on pain pills.

I am a Nomad, not a tramp...
danced with ladys and some vamps.

Been, Artist, Builder, Cowboy, Designer, Father, Gardner, Lover...
Lumberjack, Minister, Nice, Operator, Painter, Pilot, Poet, Poor, Recovered.

Rich, Saved, Sign maker, Song writer, videotographer, welder and winner...
someone you'd like and invite to dinner.

All these I've done...
and the future is yet to be fun !
                                                                 By Perri R. Voge  


Details | Rhyme | |

I walked toward the river Barak

I walked toward the river Barak one evening's golden misty haze
My raw heart was aching a bee in spiderstrings' coiled image
The scent of fresh watercress did sink in drops of setting sun 
I battered my doubts and cruised my blues on landscape's woozy auburn
	
I saw the strings of scatterbrains on the waves of space and time
Bones of them were feeding ants and splurgy maggots singing rime
Time is cruel, space distorts and mighty kingdoms go to dust
Bubbles set in crystal prism roll up future, present, past.

The night I spent on sandy bank of water haven‘s city views
The dawn came sharp and another day was off to a mighty start
Seeds of hope and hate and love and human ardor of many hues
Cast a spell of patch and piece on pace of streaming patron muse.


Details | I do not know? | |

Memories

Memories blurred in the past,
At most I can outline the images
Of times, they are everlasting.
My mind’s functioned to forget,
So I should never hold regret.
Yet my soul constantly reminds me
Of a memory and many more.

Moments now like distant memories.
My imagined reality is I’ve been at sea.
Willingly solitarily alone, on a journey
To find myself and somewhere else
Where I can just be free.

Memories lost in a stream of time,
Different streams going in and out 
Of those surrounding seas.
A land, so far away, where I used to be.
Drifting amidst eternal wind.

Moments truly now faded memories,
Honestly I am deluded in the belief
That nothing repeats, when really
Someday it all does someday
Flood back into me as what
Seems to be someone else’s memories.


Details | Narrative | |

Quake-stricken town in China

I was truly saddened by the massive quake
that shook China’s Sichuan province;
It was a huge disaster, a furious nature
that at times like this is indeed doleful.

I saw images of devastation all over,
I saw human sufferings in this situation;
I couldn’t believe their profound sadness
seeing deaths in legendary proportions.

Described as one of the worst disasters
in terms of lives claimed and destructions,
there’s superstition or tradition they say
that this might foreshadow in any way
a reigning emperor to have met his death.

Like a historical phenomenon years ago,
when the famous Tangshan quake shook.
the entire land where thousands were killed
and this happened just before the death of
the famous Chinese leader Mao Zedong.

That’s history! An unforgettable event;
a tragic episode that never occurred
to some minds with deep attachments
to this country where Communism 
played the role in varied situations.

Quake victims received great attention
especially in the world of communication;
most of them I heard were migrant workers
from the countryside in search of fortune.

With the growing population elsewhere
I saw how Chinese people struggled
in their own way to overcome misfortunes
that life could go on with their convictions.

Right now, our major print, news and TV media
are sources and avenues of global information;
like epidemics and natural devastations
remind me of our shared, nationwide disasters.

Back in the Philippines where I was born
a litany of calamities and all kinds of anger –
they’re natural catastrophes like volcanic eruption,
all these shaped my vision and love for the people.

Oh, China, our neighboring country in Asia,
I could feel the shadows of your pain and mourning,
Your own people are also in my heart and attention
 with God I pray to him that you’ll be all right.


Details | Acrostic | |

My Crystal Ball

Many say that the future no-one can predict at all.
Yet through our past many prophesize what they saw.

Crystal a metaphysical item that has held much mystery,
Recollections of stories told that so many could see.
Yet not only through all seeing balls are parts of history.
Stars have been used to foretell, in amazing accuracy.
Thoughts brought on in different ways, blind us deeply.
Allusions in dreams have come true rising in lucidity.
Like for me, my dreams, not all but some, pan out literally.

Blessings or maybe a curse, time will show us all veracity.
Another century or after end, our knowledge will hold infinity.
Listen to all the stories being told, some chaos, others indemnity.
Learn there are many things that we know not of our residency.


Details | Free verse | |

Reflections

I still see my same reflection when I look into the mirror, no age,its timeless, no
wrinkles, its timeless, soft beautiful skin, bright blue eyes, beautiful teeth, radiant
smile, its timeless.My reflection is only an illusion now of days gone by, weeks, months,
years, its timeless. She's hidden away in my soul, that young vibrant woman, she still
exists, her "self" still the same, I only wish everyone could see my reflection as I still
do...


Details | Rhyme | |

ELDERLY IDA

I spoke with an elderly woman today . . .  Ida was her name.
She was a most interesting lady, though not known for fortune or fame.

She told me a bit about her life . . . coming to America after WWII.
Her life must have been exciting, now known only by a few.

She told me her family isn't interested in her past . . . "They will not listen", she said,
I found her story so riveting, I wondered, "What's going on in their heads?"

She told me of her mother . . . how she listened to the family stories she put in her ears,
"I cry now inside, when I think of that time, because today, no one wants to hear."

There are many more Idas out there . . . whose stories we must learn to protect and keep.
What will heppen when we are Ida's age ?  Will anyone listen when we so want to speak?

Ida's story may be a common one . . . yet, life writes each one differently.
Remember to listen to the Ida's, because her generation has changed the shape of history.

Her words so touched me that . . . when we fail to listen to the stories of generations gone by,
We lose that part of our own lives, and like Ida,  "Inside I want to cry."


Details | I do not know? | |

Stories of the Cosmos

Warped in perfect symmetry
Ancestral imagery
frayed around the edges
revoke the privileges
of past remembrance.
A tapestry, a cosmic dance
of ideas woven, history acquired
kiln fired
and hand-stitched into the fate
that our lives illuminate
in technicolored illusions
and delusions
of in-consequence,
living in a pretense
of indifference.
Sun awakens
transmutations
of light
and this, is our birthright.
Spirit made into form
flowing through earth
we count our worth
by accumulations
while individual creations
hold no master-peace.
Jason’s fleece
was dearly won,
Argonautic ship of fools
in unison
sang a requiem of placation
to a God that tests the creation
of all sons and daughters
with the fires and waters
of understanding.
Prayer flags
wave in the cosmic winds
as the dance of the seven veils begins
to unravel.
We travel
inner directions
where history spirals galaxies through
merging time and space, me and you
“We all live on a thread of time”
Playing out a pantomime
of the ongoing conversation
that weaves the tapestry of creation.


Details | Rhyme | |

Filipino roots

What reminds me always of my own identity 
being born in the Philippines, a poor nation;
faith and history that nurture my thinking,
their colossal meaning shows how I am doing.

  Perhaps an upbringing in my own family culture
  can add a vital implication in my behavior
  yes, it’s pretty evident as I keep going
  with my own certainty in language articulation.

Our constant struggles, miseries and beliefs
provide a perspective that comes with faith;
it’s a way to get plunged into the mainstream
that life in the Philippines has shaped my whole being.

  Major hurdles as reflected in various situations,
  the core truth of being subject to wrestle with life,
  along with the fullness of time and the so-called ‘leb’ 
  a challenge, indeed; the incarnation of my interior sense.

It is an awareness that poverty in most parts of the country
makes me realize that something has to be done so far,
it’s a person’s longing to achieve that goal of going elsewhere
like in the States, UK, Australia, Hong Kong or Malaysia.

  That quest for greener pastures and other human aspirations
  employment takes the centerpiece as a redeeming treasure;
  like a “chiaroscuro”  in the haven of human acquisition
  where hope begets hope and where faith begets faith.

Well, seeing the reality of my own people’s struggles
I cannot help but be responsive to what they long for;;
a call from within drawn across the cry of the poor,
my own people, my sibling souls in the right direction.

  I’ve developed that attitude of love and compassion
  especially to those who’re eclipsed by epic proportion
  in their search for peace, justice and Christian thought
  with their roots plunged into the depth where we are.


Details | Bio | |

Courtney Dyer

Courtney 
Daughter, mother, wife, poet 
Daughter of Brenda Horne, Teresa Fowler, Steve Horne, William Stakelin, Ronald Biles
Lover of psychology, classic movies and poetry
Who feels grateful, scared and depressed  
Who fears bugs, social situations and death 
Who would like to see Laura Ingalls Wilder museums, Paris and Japan
Who resides in Orlando, Florida 
Dyer


Details | Narrative | |

Stones in the Wall

Of many, the stones in the wall have different sizes with different shapes. 
So many there are and each specific with their very own color.
The wall is long with the many miles of stone that support it and strengthen.
What a vision to see a wall that long, because of the many miles this wall has made.
Built stone by stone and layer by layer, yet clearly by the hands of amateurs! 
Old these stones in the wall are, for time can only damage what is already weakened.
Enduring the test of time are endless miles of broken down stones along this old wall,
Chipped away on the outside, but still standing sturdy and firm maintaining a delicate core!
Enduring such strength, for they are all very well defined by their evident and only weakness.
An endless wall of old broken down stones and still they will stand strong and still so very tall.
Miles of evidence from darker times for sure by their obvious structure of neatness!
Beaten and battered these stones are and still they maintain such a strong and sturdy core!
There are many weakened stones along this old broken down wall,
Yet it stands distinct and firm with its battle against its only known weakness.
Individualized by one is the other occupying the many miles of this wall from so long before.
What a vision to see a wall that strong, beaten and weakened only by its evidenced neatness.
Broken down stones hold this old wall and each one with their many different shapes and colors!


Details | Narrative | |

A visit in Munich, Germany

What a sight to behold! A home to immigrants,
a spectacular city rolled with a wealth of arts!
predominantly Catholic with its many facets
its historical resonance and genesis of existence.

While it’s a welcome contrast from other countries,
there’s evidence that it’s replete with triumph and fall;
just after Bolzano, Trento, Rovereto, Verona Porta Nuova, 
Peschiera del Garda, Desenzano della Garda-Sirminione and Brescia.

That from Milan Central Station the train arrives in Monaco.
Indeed, I was so impressed to see the main city
its combined history and culture; a satisfaction
just on the horizons they gave me an enormous impression
to the so-called civilization that München defines its soul.

Churches can be found almost in every corner
with their baroque or lavish rococo architecture, 
some artifacts and gothic designs in some parts
in the eye of the beholder, they’re indeed a treasure.

People from all walks of life converge at the epicentre
the bustling footpaths, crowded shops and restaurants
with families from Dubai, Abu Dhabi and Pakistan
Asians or other Europeans in common desire
this place holds a promise for future and families.

Germans in general, love to drink and hang out with friends
a place like Hofbräuhaus where huge crowds can be found
a good description, the best picture to recall.
Deutsch, the language spoken but difficult to learn
gave me an impression of its beauty in articulation.
With their conventional greetings like in many other cultures
respect is the by-word along with courtesy and reason.
like the Olympic Park, Marienplatz, Nymphenburg palace, 
English Garden, Königsplatz and many other sights
They’re beautiful places steeped with history and connection
to the people of München who love their own culture.

I may not be keen about other European cuisines
however, as  a person drawn to taste them all
with a sweet tooth I couldn’t resist a typical German version
of the American pancake served in the morning
kaiserschman, its name and it’s common to all.


Details | Blank verse | |

representational task

enter stage left the successful politian
with more moves than a bird chased crow
speaking in glowing terms of limited taxation
with his projective protective representation

I close my eyes to see him standing speaking
to cold Valley Forge's traitorious rebels
oh that every rep and senator be required
to speak on such a bloody pulpit

Three Cheers for King George
The Mad Englishman wants it all and Honestly states it
There are here woods enough to hide in and be free
Rather there than stand and fight for thee
Whoever let you be?


Details | I do not know? | |

Belief In The Lord

Keeping me ill for eleven years,
Makes me wonder why for so long,
Then I realize it was Your plan [for my life] all along.

You are so real, I can just feel
The safety when I ask You to hold me.
Faith in most people is dying,
Many people are crying.

Wonder where You are.
I don't like to believe scientists are perfectly smart
(Nor do I like to believe religious leaders are righteous),
Because I know that Your Power is at work.

You bring others home by making them die,
That way they'll never need to cry again.
You keep some alive from accidents,
So they can accomplish what they were put here to do.

I believe You're walking us through,
To the end of this World Age,
To Your Revelation,
To Thy Kingdom that's been longed to come.


Details | Free verse | |

Recession

a world fighting with its own bank
a plane that flew into your towers was an attack on your ability
to have success with your commerce
stocks and bonds and free trade
america at the center of this
your bank being held hostage by the worst type of robbers

you are not as poor as you think you are
many terrorised outside of those who make any difference with this
the news being used against you to seek out the people who know what they are doing
to help the situation

you are not burning your money
just losing track of it
physically and digitaly

the attack on the trade center has affected everybody
many unable to do their jobs
because those at the center of your global econmy
are hardpressed to figure out how the world is getting robbed

A global book fight
over the first generation history books you know as bibles
fighting over beliefs and previous happenings you misunderstand
these history books are your case against god and your will to do good
your will to do good no longer needs to be a weapon of mass destruction
the realisation mankind may not be perfect and will make mistakes along their road to 
success
there is never success without failure
through failing you realise you tried and what was important to you
learn from your mistakes and try again
it might be easier the second go round


Details | I do not know? | |

Nelson's Secret

In my memory,
The smell of books and chalk and chewy
Are the history lessons I loved,
With their tales of guns and kings and kismet,
And the life and times of the planet
Stretched out in a line just below the ceiling,

I fell in love with that portrait
Of Charles the something or other,
With his silly wig and sad eyes,

And hated World War One,
With its mud and blood
And guts and gas;

No, I prefer my genocides romanticised,
And always like the “kiss me” version better anyway.


Details | Elegy | |

She loved one

She could feel it in her bones.

Chills promising her she would

would never be alone.

I cried the night he left, he

just went away leaving me with

a scar of sweet memories. I held

him dear to me he was the only one

who I had led to my heart and opened

the door. 

He didn't deserve it, oh no he didn't

But he was the one she loved and as the

tears dropped she turned to stone.


Details | Personification | |

England

I am an English man.
I used to think.
That I ruled the world.
And could take my drink.

When all would bow and salute.
The English man a Sir or Duke.
Now I found my place.
In the human race.
We are all the same and grace.

Used to think that everything.
From England came.
Football, oranges and sugar cane.
Used to think that I was best of all.
Now I know, that is not so, at all.

I am as good or bad as the other Lad.
Some fools still make war.
I say no more.
Briton no longer Rules the Waves.
Nor does the sword stay in our hands.
It has been cast away.
Peace to-day.


Details | Couplet | |

When All Is Said And Done

Regarding the darkness, the treachery of man
I’ve inhaled its breath; I’ve held its hand

Look at the fate of the Jews in World War 2
Condemned by coward who killed himself to

No guts to face the horrific crimes he had done
I reckon there are those who will follow anyone

Our Son home from one war waiting on another
As I watch it tear out the heart of his mother

And after all is said and done, “Who am I”
Just an old wore out convict waiting to die

At least I have the balls to go out with a fight
Though sometimes the day recedes to the night

So tell me why is it that man acts this way
Nailed Christ to the cross one real dark day

It’s amazing we can live with what we’ve done
Just the shame that I alone carry is not any fun

One day each and every of us will meet our maker
He will either accept our soul or let Satan be the taker

When all is said and done the only thing I know
To help you get to heaven Satan could have my soul




Details | Free verse | |

Miami

Along the river's bank the footprints linger
Not again, but towers nude rise to scanty skies
The first people gone now, the harbinger
Of the sultry end to paradise.
I look beyond into the depth of sea
Stirred, I close the door of jagged history.
 
                      ....

What place is this
Where the light rise to make a mist
That stars may walk
Naked and unseen?
What echo for the buildings hearts
The pulsing streams of loneliness
Splashing like music on the ear
Miming the mask of modern despair?
What gorgeous city
In shimmering dress
Stirs the hunger of my breast
And mocks my nakedness?
From river to river
And to theedge of the sea
Mansions of concrete
Perform a litany
Of praise to man's inventiveness
Genius is everywhere
Showcased in loneliness.
        
                   ....

Hear me, O city, of my first coming
Hear my hunger dilated on my eye
Hear my heart like a machine here humming
Hear my footsteps pounding my pensive sigh
I know, I know, the details of your start
Do you know the detours of my clenched heart?
Flow slowly here sweet historic river
The city has forgotten more than I remember.


Details | Elegy | |

Stanza 1917

So let's see what the laddies need
To charge the guns and not impede
The rate of fire to cut them down
And body bags to go all 'round.

Let's give then picks and shovels
And blamket rolls to boot,
And heavy rolls of barbed wire
To carry for the shoot.

And fancy spats and bayonets
And canteens and trenching tools,
And gas masks and radios
And spy glasses too.

All crammed into the pit each man,
His name and rank unknown!
How bodily well he was supplied!
The banker's wealth---it doth abide.


Details | I do not know? | |

My Video Shop (2005)

My little shop, a place to call my very own
As comfortable as my bed at home
A vibrant place where right now I want to be
Sometimes lonely but sometimes free to be me
Today I miss it as I sit in this class
I feel out of place as I look at the greener grass 


Details | Light Poetry | |

' Why Do We Believe ? ... '

… Oh, Why Do We Believe ? …
… Because Real Legends, Never Leave
A Mistaken Myth, May Be Reality
Or Was It Just A Folklore Legacy

Is A Pure Promise, A Prophecy ? …
Oh, Why Do We Believe ? …

… All Our Storytelling Around Camp-Fires
Or Storytelling, Beneath Architect-Spires
Tales … To Help Get Thru Muck and Mire
But … Who Speaks True and Who Are Liars ? …

Which Promise, Is A Prophecy ? …
Oh, Why Do We Believe ? …

Pray Tell – Does A Myth Explain Mystery ?
Pray Tell – Will That Legend, Live For Eternity ?
Is It A Diluted or Overdeveloped History ?
Will The Story, Stand The Test of Accuracy ? …

Does The Promise, Point To A Prophecy ? …
Or A Fleeting, False, Folklore, Fantasy ? …

… For We Make Dream-Worlds, To Cope
and Dope and Smokes and Gold-Wealth-Ropes
or Super Heroes, Knights and Words, Wrote and Spoke
‘Cause Humans, Must Dream, We Must Have Hope …

… It Is In Our Everyday, Hustle-Scope
In Each and Every, Hurry-Clock-Stroke
Until, From Myths, We Have Awoke
And Live by Honor, Instead of A Hoax …

Holding Promise, and Hoping Prophecy
Bring The Proof Of Why We Believe

Yes, That Is Why We Believe
In All The Beauty, Our Souls Can Conceive
We Believe, We Can Achieve and Succeed 
But, We Know, We Need Someone Who Will Lead !

… So, That, Is Why, We Still Try …
And Why Real Legends, Just Won’t Die …
And Make-Believe Myths, Are Exposed As Lies
When Prophecy, Pass Before Our Eyes …

… and All Will Know, Why We Believe
and Believe, As Long As We Breathe !
As Long As Hearts Beat and Bleed
… Because Our Hearts Can’t Survive … Faith-Bereaved

Oh, Why Do We Believe ? …
And All Believers and Dreamers, Say … Wait And See ! …



Note:

There Is More Factual Proof That God Is Real
Than Any Other Person Ever Lived…
That Includes: Julius Caesar, Plato, George Washington
King Henry, Cleopatra, Shakespeare and Tennyson
And Most People Believe and Agree, They Existed
But The Notion of Almighty God, Is Still Resisted
Now, In All Instances, (We Were Never There) …
… I Guess, It Just Boils Down To A Prayer …

                       The  MoonBee


Details | I do not know? | |

A Judicial Opinion

A druid's interpretation of forefathers' declaration
There shall be  twixt Church and State a separation
There shall never be a separation twixt God and state

This "over simplification" of what they said cuts through
and shreds all of The Magnificent Arguments lawyers
judges and atheists have put forth and causes this latest
Supreme Court decision to be  considered treason
What else can one call overthrowing constitutional law
but treason

God willing before they fire their chaplain 
This congress can come to its senses
This country started with a revolution
Men put their necks at risk ruined their lives to say
We are free to govern ourselves
Under God and no church shall interfere

This druid says replace incompetence 

But 'tis only wry humor 
Incompetents multiply too quickly
In any robes they don


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

That Night in Gethsemane

Natural serenity prevailed in the garden
That evening,
A warm light breeze blew
Interweaved with the sounds of
Crickets
Chirping their shrilled symphony,
And occasionally interrupted by
The haunting cries of wild peacock.

Bathed in pale moonlight
Stood a man 
Dressed in a simple cloth robe
Wiping beads of sweat
And blood
From his brow.

Peering at the slumbering disciples 
Huddled together before him 
He sighed,
Ad then spoke  the following
With compassionate disdain.

“Away but for a short time
Beseeching my father,
Only to return and find
My brothers asleep,
A moment longer
You could not wait?”
 
Nearly tempestuous
Was the wind,
As if God himself 
Were attempting to wake
With forceful breath
Those who pledged to share
His sons’ every trial.

And in the twilight hours
Came the
Dutiful military denizens,
Guided by
Ulterior treachery and
Sworn to fulfill their mission.


Details | Epic | |

Paradiami

I once stood alongside two Eagles pure graded in breast plated armor.
The one to my left I set free to love my innocent little white doves.
And the one to my right I dared to never leave my sight with little ole Pallor.
I left to spread the Eagle’s wings of merit soaring from far away and up above.

My Four horsemen flew on chariot wings with my four Golden Cups of Charis.
I stood up on the clouds and organized my Swordsey’s divine little palace.
The rainbows were blossoming around thrones of my precious manipulating Chaos.
I took two wings from the Eagle’s nest and kept them from falling completely off.
Then there was my balancing Scaler, behind his little trot there’s this forget me not.

I went further down and made myself quite the Amazing little conductor.
To the left of that shall be the Shadows of Webber’s with his dynamic dual detector.
To the right of this shall be the Beamers to Visor’s ultimate fine tuned selector.
Then I shall weld my shields for Justice with Timers s incredible invincible reflectors.
In the center of all of this my Blotcher’s shall send Dejavu’s to my blinding receptors. 

When my signals blare I’ll see Sweeper with Creeper and Snickers all on one perfect flight.
That’s when I will look up to the one to my left and the one to my right.
Then the Stars will gleam and flicker as I shatter both you Eagle’s with my true light.
Then you Eagles will know Paradiami is soul mated to love’s faithful glorious might!
 


Details | Didactic | |

The Afrikan Diaspora

The Afrikan Diaspora

Includes all of humanity

One great big extended family

Sharing a single commonality

To form one global community

Though throughout our collective history

There has been atrocity after atrocity

Committed with hubris and hypocrisy

Sometimes in the name of democracy

Or in the name of a theocracy

Which ignored the Commandment

Of honor thy father and mother 

So that your days may longer

Instead they neglected their mama

Because of a deep psychic trauma

That created the Whiteman’s burden

Which was a guilt-ridden conscience

That came from committing injustice

Out of compounded ignorance

Just like the Arabs in the Sudan

Killing fellow Muslims because of black skin

And this is what they’ve historically done

‘Cause to them a slave is an Afrikan

And one just can’t blame the president

Rather blame those that run our government

For it’s no longer for, of, and by the People

And has it ever really lived up to its credo

When big money multi-nationals call all the shots

For the haves and have-mores, but not the have-nots

They purchase legislation and executive orders 

To further their control to dominate others

They write foreign policy to benefit themselves

While the World’s poor majorities live in the hells 

That the elite have created out of greed and stupidity

And even causes our selves to forget our humanity

And this goes beyond labels like Christianity

For all belief systems when looked at objectively

Is adoration to God from Her creation 

And no group or individual can show justification

For attacking or discrediting another’s belief system 

As long as it’s equitable and is consistent

With the natural laws the Creator established 

To keep us in check and maintain the balance

                                                          


Details | Epic | |

The Kingdom Key

It was the dispenser and me you see, 
We went around His universal globe.
To you we dispensed our kingdom key.
We took it all around for each to probe.
We were showing it off for so many who believe.
We became life’s essential elements of great size.
Heart pounding and mind blowing are our wise. 
Inadvertently I impenetrably rest myself at ease. 

We demonstrated a flattering tale to a wondrous twist of fate. 
And there it was I found those having too much lack thereof!
We even isolated their last examining scholar updated by faith.
I had not one care even if they swayed to, fro below or up above.
We even set forth a disputed everlasting undeniable act of love. 
We deciphered truth and eliminated lies that could just never be for real.
We posted signs declaring our liberty and justice for every single appeal.
I need not even begin telling you the story of my bending down to kneel. 

I mean like wow we were obvious not the least bit inconspicuous in our style.
Yet, we were condemned and rejected by every single human put to this trial; 
Enough was enough until they all stood in correction tipping scales in defile. 
So I just stood there polishing up on my nails and making myself worthwhile.
I tell you we never have seen anything quite like this before, 
At least not on this magnitude of distance we have traveled.
Genetically speaking elements come alive inside of my core.
Then seeds of life do nothing except to continuously unravel.
Only the great shall succeed and wisdom shall take its place.
Simply put and stating my case,
You are in the center of my naval. 
  
Pre-examined or pre-exposed they all just seem to fade away a bit far, 
So far where once I placed in the hands of an angel my rainbow Star,
But I and my dispenser with our kingdom keys remain clear and free. 
I am born just for you time again we reach for the wholeness of today.
Blessed and be Holy to the seeds that be free holding onto my decree. 
It is like this, with me and mine we are in you in each and every way! 
  
  
   


Details | Rhyme | |

Where Did It All Go

Where did it all go
like a two hour movie show
it just goes by so fast
start off as a baby
then a boy
pretty soon you're a man
is that the master plan
five then ten
days go by so fast
future then is now the past
why can't it just last
a few more moments longer
but no, like a flash
it's over
there's things that I wish
I could have done
but that time has gone
can't go back
the reality I know
where did it all go


Details | I do not know? | |

Plato's Legacy

We’re playing with shadows
On the walls of the cave
Mindset entrenched
In the patters we crave

Bound by tradition that layers the land
Held in convictions we don’t understand
Refugees camped by the tracks of our fear
Waiting for destiny year after year
While we’re playing with shadows on the walls of the cave
Mindset entrenched in the patters we crave

Strangers arrive trailing yesterdays smoke
Clung to the dark of obscurities cloak
Political warlords that stare into flames
Provide cryptic answers that buttress the games
That we’re playing with shadows on the walls of the cave
Mindset entrenched in the patters we crave

Minstrels and mystics tell tales of the sun
Beset with derision before they’ve begun
Visions of summerland, stories they’ve found
While the concepts of misery are keeping us bound
To our playing with shadows on the walls of the cave
Mindset entrenched in the patters we crave

We’re playing with shadows
On the walls of the cave…..
 


Details | Blank verse | |

Morning Radio

Some days I want to hustle just to see if I could

My life aint half bad but it aint all good

 

My twin brothas got knocked by some fools in the hood

A real conspiracy how the went to bad from good

Never offenders before this trail and graduated HU

But guys were jealous of them cause they dressed real smooth

Got all the girls something about the appeal of being twins

Didn't have much except a mom who really loved them

Car from granny older than the day they were born

they sought to flip a profit paint it up and tint it

Through some D's on that…and it would be finished

Nobody else saw it quite that way

These boys were good at everything

Now they locked away

Aint no way to get em' out once the jury says guilty

And yet the real villain still making streets filthy

 

Still I want to hustle just to see if I could

My life aint half bad but it aint all good


Details | Narrative | |

Faith, rationality and Islam: a crisis

The world shared some turmoil; what went wrong?
that was the question, deplored the argument;
It’s all about Pope Benedict’s address
given to his old university at Regensburg
in Germany where he had taught –
a number of years with total commitment,
genuine dialogue and contribution.

His theology speaks about history and faith
its rationality and intellectual debate
meant to participate without any regret;
with relationship between faith and intellect.

The darkness of a new episode or story to tell,
barbarism that the Pope fears in this generation;
perhaps abuse and neglect of fundemental values
that’s growing  decadence of moral continuation.

It’s how he sees now the postmodern Europe,
in different ways where there are revelations;
a climate of relativism and shared influence
secularism in the service of separation.

What’s binding in his theological rejoinder
church’s original faith expressions and traditions
a cultural product of time shared with modern trust
revisited and highlighted with modern ideas.

Plato and Aristotle are indeed proponents
of Greek philosophical tradition;
their influence in the medieval Latin formation
shared some dialogue along with revelation.

What was exactly quoted in Pope Benedict’s address
referring to Manuel II Palaeologus 
“show me just what Muhammad brought that was new,
and there you will find things only evil and inhuman,
such as his command to spread by the sword
the faith he preached.”

There’s a vivid brusqueness in this statement,
however, he explained between faith and reason;
the Muslim world reacted with anger and conclusion,
that Pope Benedict had denounced the Qu’ran in its existence.

Not in his own personal view how he said it,
without any polemics to pounce on its evil meaning
Qu’ran as an unmediated word of God;
the message of the Prophet it descended –
on Muhammad; it came from God.

Hostility continued to draw the line of division,
A process of theological need and understanding
With shared witness and value in today’s relativism,
Pope Benedict had reason completely credible.


Details | Sonnet | |

Swirled

I put up the barriers and molded the Great White Stone.
I searched all written doctrines that embodied my light.
It was a remarkable journey let me tell you of my flight.
I even went through DNA of every strand of every bone.
 
I matched all the genetic linage to kind energies ingrown.
It was like an open door after door where all turns bright.
The misplacement that followed is truly way out of sight.
Seeing it all made me search my truth and I wasn’t alone.
 
I felt like I am the only one.
There was just me to believe.
There was too much undone.
More than humans conceive.
 
This was an origin unknown and not of this world.
This is timeless intelligence appropriately swirled.


Details | Free verse | |

Logos

Logos! The Word of God What is the Word of God? to kill whom detest and perceive God in a foreign Manner? but isn't to Love thy neighbor as thyself? You must truly hate yourselves then Deny all, what is left to accept your heart will call back


Details | Free verse | |

A Contravened Instant

Once, bravery shrouded my face,
He took it, all of it in one night.
Shame replaced my dignity,
Valiant interchanged my fearlessness.

Suppressed cries; stifled pleas,
Deafening roars; physical manacles.
I wither away, waking up to a stranger,
Forcing his body against mine.

There was not a way to stop him,
For he was stronger than I,
I just laid there, barely lucid,
Having to take what was being done.

“No, please stop. No, I don‘t want to.“
“You like it. You asked for it.”
Nobody there to salvage me,
Alone with a monster; it felt like eternity.

Finally blacking out for the remaining assault,
Waking up, finding him touching me again.
Afraid for my life, I lay quiet, barely breathing.
He finally got up, and so did I … 

Leaving nothing, but all of my goodness,
Leaving behind the notion of nobility.
I left behind my honor, and my valor,
Hoping one day, I’ll be able to restore …

What used to be me.


Details | Rhyme | |

Indigo Children

Count the days as they have passed,
aging in the looking glass,
string the tree with colored lights,
another Christmas burning bright.

Heirloom ornaments handed down,
pieces of the past are bound,
try to pass the history on,
memories like a mournful song.

Welsh and Celtic is our blood,
through our history memories flood,
dream the dreams in ancient tongues,
fluently the lyrics sung.

Indigo children we have bourne,
though the past they do not mourn,
their eyes and spirits are so clear,
they face the future without fear.

They who see more than we can,
advance the souls of mortal man,
for twenty-twelve is the date,
set by Mayans for our fate.

It's said the veil is growing thin,
a new dimension will begin,
these children called the Indigo blue,
may save the souls of me and you.


Details | Free verse | |

Love

Love is all it is cracked up to be.
Thats why people are so cynical about it.
It really is worth fighting for
Being brave for
Risking everything for, and the trouble is;
If you don't risk everything, you risk even more.

Love is as much an object as it is an obsession
Everybody wants it, craves it
Everybody seeks it
But few will ever find it
Those who are lucky enough to 
Will cherish it forever
Be lost in it
And among all
Never
Ever forget it.

I've decided to stick with love 
Hate is too big a burden to bear.


Details | Narrative | |

' A Poet, Goes To War ... '

‘ A  Poet  Goes  To  War … ’ ( Josh. 23: 10, 11 ) 


A Gentle-Poet … Goes To War
Oh … How Far … How Far … How Far …
Did You Push A Tender Heart
before Poet Finishes, What You Start ?

Just Like That Musician, Shepherd – Boy
whom a Lion and Bear, Dared Annoy          ------  1 Sam. 17: 37
Trying to Steal Some of His Precious Sheep
Poet, Showed Them … What’s His … He Keeps !

And That Same, Brave-Poet Went To War
Against Goliath’s Insulting, Roar !                ------  1 Sam. 17: 45 – 51
… But With just One Pebble Fling
That Poet’s, Sling, Thru All Of Time … Rings !

And If  A Wise-Poet Goes To War …
That Poet … May Wound and Scar                -------  Acts 7: 54, 57
For Words, Gouge Deeper Than Stones
Pen’s Mightier Than Sword … Cuts Clean To The Bone !

But, You made Poet … ‘your’ Foe, with Mock-Chimes
The First Thought … Just Give Them, Calm-Down-Time
But, Know … This Poet Thrives … Behind Enemy Lines
Forgiving and Wishing, God-Giving, Words-Divine !

‘Cause When Peace-Loving-Poets… Go To War …
‘We’ … Must Travel by:  The Bright Morning Star    ---  Rev. 22: 16
and Wait on His Orders … His Way
and I’m Cautious … Like ‘The Commander’ Says …  -- Matt. 10:16

So, Before you feel The Need To Spar                  ----  Zeph. 2: 2, 3
Before…  Big Poets … Have To Go To War             ----  Genesis thru Revelation
… Know That Such Poets … Are Word–Warriors
 … Don’t Make ‘em Go Off … on ya’ !

‘Cause you Won’t Survive … The Tongues of Fire    ----  Acts 2: 3, 4
( or The ‘ Lake ’ Either … If You Live Like A Liar … )  ---  Rev. 21: 7, 8
Gon’ Wind Up, Locked Behind Abyss’ Bars
… For Making  ‘  Poor-Poets ’ … Go To Wars !          ----  Matt. 18: 6


Details | I do not know? | |

X-I commandments, the lost lamentations

X.I commandments, the lost lamentations

thou shalt witness infomercials
thou shalt carry unknown desires 

thou shall sign away contentment
thou will discover liability 

thou shall not have read small print
thou percentage will approach thy age

thou shalt cry with lacrimation
thou salt will crust thy face

thou shalt stare into nothingness and
to thy credit, thou will know human folly

© Goode Guy 2012-04-13


Details | Light Poetry | |

' They Are Wrong To Blame God ... Part 1 of 2 ' (or Implore The People With Love)

I Know Some Have Been Hurt
By What Others Say and Do …                 ( Rom. 8: 22 )
But In All Fairness God,
They Are So Wrong To Blame You

For Deceit and Treachery                         ( Gen. 4: 5-10 )
Is Courtesy Of Men                                 ( Eccl.  7: 29 )
And Those Rebels That Started It All         ( Gen. 3: 1-7  )
Hurled Us Into Grief and Sin                     ( Rom. 5: 12 )

They Took God’s Loving Gifts                    (  Gen. 2: 8  Rev. 4: 11)
(And In Honesty, So Do We)                     ( James 1: 17, 18 )
And Then, Tried To Steal More                  ( Gen. 2: 16, 17 )
(More Than Fruit From Tree)

Was It Out Of Want ? …
No, It Was More Like Greedy                     ( Gen. 1: 29 )
“Our” First Human Parents Were Selfish      (Gen. 1: 28 )  
And Now, All of Us Are Needy …                 ( John 3: 16 )

Needy For Kindness and Good-Health Re-Storage
Needy For Security, Needy For Porridge
Needy For Mercy, Needy For Courage 
The Reason I Write This … We’re Needy For Knowledge

That’s Why, Souls Go To War
That’s Why, We Steal and Kill
Why The Lies, Envy and Fear … ?
They Don’t Know Who or What’s Real …

Ever Since Adam and Eve’s Fall
We’ve Looked For Someone To Blame           ( Gen. 3: 12, 13 )
But We Are Wrong To Blame God (He Called) ( Gen. 3: 8, 9 )
… And It Is Our Own ‘Crying-Shame’

Even Now, God Gives Us Care
God Gives Sunlight And Rain                          (  Matt. 5: 45  )
By God’s Grace, He Lets Us Live
He Is Not The Blame For Pain                         (  Eccl. 7: 29  )

See … If Someone Slaps My Face
I Won’t Say, It’s God’s Fault
It’s In That Person’s Heart                              ( Matt. 15: 19 )
(And In Mine, If Back, I Fought)                      (Matt. 5: 39 )

God Says, Love One Another                          ( Matt. 22: 39 )
God Says, Treat Each Other Right                   ( Matt. 7: 12  )
God Says, Fear Not The Darkness                   ( 23rd Psalms)
For God Gave Us, “Love-Son-Light”                 ( John 3: 16 )

                                (Part 1 of 2 )


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

UNTURNED STONES GATHERIGN IN MY SOUL

UNTURNED STONES GATHERING IN MY SOUL 
AS I WALK BACK HOME FEELING YOUR SMILE 
AS I GLIDE TO MY DOOR I WAIT IN STRIDE 
EVER AFTER BITTEN BY THE SUN 
SINGING THE PRAISE OF MY UN BEGOTTEN
LOVE AS DEEP AS THE SOUL WOULD SEE
AS SHALLOW AS THE SUN WHERE I SEE YOU PASS BY 
CAN I FEEL YOUR WARM EMBRACE 
OF PURE SPUN SNOW AS GOLD AS THE LACE 
SPINNING KNEELING FEELING YOUR PACE 
GASPING FOR BREATHE AS I FEEL YOU SHAPE
AS I SINCE ELAPSED AS I SEE YOUR FAITH UN BEGOTTEN 
SUN GIVE ME A GLIMPSE A TRACE AWAKEN MY SOUL 
UNTURNED STONE GATHERING A TRACE
MY LOVE MY LIFE IS LAST AT GLIMPSE
UNTOLD LOVE I SEE IN YOUR FACE
EVERAFTER I GLIDE BACK TO SLEEP
DEEPENED AS I FEEL YOUR TRACE
DEEPER HOTTER I CAN FEEL YOU ON MY FACE
BREATHE SO SHORT EVER TELL ME 
MY LOVE CAN I SEE YOUR FACE 
STONE UNTURNED DEEP WITH IN MY SOUL
LOVE HAS LEFT WITHOUT A TRACE


Details | Free verse | |

Revenge on Memorial Junior High

As I walk through these vacant halls
I can still hear the ridiculing
The taunts aimed in my direction
For daring to be different
For being a rebellious misfit
For being a freak
Who broke every rule 
She was ever given
Who lived to antagonize
Defying traditional convention
By loving blindly
And mixing 
What people told me
Should stay seperate
As if certain souls
Were less than human
I was left dodging bullets
In this war zone
So I could pay for the crime
Of being myself
At any cost


Details | ABC | |

Misbegotten Mistress

Alluring
bulbous
curves
Deciduous
eyes
feudal
green
Harvesting
insatiable
juniper
king
Languid
morning
nymph
Opulent
pedestrian
queen
Regal
seeds
toiling
under
vanquished
winter
Xanadu’s
youthful
zeal


Details | Narrative | |

Immeasurably triumphant

Like an epic battle of warriors in the ancient times,
rhythms of defeat and success punctuate the line;
either one wins or loses the game doesn’t matter,
it’s sportsmanship, fairness and attitude of respect.

Super Bowl kick-off highlights Sunday’s program,
championship in historic match cheers everyone;
along with mammoth crowds like on Staten Island,
jubilant fans who emerge and show their smiles.

Giants fans elsewhere blare their cars’ horns
a triumphant meaning, a victorious experience;
truly, it’s a huge and festive moment to share
with others who admire those players like Manning.

New England’s Patriots acknowledge their defeat,
their strengths and weaknesses make them authentic;
how they react and show about their abysmal loss
echoes a challenge, an experience worth reflecting.

New Yorkers herald jubilations and their triumphs,
faithful followers of their respective teams combined;
begin to celebrat and make a toast of beer in bars,
getting the whole clan, along with peers and friends.

Such a boisterous scene that makes the difference,
with ordinary games shown on TV or big screen;
however, the Giants in their popular name here,
has got their favor and trust from people elsewhere.


Details | Free verse | |

Altered States

Met the squint-eyed oracle
Puttin' down the trowel
To the new Delphi
'Cause his tongue got stuck
On circumstance

Claimed was struck
Epileptic-ally divine
On a highway back in Illinois
And just grazed the viaduct

If only a priestess with shorthand
Would live in a camper in Mazatlan
He'd write the link 'tween Jefferson's dream
And Lincoln's

Quite willin' to play first chair messiah
To a new civilization
Provided we're all in the audience

Did a stand-up routine
Two epics long
Of daring do over Burma
Time done in institutions

Told of a dozen psychotics saved
By what's called his
"Radiated Presence"
Each broken reflection's of self

Wondered off wavin'
It's time for lunch


Details | Bio | |

Tough Times

It's really not that bad a place
Just a little run down is all
The paint's peeling due to factory defects
The  golf course needs work on the greens
Nine flags need replacing
Both fireplaces could stand pointing
The kitchen is small
But designed for one to cook
without walking a country mile
Trees are determined to shade 
everywhere except the
in ground pool, hot tub, 
and koi ponds, and part
of the veggie garden.
Most of the flower plots
manage to get some sun
and the green house of course
The two car garage still has
room for two cars, barely.
The old oak floors 
covered with six coats of urethane
are bearing up under the tracking in
of stable debris daily.
all in all we're managing 
fairly well below the poverty level
decreed by LBJ and cohorts
Ooops it's time to ride the lawnmower.
Which shed did I leave it in?


Details | Light Poetry | |

AFTER THE PAGES HAVE BEEN WRITTEN

After the pages have been written
          and the book has been sealed,
                     dust will gather as smog;
                              who would unlock it?


Details | Free verse | |

The right to kill

this is not premeditated murder
like the chemicals they use to poison your children
if it's you or me
what can i say other than goodbye
it's my right as a human to protect my life
you knew before you started trying to get rich quick
it was destroying people
killing them actually
how many people are you gonna kill for drugs
seen it done before
three of my friends dead
because of you
if it's you versus me
you dont stand a chance
a no brainer
to grab a knife
and do unto you as you've been doing unto me
i have the right to kill
kill those trying to kill me
chemicals
i'm not sure i should do them
the right to kill
fairwell
you knew what you were doing
no forgiveness
you never gave me a second chance
anyone doing drugs is about to be murdered
those selling it
their killers
yet we put it on tv
and have no idea whats going on
fairwell drug dealer
take your own chemicals
enjoy the last spin around the sun
hundreds of thousands of victoms
and this is being killed for fun
do you get it now
new age soldier
lead them to the slaughter house
i would pay for the toe tag
i would be happy for you
to protect the society you deserve

this just isn't happening
trying to kill me with poision
crippling a nation
good riddance
this isn't happening
so good riddance
enjoy it while you can
enjoy it while you can
fun while it lasted
killing for fun
killing my children
crippling families
yet you put it on tv and no one gets it

this is what i always wanted
round them up
no forgiveness
no forgiveness
no jail for you
the game is over
no game for fools
I'll make sure i have the facts
and when you wear my shoes
and when you find yourself being victomised by me
those birds will sing it
you got what you wanted
you got what you wanted

the right to kill you before you kill me
drugs are cheap
life isn't
who are you to play god
and throw me away
good riddance
have a nice day


Details | Ballad | |

Kings and Queens

Sun dappled shadows
Reflecting spirit’s form
Moss covered standing stones
From afternoon still warm
The kings and queens of yesterday
Yet hold the evensong
Prayers for peace prosperity
A right for every wrong
With every war that has been fought
Upon these sacred grounds
Run fast the blood of future lives
And yet the drum deep sounds
Calling soul to hold a place
Upon the earth still fair
Stay the sword for truce by might
Lends your grace to bear
A heart that bleeds for all life held
Within the hands of fate
Behold the truth where patterns meld
And time she runs too late
The past and future meet as one
Where power thickens still
And stately folk are seen at night
Still gathered on high hill.


Details | Rhyme | |

reign makes the world go round

water cradles embryonic fetus in utero until birth
   a necessary ingredient that fosters new born and also original life
heavens relinquish liquid pearl shaped dewdrops to quench the earth
   fertilization of ova and sperm when specific conditions rife
else womb and uterus will not expand to a sizable girth
   yet despite ideal biological criteria met emotional strife
could undermine this miracle to bring cries and mirth
   as witnessed by this husband from debut of offspring by wife

whose first pregnancy necessitated induced labor so doctor could head to the club
   golf field plush with deep green swards from freshly fallen gentle recent rain
flushing out the ordinarily hidden now vulnerable grub
   from predators on land or those soaring high like an aero plane
susceptible critters helpless to escape from meteorological crafted tub
   condemned to become fodder for prey within the biological food chain
critical for balance of nature as an airport hub
   serves departure point for global travelers who rely on this networked brain
similar but not exactly like those in search of ale scout out the local pub

lick kingdom to forswear vow to abstain from drink which tonic doth wring
   appeasement like precipitation from the sky nourish flora/fauna with mead
either elixir a balm to parched thirst satiated from man-made or natural spring
   yet the latter serves the gamut of species to feed
without inebriation nor pennilessness from addiction accompanied by ka-ching
   of last red cent acquired from tireless labor or mental task  type deed
and rather than being a curse with bodily harm, the rain a blessing does bring
   watering parched land versus how former engenders violent behavioral breed!


Details | Free verse | |

Where Did All The Memories Go?

Where did all the memories go?
Stories we were told as kids
Ignored as the ramblings of the old
Stories not connected with our time
Not happening in our space
Not part of our lives
Why should they matter?
Horror and starvation
Disease that took the lives of millions
War in distant lands killing sons and brothers
Atrocities done for many reasons
All beyond a man’s imagination 
Yet they survived the pain
They remember through tortured dreams
Through tears flow down a rutted cheek
From vacant eyes that stare into space
All they wish is for someone to listen
Maybe not believe…just listen
Is that too much to ask
After all they went through to survive
To live long enough to share their story with us
Where did all the memories go?
Ignored as the ramblings of the old
Lost because of the ignorance of the young
Stories never again to be told
Yet destined to be repeated


Details | Narrative | |

My Dearly Departed

In this world, I can see many faces of you and me,
Boundlessly free with our new abilities to breathe!
I am a dime per every one dozen collecting my fee.

You see, it is just you and me rising upon this day.
Together we do be and forever on our merriest way.
It is just another day for you and me to pitch a say.

We are one word away you see my dearly departed,
We can all bail ship or get this whole thing restarted.
Or, we can confirm that which became our imparted.

Love me now and hate me later,
Or, love me later and hate me now.
Either or my dearly departed hater,
I impart onto you my Poof Bam Pow!

® Registered: Ann Rich 2009


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Murder

A man lies dying, a victim of a cause
his name not important, nor the time of his fall
Impaled in Romania, or crucified for the glory of Rome
cut are the sinews of conscience, dangling from a soulless abode
How many have bled, in reverence to a god or a nation
holy aren't thy waters, baptizing an armada of Spanish creation
For every 95 Thesis, must we have a 100 Year War
October bled Stalin's revolution, a red epitaph of Leningrad lore
Blame pernicious leaders, for cajoling fear and hate
yet whose firm handshake slits the throat, of civilized debate
A Ukrainian famine, a Jewish holocaust, a Japanese city eerily still
the killing fields are always fertile, beneath the city on a hill
Ignorance and greed, gorge a leviathan corpulent and crowned
cannibalism is its creed, its ruddy chains writhing unbound
How many voices were silenced, that sixth day of June
history too often forgets, to seal a tyrant's tomb
We are blessed with reason, the ability to discern
is life not a precious gift, impossible to return
Could you steal the last breath, from your child's loving kiss
would a god give you a righteous sword, to kill one of his


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

I Don't Know About you America But I feel Like A Whore

I don't know about you America but I feel like a whore
when the Bush Administration wants to give me a $300 score
how many of our young men and women in Iraq will have to die
before they will admit that this war is one big fat lie?
how many more will be in foreclosure and become homeless
before the government realizes this a problem they need to address?
I'm beginning to suspect that 9/11 was a secret government conspiracy
so that Bush could justify an invasion in the interest of national security
where are the weapons of mass destruction they were so desperate to destroy?
It seems like taking the Iraqi oil fields was the only reason troops were deployed

I don't know about you America but I feel like a whore
while the Bush Administration runs out the White House doors
and like a good trick when he's done he leaves money on the table
then has the nerve to tell me to spend so the economy may become more stable
the corporations have sold us out and with the Chinese we're now in bed
more Chinese goods in America even some with paint containing lead
we used to be a country that thrived on production
now all we do is go to war and cause global destruction
the dollar is in the toilet and not worth the paper on which it is made
could it be because we're at a deficiency in international trade?
the Bush Administration has us again in debt to the tune of trillions
yet how is it that Republicans are still raking in the millions?

I don't know about you America but I feel like a whore
when the biggest John leaves us broken, bitter and sore
the Secretary of State believes the propaganda that's she spinning
the Joint Chief of Staff insists this war we are winning
but all we've done is cause chaos and confusion
It seems like America is the problem and not the solution
how many more soldiers will return disabled and lame
before the Bush Administration assumes any of the blame?
they talk in a manner that's most condescending
yet fail to remember that it's OUR tax dollars they're freely spending
let's not mention those "Hanging Chads"
we all knew brother Jeb had the election in the bag

we use one country against another to further our objectives
and when push comes to shove we drop them when there's nothing left to give
after Afghanistan and they way they dealt with bin Laden
why are they surprised that towards us his heart is now harden?
I don't know about you America but I feel like I've been betrayed
at least in the Clinton Administration only Monica got played

this poem took me 10 angry minutes to write


Details | Free verse | |

' Tilt '

23.5 Degrees
On Earth Axis – Tilt – Trajectory
… Prevents Drastic Climate-Changes
And Dangerous Tide Tsunamis

                Tilt…
Motion-Sensors Are Going Off
                Tilt…
Scientists, May Your Voice Be Soft

G34-B… See
This was Done for You and Me

                Tilt…
Oh, The Genius of Genesis, Which God Built
                 Tilt…
Shows We All Should Just Take The Time to …


Details | I do not know? | |

sentient shadow

Sentient Shadow
Calm, silent, overpowering
Power, pain, all devouring
New coats on old skin
Doesn’t feel the same again
New outcome, old reason
Denying the sensation 
You lose the feeling
Righteous path, wrong reason
Crossroads crossed
It’s your grave your digging
Sentient shadow
Watching, waiting
Alone in a mass, never relating
Hiding on a shelf, a book unread
One day the living will envy the dead


Details | Rhyme | |

Lost Pride.

Chickasaw warrior…Apache brave
Chimed echo from recent pasts
Rawhide clad of bow and stave
Our iconic figure now cast

Roaming prairies open plains
Selfless equal within nature
A simple life of a people proud
Societies of ancient stature

Cherokee warrior…Arapaho brave
Awakened into midnight battle
Blue eyes aim down the thunder sticks
Reaping from cavalry saddles

Shunned showpieces of society
Called examples of a savage pride
Crushed of tyrannical booted propriety
In the federal wastes to reside

Tillamook warrior…Shoshone brave
Hunted through the very last stand
Forced to the brink of identity lost
Imprisoned in fenced desert sands

Allow the great spirits to soar the skies
A birthright given back anew
This aspiration for the tribes we hold
Sadly realized by consciences few

Indian warriors…fighters brave
Truest peace I offer my hand
Headdress upon the shadowy brow
Those great tribes once roaming the lands.


Details | Free verse | |

The Fall

hysterical laughter in eternity
still crying out at the hypocrisy
of life lived under the thumbs
of the oppressing ones.
Freedom they said they would give us
If we asked the king to forgive us.
and if we agree to pay tribute
they would stop the rape and loot
we didn't even know
which ones were in control
at any point in time
the fully sublime
shiftings of power
by the day and the hour
locked in the ivory tower
and away from the peasant earth digger
they had much bigger
things to accomplish, than just a pleasant life.
And all the strife they laid upon us all
was part of the fall
from dignity.
It's a pity.
Then came the mines and the factories
warriors needed to keep the keys
to the city gates in the right hands
none of us really understands
the workings of the minds that need
so badly to succeed
that life has no meaning or worth.
Even less for planet earth.
And she's dying
and no one is trying
to revive her.
Now they want to survive her
and credit card shackles still hold the debtors prison
third world vision
is incomplete
no one can compete
in world markets controlled by the elite
we are the billion feet
of the crawling beast.
and at least
we could know why we chose it.
Just suppose it
could change.
Seems strange.
But if the feet stop running the treadmill of fear
and we all held dear
what was important, sacred, the sane
would we stop acid rain?
What if our lawns became gardens all
could we reverse Edens fall?
What if our children could eat and play
from natures sweet bounty every day?
Would cancer disappear if we stopped the spray?
and left no more poison where children play?
What if we made our own industries
in each of our communities?
What if we made windmills and power the sun
we may have just begun
a revolution
that holds a solution
for our planets peace.
I release my rage at the beastly machine
that holds destruction, Pull myself from in between
the cogs of the wheel of the corporate dream
and paint a new picture in the sky.
Of streets and towns and city planning true
ways and solutions that work for me and you
and the earth's evolution could take another turn
where we do not burn
in the hell of nuclear wastelands
It will take many hands
to undo the self fulfilling prophesies of armageddon
Get on board, this train is moving. get on
with it. We all fit in the grand plan,
the saving grace of man.


Details | Free verse | |

Shadows of Yesterday In Me.

I am the son of Britain and Californian
     Reared of Europe and the American Revolution
Progeny of English countryside and Frisco Bay
     Yet despite all I have come to understand
The puzzle is a hard picture to assemble
    
I find my disposition within those lost Victorian halls
     And the desire comes from those longing for freedom
 My eyes are those of the chiseled line of Fuller’s
     My patience from the Finnish stonecutters Seppa
My fiery spirit forged within the kilns of the Rowe’s

As I search I find a Knight of the Crusades in my past
     Or a seventeenth century daughter of Salem Shipbuilders
Painstakingly their faces have come to light in recognition
     They are of my flowing blood and strength of bone
These people both ancient and contemporary define me

A multitude of bonds of many traveled roads walked before me
     Within my veins flow the rivers crossed
For now it is my honor and burden to speak of and remember
     All of you who laid the highways and past before me
At your feet I sit in thanks…for giving definition to this man.


Details | Narrative | |

Earthbound sobriety

While crossing Verrazano Narrows Bridge
recurring mem’ries of New York recapture 
history and civilization of the two boroughs
provide me with deep interest and emphasis.

Brooklyn in its old Dutch for “broken land,”
and Staten Island named “Staaten Eylandt”
named in the early 1600s by Henry Hudson,
trailed off on a tangent through centuries.

A myth or perhaps a legend, the island thus far,
was like a quagmire of townships and disputes;
its meaning to immigrants’ culture and religion,
favored silence, security, peace, and integration.

The burden of too many choices based on clans,
growing businesses and stories of interactions;
new immigrants in droves through generations
like an orchestra combined with a sense of drama.

Reflections of their struggles to make ends meet,
reminded me of articulation through interpretation;
in sobriety of heeding of the composer’s intent,
such a musical piece made me suffer and sweat.

Oh, the pedal, rhythmic vitality and expression!
all these elements comprise what piano playing is,
the technique, in a special way, a benchmark item
indeed, a struggle to interiorize those conventions.

But as a human person with some limitations,
with my own history and capability in playing,
I see where I can be fit and freely express myself;
through movements in diverse missionary works.

As it says in French, “bon débarras, il est partí.” 
my life continues with a backlog of other issues,
a different world focused on service to the Lord;
with my own repertory – its beauty to humanity.

It’s true that my prayer for the church at large,
is also a bridge across the gulf of separation;
coming to this borough of Staten Island
a hodge-podge of concerns, covenanted within.

Now that relationship with God and people
brings me to nourish that faith and commitment;
with that long stretch of Verrazano Narrows Bridge,
a metaphor to my own journey as a missionary.


Details | Bio | |

longtime longing

the street curves away from my window
three white parallels of traffic windrows
shivering in almost invisibly falling snow
the tightly clenched rhododendron fingers
show temperature as well as any mercuric expansion
leafless sapless twiggy limbs hold fat puffed snowbirds
as the pale white sky surrounds their flickering tails
the startling piece of lonely color
a bright red fire hydrant  wears it's london bobby helmut
of cheery yellow almost hidden in the colorless roadside shrub
but too loud to be ignored
how far have we gone from orkney seastead warmth
five thousand years of seeking peace
before it finds us


Details | Free verse | |

Words

Words,
So powerful are you,
Words,
So long abused,
Words,
Why do we misuse,
Words, words,
Written and spoken,
Words,
Change our lives,
Words,
Are the laws,
Words,
Are our life.


Details | I do not know? | |

waste of time

ever feel like there is somebody in your head?
the past fast asleep
contradicting the ways of today
you wouldn't believe me any way
so many of you selfrighteous
to be righteously justified

Ever feel like the world around you
has some grudge
some personal hidden agenda
yet you cant deny a chemical imbalance wouldnt talk

waste of time poor sleeping prophet
it could be possible
it could just be insanity
doesnt matter what the voice tells me
i regurgitate it
spit it out
and then you pass me along

waste of time
to lie about some hypnotic suggestions
and the method he delivers them
turn it loose so the next vip can hear you

locked in the suggestions of the books and stories we read
turned loose for a few people
but its a waste of time
suggestions of trip wires puts the past in my head
half the story still untold
under rug swept
prove it to you eventually

your probbaly not crazy
hypnotised by the past
to go through the voices in your head they put there
lucky me
how good does this get

Waste of time sleeping prophet
a way to prove you to me and yourself
the under rug swept truth of a long forgotten story
hypnotic suggestion speaking to me
to be turned loose when i finaly see
the game you play to stop it from happening
the wild card ive come to be
the game of the past into the future to see if it worked
never reach your high with my help
its a waste of time


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

TERRORISM: It's Not A New Word

terrorism has been going on for thousands of years
not just in the Middle East, but in America right here
Black folks have been terrorized for many years and in many ways
with lynchings, cross burnings and the destruction of the churches where we pray
we've been treated worse than dumb cattle
at one time they even referred to us as chattel
we've been beaten, whipped, forced and sold
taken from Africa, our motherland
brought over on slave ships 
to become the property of an unrighteous man
for over 400 years we have been treated 
no better than common dirt
but our faith in God has been the only constant 
enabling us to deal with the hurt
to Black Americans terrorism is not a new word
and for anyone to say as much seems completely absurd


Details | Cowboy | |

A Cowboy Remembers 9/11

Two proud peaks rise up from the range,
Like a dream we all have of heaven—
They soar above white clouds and sky—
A remembrance of 9/11. 

New York’s a far piece to ride to,
But folks all know what happened that day—
When those twin towers both came down
And there wasn’t much left then to say.

There’s always some that mean you harm,
Out on the range or down by the creek—
And there’s a time to take a stand
And not to just turn the other cheek.

There are those that only want talk—
And those that say we should cut and run—
But that ain’t my America—
Americans always get things done!

A strong purple haze is rising
From the plains and cities of the earth—
It’s called American spirit—
It now reclaims the rights of our birth.  

Two proud peaks rise up from the range,
Like a dream we all have of heaven—
They soar above white clouds and sky—
A remembrance of 9/11. 


Details | Free verse | |

Hiding in the Crowd: Part 2

But, I think your heart is screaming out
For something else
For love
For intimacy
For acceptance
Unconditional love
Someone who will never leave your side
Even when you are sick and weary
Even when you become the monster
That you long to destroy
Someone who can see your inner beauty
Your pain and agony 
Even when that dark side of you 
Emerges and explodes
And lashes out with hatred
And love you in spite of it
Will forgive and forget
And not keep a mental record
Of mistakes you have made
Or wrongs you do at times
And who instead 
Will take you into their arms
And hold and caress you
Until the pain goes away
I think you are longing 
For someone
Who won't abuse you
In the name of protection
Abandon you
Reject you
Hurt you
Judge you
Scar you
Or use you
And who really understands the real you
Someone you can be yourself around
Who you don't have to put on an act for
Who will love you
Even after you figuratively undress for them
Exposing all of your weaknesses and flaws
Revealing to them
The man that you truly are
That you are terrified
Of anyone knowing
In fear that some part of you
Will be deemed unlovable
By someone you care for


Details | Free verse | |

Dream Song For Harry Truman

You must not have believed
in the death of poets.

A harpsichord wind 
plays the bare, coral trees
in an ashen sky.

Songs sing like passive seas
honed red with remembering.

You are ancient Aztec,
edged flint--
yet you burn in us
as we slide down your back,
wooden curls rising,
jigging on knuckles.

All things must fit, Harry.

Bridges wane, catching your slide
to darkness, your rediscovery--
face burned umbra,
ambered fingers like ancient ivory
in water - that morel in spring
green as your memory
still walking these streets,
still clicking these sidewalks
like a wind chime
in soft evening turned sun-wise
with our remembrance,
our hope, the brief glint of those glasses
like a trout churning 
water's silver mirror, softly touching
your long reflection
cast in eternity - something loved
we have lost,                                         
regained.


Details | Haiku | |

The Sentinel

Lone weeping willow
In a field stands, sentinel
Lone, to what had been


Details | Carpe Diem | |

WAKE UP CALL

on September 11th of 2001 the Twin Towers did fall
do you think that It was God's wake up call?
In society today where the moral of men have gone completely slack
I pray to my God daily to have the good old days back
the youth of today are being raised with total disrespect
but you have children raising children, so what can you expect?

chaos and confusion, murder and mayhem
drug abuse and fatal diseases where will It all end?
the ozone layer, the rain forest diminishing plus urban sprawl
we are destroying our planet, we need to stop this all
natural disasters, man-made wars and national crime waves
I pray to Jesus, my savior that the soul of man may be saved

the blackout of 2003 they said was the results of a tree's fall
but what caused that to happen, do you think that It was God's wake up call?
now is the time for everyone to get right with God
start leading a Christian life and begin praying very hard
let go of the carnal nature and give to God your all
because when Judgement Day comes, there won't be time for wake up calls


Details | Narrative | |

I Hold No Fear

Tomorrow comes and oh God how it goes!
Do I care, why should I lend all of my spares? 
I’ll never know what tomorrow holds!
“Oh my”, how could I, what is it that I need to do?
Blessed by God, sure he loves me but what about you?
Why today and why tonight I really don’t care! 
I know that I love me no matter what my eyes can see!
Take it all but hold the very last thought that we share! 
My God, My God how I hope you all know what it is that you truly believe!
“Oh my”, capture and redeem my mind!
Complete my being that lives alive inside of me!
God you love me, these eyes have no doubt with that which they can see!
“God”, you know you have done all of this to me! 
Oh how you have loved these things that I can see!
Sheltered, protected, yet, condemned by that which I know you believe!
If I could, I think that I would, but oh God how I do stand here!
Come and get me with all of that, which I know you believe! 
Please God, just come take my all of me! 
I am still here my Lord and I hold no fear!
Tomorrow, hmm just another day for me to believe!
Oh well! Guess I’ll just have to see it through!
Ask me anything and I will tell you! 
I think we all know what it is that we should do!
Escaping the reality of what really should be, 
Oh God, I am so very here do you know what tomorrow will be? 
I’m still here my Lord and I am holding absolutely no fear!
Each morning the Sun rises to approach a brand new day. 
No doubt that I do love me!
Embraced with the thought that you have come just for me, 
I’m engulfed with this moment that I have finally achieved.
Oh my, I know that I could because I am coming to you. 
Where are you my Lord I just need to be so very near!
God you do love me! Oh how I knew that you always would! 
I’ve walked so many miles with you each and every single day, 
And I am still right here my Lord and I hold no fear!

© COPYRIGHT: 1997  ANN RICH


Details | I do not know? | |

He Sees Everything

The Lord is everywhere,
He sees everything
Through His' Angels' eyes.
Those stories in the Bible
Could just be metaphors
Of other important things.

If only unbelievers
Would think that He exists
And that the words of The Bible
Are only there to teach us...

(This Earth could possible already be "Hell"...)
May sinners not be condemned by Him,
But rather, let them learn from
Their own personal consequences
From committing gluttony, lust and pride.
A person who is gluttonous
Will only achieve nothing but bad health.
A person who is lustful
Will only be chasing after disease.

And a person with very much pride
Yet is also very selfish
Will not be liked (perhaps loved but not like) by others.

God sees everything,
He has allowed all to have free will,
Therefore you make the choices,
As you suffer from doing wrong,
He will help you, He will "discipline" you.
He is there to give you choices
And the opportunities to change.


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Requiem

I saw death
unannounced and without reservation
stain the contemporary lives
of an impervious nation
I saw an intolerable hatred
the ruddy signature of an ancient heathen
assign death 
as if to proudly bare the emblem 
of heavenly consent
I saw the cold pictures of silence
unsuspecting faces crying
children clutching memories
a city gasping for answers
as life was used to extinguish life 
beneath an ashen epitaph
of our darkest day
I saw murder
a human legacy
begotten not by time nor place
but by human nature
I saw another requiem 
of religion


Details | Free verse | |

Soup-R-Man's Head Scatchers...

How'd I get jock itch??  I don't even own a horse!!!
Why, what--ya, ya, ya,.... A.O.L. always tell me I got mail? 

I go to my mailbox; there's "nut'ing dare!!"
I have an unsual means of keeping calculator
of my mind= I rate each day on 3 scales-
a)how dumb I act...2)how much even dumbest
are surpassed by me...3)I asked my bandmate,
and great sax player (yeah, he's addicted-ta-love!!
 even I gotta  a higher to get  ya-ta-ta, oh here...
even if ya' gett'a
 ya,ya, ya's,  out,yeah, oh hym... outlet loft , oh yeah 
ya ya hadidly
yippe, yipes my think'in of her,another 
ca

to be continuated......


Details | Narrative | |

Drawn from mainline observations

Described as a ‘nightmare scenario’
in Iraq and the Middle East;
the endless war – its mess
that afflicts people of all races.

More troops have been sent there
more personnel and other organizations
deal with their quest for peace and action
that shape the future for Iraqi people.

It’s like magnet in today’s newspapers,
where everyone gets the information;
either in television or other sources
of media networks and people’s discussions.

With emerging responses and allusions
to previous leaders in this nation;
like Franklin Roosevelt in history,
who saved this country during great Depression.

In his solitary and determination,
George Bush sees it with special attention;
his strategy, along with other options
proves his adamant decision.

Like a dynastic leader with great power
King Louis XV of French kingdom
struggled and fought many foreign wars,
he won but not successful in other invasions.

The eyes of the world remain focused on this place
where chaos, horror and mess create opposition
between Democrats and Republicans
de-funding of the war seems a solution.

Against culture and civilization,
the mark of death and destruction 
shows the collapse of human castle: as God’s co-creators
in sharing his love, peace, and reconciliation. 


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Forefather

May I lift sorrow from your sunken chest
Hold your weary frown at valor’s behest
I wish these words we could have shared
My opportunity…tears from your despair

How many brethren did you lose this day
Unsung dreams lying in an unmarked grave
You fought for a life, you would never live
Your bravery an anthem, this nation your gift

You were colonial peasants, uneducated rabble at best
Outnumbered and abated, branded by a crown’s crest  
Yet your courage was contagious, charging as you bled
You sacrificed your very breath, the last one I just read

I did not know, as feet swept by you like smoke filled shards
The last sight you saw, a frayed flag’s wavering call to arms
From Charlestown to Saratoga, not a single battle was won
Except this war, the birthplace of freedom’s newfound son

Was it your belief in fate, that fighting spirit of Bunker Hill
Crossing the icy night, retreating only to Washington’s will 
Or was it conviction, in the heart of a martyred man
Dying for a dream, but not to be driven from his land


Details | ABC | |

$urface

A look far $urface Iland place
I stay where mostly gone both 
Shells a part across swimed
Around Natureness Dawn grewed
Some seven Seas of Flowers and dirt
Whence soil fresh sent after Industries
Time wacthing new Years $urface spined
Hurricane peaces telling whats good news
Alot justly foat on my Boat anear
Home washly away pastess Day's
Building mine Outside this walk
Finish yes Mam; no Sir, happy after
Done  dee's about picture Daddy
I'am love first Name: and last
I'll promise wished Star later noontide
Like Balloon's going too Heaven sliping
Off thy Finger tips notice trill
Magic fly an Space on my paper
For another sweet poem foever
Read Generation coming aloud say
$urface Baby Girl Me and you mint
Ass sweet candy cotton
Together every peek out or Eye
We see $urface there,,,
Notice:Martinez Roberson


Details | Narrative | |

If Ever I Should Have to Wonder

If ever I had to wonder, 
I would simply wonder why our paths were even destined to cross.
Obviously, I have so many things I have to wonder, 
Because my love carries the strength of steel and an armor of cloth!
No doubt that I will think of the many things that could always make me sigh.
But I know that I’d forever wonder why so much pain comes with an inevitable loss?
“Tis a soul for a soul and one cast out with your solemn moment of pride”.

If ever I should have to wonder, 
Indeed I would have wondered where?

Where is the beginning and where is the end to this forsaken way of life?
Where does all this “hidden truth” lay and why is it that I’m still standing and I can survive?

No doubt that I will think of the many things that I could always compare,
But I know that I’d forever wonder how much warmth there really is out there to share.
Brought down from sorrows below my beliefs have become my sacrifice.

If ever I had to wonder, 
I’d simply wonder where?
Where do we go when we go away and why is it that we even have to leave?
Where is this truth and why should I be the only one that will produce my beliefs?

No doubt that I would think of the many things that could always make me instantly care.
But I know that I would forever wonder why there’s so much hope with all of this despair.
‘Tis a soul for a soul and each is in such a constant dire of eternal need”!

If ever I should have to wonder, 
I’d simply wonder why this was all even meant to be.

Why could you not see the power and the glory that God has invested in the life of me?
Obviously so many things to have to wonder because love carries so many will’s that fizzle 
and die.
No doubt that I would think of the many things that could always make me sad and cry.
But I know that I will forever wonder was it I, the one who has been received?
But most of all I will forever wonder what is it that you, as one, really believe?



© Copyright:  1998   Ann Rich


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Revolution

So tell me
about injustice and hate
Shouting stop censorship
and the KKK
How America sells lies
and blood for oil
Killing Muslims 
solely to colonize their soil
Did you forget
who begot who
About Gold, God, Glory
and slavery too
Kind of like Hitler 
exterminating the Jews
The London Air Raids
and the apathy that pacifies you
So tell me about revolution
and that propaganda you bleed
Che Guevara and equality of need
Why is it starving Cubans 
are swimming for our shore
The Baltic Republics are free
and the Gulags no more
So tell me about freedom
at your friendly neighborhood pub
Drawing gas masks and Swastikas
on your overflowing mug
How burning our flag
suits you just fine
While an Iraqi woman is shot
for speaking her mind
So the next time you scream
about injustice and hate
Extol revolution
and your anarchist state
Remember to ask the Kuwaitis
about capitalists on foreign soil
And who really spilt their blood
for the price of their oil


Details | Ballad | |

Master of War

He pauses for effect and pretends to listen and hear,
then proceeds anyway and gives the order to conquer.
Though far is his reach he is really very near,
causing destruction, he brings chaos and fear.

Silhouettes and shadows dance all over the wall
but he heeds not the warning of the impending toll.
From across the ocean he kills, maims and attacks,
he arrests and he tortures, he insults and he mocks.

He drops bombs, launches cruise missiles and planes,
he fires cannons, sends troops on ships and trains.
He barks orders, he wiretaps and he spies,
he fundraises, he schemes and he lies.

He does not hesitate to place fighting men in harm’s way,
yet years ago, when put to the test, he scampered away.
He’s brave and he’s fearless he will do whatever it takes
as long as it’s not his sorry life at stake.

His nation’s best come home in cold, flag-draped coffins,
but not to worry, just statistics, save the cost of morphines.
For the good times roll for the dumb warrior and his base
since November 2000 and it has always been the case.

He turns wives into widows, innocent kids into orphans,
sowing deaths on thousands of daughters and sons.
He cries crocodile tears, even tries hard to appear he’s sorry
in front of cameras for the headlines of the day.

He never fails to attend service with his wife every Sunday,
a black sheep once but claims the Lord showed him the way.
Yet nothing will stop him from character assassination
for his party and, believe you me, in the name of his nation!

We’re spreading democracy, the little boy warrior says,
in press conferences he holds on some occasional days.
While his weary war machine stutters and cranks,
his rich cronies laugh all the way to the bank.

Yes, the Decider smiles, he surveys and he conquers,
he pretends to listen though he does not really hear.
Shame on the whole world, the UN, shame on us all,
for not reining in this evil man and just taking the fall.
 


Details | Rhyme | |

Legacy

As I live my life, and my life, soon ends,
the earth, around the universe, will still spin.
People, will still go, about living, their lives,
as people die, and babies lives, start to begin.

As I did, what I done, and did, what I could,
because the state, of the world, is as, it was, and still  becomes.
I have left, what I left, truly behind me, 
for good, while the next generation, picks up, the leftover crumbs.

I can only hope for, what I can hope for,
of me being a tool, and not a reflection, for one, to transform.
For the next generation, to use what I was, and wasn't,
to be better than, what is represented, as being, the norm.


Details | Free verse | |

My Friend, Misery

Misery is my friend
The only one that 
Always sticks around
If happiness ever finds me
I would start to cry
I'd let out shrieks
Like the Banshees
Trailing me
I need to feel pain
I know nothing else
Only way that I know 
That I am still alive
Joy makes me feel numb

Serenity frightens me
Nightmares give me peace
Because at least I know
That they are real
They don't distort the truth
Let me breathe in my despair
I need to feel the melancholic breeze
On my tear soaked face
All I know is pain
All I know is misery
All I know is torment
Their absence means
My untimely demise
I love you, misery
Be with me always


Details | Free verse | |

My Hearts Desire

She is born with the sun enlightening upon her. Bathing her in glory
Revealing the strength that soon she would bear.
 Although wounded and scarred she grows stronger, Steadfast in truth.
 Her purity she proudly proclaims.
Alas as she Ages and  becomes wrinkled, she begins to run.  Frightened 
she abandons  her past,
Her true love then becomes dark thereby weakening her foundation  
No longer does she stand, no longer does she shine, for she has changed ,
She has forsaken the purity of her first love.
 Will she live or will she die, for she is a nation 
 And sin has misguided her into walking a path of lies 
Whoring herself to destruction.
Change I plead, proclaim the just and pure 
 Destroy the folly and focus completely upon the glory that is thine.
Or die, oh nation, in darkness and mire
Utterly crumbling my true hearts desire


Details | I do not know? | |

Dark Africa

Said to have been the birthplace of man
a sacred place of mystery
Where ethnics inhabited its land
since the beginning of history
Beating drums and rhythmic flames
would echo beating heart
Where man, beast and lushes plains
formed an ongoing work of art

Life was simple, uninvolved 
We had problems that were our own
but those were easily resolved
It’s the only thing we’ve ever known
Respect for self, land and creatures
our elders made us vow
Blood that flowed had healing features
entwined with the earth somehow

With men that came and times that changed
so did standards of living
Our bonds with the gods became estranged
and they were unforgiving
With famine, aids & poverty
while others who parade in suits
give little help, but all their pity
Birthplace disowned or forgotten roots?

One thing I came to realize
that most others don’t see
If they were gonna shut their eyes
Why didn’t they let us be? 
Second world countries are unknown
while the rest of the world embark
on enlightened journeys, we alone
must bear our burdens in the dark


Details | Free verse | |

THIS UNTARNISHED TRUTH

Unwise friend, you ask me questions
that even I cannot answer...
is any rose, without torns, ever
going to survive a harsh winter?
And is a flower withered by its own vitality,
or is a healthy and strong body
ever seeking a cure for its unfelt afflictions?

I sought the same answers in my younger age,
and while growing up to summarize an early maturity...
many events were none than a tragedy;
and the biggest of all:  my unresolved rage!
An existence tediously lived,
and days foolishly spent...
like those of an infamous musician
playing his fllute to himself;
and if a passerby hears him, 
he would be critized and rediculed!

Untaught friend, you search truth
and still can't find your own voice;
your unyelding words are muffled by noise:       
the other senseless voice that hummers
a different tune...to find its purpose
in confusion without flair,
removing all the gray of the hair...
to make credibility so self-evident!

Clinging to unverifiable stories,
to prove yourself an admirable hero,so great,
doesn't make you stand out
in this very realistic time gathering evidence;
and to leave your  mark and legacy,
not handed down by history:
is a deceitful and rejected thoeory...
to preserve this untarnished truth!  
 

   


Details | Blank verse | |

BOOKSTRINGS 11

I have been around the world
Deepest, darkest corners of the globe
Down south, up north
Up high in the air time countless
Through routes criss-a-cross
Many times on sea sails
I have seen the world greatest cities
Lived in the thickets of the sahara
Several nights in the African jungle
Mingled with red Indians in Guatemalan forests
Been in  and out of oval office
The white house the Americans pride
I’ve felt the might of the Kremlin
In the Duma of the Aryan race
Gone under below the earth
In Australia, the lone continent
Gazed boldly at crown of Elizabeth
Like a Duke in Edinburgh palace
I’ve dined and wined at the so rock
In Abuja the power place of Africa
Been amused and excited beyond expression
I’ve let flow flood of tears
Felt pains and agonies deep to the marrow
All on the  platter of books
And behold!, the wide world
Before my very eyes and mind
To wander and wonder.


Details | I do not know? | |

A Blast from the Past (2005)

Seeing the shadows of the taunt 
The memories refresh and haunt 
At a glance the heart races
So many changes, but still the same faces
History scares and often re-infects
All that dies also resurrects  


Details | Bio | |

more orkney views

tw'orkney tales bin spun s' far five thousand turns apart
Of how the un dead squander beats of ever pumping heart
T' both were meant t' waken they sa wont t ' want for more
The first was close t' bird plucked bones collected saved revered
In tombs t' last forever
with whom they'd join in after life
wi' talons bones and feather
The second sits in hunt and peck
sheltered warm from weather
an' yet the quest is painted taut
to follow reason far
So toast and spill a token drop on fast eroding earth
T' them that ask through endless turns
just who in 'ell we are


Details | Rhyme | |

What is right or wrong?

Is there something in a human hand?
God is on one side and devil on other strand

Goodness is happiness or ugliness is pain,
Delivering two services, what a human brain?
Weeping and laughing, but enjoying a lot,
Doing for selfishness, is human welfare main?

What is right or wrong, the music or a band?
God is on one side and devil on other strand

Rolling a day and wandering for some how,
Fighting with all and expecting everything now,
Disturbing the peace and dreaming a change,
Trying to keep everything as grazing a cow

Teaching a lesson what is a best command?
God is on one side and devil on other strand


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Heaven's Lament

Why

Thunder from thy brother
A messenger, a victim
A belligerent deed

Dawn to dust
Twisted metal
Twisted human beings

A voice, a cry
Darkness
Save who, save fate

Confusion, hysteria
Silence
Humanity too late

Blood stained dry
Names forgotten
History serves to dare

Eyes wide shut
Paradise lost
Do we really care

The world turns
Legacy does not

Why


Details | I do not know? | |

Wave Crest to Breaking Point

Your hedonistic desires
replaced by a gonz0-journalism truth
while you stand at the precipice,
crying at the high-water mark.

you're not alone,
a whole generation
of alma matter hopefuls
gather here
to stare at the place where
kerouac could write ten novels

leave me here
to waste energy
on hedonistic, wave-crest fantasy
far rom the sting of a breaking point.


Details | Blank verse | |

Pipe dreams

Sitting in self enforced silent solitude
mind racing madly trying to catch
A train of thought
Sipping a second coffee in hope 
of more awareness
Seeking the comfort in clarity
of thought
and grasping smoky tendrils
of half-baked muddy pie ideas
Sun's been up for hours
birds are on their after feeding chorus
The second of the day
No wind 
heavy dew
Fourth of July
Freedom is lonely as ever
Time flashes back to stand
in cold wet heather
watching fog rise on 
gorse filled hills
what's next?
Today


Details | Couplet | |

General Lee

“Let us cross the river and rest in the shade of trees”
Converse like gentlemen, with our bayonets at ease
We were once brothers, declaring independence for these lands 
Now we murder one another, for the right to shackle two hands

Where were the voices, emancipating your values from skin
Taking the glory from generals, immortalized by crimson sin
Lives were railroaded, as Kansas bled into a Missouri stream
Bodies buried in the compromise, of a transcontinental dream

Was it a War of Secession, or a rebellion of recourse
Fire-eaters scorching, an abolitionist’s civil discourse
600,000 lost, tangled in the matted wool of the rancid free
One Bloody Shirt cleansed, by Sherman’s March to the Sea

Do you still hear their viscid screams, clinging to the charred air
Mottled faces crying, broken by artillery soaked fields of despair
Gettysburg shook, as corpses crumbled under death’s rolling gait
The tide had turned, but war only recognizes one ephemeral state

I have heard of leaders, speaking on the residue of tyranny’s grave
Reconstructing a widow's faith, eulogizing the sacrifice of the brave
So why do we proudly remember, how you outmaneuvered harm
Stonewalling the Constitution, before sadly losing your "right arm"

**NOTE**  The first line of the poem is a quote from Confederate General 
Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson, as he lay dying from a mortal wound at the battle 
of Chancellorsville. Upon learning of his greatest commander's death, General 
Robert E. Lee somberly responded that it was as if he lost his "right arm".


Details | Free verse | |

Untitled #124 / The Framework

The framework of the Framers is framed
high in the halls of Academia
now it is obscured by flags and colors


Details | Free verse | |

November

Knowing this, spastic
ancient films of Dallas, 
November 1963, move
silently as we clasp hands
backwards in recognition 
to quiet realization
of grassy knoll reality.

Paint drops of leaves
splatter sidewalks.  There are
no things but in things—
the turtle shell of words,
cocoons of verbiage
chambering our adjectives,
activating final syncopations
of magic bullets 
and mortality.

November rain 
does not care—
autumn leaves, 
like brain matter
shuffle past.

We stare into silver emptiness,
a cold, carnal awareness—
a glancing touch 
of sky’s silken casket.


Details | Free verse | |

Drama of Life

The dawn is down
And the dew is due
So the stage is set
Light rears lavishingly
Beautifully bright
Out of the embryo
Of mother sun
The morning round 
In view
In full open
Advances darkness
Sunset destage 
Weakly dull
The dawn is up
Dew is spread
The night is gathered
Scenes for men
A drama of life.


Details | Cowboy | |

The Songs of Campfires

So sing the songs of campfires
And sing them without fail—
Sing them now among the pyres
And sing them on the trail.

Tell of things that used to be,
Tell of those gone before—
Make them stop now and just see,
Our heritage and lore.

And let them not forget us
Or all the things we’ve done—
We may brag and fight and cuss,
But we sure had some fun!

Don’t let those campfires burn out—
We got stories to spin!
The West is what we’re about—
We must remember when.

So sing them now all your days
And sing them to the Lord—
Sing them now a hundred ways
Before you cross that ford.

So sing the songs of campfires
And sing them without fail—
Sing them now among the pyres
And sing them on the trail.

 


Details | Narrative | |

Negar

Angolan Shipyard
Portuguese Courtyard
Slaves
Indentured servants of
Black seed

Sadist sovereignty 
Dutch property
Animals
Herded into a treasure chest
Of disease

Shackled humanity
Shipwrecked Christianity
Excess 
Baptized on the bottom
Of the sea

Altered Destiny 
English colony 
1619
Stock on a manifest
Of greed

Work your land
Savage not man
Bartered
A pound of flesh for
A crown overseas

Sold by brethren
Held by heathens
Caimile
Your daddy was 
Born free


Details | Diminished Hexaverse | |

My Regret

My life means nothing,
I am a liar,
I also betrayed,
Petty and worthless,
Is how I’m defined.

I lost my will,
I feel regret,
I hate my past,
And my present.

The future,
Is unclear,
I need change.

Low life,
Failure.

Me.


Details | Free verse | |

out of the box

ancient ancestor's fervently sought
a truth , neither to be traded or bought
to discover , uncover , recover the mold
a beginning , spinning , facing sarcasm cold

learned men had to cypher , code their belief
undaunted critisisms , they found no relief
from those of power , whom would have them cower
recant their statements , or destroy the tower
imprison the mind , the body , the soul
burn the remnants of ideas was their goal
instilling of ignorance , bathed with fear
washing of hands , without facing a mirror
deep down ,subconscious , dark ages grew
contained in the cauldrons of their faulty brew .

school of hard knock's , pandora's box
too many blocks within' that rock
corners have been turned , while bridges burn
rushing , oblivious , of the lessons to be learned
little white lie's swept under the rug
uncomfortable feelings give conscious a tug
deeper thoughts , become a shadowy bug
persistent visions of the hole that's dug

like a thundering rainstorm , dark clouds overhead
releasing it's fury , letting go instead
floodwaters , overflowing , bursting dams and levies
like a burden withheld , that's become too heavy

keeping it all locked up in that box
differing peace , at the end of that walk .



Details | I do not know? | |

waxing and waning poetic

To help a man be what he is
alone in all his glory
The old Druidic Elven way
'fore ever words were writ
with rhythym and rhyme
to help us see 
the shape and taste
and need indeed
of apples yet unbit
To know what's right
and use his right
of individual freedom
druids' suggested story rhyme
painting words of admiration
to hold the beauty of our time
in constant view to help us see
the shape and taste
the need in deeds
As apples yet unbitten


Details | Diminished Hexaverse | |

The Dreaded Call

The phone rings harshly,
I know this soul well,
What could you want now?
Doubt enters my mind,
Should I dare answer?

I don’t know you,
Not anymore,
You’ve masked yourself,
With these years gone.

Old lovers,
Torn apart,
By your greed.

I don’t
Hate you:

False.


Details | Couplet | |

Good Or Bad

 

From daily living we all wanna a break 
Some relief!sometimes things are too much! 
We are thrown in a darkest pitch 
From where our bones soon start to creak! 

Chorus: 

We are thrown in a darkest pitch 
From where our bones soon start to creak! 

The world in which we live turns so bleak 
At times, we make our way with a shriek 
Things in life we're expected just to seek 
It crosses our mind then to have a tiny sneak! 

Chorus: 

We are thrown in a darkest pitch 
From where our bones soon start to creak! 

People want to be good or bad 
Sometimes both they wan'na be 
After all when having fun,nothing matter, 
They believe everything is valid, all in a day's pay! 


Chorus: 


We are thrown in a darkest pitch 
From where our bones soon start to creak! 

We are thrown in a darkest pitch 
From where our bones soon start to creak! 


We are thrown in a darkest pitch 
From where our bones soon start to creak! 




:(


Dorian Petersen Potter 
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2004-2008


Dec,10,2008 
 


Details | Free verse | |

GIRL

Girl
   
 
  Girl
I loved the dark haired girl, 
I loved her with my heart, 
She made my face to shine, 
and love did fill my heart.
But when she turned and walked away, 
my heart did fade away.
there is no love left inside of me, 
I'M worthless anyway.
Now I know what love was I don't want 
it anymore, A cup of coffee
in the morning and food at night.
No lunch for me
No fun for me
Why Oh Why
Worthless

Charles Robert Hice

Copyright ©2006 Charles Hice 

Charles Hice 

 
 


Details | I do not know? | |

Me myself and I

   I've got me myself and I and there ain't no denying that when it comes to me I will 
never lie to myself. I will never make fun of my flaws and I will never spread rumors on 
myself because I know that I would never disappoint myself all I have is me myself and I. 
When I close my eyes at night I can hug myself because I don't need anyone else but me 
and family to make myself happy. I will never deceive myself, I will never flat leave 
myself. I would never deliberately hurt myself or pretend that I was being real to myself 
when I wasn't. I can always know that when I criticize myself that I am being true to my 
soul, body and mind. In the end all I have is me to strive for my goals and not let 
anyone get in the way of it. All I need is me myself and I, I don't need anyone else's 
harsh words to make me cry. I will have my own inside jokes that only I know. As I turned 
around and saw a girl staring back at me, She was everything I was looking for in a best 
friend. She had all the same interests and all the same styles, she understood me and 
never made fun of me and when I realized that it was me looking in the mirror a tear 
swept down my eye.


Details | Ode | |

Damned Yankees

I could smell the ballpark in my glove
Lose myself in the crooked sky above
Hear the roar of the crowd in my bat
Oblivious to your epitaph called stats
Dreaming a dream, called baseball

But that was all taken from me
From an evil that does not sleep
Forgive me if I say
Damn Yankees

So you bought a curse named Ruth
Not to mention 26 Octobers to boot
Did you do it to spite this