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Narrative Political Poems | Narrative Poems About Political

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Details | Narrative | |

Heinrich Heine Revisited

I can clearly sense your utter despair of Der Matratzengruft*
As you valiantly carried on your poetic works to the very end.
This did not change your literary accomplishments well-known,
And your courage through the misery and morphine* is undeniable.

Your lyrical poetry speaks volumes among all of German literature,
And it was most marvelously set to music by the likes of Schumann,
Schubert, Silcher, Mendelssohn, Brahms, and Strauss—to name a few. 
Their melodic tones as applied to your verses then, now live on forever!

Your role in and principal contributions to Romanticism fall in line
With the highest quality of your poetic language and its intention.
Your role in battling early nineteenth-century censorship in Prussia set 
You out front of many of your contemporaries who resisted much less.

It’s so tragic Herr Heine that your literary resistance so prominent in
Challenging Prussian censorship would make you ever so more noted,
And besmirched as the Nazis in 1933 burned your books and those of
Other German scholars as a reflection of their insane and twisted beliefs!

It’s with great irony indeed that the banning and burning of your works by 
The Nazis was parodied further by them as they ignobly quoted and used
Your famous line from “Almansor,”* when you likened that “where books 
Are burned, in the end people will be burned too.” We know what they did!

And so, with both honor and sadness I do understand the very cry of lament
From the confines of your mattress-grave about your final exquisite poetry,
Written through writhing pain and tears as you faced the end of your life.
It took great courage to face your end like this while staying true to your Muse!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (December 15, 2014) 
(Narrative Quatrain poetic format)

*Der Matratzengruft from the German means “The Mattress-Grave.” 
(Heinrich Heine was confined to his bed, his “mattress-grave,” in 1848
with various illnesses until his eventual death eight years later in 1856.)

*Heine poetically referred to his pain predicament in the poem “Morphine,”
written near the end of his life, when he noted in two famous verses: 
“Gut is der Schlaf, der Tod ist besser—freilich / Das beste waere, nie
Geboren sein.” (In English: “Sleep is good, Death is better—of course, /
Best of all would be never to have been born.”)

*Almansor was a play written by Heine in 1821 that had a most famous 
line in German: “Das war ein Vorspiel nur, dort wo man Buecher verbrennt,
verbrennt man auch am Ende Menschen.” (Rendered in English: “That was
but a prelude; where they burn books, they will ultimately burn people as
well.”) The significance here is that as the Nazis burned the books of Heine
and other German artists on the Opernplatz in Berlin in 1933, they actually
celebrated this event by “engraving” Heine’s famous words from “Almansor”
in the ground at the Opernplatz site. The obvious depravity of this terrible
event reflects the innate cruelty, stupidity and evil of the Nazis as they 
burned the books and defiled the names and reputations of Heine and other 
famous German writers. Their actions were monstrous and shameful, and 
were indicative of mankind’s base instincts at their very worst. Moreover, 
despite converting to Protestantism from Judaism in 1825, Heine’s Jewish 
origins played a continuing presence in his life and were one of the major 
factors for his being scapegoated by the Nazis later in 1933. And besides,
the Nazis were always more interested in burning books, rather than 
reading them!  

Copyright © Gary Bateman

Details | Narrative | |

The Powerfool and The Powerful

They deserve the power least;
That desire the power most.

And I saw the duo on the road,
Together on a journey in a tussle,
Behold! The powerfool and the powerful.
The powerfool: a powered fool, the power-fooled:
Tooth and nail he fought,
Burgled the mandate, picked a race,
Unwary was he that
Power-fool-ness is not powerfulness.

They deserve the power least;
That desire the power most.

I was fated to behold it all:
How the powerfool took the hold by force,
The power bought he, with the blood of the innocent and the guiltless,
Who in allegiance went, their duty to do.
How the powerful came calm with query;
And chased after the powerfool 
In a slow steady struggle sealed 
In patience, persistence, perseverance…

They deserve the power most;
That desire the power least.

I was fated to know it all:
How at the first three junction of the road
Which was destined for four,
The auctioneer’s label was hung on the truth;
Our trust betrayed for a trifle;
And our lynchpins victimized with riffle.

They deserve the power most;
That desire the power least.

But the fool cannot but fool a fool.
At the fourth junction I saw it:
As the powerfool in a derisive confidence
Met his dreaded waterloo in a corner,
Where stubbornness is stupidity,
And where all help is no help;
Caught unawares; the end of the road in sight.
And the powerful in a gallant gesture,
Given the power that to him belonged,

He that laughs last laughs longer;
He that laments last laments longer. 


Details | Narrative | |

BiPartisan Dissonance

When oppositional cognitive dissonance deflects focus,
it tends to go back to when I deflected focus from her.
She sends me passive-aggressive messages,
bread crumbs leading back in time 
to where she began to feel alone,

If you don't want a sopping wet tile bathroom floor
because I have thrown all my naked Barbie and Ken parts,
especially their water-filled hollow insides,
and the five saturated pools of stained white washcloths
I took out of that drawer just like you said not to,
and the nice sudsy soft bar of soap,
then you might want to reconsider leaving the bathroom
during my bath.
You might want to think of telling a story
or imagining with my behavioral lectures
I so mercilessly inflict
on the shattered heads of my daughters,
I mean dolls.

Perhaps oppositional cognitive dissonance 
is what Republicans have about Democrats.

If you folks would be so kind as to return to cooperative civic and civil discussion,
about my intrinsic dignity, royalty perhaps,
sense of anthrocentric entitlement,
immaculate integrity as a permacultured Orthodox Tradition,
utterly necessary to optimize sustainable and resilient health
for All Americans,
(although perhaps not quite sufficient),
including those who happen to have become embarrassed
by their unhealthy wealth and extravagant disregard
for undercommodified values,
like caring and nurturing, loving and therapeutic
mentoring relationships and trees of life, and economic
and eco-logical environ-mental (0)-sum cooperative networks,
like the synergy of all natural systems,
most especially religious cultures
delivering a united and interdependent positive teleology
that we all created this rapacious, extractive mess together.

So, please stop leaving the bathroom of discourse,
regardless of how rhetorically insane and polemic,
every time we complain about your shitty attitudes
about wealthy compost and sustainable,
optimized economic growth.
Then you democratically complain,
by voting for the one you hate the least,
as we go right on doing
what we intended to do
while we were throwing water
on your slippery-floor economics
of radical,
reverse-hierarchical interdependence and mutual subsidiarity.
Much too "solidarity" for Republican taste as True,
much less Just to those who prefer their
economically entrenched competitive silos.

our Democratic family value parents 
hear their oppositionally disordered Republicans
as if they were bionically alien unitarian utilitarians,
like honey bees and ant hives,
devoid of deductive rational accessibility,
of even one of four dimensions of truth,
and  without capacity to empathize with their well-mentored praxis,
of continually forgetting you could not climb a higher priority
right now
than telling your oppositional daughter Dr. Seuss's The Lorax, 
interpreting each voice as your own Lorax Logos,
wondering why you continue competing
to reach a Win-Win Cooperative Game,
and political
and economic
and ecological
and cultural 
and biological karmic finish line,
alone in your Permaculture Designed polycultural PolyLife Tree Paradise.

When you think about it,
you can see that your competitive political
and economic assumption,
that Win-Win cooperation will not have our final say,
is not ecologically, scientifically,
or even permaculturally, metaphysically
sound, rational, integrated,
sustainably designed to benefit future generations,
much less synergetic or holonically comprehensive.

You can't win a P=NP,
4-fractal/spiral (0)-sum
cooperative economic logistical plan
until everyone else has the freedom
and integrity
and ecotherapeutic orthopraxis comprehension,
to win-win with you, coincidentally.

With this perhaps un-Christian, 
and vaguely irreligious perspective
that Democratic mutual-redeemer culture
is closer to (0) sum Core Value Balanced Heaven
rationality, and intuition,
than appears to be the case
for our benighted Republican
wealthy fat-cat anthro-supremacist residents of Earth,
we have turned rather too far
our spinning cultural revolution pendulum
away from the racist sin of monocultural monotheism,
poverty and the overpowering commodification of human lives,
and the commodification of other species,
and the commodification of Earth's fire, water,
soil and sky,
Her capacity to regenerate fertile seeds,
turning away from sin as sterile insanity,
disability and absence,
to now prophecy the sins of monopolistic wealth,
and power;
to notice challenging, dissonant tipping points
within monocultural,
bicamerally competing economic uncertainty
and ecological dysfunction for all consciousness
all nations,
reconnecting our more humane DNA-informed
bicameral information processor branch of EcoTribe,
multisystemic and polycultural Climax Community,
coincidentally straining and stressing to comprehend
Polynomial SpaceTime = Not-Not Polynomial Open Systemic Binomial Prime Relationship Temporal "Now"
as Yang-convex/positive = Yin-concave/negative,
as +1.00% QBit = +/-(0)% Soul Core-emergent universal Vertex/Dark Recessional Vortex (Perelman, 1993)

So, yes, maybe somewhat closer,
but closer doesn't count
when playing Win-Win economic ecotherapy.
Horseshoes don't fit elephants.

Speaking of elephants in too-narrow-minded oppositional spaces, 
where was I?
Oh, yes, she’s in the bathtub again,
better watch that floor.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck

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America, Why Did You Stray?

America, why did you stray from the old way.
A constitution put forth, the foundation of our land,
barely recognizable what was originally Jefferson's hand.
Tarnished and smudged by misinterpretation,
overindulgence and greed, to satisfy political,
judicial, and journalistic need.
Once majority rule, now bordering on ridicule,
the law of the land, ever changing, meeting demands,
of whoever takes a stand.

America, why did you stray, parents unable to discipline,
fear children undisciplined now rule, school in chaos,
students unruly, guaranteed to pass, unprepared for their future,
parents unsure, wish for the past, hope the next generation,
won't be like the last.

America, why did you stray, streets used to be a place to play,
neighbors knew one another, socialized every day,
doors left unlocked, nothing to fear, families stayed close,
helped one another, took care of mother.

Now drugs rule the day, hate and crime more common than play,
multiple locks symbolic of today, rarely talk to a stranger,
living in fear; life no longer precious, taken away,
day after day, the bloody count rises, a country in crisis,
victims pay, guilty appeal, courts give them the best deal.
Nobody protests for victims rights, put a murderer to death,
they scream all night.

America, why did you stray, hatred and bigotry alive 
and well today, nationalities split, long for the old way,
when an American, was just an American, now hyphenation,
the accepted way.

America, why did you stray, once an industrial giant
you gave it away, too high a standard for industry to pay,
moved out of country, the new American way, unemployment,
poverty, homelessness rapidly increasing, ruined lives,
while billions are spent on so called allies.

America, why did you stray, what's written today,
barely address the wrongs building every day,
religion is accepted, God is not,
country divided, politically split,
presidential bashing provides journalistic wit,
hatred and bigotry, live for it.

America why did you stray, new chapters every day,
really a damn shame.

Copyright © Mac McGovern

Details | Narrative | |

Already Established

Political figures have a way of looking at things
And changing to gray what is black and white
Projecting an image of integrity
Then selling their mothers because the price was right
They separate themselves from their people
Building an ivory tower
Their minds are corrupted 
By greed and by power
Would you sell your soul for a billion dollars?
They answer yes, We wouldn’t think twice
How about two dollars? What do you think we are? 
Already established, now let’s negotiate price.

Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr.

Details | Narrative | |

The Powerfool and The Powerful

They deserve the power least;
That desire the power most.

And I saw the duo on the road,
Together on a journey in a tussle,
Behold! The powerfool and the powerful.
The powerfool: a powered fool, the power-fooled:
Tooth and nail he fought,
Burgled the mandate, picked a race,
Unwary was he that
Power-fool-ness is not powerfulness.

They deserve the power least;
That desire the power most.

I was fated to behold it all:
How the powerfool took the hold by force,
The power bought he, with the blood of the innocent and the guiltless,
Who in allegiance went, their duty to do.
How the powerful came calm with query;
And chased after the powerfool 
In a slow steady struggle sealed 
In patience, persistence, perseverance…

They deserve the power most;
That desire the power least.

I was fated to know it all:
How at the first three junction of the road
Which was destined for four,
The auctioneer’s label was hung on the truth;
Our trust betrayed for a trifle;
And our lynchpins victimized with riffle.

They deserve the power most;
That desire the power least.

But the fool cannot but fool a fool.
At the fourth junction I saw it:
As the powerfool in a derisive confidence
Met his dreaded waterloo in a corner,
Where stubbornness is stupidity,
And where all help is no help;
Caught unawares; the end of the road in sight.
And the powerful in a gallant gesture,
Given the power that to him belonged,

He that laughs last laughs longer;
He that laments last laments longer. 


Details | Narrative | |

A Land Bearing Green White Green

Which way leads to the 
land of green white 
Which way are we 
   A country the wicked 
bears the rulership, and 
the people sighing 
   A terrible thing sprouts 
beneath the sun: a 
pregnant woman 
delivering not.
Imps come to lime-light 
by snuffing air from the 
goose that laid the 
golden eggs.
The blind guiding the un
The weak suppressing 
the strong-a terrible 
Like the overthrow of the 
gods at Mt. Olympus by 
the Titans.
A country where also 
thieves appear as men of 
Land of green white 
green,which way?
A land where the 
enlightened ones are 
overshadowed and 
peanuts given to them.
The masses are dogs that 
eat the crumbs.
 Which way to go you 
Iliterates stand on 
podium of power 
bellowing orders as milk 
of sorrow known as 
dividends of democracy 
is passed around.
The machine of progress 
manned by the 
"There is better 
tomorrow" we hear.
Land of green white 
green,my country 
where rule of law walk 
beside anarchy.
The proles are sentenced 
to adversity,and there 
endured death-like trials.
Chai! Aru! People 
dancing on thorns 
whimpering as they 
  I see a new sun rising 
from the horizon,hope is 
rekindled as its rays 
grace on hopeless bodies.
 Look!! there soon be 


Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu

Details | Narrative | |

World Economic Report, April, 2012

Fear feasts on our insides
And wrecks decision-making
Evil jumps in with glee
And another one loses trust

And another one down
And another one down
And another one loses trust

Evil grins
At what might have been
As another one loses trust

Housing fails
Markets, too
And countries follow suit

“Be afraid
Be very afraid”
Used to be a joke
But now it’s the match
That lights the glint
In Evil’s eye

Every day we’re fed
Too much detailed
- Perhaps true;
Perhaps not -
With stated directives
To be

As Evil laughs
And Fear cavorts
Through our souls

With another one down
And another one down 
And another one loses trust

I will myself to turn off the media
Not to ignore the warnings;
But to avoid overexposure
To the cancer-causing
Smoking gun
Of fear

According to Article 37, Section 202 of the Code of Federal Regulation, the Congress states that “words and short phrases such as names, titles, and slogans; familiar symbols or designs; mere variations of typographic ornamentation, lettering or coloring; mere listing of ingredients or contents” are not copyrightable.
So thanks to John Deacon of Queen…

Copyright © KJ Hooten

Details | Narrative | |

Where did we go wrong

Shovels,blue overalls and head lamps.
They dug the golds fields to feed our our hungry stomachs,they carried the Dompas to free our future,they took beatings for our emancipation,but did they plant good seeds in our brains?
Did they instill education in our hearts?
We stick gold plates on our teeth to show monetary muscle
We dig our father's pockets to fend for our families and we are labelled gold diggers.

Were the lights at the end of the tunnel chandeliers on the ceiling of the Summit club?
Did our dreams slide downhill like a pole dancer?
Is the corporate leader a way to step on the backs of a kneeling cleaner?

Shining crystals all looked the same,we took the mirror and gave away the diamond,we gave away our herd of cattle but now we are fed a load of wild Bull and a lot of Ass.
We took away the buffalo from our national money,we boasted of millions to bid for the same buffalo and now the same buffalo ends on our plates at dinner time.

We placed Madiba on the Randelas only for the Mandelas to fight for the millions.
27 years fight to freedom,a few years into democracy, but an eternal scar of poverty.
We recalled the smoke pipe that was bringing fire to the cold land and inducted the shower head that only bring storms of conspiracy,strikes and skimpy dancers.

Did we go wrong anywhere or am I just an ignorant youth?

Copyright © Gaopalelwe Nke

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Contemplating atop the “Great Wall,” was Neruda comparing similarities of this and “Machu 
Picchu?”  Was there more commonality beyond stonemasons craft? High stone walls ancient 
cities, “great walls,” lesser ones (Berlin) are designated barriers between peoples/ideologies 
for protection. Long standing cultural isolation results. 

Constructing a fence of wood at Isla Negra afforded symbolic protection. Wooden slats 
allowed words over and through pickets to the world beyond. If “Machu Picchu” was “a trip to 
the serenity of the soul,” fences and “great walls” lie on opposite sides of that.

Neruda’s prolific poetry rose above politics unencumbered by walls, fences or dogma.

for contest on Pablo Neruda

Copyright © John Trusty

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Jose, the kid on the corner --
El Macho -- who knows no English
and who sells himself to eat
(being still not quite dry)
slept last night in an alley
shielded from wind and eyes
by the bulk of two dumpsters
positioned at angles to each other.
This morning, his smile's
as brilliant as sunshine.
And if he's not exactly squeaky clean,
he's only a little the worse for wear --
probably more immaculate than we,
potential buyers at whom he flaunts his wares.

Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore

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Urge To Smile

Urge To Smile
By Nate Spears

The morning sun rises
My flesh is set back 
Due to my body needing 
Much needed rest
I wonder 
Does anyone else feel 
the urge to smile?
I know right now 
I'm feeling sour

A grin attached to my face
That lights up the sky
Behind my clouds of joy 
There lies a lie
With everyone wondering how?
How can he smile
with so much going on
Rapidly by the hour
People losing their homes

Some can barely feed their kids
The government is gone
They rather spend our money 
On billion dollar drones
Never the less
We're blessed
We're here to see another day
Being healthy and relevant
Gives me strength
To soar into a new day
With unlimited fight 
Packed up under my wings

Another day 
Another chance
For tomorrow 
Thanks in advance
As long as I'm living
I can better my condition 
It's mandatory to smile
A privilege to be living.

Copyright © Nate Spears

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Hostile Times II

Hostile Times II
By Nate Spears

Busted love is my Crystal Ball's fortune
My heart hurts in a torturing way
Nothing ever works in my favor
Standing still 
I lower my head and pray 
Confessing to God 
All I have to give

A 16 year old rebellious daughter
A 13 year old son that’s dead
My father is in prison; so is the one of my two kids
Is this really a way of living?
I didn’t have a choice from the days beginning
Anything different
Would have a given me a chance
at living

Walls of barriers bearing on us 
On this earth we stand
Refusing to let go of this curse
If no bill is signed by Congress
My unemployment runs out next Thursday 
Now I contemplate what’s next?
Sex dollars or Creflo's Dollars?
Be an honest woman; or
Be a fool that’s starving?
When pushed to the limit
All governors are discarded.

Hostile Times rains upon us
Other nations joins the honors
The Elite makes me vomit
There’s plenty of resources among us
God have mercy and let it trickle down on us
Rather than become degrading
In this pew 
I choose prayer
Becoming Sunday Mornings best
Washing away my pains that become abreast; with my chest
Bringing in a new day, 
A today, 
For a better way
In these hostile times we live in.

Copyright © Nate Spears

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A girl was raped in a bus that night

A girl was raped in a bus that night 
By six men, all drunk, who had lost their minds	
Ambrosia was the elixir of gods, it is said
But godlike men in this age aren’t born or made
Alcohol wrecks judgment, makes beasts out of men 
Deeds under its influence have put us men to shame
Shops abound in our nation where alcohol is sold
The government till overflows when the weather turns cold
A corrupt force is tasked to uphold the country’s law
Incidents occurring on a daily basis expose this basic flaw
Fear of law is no deterrent for miscreants and crooks
The police prefer to look away; with them, they are in cahoots  
But a girl still battles death today aided by a ventilator
Skewered with an iron rod that night, unending was her horror
Demonstrations against this shame were met with brutal force
Citizens showing solidarity were bludgeoned without remorse
The hand that wields the baton to protect civil society
Is now the hand that throttles free voice and liberty
Bad governance, we know is the bane of any nation
Bad policing and lawlessness is responsible for any country’s degeneration
Instead of upholding law and maintaining order
Law enforcers are subdued by their political masters
Whose lack of will to rein in the force given selfish political aspirations 
Stems from a sense of indebtedness for furthering their ambitions 
Burning state fuel at night they stalk and chase prey
Fleecing shady truckers and wheeler-dealers who operate in markets grey
This extortion by night on city road and state highway
Robs the state of much needed revenue and is an add-on to their pay
Similar incidents happen each day of the year and night
In night’s anonymous darkness or blatantly by daylight
With the force preoccupied in matters so vital
Who will protect our girls and control the crime spiral
The government of the day is callous to people’s concerns
Callous to  a daughter’s fate on whom men on a bus took turns

Copyright © Sumit Majumdar

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Nine Eleven

The old woman argued relentlessly, her case.
Resolute, she raved in her conviction; 
two thousand and one reasons were there for her to be mad.
Eleven was given to questioning eyes.

It was September, 
and Bernice brought home the bourgeois man, 
and the two fell 
from the pedestal
they held among friends in the big city, 
(the city) a melting pot, 
now a city in affliction.

Bernice’s brown eyes combed the neighborhood; 
two boys, with open arms, 
played aero planes; 
Across the street,
the rug pilot laughed his ass off 
as if mocking the bourgeois man,
and his woman hid her face in rags …, 
in degradation – 
but her sad eyes openly mourned her son’s suicide.

Grief of that magnitude brings offense, 
and the bourgeois man was red with wrath, 
and he abhors the old woman 
with every inch of his being. 
Racism was reversed.
He avowed by God to ruin the rug pilot, 
and the people that loved him consented. 

Hearts were left to wonder
what makes men so cruel.
The reasons for the old woman’s rant was explicable, 
and of the grounds for the revenge 
the negros conceded, 
in only one instance. 
Revenge was foreseeable, 
and the spirit breeds more phobias.

Copyright © Earle Brown

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These Changing Times

(The rehab of a supervisor)

My eyes!  Saturated
with industrial crap, eventually
to intoxicate what’s left of one’s
bewildered brain.
My sight!  Shackled to the
delusion of corporate inconsistencies,
when leading one’s head through each
enigmatic juncture.
My ears!  Burn with unprincipled
mispronunciations, after boardroom
lampoons of delinquency miss the
mark, especially when delivered
within the queerness of each
insidious secretion, only then to be
viewed with suspicion, when basking
within the formulation of one’s own
comfort zone!
“Labeled” Non aspirant
when introduced to those
emerging within the endearment of
one’s company charter!
“Without ambition”
The blind clown of managerial youth
articulates, one score and five
not an option in this perfidious 
global arena.
Astute!  The annual assessment
in place, only to bolster
insecure managers.
A feedback, to aid keep one
in one’s place.
The first phase of corporate
correctiveness, complete with subtle
Barriers!  Put in place to analyze
inflexible overtones, before pleading
guilty of being in possession of too 
many answers.
But alas!  Enlightenment validated, only
if, of a positive kind.
Ah!  Is this the answer! Positivity with
in this negative world, where truth has
lost its meaning in a labyrinth of
corporate “Lunacy?”
Seminar after seminar concoct to
intergrade somewhat aimlessly with
today’s intellect, corporate logic
filtered through hidden agenda, systems of
corrective surgery implanted, to keep
“Shop floor” On track.”
“I!  And some, from
a bygone era, ridiculed, insulted,
with in the classroom.”

Harry Horsman   for Chris D Aechtner contest
Let the mask fall

Copyright © harry horsman

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Office of the Vice Poem

The Vice Poem shall serve,
without regard to need
or time of day,
being in line of succession,
should the Poem be 
unable to fulfill its ditty

The Vice Poem will be 
required to preside 
over the sonnet
and break any ties
that come upon it

As is customary,
the Vice Poem shall be
required once a term
to debate the opposition
on the respective merits
of poetry versus prose

The Vice Poem shall
be sent, on a moments notice
to travel wide and far
to deliver the eulogy
for dead, leading authors,
and to do so with euphony

The Vice Poem can
anticipate being the object
of scorn and ridicule
from the wider citizenry
regarding the merits of 
being a second rate poem 
while anticipating to
someday achieve eloquence

© Goode Guy 2013-01-21

Copyright © Goode Guy

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Frightened By the Polls

Frightened By the Polls

As frightened as a wolverine in a man-made metal trap,
The politician crawled out from under his rock.
Afraid, after his voting record was revealed,
He avoided facing his constituency and their votes.
Never had he seen such scathing, waving, hating arms.
A people’s representative turned belly-up.
One Senator, a rejected self-server, voted out!
His crown fell into the black mire.
Peaceful realms of his mind were jolted.
The plaza of his heart unfettered.
Sorrowfully, for him, self-serving statutes were stifled.
Laughing loudly his bloodthirsty opponents celebrated.
Their fun was short lived.  
They, too, were soon hung out to dry on the pole, at the polls.
Because they failed to honor the value of our forefather’s demands,
Because they had misrepresented their voters again and again,
Because Americans stood tall and took Freedom’s stand,
They voted out self-servers and voted in honest men.
An entirely new era in Washington began.
The continuation of freedoms as our ancestors planned. 
Constitutional guarantees for freedom were revived.
Soon, sunshine shone its smiling face upon ordinary people. 
Society reclaimed her power.
Love, tolerance, respect, and individuality thrived.
God bless America.

Poetic vehicles used: alliteration, assonance, metaphor, parallelism, personification, rhyme, satire, simile, 
synecdoche, and metonymy.  Written for Deborah's contest, but it's the wrong form.  Oops.  Thanks for the lessons, Deb.  SMILES.

© August 19, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen

Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

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We need change,
change in elections,
limit them to two years,
watch their reaction.....

Time gives them comfort,
this is not good,
let us keep them honest,
like they should.

Stop corruption,
once and for all,
two years then you are out,
voters roll call......

Copyright © Christy Hardy

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A nation of troubles is what I see
people pretending there is no greed
lies are told and babies killed
some take money, their lips are sealed

a long time ago on this very ground
a group of wise men wrote things down
they had a plan to make things right
working together through many a night

a constitution of laws for our land
they wrote them all with quill in hand
these to be honored all through  our land
they were written on paper not drawn in the sand

a leader must lead and bring forth the truth
this is their job and what they were elected to do
people elect with the power of votes
state by state by everyday folks

the time is near we will vote again
our voices will be heard across this land
do what is right, follow the laws
it is up to the people if we stand or fall

Copyright © chris hardy

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The Truth of the Dragon-Knight

Last knight Eye dreamed Eye was a dragon with wings made from disdain and shaped like quaking fear that burned holes through my subconscious imaginings. Eye was gliding soundlessly thru dark clouds, thunder, and rain, while the Slayers stood below, grounded in tyranny and trying to pull Me from the knight sky...Then Eye could hear, then Eye watched thru Dragon-I's as arrows joined my flight...trying to penetrate the hard scales of My spiritual skin. The muted sharpness of the arrows' dancing ricocheted off of Me.

Then Eye cried. Not in agony or pain or

Eye cried in echoing defiance of the oppression of blind slavery and meaningless denial. Eye belched blue and green flame and roared aloud--as loud as my Dragon-voice would carry. Eye scorched the minds of the lie-ers and self-made martyrs (there, the ones who were carrying the omission of Truth of this world).

The Slayers still stood their ground. They kept circling  around and around under Me...but Eye kept pumping My neck, Eye kept beating My wings, but still the Slayers came...more and more of them...

Eye dived down deep toward their barren landscape (My Own Hunting Ground!!); Eye needed to see their torn, hated faces...Men, all. They kept their hoods drawn, their faces hidden from My I's. But their bodies were bare and naked to My Dragon-flame, naked to the force of My righteous wrath. Eye swept down closer, closer until Eye could smell the scents of their sweat and dried blood (of conquered servants before), and Eye could see, even count, the dark hairs sprouting from greasy, dirt-clogged pores. Eye could see that some bore vehement scars, jagged marks streaking across their man-flesh.

Their weapons were crude, mostly: wood axes, scythes, cudgels, kitchen knivez sharpened to a murderous edge...the only sophisticated armaments were their bows, their arrows. The bows were of blood and bone and tendon and blind fear, the sinewy string woven with acceptance of the odd (the Truth that they must stand and fight a common enemy as a single unit, that they must stop war amongst themselves to do so)...and their arrows were bound with Hope and Reason, that Eye would die before them, that they would live on. The bows were more beautiful than the Slayers deserved to wield, but they commanded them with such grace and poise and proficiency...

The Truth is Eye, the Dragon-Knight, and the Slayers are all of mankind's fear and war and social stigma among thorns...

Their bows were the making of Truth and Love and Acceptance, only constructed and command-able when mankind will stand together and open their I's and see.

Copyright © Lauryn Jean

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(Obama: 'Trayvon Martin Could Have Been Me' ABC News , July 19, 2013.    The President suggests that we judge people not on the color of their skin; but on the content of their character.)

We all wear clothes of different colors
to protect our skin from the elements.
We all wear skin of different colors
to protect our innards from the elements and our clothes.

Our color choices reflect our ancestry, 
our moods; or life stances.
We all are the same inside:  
We have muscles, and blood and bones   
which serve the same purposes.

And we are all different inside:
our minds, our experiences; our souls
which record our lives and help us survive

Hopefully we can use them to find common ground.

Copyright © KJ Hooten

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I Slept with a Female Mosquito - Part I

I Slept with a Female Mosquito..... By Peter Onyancha
(part I)

I Slept with a Female Mosquito. 
Waking up, Good morning, but goodness!
Stupid lewd fly; family of the blood sucker
Fretful, I study the plumped mosquito
My science talks to me, unfaltering
My eye bulges and I nod, I see, I understand 
Pretentious snout, proboscis, piglet wishes, I nod
Crooked legs, Ague grass hopper
Supporting a red load, Oh lord
Overladen rotund raw bottom, I see
Drooping head, like a sniffer dog
Satisfied silence, night accrued quietness
Anopheles! I scream – 
She clutches tighter on the net; what next?
The scandalous vampire, ague hawker
A female mosquito, Anopheles
I lay flat, you lay fat
Goiter! I slept.

Copyright © peter Onyancha

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Look at the facts not the Debate

Do you see anything to smile about?
Someone was on fire during the debate
He drank so much water he stuttered
That a sign the raft of hell is getting hotter
Now I am more confused than ever

Our life isn't a political flash game
Do you see anything to smile about?

Today for me; tomorrow for you,
It only takes a few, to see and review,
The outlook on life, sadly it’s fading.
Before we are too quick to judge;
Do you see anything to smile about?

Many work places are going under;
Many people are on the unemployment line,
Not knowing what to expect or digest
Do you see anything to smile about?

Occupy Wall Street protest continue stronger than ever
Trying to save what's left of our future.
Only time would tell according to the scriptures
Occupy our minds let’s think of our children's future
Look at the facts not the faces
Do you see anything to smile about?

One keep smiling the other kept drinking
Many head of the households worries about Health Care
 What is life for a soldier on the front line? 

Do you see anything to smile about?
Yes I know a man is still a man
Even if he wears an expensive jacket and ties
Only differents  we as citizens have place 
 Such men in a high position to spy
We have to back it up and vote or choke
Do you see anything to smile about?

Relationships are dying Men and women for themselves
Broken hearts all over the place,
 The love of our patriach seizes
Do you see anything to smile about?

Homeless shelters are closing
 With or without people demonstrating or voting,
Do you see anything to smile about?

This is not any fault of our citizens 
Its bad management, how much more can we take
 It’s hard to smile during the recession besides a rebate!
Looks at the facts, not the debate
Partake and foresee our future.
We need more smiling faces.
We need to breathe!
Hell’s getting hotter,
 Apocalypse in mainstream
Now do you see anything to smile about?

Copyright © Annie Lander

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American Shame

…For a more perfect union,
…We need to peel the onion,
…So we can fully fathom,
…The cesspool we have become,
…District reps are bought and sold,
…By robbers brazen and bold,
…They hide behind their loop holes,
…Buying votes to meet their goals,
…And this makes it possible,
…For agendas powerful,
…To be dependent upon,
…Supporting that which is wrong,
…Stop the money, stop the shame,
…Stop that which corrupts the game,
…Now pass the legislation,
…For true representation

Copyright © My Gull Wheels On

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Sequel to A Girl was raped in a bus that night

It is time to grieve a cop has died
Son to a mother, darling father to a child
Leaving kin behind and many more
Claimed by the force to have been beaten to pulp by a mob seeking gore
An honest cop fell of which there are a few
But it wasn't the cop that the movement slew
The lie is contested by those present, who saw
The ugly face stands exposed of the upholders of law
They tried to twist facts to make a point
In our country even post mortem reports can be purloined
Claims made by the force are inconsistent so far
The cop wasn't battered but it was the chief’s attempt to tar
Civil society and a spontaneous movement by far

He succumbed to cardiac arrest and possibly the atrocities he witnessed that day
Taken care of by civil society who sought assistance for his medical care
Humanity grieves whenever a life is lost 
Foolish decisions by foolish men and look who’s paid the cost
There will be an inquiry, a routine government demand
But in this age of vendetta politics, the state will likely seek an innocent's remand
So vitiated is the administration’s vision today 	
For a cop’s death a political adversary will have to pay 
But in that ill fated time there was only one villain in the fray
The rest were civil society gathered near Raisina Hill that day  
Policemen on duty who had donned their uniform
Forgot the law and the oath they had sworn
Striking citizens in chilly December with water cannons and batons
They have to learn policing anew from more civilized nations
The collateral damage the chief spoke of like some Bollywood goon
Has exposed him for what he is – our national buffoon
Listen governments past and present
It is time the Augean stables were cleansed
If the freedom guaranteed by our founding fathers is not assured today
If the birthright of security that a woman needs is trivialized and frittered away
Lest ye forget the girl’s condition hasn't improved and remains critical
Time to introspect and delve into a mindset, still medieval 
A handy tool to cover misdemeanours and serving well your political ends
Who turn on their masters and subvert truths for your petty gains 
You in Government remember we are a billion or more 
Our votes count – come 2014 and election day, you’ll be shown the door

Copyright © Sumit Majumdar

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I Slept with a Female Mosquito - part VI

I Slept with a Female Mosquito – part VI

I know you well; yes I do
The leader knows: I deal with data
Stagnant water and you stagnate
Consort zone of your flock
Lazy laying folks, playing, waylaying, injecting  
Laying, playing, waiting, injecting, playing….
This sinful singing will break
A new song will sound, jubilee beckons
Tribute to your era erased
Just wait a small second this time
You’ll be gone; just hold on 
Let us get back from this beach
And you will respect us; we, the voices
Choices of the people

Copyright © peter Onyancha

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The Promised Land

   Again and again, I scrape through the sand encrusted
macadam pavement, avoiding patches of sunken sorrows,
embossed in tv jingles, uttered from the lips of politicians,
grinning, toothless, at the wandering
immigrants, eager to find no home.
  Against the soundtrack of minimum wage, scores
of campesinos work double shifts, avoiding traffic
tickets, the long dark hallway that leers at happiness,
trembling in freedom.
  Only Sundays promise solace, playing soccer
with friends, the air biting with the coming winter,
warmed by bowls of steaming menudo.
  Once more, the crows, perched on highway lights,
mock the empty alleyways, where crushed beer cans,
and broken tequila bottles litter the sunrise,
unwilling to quench my thirst,


                                                                        To quench

                                                                                         my thirst

© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © James Marshall Goff

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A nation of fools

A nation of fools

Crippled minds, hearts filled with madness
They plot evil against their God chosen leaders
They wish them dead
They love the taste of disorder
They love the ignorance that comes with chaos
They are an angry nation

It is a national of fools
Which paints it’s leaders, in naked imagery
A national, which bids for their leaders deaths
A nation which laugh, mocks at them
A nation of fools, a nation were idiocy is rampant
A nation that worship donors and sacrifices hard work

A nation, which supports ideologies that rapes Mother Nature
A nation, which crucifies morality because of a disillusionment of what, they call rights
A nation that prefers war to peace
A nation were patriotism is absence
Were history is ignored, were heroes are just heroes
A nation, which ignores the wisdom of their prophets;
which sends them to death for speaking the truth
A national, which welcomes evil and shuns good
A nation, which prostitute its sovereignty to other nations

A nation of fools were people dances when rain does not pour
A nation were human life is worthy a penny
A nation were little kids are considered soldiers
A national were guns are more important than books
A nation were its okay to steal from the people
It is nothing but a nation of fools.


Written by Tawona Ranganawa

Copyright © Tawona Mzila Ranganawa

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I Slept with a Female Mosquito - part VII

I Slept with a Female Mosquito – part VII 

In the interim be quashed, my pangs
The process should be sore slow. 
I will do it gallantly; wicked empire
I will kill her in small installments

Copyright © peter Onyancha