America the Free ~ America the Brave ~
Freedom with price Capitalism attacked
the many taken hearts broken still
one World try to rebuild
sadness and tears fall hard with fears
guilt by association many accused still
souls evaporated shattered dreams
tears fall on innocence left with anger
The proud fearless knew the inevitable
policeman fireman many lives lost
grieving does not stop 12 years later
New York city once proud & shameless
refusing to let fears in protecting ours
left in shock still question's unanswered
nothing learned nothing gained
ready to attack many left behind
anger greets denial anger meets rage
unacceptable still refusing new love
wanting days to rewind let us go back in time
acceptance allowing the victims leave in peace
the brave taken young leaving us sadly old
haunting dreams lost spirits dwell
no answers to hate never forgetting that day
Evil entered suddenly unforgiving fate
entering our City we stand with the fallen
How to fix how do we Change
This can be read many different ways ~ This is a poem I am so proud to write ~
As he slept in tranquil dream,
Suddenly he flew, it seemed.
Thrown and landing on the floor,
Shaking walls and splintered doors.
Just as quick, the room grew still.
Distant tremors he could feel.
Out the door, and up the rock,
There he stood in sleepy shock.
How could oceans disappear.
Then a hissing he could hear
And a trembling, heavy roar
Headed for an empty shore.
Sunrise turned a greenish hue,
As he climbed, a better view.
Seeming far too large, he saw
What must be a water wall.
Thought of ancient stories told
Of a wrath that could unfold;
Sucking oceans with a breath,
Spewing endless waves of death.
Instinct quickly cleared his mind.
Panic now, he clawed and climbed.
Up, despite the screams he hears,
As a village disappears.
Once an evil came to call,
Scooped them up and took them all.
Now he's old, his stories wane,
Of the morning Satan came.
When Hell Froze Over
Trees shed their leaves,
the worms dig in deeper
Mothers cry and grieve
woman is the best weeper
Cold blasting each night,
birds froze on the ground
Sad hell was the fight
no hope was ever found
Winter ate their souls,
the keepers of evil hearts
Soldiers fought epic goals
the dead filled the carts
War or cold killed more,
dead is dead, hope gone
Wasted prayers to implore
heroes frozen all alone
Trail, path frozen dead,
winter sent home too soon
asleep but not in a bed
never to sing another tune
Retreat frenchmen knew well,
as their army frozen there
Now germans found this hell
in the frozen land of the bear!
Robert J.Lindley, 09-20-2014
Hitler's armies were frozen out just as were Napoleon's in the previous century. Russian winter was an enemy that killed mercilessly.The winter of 1941-42 was one of the worst in recorded history. Daily temperatures fell to 40 degrees below zero. German soldiers had not been issued with warm winter clothing as Hitler believed that the invasion would be over by the winter. Soldiers froze to death in their sleep,
diesel froze in fuel tanks and food was in very short supply. Russian soldiers had been issued with winter clothing and did not suffer as badly as their German enemies....
His life was gentle, and the elements
so mixed in him that Nature might stand up and
bodies in unregistered cars idling softly toward oblivion
some quick to anger
some quick to profit
some quick for justice
some tigers lapping blood
some mothers still at 3AM
hands on shoulders with coos commanding
that in a tear and turned cheek there be 'integration'
parody: an orphan annie reboot
parody: 'little black sambo 'round the tiger pit he go!'
we have rioted the last of our colors
bleated them with flexed toes to the wall at the edge of the universe to reverberate starless between
we have bleated the last of our colors
with centuries gone by without tongue, sockets or lobes
we will bleed the last of our colors
some quick to die
some quick to steal
some quick to burn
some quick to
lend me your car keys
in a night of full of Alarics
I will bury you
in a night full of piccaninnies
I will melt you to butter
in a night where flames are fishhooks
Sir I need you to step back please
O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
we have cried Havoc
and with purple'd prose stamped this hollowed earth
We who have lived so long
shall with our breath turned mist
I need you to
stain only under stones
that pave with slippery breath
a headline for last weeks massacre
and tomorrow's graves
I need you to
I drew a line in the sand and you crossed it
They are not breathing
Look! Look there!
I will not.
They were bank robbers and their names were Bonnie and Clyde.
They robbed banks in six states until 1934 when they both died.
In addition to robbing banks, they also robbed stores and service stations.
They killed thirteen people, they were dangerous and caused devastation.
In 1933 the dangerous duo teamed up with Clyde's Sister-In-Law and her husband, Buck.
Clyde's brother was killed four months later and Bonnie and Clyde soon ran out of luck.
The next year they were driving on a road in Louisiana and they didn't know they were in danger.
They were ambushed and killed by a posse that was lead by a Texas Ranger.
The posse fired one hundred and sixty-seven rounds and Bonnie and Clyde were hit fifty times.
They were deadly murderers and thieves but they ended up paying for their dastardly crimes.
(This is a true story about Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker who were killed on May 23, 1934.)
I have died so long ago.
The pieces of my bones were buried in Sheol.
It was so dark where I lay now.
My flesh is rotten and almost gone.
I have lived once in this world,
Where a loving family I was involved.
A dearest mom who loved me so,
Loving siblings I treasured most!
I'm a free-spirited young lady.
I love to entertain the world,
Wind hums as I hit the notes.
The nature became my hidden world.
I was once a fruit in a tree.
Until one day, a harvester picked me.
Still unripe, too young and fresh.
He stole my innocence.
Too many years past and my seed grew.
I have started bearring fruits.
But the harvester did not content,
He pulled me out from where I'd been.
He murdered me on one darkest night.
Then buried me beneath the ground.
I'm so helpless, no voice to shout!
My breath is counting one by one.
Until I surrendered the last air in my lungs.
I have died so long ago.
This girl that you used to know,
Isn't the one who writes a poem.
She had died so long ago.
She walks every night to find her home.
It's filled with pain
My mind is stained
Stained with every memory
Sometimes I think today will be my last day
This place causes me so much pain
I wish I didn't have to stay
Some days are worse than others
Dying for food
I'd do anything
To many things go through my head
Will I be able to keep down my next meal?
Will I live for tomorrow?
Is this terrifying place even real?
I feel so alone
Yet I'm surrounded by people
But this place could not be called a home
There's no life in these places
Or in these faces
Everyone looks dead
As so do I
Most of us haven't been fed
My eyes have been marked
With these dead bodies that lay upon the ground
Without a soul I still look at them
Soon I may be found
As one of them
I fell in battle, sword in hand,
Invading someone else’s land.
Then I saw her, and she reached down,
To escort me from the battleground.
I’d let her take me anywhere,
With her winged helmet and braided hair.
She had me stand ‘neath Odin’s throne,
Where each warrior must stand alone.
One-eyed Odin judged me to be
Worthy to serve in his last army….
Daily killed and resurrected--
(Not quite the afterlife expected!)
Samurais taught me to sword-fight.
I learned spear and shield from a Hoplite.
Vikings taught me the battle axe,
And the Persians taught me sneak attacks.
We die each day and then come back,
Always practicing for Ragnorak.
She brings me mead, my Valkyrie,
And sometimes at night she favors me.
Since she’s nearby, it’s just as well--
This isn’t Heaven, but not quite Hell.
We’ll fight and sing to the war drums,
Waiting the day that Ragnorak comes.
Our days are spent in miseries,
But at night we have the Valkyries.
Riposte and lunge, thrust and parry;
That’s all we do in Odin’s army.
I do not know?
I feel the world crashing around me,
my breath fading.
Pain surges through my body.
I fear my hope of life is diminishing.
All is lost I can feel the regret of every lost sole.
I long for relief but all I feel is torture.
When will it all end, when will the last hour be, how will I suffer death?
(Parents Peril * The Nightmare)
Evil sits and whispers -sweet lullabies
Chimes within my head,
I feel damnation scratching at my conscious
Of what was and is!
Water running down my toes
Rain taping at my windowpane
I fear; I’m reliving my childhood days
~~Dark April showers have a chronic look~~
Motioning me to escalate before daybreak, to face a colorless what!
The trickle of musty wind mesh under my skin
The panics initiates,
But all I conquer and collect is a gash of movement that very moment
Feelings and wants exist inside my head
Visions of slitting my wrist from end to end
My subconscious is no longer my friend
At night, praying is what got me through the dark-mares.
I held my own hand that very night
Telling myself it would be all right
EYES OPEN WIDE……………….
Walking down the narrow hall
These Chimes, these Chimes!
Grew with entanglements of crime
In my parent’s room, is where the lullabies were coming from?
Shhh!!! Hush now, I’m humming to the evil sweet chant…
Whispers of dust suddenly stop
The envelope opener, I punch in and out each neck
One by one, they look up to only see me
A demonic child’s laughter erupts
Chronic Pink escape…
Pacing myself off the bed
I did not realize at that moment of what I've done
Cries of nothing led me back into my room.
There and only there water still sits under the sheets
The emptiness in my head was a sign that finally I can go back to sleep.
Falling asleep too the quietness that spilled around me
Waking up to, the parents peril sight every night
My subconscious held no sympathy
But, my chronic pink eyes relive this everyday memory
I cannot stand this….
Once again, I begin to hear the sound of scratching violins
Where dreams of ANGELS come in Chronic Pink.
Reality is lost and I fear…
That someday…somewhere so near…
I will fall amongst the people so dear…
I fear…that I’ll just be another one…
Another one lost…
I wonder what the cost of my life is
not to get too political…
But I want to know what the cost of my life is
Is it money…is it land
I do not own any of them…I’m just a simple man
I remember…When I ran across your land…
I remember when I kissed my grandmother’s hands…
But you ripped my away from her…From my home
you ripped my away from my heart…you ripped me away from my soul
I feel helpless…I feel low…
It’s hard to play along when I know…I have no role
I have become a slave.
After all the love I gave.
When I look at my country…people I want to save
When I look around me…people I need to change
It seems like a hard thing to do…
when the range of people is way bigger than you
Freedom…oh how much I’ve heard that word
Freedom…oh how this idea has become absurd
when God gave us life…
He warned us only he can take our lives…
Oh Syria…my home
Oh Syria…my all
Oh Syria…what did they hurt you for?
Oh Syria…I’m here…I won’t let them hurt you anymore…
I am Proud to be your son…
John F. Kennedy
The great 35th president of US
It wasn't really a success
He tried to stop the missile bases
There were lot of angry faces
When there was about to be a war
Peace was what he asked for
Texas was the place he was shot
Later, the criminal was caught
He didn't survive the pain
His people cried like the rain
The arrow pierced his armour
causing an open painful wound
he had thought there would be glamour
He lay waiting feeling amour
as he saw a woman gowned
The arrow pierced his armour
His wound she did kindly cover
to her spirit he's attuned
he had thought there would be glamour
she poured into it liquor
which stung making it burn and pound
the arrow pierced his armour
It was now letting out odour
she made sure it was tightly bound
He had thought there would be glamour
At his grave a single mourner
her tears were falling without sound
the arrow pierced his armour
No glory here just some clamour
dead he lay no longer earthbound
The arrow pierced his armour
he had thought there would be glamour
sadly many young men think war glamorous
until they face the battlefield soon to
learn there is none just pain, suffering
Why am I emerging from the dark
Staring at a bench in City Park.
Breathless air without a bird in song.
So I sit, unknowing, yet belong.
Sudden waves of anguish flood my mind.
Feral, vicious, senseless bursts of time.
Then a calming whisper fills my ear
And my reason now, for being here.
Minutes of my final day proceed.
Mockingbirds and peanut squirrels to feed.
Speckled sun through breezy treetops sway
And two hidden figures inch my way.
Choking arms, a weakness, loss of breath;
Forced behind a thicket to my death.
Off they bolted free without a trace.
Now I'm vengeance. Patiently I wait.
I'm aware each footstep, as they move,
But this peaceful park is where I choose.
Soon they stalk again. I know the place.
Little do they know the wrath they face.
As you ended our video call,
You suited up,
Just another day in that god forsaken place,
As soon as you stepped off the plane it felt like being in an oven.
What did you expect.
The boys and you all load up into the Humvee and take off with the rest of the Caravan.
Just another day.
Just another day…
There wasn’t supposed to be an explosion.
There weren’t supposed to be screams.
There wasn’t supposed to be any blood shed.
It was supposed to be just another day.
But all of that did happen.
And you were taken away from me and Mom and Dad and our little sister,
In an instant.
You were supposed to come home.
We were supposed to celebrate your birthday together,
Our sister baked you a cake for when you came home.
But… now you can’t,
And you won’t,
Because you’re gone.
And you can’t ever come back.
But know that we love you,
Know that I love you,
Know that I loved you, My Brother.
Most Importantly know that we miss you,
every waking moment.
Because you’re gone,
And we’ll never see you again.
Did I tell you Mom and Dad still pay your phone bill?
So that we can hear your voice on your voicemail recording when we miss you.
I have fallen in deep with pride tonight
My good intention used against me
I’m beguiled by ego’s pompous might
Dismissed was true grace; now I see
When clouded judgment led me onto
The reefs below and turbulent sea
‘Take a moment... maybe turn and run!
From false pride, you must disengage
Heed your conscience or come undone
Hear my words, do not become enraged
Endless is haunting of conscience, near dead
In this I implore you, with me, engage!'
What you choose this night determines tomorrow..
Turn about my friend; turn away from sorrow'.
For Craig's "Terza Rima Sonnet Contest"
(My first attempt at this and I'm afraid it's far from perfect)
Thanks to the friends who gave me much needed help...still revising.
Can we stop it?
It’s a crazy, hazy world
All filled with crazy people
The danger we are in
Its sky high, like a steeple
It’s reaching a crescendo
It’s touching air and ground
Earthquakes, hurricanes and floods
These be so often found
Is it too late to stop now?
Can we really turn it back?
Or is there mass destruction
A short way up the track?
You were taken to soon.
Ripped away from us.
You knew it was our final goodbye.
But the truth was hidden.
With a tear in your eye,
There was one last goodnight hug.
I wiped away the tear,
Then smiled and walked away.
By the time of the morning light
It was already too late.
You were gone and to a better place.
Never knew of your acknowledged your pain.
Of your suffering
Sometimes I wonder,
"If I only cared more
Would you still be here?
If I only hurt less,
Would you still be here?"
I'd deny it if I could.
But inside we both know,
I am the reason
You went away.
“Goober Peas” is southern slang for peanuts.
“Goobers” is southern slang for stupid morons
whose brains are about the size of a peanut.
By definition this means that all of the members
of Al-Qaeda, Boko Haram, Hamas, Hezbollah,
ISIS, the Muslim Brotherhood and the Taliban
are indeed certified goobers – brain dead morons.
They train their sons to grow up and become kill crazy maniacs.
They treat women and girls as second or third class citizens.
They have sex with donkeys, sheep, goats and camels.
We should stop saying that they are from the Middle East
and start saying that they are from Gooberville.
Let all sane human beings support the Jewish people of Israel
in their continuing battle against the Goobers from Gooberville.
I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country
The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary
These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care
If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear
Father had drank and threatened my mother with a knife
My father lost his job and wife and that was the hardship of life
He stopped my mother from taking off with me in her arm
Hoping that my father would ignore and left me be with no harm
When my father went off to drink one night and came home with rage
My brothers stood by my crib and took a beating that set up the next stage
My father had woken up to three scared children half starved and in pain
His final words as he walk away from the orphanage gate live life do not go insane
I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies
They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies
They starved all the babies because it cost a lot to keep them alive
As a child of that age I could feel the sins and greed that gave out bad vibes
I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle
As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel
They ate each other to keep each other alive in a manner that took me by surprise
In the back round I hear others throwing things with sounds of painful cries
I got very strong at a young age I was able to start pulling myself up over the cage
My feelings were to see my brothers with strong lungs that I cried out of rage
My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib
The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs
As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct
I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct
With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall
I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call
With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart
I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start
I grew stronger everyday but more things came into my life in a manner of dismay
If my brothers stay by my side I could smile and everyday their would be okay
Now here is the story of a restless young man
Who dreamed of fighting in South Vietnam.
He’d learned about war in the comics he’d read
And he knew in his heart that for this he’d been bred.
As soon as it came up, the lads eighteenth year
He went off to enlist for an army career.
He saw some old major and he sat for some tests
Then the shrink and the doctor saw him with the rest
Of those gallant young fellows that wanted to fight
And give to their country the force of their might.
When all this was over it was late in the day
So feeling elated he for home made his way.
About two weeks later a letter arrived
And reading it’s message his spirits raised high.
For he’d been accepted a soldier he’d be
And the feel of the message did fill him with glee.
He had to front up in a couple of days
And then for Kapooka he’d be on his way.
Ten weeks in Kapooka it taught him a lot
He learned to make war and leave bodies to rot.
He was taugh how all commies just murdered and lied
And that he and his country had God on their side.
And that no sacrifice could be too great to make
And it’s an honour to die for a great country’s sake.
His training all over he joined a Platoon
He’d made Infanteer he’d be fighting soon.
It was off to corp training to learn even more
About all of the goodies that go with a war.
He kept seeing his image all tough, mean and strong
For he was a fighter and this was his song.
It was just eight months later that his posting came through
He was off to the jungles, his dream had come true.
Well his plane soon arrived at that sad Nui Dat
Where he first heard the guns as their missiles they spat.
He was fearful at first but he soon became calm
These guns were on his side they’d do him no harm
A month or two later he’s out on patrol
As tail end Charley He’s playing the role
They were deep in the scrub with peace all around
Then the air came alive with this terrible sound.
He felt himself falling “Lord is this a dream”
He asked as he heard he his God awful scream.
He lay there not hurting but sensing the worst
As he felt all around where his stomach had burst.
Where once it was firm gaped a warn sticky hole
It seemed that again war had taken it’s toll.
It seemed like a nightmare, a terrible dream
As the medic assured him that it weren’t like it seemed.
He sensed the black silence and quickened with fear
For man stands alone when his end it be clear.
Then something within him gave way to great peace
As his wisdom did whisper that all things must cease.
Then the great mother came, took him gently away
From that place of man’s anger where a body did lay.
A true story of a friend of mine who died in Vietnam written in 1975....Peter
I never really understood people until I took apart my old school chum Rick.
Now I know exactly what makes the human heart tick.
The intricacy of the human circuitry is Gods most artful work without uncertainty.
Like a great operatic performance accompanied by a grand orchestra, all our organs sing as one and all together.
To give such life as this in a manor of theatrical grandeur, but life comes at a cost however, this is something that we can not sever, for one soul to live it must take from another.
You see hunting a human is just like hunting any animal, you always track those that are weak and incapable.
I study those that indulge greatly in life's pleasurable sins, I always proceed to take them apart starting with their limbs.
To squander such a gift is a crime against those souls no longer living.
It is a crime that should be dealt with swiftly and unforgiving.
You may find my words harsh and cruel but punishment is dealt where punishment is due.
The scholars and gossips call me a Devil worshiper or a Satanist.
But I am an admirer of God and I dream to be like him, a great creationist.
To some I'm known as the mad doctor who haunts the river Rhine, but to my acquaintances I'm known simply as Victor Frankenstein.
Was it said before? Sure.
Was it said this way? I doubt it.
Perspective is in no way obscure,
And his works are nothing without it.
His motivation’s observed in daily life,
Misery, not just some vague inspiration.
He begs for reason, some way to lessen strife;
His words reflect a resounding desperation.
There seems a need at times to clarify,
But that’s allowed in his terms only;
So many thoughts seem somewhat ‘rarefied’,
Fed his fire, but made him lonely.
No ‘underachiever’, not just another fool,
But still seeking solace by the glass;
Tempering his stagger and his drool
With just a bit of ‘kiss my ass.’
But, usually, genius ‘sots’ come to ground,
Lucid moments - on the square;
Their driving ‘bolts’ of genius, word or sound,
Only written because they dare.
Yes, you can feel the written “heart”,
But few of us can realize that sort of pain;
No isolated misery… of many lives a part,
Each begs an answer... “Who’ll stop the rain?”
Yes, he’s lived it, seen it, and told it well;
But Timing is the Master of one’s Fate.
Is the timing right? Funny…only time will tell…
Will you will be a whining sot or dare to be great?
One success can be lucky, we’ve seen that before.
One book, one song, then quietly fade away.
But six novels later, we should know the score;
He must have had something to say.
So, at the perfect time, someone heard.
Someone who was “someone” took someone under wing.
And to those with interest and empathy, they sold his words;
Saying they “are genius” and with “ugly truth” they ring.
But did he create any redeeming changes or impacts?
Yes, what singular influence did all his artful whining bring?
None... just a relentless, repetitive diatribe of sad facts.
Oh, yes…..and a little “ching ching”.
Entered in the "Idiot or Genius" contest 27 March 2014
not so genius
Recluse hills dark and foreboding,
Along sorrow river shores eroding
Echoes of grisly battles moan,
Immortalized legends splattered on stone.
Stories misconstrued retold through time,
Lost in glorification by said crime
Restless specters remember,
Imfamous moments of dismember.
A slice through with rusty bayonet,
Cut-down remnants naught to forget.
Curdled screams on chilled wind,
Damnation's triumph hymned.
Heraldry eloquently praised,
On bloodred fields, hell was raised
Humanity destroying another's pride,
Blemishes embedded where cultures collide.
Once peaceful meadow, engorged in gore,
Envisioned insults to even a score.
Skeletal trees in the distance, smoke,
Volumes screamed as it spoke.
Time can't erase the damage sought,
Glory embittered from which was fought.
History bards once solemnly said,
No one survived to mourn the dead.
Millions of lives and souls untold
And to account it all
Words, lines, films
A sliver of soft, scarlet ribbon
Writers flare with passion so strong
Filling minds with fantasies, reveries, histories
We consume it all like freshly baked bread
We feed until we are engorged and fed
A viral, universal mess
Ideas and unmade memories
Nothing more or less
My eyes remain glued to the screen
Living it all out
Tears dare to flow—to doubt
I should have thought of that
Can I truly let myself believe,
Someone else lived that!
Pound away your directors, script-writers, fighters
For miles and miles of stories remain unread
While the unknown remain in the grounds of humble malnourishment
Careers for the mind with a twist of the fable
Left us savage for the meal and the crumbs under the table
I can never let the raw truth rest
Naked, bare and empty—soothed
Nothing more or less
I cringed for originality
Observed the world through the unedited scripts
The very act, the poetry pact
The wild animal drooling in the back
I was slapped in the face by my boss who had cracked
As the reviews bloated less and less
They wanted something awful, something flaw-ful—something new
And this empty brain in agony—HISSED
I have lived in no epic battle of account
Of the collateral sufferings of my brothers
The stories the red carpet smothers
And still I ache to create
Before the other ones discover
I returned with ‘‘oh me’s’ and ‘oh my’s’’
With a work of pure genius—a storybook of lies
Nothing more or less
Little have I lacked to dream
Of contortioned pulls and dramatic fire
Stories that rarely brittle or tire
I fiddled with precious glass on edge
Foully eager for self-damage
As if it would trigger some legitimate spark
Searching for creatures and features in the dark
No one unlocked the passage that night
For the starving idea-parched malice of right
But all welcomed with open arms
A pale mannequin filled with jewels and charms
Consuming, fuming dooming
All ghosts hoping, screaming, looming
Hoping that one day they would find themselves on the big screen
Their legacy real as it can possibly get
Nothing more or less
i wittnessed a war just yesterday,
being the reason for much dismay,
i'm sorry for all the death and blood,
and all the soldiers in the mud,
i wish i could stop it just can't be done,
i'll need everybody including a nun,
i'll need jesus to forgive our sins,
that knock us down like bowling pins,
i'll need everybody to read this poem,
in hopes that all the soldiers get back home.
The aggress surrenders
But death lingers
Impeded by damned souls
Clutching to their final breath
The flailing limbs
Not by will, but war
A storm of clouded judgement
Summoned by the tyrannic gods of war
With cryptic intent
But greedily akin
Riddled beyond sin
A relentless hail of gore
An ocean for pawns to drown in
And the kings with battleships
To rule absolutely
Remorseless beyond doubt
Or second thoughts
Behold the mighty catharsis
Cleansing of the weak armed,
The weak willed,
The weak minded,
Blindly follow the call
In hopes of glory
Or in a mindless delusion of good will
Hopes and dreams gone amiss
A lingering kiss
From those who care
Does he dare
To kiss back?
Was he not already dead
The moment they lied to him?
What good is living free,
Without a life to lead?
Freedom from this cursed realm
Full of pain and grievance
Is that what they spoke of?
Freedom of a kind
But not near as welcome as the other
All but few, cease to live
Those who yearn to live
The man who cherish thy loved ones
And hold them close
Need not be sad nor morose
And they be not cowards
For the braver man fights his anger
And sees from other eyes
Unbeknownst to him
He listens to reason
Not accuse brothers of treason
Or cowardice for doing what is true
For a wise man once said
“No”, and lost his head
This expanse of land has seen things.
Things all of us can only see in dreams.
It's seen war, it's gotten it's fair share of scars.
Bombs bursting, bullets throwing sand into the air like it's a volleyball tournament.
The sand running red with blood silently mocking our arteries.
This magnificent stretch of land has seen heroes' tears fall; dropping to their knees while sadness envelopes their fallen brothers but also looking up to their beloved whilst carrying a ring in their hand.
It's seen bright days, the sun glimmering over wet sand, footprints of past loves being washed away as the sun smacks the horizon.
This expanse of land...has seen things we can only imagine.
The Ballad of Tich Tomas
A dog was howling in the night
Perhaps she knew the truth
That Tich would not be coming home
This dog needed no proof
That the man who she loved so
He’d come to her no more
Because Lance corporal Thomas was
A victim of the war.
Now Tich, he was a country boy
His farm it was his life
A boon to his community
He’d give in times of strife
He learned his trade in farming school
With honours he’d come through
Then settled down to work his farm
That’s what he planned to do.
But then, one day it came to him
The news he did not need
He’d been called up for army life
He went off without heed
To do his time in Puckapunyal
To get him set for war
He soon made it as Infanteer
So he joined a fighting corp
He worked real hard and gained a stripe
This showed he had potential
He earned his skills in jungle fighting
And then there came the call
For he to go to Vietnam
To five RAR he was sent
Charlie company was his unit
When off to war he went
It was in April sixty six
Our man went into battle
There in the Phuc Tuy provence
Those guns did roar and rattle
Our Tich he fought real gallantly
So brave was he, but then
The shrapnel done it’s evil job
He joined the fallen men.
They brought his body back to those
Who were waiting for him there
The whole town came to welcome him
And helped with grief and prayer
They buried him with all the honours
That came to fighting souls
Who died to keep their country free
Courageous in their roles.
More honour it was placed on him
By the country where he’d fought
They built a statue in his name
And his likeness it was caught
By the sculptor who did honour him
And carve him into stone
And now Tich Tomas guards the park
As he stands there all alone.
If you’re ever down in Nannup town
Go to the park that’s there
You’ll see the statue of young Tich
As his spirit everywhere
Will fill the souls of those who see
This fighting man, so brave
Who’s body lies so peacefully
In his own town, in a grave.
Dear Stella, up the path, into the park,
deep shadows hide the trees along the Seine,
the quiet of the night accents the dark
and you can feel your breathing now and then.
The peaceful gloom, enveloped by a mist,
all black and gray and shades of morbid white,
accentuates the place your eyes have missed,
where someone waits, who's watched you every night.
This place, where gendarmes warn to be aware,
tonight is more foreboding than you've known,
and so you pause; you look; is someone there?
it's then you realize, you are alone.
The snapping of your heels you hear increase,
as if the hurry puts your mind at peace.
Engulfed, the path leads up and from the Seine,
and then you'll be out of this narrow pit,
but suddenly you feel the eyes again,
much closer than a glove too small to fit.
You struggle with your thinking, in a word,
to flee or just pretend no one is there,
and so you hum a tune you've never heard,
and place your safety in your mother's prayer.
Oh, Stella, Stella, in the spring you'll wed,
your sweet Gaston. Believe he's at your side,
and you will laugh at all this gloom and dread...
though courage might have found you, it has lied.
The shadows all are moving; you can hear
the groaning of someone who's all too near.
The quiet; crickets sounding no alarm,
but now a drizzle rain cools at your heat,
and tingles flowing down onto your arm
remind you of the friends you'll never meet;
quite suddenly, he's grabbed you from behind,
and muffles any sound you might have found,
you cannot scream, to hurt is in your mind,
but he's too quick, he's pinned you to the ground.
Who is this thing, your lover or your friend,
you might have pained...why does he want you dead?
or is this just someone who brings the end,
you've never known, with killing in his head?
You feel no teardrops, feel no blood nor fright,
there's only blinding, blinding, blinding light....
© ron Wilson aka Veebdosa the Doylestown poet
When chaos brings civilization to its knees
From world wide pandemic critical disease
Or when a tsunami consumes everything beyond the shores
Swallowing the landscape and changing life as we know
Earthquakes shake the very foundation of this world
Or an astroid penetrates the cradle of birth
Bring us back to the primitive unleashing the truth
From the umbilical chord we are more ferocious than rabid wolves
And we will kill fellow man just to survive
Or just for the desire of taking ones life
What is compassion but a dead corpse on the road
Adrenalized by fear no time for sorrows
No need to worry about a world war zombie apocalypse
We're already flesh eating monsters wearing dead skin
Most people panic when they lose internet or their lights
Autonomy is just a word most people can no longer define
And your money isnt worth *****so forget trying to buy
Your way out of cleansing while you run out of time
So learn to die well and hold your loved ones real tight
As you pray that your death will let you ascend to new heights
Beans, bullets, and bandaids are all that I'll need
To keep population zero from taking over me
**** being hopeful could we really be so naive
To think that in these days we could some how find peace
When our mother earth gets restless and releases all of her worst
The only thing more destructive is our human nature
If you thought the war was cold before,
take the temperature of Putin
Worry about a country that is your own,
do not invade what is Ukraine
No blame is dealt on citizens of either
but on poor leadership within
Those who kill innocents are cruel,
Their bodies will always be hell’s fuel,
Islam teaches about honor and dignity,
Care and love for the whole humanity,
But black sheeps are found everywhere,
Like KKK or Taliban, “Be aware”,
They do things on their own,
Their very own people, they disown.
All rights are reserved. Syed Imon Rizvi
From a book "Outspoken" - 2012
Available at www.amazon.com
A legion of soldiers right by my side,
Ready for battle, we shall nor run nor hide;
Courage and honor our vows we keep,
Searching for triumph and not knowing defeat,
As the enemy approaches, we have no fear;
My sword yearns for battle, as the time's growing near,
I turn toward my men on this cold winter night,
Look upon these soldiers ready to fight,
" Tonight Men! You may sacrifice your life,
You may not go home to your children and wife,
We stand up for glory, no matter the cost,
We shall not go home with this battle lost,
We fight for our people and hold our flag high,
Showing true courage on this very night,
Our enemy shall buckle underneath our strength,
We will show them no mercy for we are not weak,
Gather your armor and follow me now,
Time that we make our country proud."
I feel the cold steel, of my, blade in my hand;
I shall conquer the enemy who tries to steal my land,
My horse rides swiftly, valiant, and true;
The time is now for what I have to do,
The sound of the cries, agony, and pain;
It's filling my ears and testing my brain,
Can not feel guilt of taking one's life,
The pain sheers my side, as I, feel the knife;
I feel my head spinning, as I, look around;
Bodies of men and their blood on the ground,
The realization begins sinking in,
What is the outcome? Who really wins?
Every man here is giving their life,
So who's really wrong or who's even right?
I fall to the ground and the darkness sets in,
Remembering my life, family, and friends;
The life of a soldier is not an easy one, you see?
We sacrifice ourselves for others to be free,
As my life leaves my body and my limbs grow cold,
I remember a story my grandfather told,
" Everyone says there is glory in dying,
The fact of the matter, maybe, we're lying;
I've seen many battles that tortured my soul,
Memories to haunt me, as I, grow old;
It's good to have courage and strength in your heart,
But that's why there's wars tearing us apart.
I don't regret my service or leading my men,
I just always wondered, when does it end?"
His words had no meaning, until, this very night;
My breathes grow shallow and there's clouds in my sight,
I may die a hero and go out in glory,
In the end, I only, remain a story;
We are all equal people with lives to live,
Why can't we find peace and put war to an end?
My vented heart speaks to you today,
Help me forget the terrible bygones;
The misfortunes of a young girl,
The pain that she felt
In the coercion of another’s body’s act,
Her screams that were wasted
In crying out for help,
The violent hunger that unleashed
Itself on her naïve innocence.
The animals that bit her all over,
Left her abandoned in a place where
No one could find her.
The night soon followed her,
It was darkness that embraced her
She lay in her last breadths of the hour,
When she felt lighter than before,
Released from the burdens of her karma.
And suddenly all blacked out,
In a split second she was gone, and
Peace is all she felt.
“You’re brave, you know
…staying here with me in this brightly lit world
full of people with dark hearts.”
"I don’t know if I’m brave."
" but I’m not scared of dying either,
because I never felt alive until I found you
…and the only reason this place is bright, is because of you.”
“The bombs flash, and light up my eyes, and you look into them deeper,
because we’re afraid. We’re clinging to life; using each other. Aren’t we?”
"I am using you. I’m using your eyes as beacons, to find my way back to camp, your heart to calm the rhythm of my own; and find sleep in the chilling silence of my brother’s screams. He’s still out there, you know? His eyes were still open when we ran, I can’t believe I left him. I can’t believe he’s gone.."
"You didn’t leave him, they took him. You would never leave anyone. You never left me, even when I told you to. Begged you not to follow me here…This wasn’t even your, nor your brother’s war."
"Your war, is my war Angel…and my brother, he fell for the cause, or maybe he just wanted to protect me. I should have protected him!!"
"Listen to my heart Samuel, feel it. We’re alive. We’re together. Tonight, we have won."
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
David slings a rock
Cop holsters a glock, Lizzie Borden packs an axe
Mac he packs the knife, Billy battles with a club, Tommy’s gun is a sub
Kelly’s got one too, Bazooka Joe Is Gum, Peter Gunn isn't,Colt45not malt
Nor is it a horse, horseshoes & handgrenades, canons have big balls, Doc
Holiday had TB Rock Hudson had HIV, James Dean crashes his car,Hank Williams crashes a bar, Natalie Wood don’t float, Cain killed his brother, Juliette drank poison for her lover, Rev. Jim Jones killed with cool-aid, Whitey Bulger he got paid,dead man walking gets to eat Rodney King
got beat, Cupid’s arrow as Clyde Barrow, Mama Cass choked on ham
57,000 gone in Nam, Four dead in Ohio, Kamikazes fall 1941, again
they fall 2001Iraqi leader with a rope, John Belushi too much dope,
Charles Manson is alive MichaelJackson isn’t,Saturday night special
is very ordinary, Fast and furious is the crime, Dick Clark just his
time Pirate victims walk the plank, THINK,
Next I’ll come rolling in a tank
Hear the whistle of my missile
Dirty Harry had the biggest
The Derringer is small
Smokey Bear forest fire
Greek funeral is a pyre
Too many +’s or -’s
Is electric surges
Woman and child
sing the dirges
Fat man and
Attainment of success, stardom and fame
Remains the ultimate dream of many
Who seek the publication of their name
Upon the future pages of history
The journey to such a destination
Requires effort and dedication
Those who at last gain such recognition
Enjoy a well deserved satisfaction
Some celebrities who make this journey
Find coping with this new life can be rough
There's an invasion of their privacy
And the demands of stardom can be tough
They then turn to some drug to ease the stress
Whether it's alcohol or other stuff
Soon their entire life can become a mess
And dealing with it's pressures can be rough
Bouts of anxiety and depression
Are what they have to endure constantly
Some develop a serious addiction
That may lead to suicidial tendency
Women tend to choose a gentler ending
Like drug overdose or a means that's neat
Some may opt to end it all by hanging
Mindful not to mess up the body sheath
Some men go for a violent ending
By putting a bullet through their own head
Others jump off a bridge or tall building
Seeking to ensure that they will be dead
Those aspiring to fame and stardom
Pursue your dream and goal diligently
Just be mindful of how things can become
And seek to be guided accordingly
Whitney Houston(singer, actress) – drug overdose
L'Wren Scott(fashion designer, model) - hanging
Kurt Cobain(singer, songwriter) – bullet to head
Tony Scott(Academy award winning actor) – jumped off bridge
Why don’t you love me?
The small brown eyed girl asked her father as he beat her at night,
then with a smile in the morning he’d scoop her up in his arms to play.
Why don’t you love me?
The bigger brown eyed girl asked her father as he walked out and
never came back.
Why don’t you love me?
The young brown eyed girl asked her boyfriend of two years,
As he walked out the same door her father did eight years before.
Never to return.
Why didn’t you love me?
The older brown eyed girl asked her father at his funeral.
As she leaned over the edge of his casket and kissed him gently on the forehead,
Tears running down her cheeks.
Why couldn’t you love me?
The oldest brown eyed girl asked as she lays Jasmine’s and roses
On her father’s grave.
Only a row down from her old boyfriend’s,
With love that never dies.
And her question is answered in the wind,
As the answer is whispered in her heart.
How could you love me?
If you couldn’t love yourself?
The joy of the pheasant shoot.
Getting set for the big event
The good folk do their stuff
They beat the earth with sticks, do they?
With their little dogs so tough
They flush those pheasants from the scrub
So all can have some fun
Killing them with smiling faces
As they fire beloved guns.
Then as the pheasants in a panic
They bolt into the sky
Our hero’s with their guns in hand
Make sure that hundreds die
As the air is filled with the cracking sounds
As birds fall all around
Just so these fools can get there jollies
These corpses cover ground.
I wonder sometimes if these hero’s
Have any souls at all
That they could get such satisfaction
Doing these acts so cruel
Sometimes it leaves me speechless
At the way folk get their pleasure
Killing beauty just for fun
Is an ugly kind of leisure.
10 September 2013 @ 1340hrs
With my men holding our flag high,
we storm a school and hold the children
captive, handling them like enemy soldiers
they are not, as they cry and scream, some
probably living with trauma for the rest of their lives
“I am a hero of war!’’ Is that what my countrymen think of me?
As smoke of explosions and burning cities fills the air,
we indiscriminately shoot on whoever is coming close
to us, in the end realizing that we have shot mostly
innocent civilians who have nothing to do with the war,
after the smoke has partially cleared out in the air
As I cautiously walk ahead to ensure that all the enemy soldiers are dead, my boots feel a bump; a hand of a woman holding a white flag for peace, as white as snow, with her clothes drenched in blood
“I am a hero of war!” Is that what my countrymen think of me?
Before the sun sets, my men and I sit around
a bonfire and plan our next move and next
attack on the enemy, without realizing that
the enemy is war, brought about by hatred
by people who we call leaders
“I am a hero of war!” Is that what my countrymen think
Name: Teddy Kimathi
Contest Name: The Poet III
Dark days dreadful indeed,
peasants planting their seed,
Foreign to peace with galvanized hate,
With doubt in ourselves we submit to the great,
We say we are free but tend to conform,
Hand you a noose if you're out of the norm,
We proliferate lies and refute the truth,
Give up our ambition to feel aloof,
Please oh help us powerful god,
Stop those who lie, kill, and maraud,
We have succumbed to infinite darkness,
He may have created us, but has surely departed
I do not know?
Fear is what they clothe them in.
Fear of losing their life because of one mistake.
Fear of losing their life because an officer is having
a bad day.
Some say it's not racism;
"It's police brutality."
Whatever you call it, I can't
help but ask "where is humanity?"
Mothers weeping because they're losing their sons.
Teaching them to fight back with silence
but that is no weapon compared to a gun.
Six feet under, leaving families to fight for justice
over their lives.
Societies getting tired of it all-
starting riots and constructing strikes.
How many more time will history repeat itself?
Or are we still writing [his]tory , using coverups
All lives matter despite of their race.
All lives matter despite their mistakes.
In times such as these justice will demand to be served.
No matter how chaotic, crazy, or obscured.
Life is a gift, one that we should all treasure.
Because all lives matter and we need to protect them;
no matter the measure.
The Viking gallery slipped quietly through the night
the oars just barely skimming the gentle swell
sails were fur-lowed tight to help hide it from sight
the warriors ready for the signal sounded by the bell
Silently they landed, ferocious was their appearance
wielding their great battle axes wearing winged helmets
they crept up on the sleeping village in timeless trance
plundering and pillaging killing some helpless pets
Taking captive the fairest of the maids enslaving burly men
to work the gallery's oars, filling the hold with stolen treasure
drinking wine from carved horns and spit roasting a tasty hen
soon well into their cups they ravished most maids keeping one pure
She of flaxen hair and hour glass figure and tender years was spared
a most fitting present for their king, the rest would be auctioned for profit
the coin added to the treasury. Now under full sail the waves they dared
knowing a welcome most raucous awaited they now their torches lit
Their king was most pleased with his gift and vowed they would be wed
a great feast was prepared and the mead flowed thick and sweetly
the Viking cheered as their king took the maid first as wife then to bed
weeping as she was ravished, he rode her like a bull until she bled badly
Back to the feast he downed some horns then lay down to sleep
the maid waited until all was silent and then into his heart she struck deep
she took back her shame as he lay dying knowing her own death she did reap
turning the dagger on herself her life no value she slipped into eternal sleep
contest Any Poem Any Subject
I do not know?
*A assignment was due in class. *
Every time a gun shoots
A tree looses its roots
Every time there is bloodshed
Along with it millions of tears are shed
Every time a heart is stabbed
Someone else’s life gets barren
As violence grows
Many more mothers moan
The sounds of destruction
Overpowers the voice of those
Who are innocent
Who suffer with no reason
Who beg for life
Who have heart full of innocence
Why do so much violence?
That the child’s cry cannot be heard
When his father is killed
Why do so much violence?
That a mother moans
Over her child’s dead remains
Why do so much violence
For winning any stupid battle
Which is taking lives
Of people who have wives
And mothers and children
When you can keep calm
Talk things out
Do whatever you can
To keep violence out
Because there is no sin as big as
Written February 26, 2013
Its all this new slang
Got them banging their heads
Against their bicycle beds
And the foolhardy pledge
To ride tricycles instead
We are the kings and queens
Of the wonderful yard
Of the street corner dancers
And panhandling bards
A generation will rise
So duck and cover your eyes
We're building up through the night
No need to put up a fight
Godspeed to those approaching death
They won't get to see
What we've got coming next
You'll faint from holding your breath
This cold case is closed
No need to stay in repose
To dwell on precious regrets
That are laced with vellocet
193(*) Dutch photo's yelling
silenced heartbreaking stories
flying both not and too sky high
angels in heaven
(c) Elly Wouterse
two pages of the morning paper... 193 pictures of Dutch people killed @ the plane incident in the Ukraine sky... and there are so many more...so many more and all are telling - silenced for ever - a heartbreaking story..
and there are so many more saddening situations...
I hope you don't mind - being Dutch - that I wrote this little poem about that terrible moment of facing those faces for the first time..
(8) 07/24//2014 Today the counting continued... adding one more to the Dutch number of victims...
I want to drown my urge to die
I want to kill my pulse inside
I can't breathe, I'm paranoid
Everything in life I avoid
Don't speak to me, I'll look away
Inside my eyes is just decay
I'm already dead, but have yet to die
Why do I keep my body alive
My soul is dead, eyes are lies
So is the smile I hide behind
Pull the plug, I'm a fake
In a nightmare and I cannot wake
Drown me! I'm flooded in pain
Please help me regain
Some peace, some rest
I want to die to live again
Set me free
Slitting my wrists isn't working
The more stares I get
The more I become numb
I just need to be gone
Eliminate my pain,
I'm already out of breath
Suffocating on my hopelessness
Every day I am alive
But I'm craving to die inside
Curved smile because your so naive
You think I'm happy
Yet I'm being crushed
My head is overflowing
With these thoughts that are too much
One word, suicide
Sparks a light inside of my eyes
I don't want to pretend to live
Let me go, flood me in sin
There is where I want to swim
Six feet under the ground
Don't be selfish
And keep me in pain
To tourture my lifeless body again
Let my body float soundly
Rushing water, ocean salt
I promise I won't feel it at all.
End it, hold me under
Then bury me so I can slumber
Goodbye lifeless eyes
As I'm dying I'll be coming alive
Deleted from my mind
As I leave this world behind
Floods my lungs
Leans in for a kiss
Together we sink into insanity
And drown in infinitys abyss.
Drifting towards it.
Curiosity pulling me closer.
Silence, crackling fire.
Then something pierces the air,
Screams, loud and shrill.
Trapped in the circle of fire.
Heat, fire closing in on us,
Burning everything in sight.
Fire climbs onto us,
Pain, searing pain.
More burning flesh.
Then, after so long, silence,
Never ending darkness.
Nothing left, all of it gone,
Everything has ended.
The way to go out:
Shot by a jealous husband
At ninety years old!
"There must be some kinda way to find out here"
Said the seeker to the stealer
"There's too much confusion
I'm struggling to be the reveal"
"Conglomerate men, they drink my wine
Politicians dig my earth
None will level on the line
Because none of them are worth it" hey
"There is reason to get excited"
The seeker, he kindly spoke
"There are many here among us
Who feel our governments a joke"
"Now you and I, we've lived through this
And this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now
The hour is getting late", hey
All along the watchtower
Liars kept the view
While all the women came and went
Barefoot servants too
Outside in the cold distance
The C.I.A. did growl
Two riders were approaching
And the wind began to howl, hey
All along the watchtower
All along the watchtower
All along the watchtower on that tragic September day
We need some investigation, for someones has to pay
Now you and I, we've lived through this, and this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now, before this generations to late
We will always remember, and remember who we lost that day
We need some investigation, for someone has to pay
All along the watchtower, a nation in mournful cries
We are not so blind, it's amazing what you can see when you close your eyes
All along the watchtower
All along the watchtower
James, we lost you in Kensington, England. The Star Spangled Banner will
live long in your past. I can't say the same for some of your American so
called country people. Thank you for allowing me to gracefully use . . . .
'All Along the Watchtower' it's blatantly obvious someone was not.
To all the lost in the 9/11 tragedy, my thoughts will always be with you.
All Along The Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix, with some lyrics changed
Until 1934 I was a barber, that used to be my profession.
Many people are suffering because of this Great Depression.
A Gangster walked into my shop but when he left, he had to be carried.
He was responsible for many deaths and I made sure that he was buried.
I usually don't brag but this time I love to gloat.
That punk asked for a shave and I slit his throat.
He dealt in Prostitution, Gambling, Booze and Heroin.
I made sure that he couldn't do anything illegal again.
I'm not ashamed of myself even though I lost my freedom and my wife.
I saved people from that animal and a judge sentenced me to life.
I'll be locked up for the remainder of my years.
I don't regret what I did, my conscience is clear.
(This fictional poem takes place in the 1930s.)
I do not know?
Underneath my fingerprints of sorrow,
Between his determined and swift disclosure,
Few are spiteful for the sake of compassion.
Wide-eyed noise pierces the remarkable silence
While everyone around breathes a tender apology,
As he lies, slumbering tranquilly.
The coming times can unfold,
far accross to all lands,
the casting shadow has fallen,
with it's far reaching hands,
accross our four cornered world,,
Humanity progressed to progressive sufferage,
that comes with many names,
the ideology won without a shot,
convinced populations into guilted shame,
lost are voices of courage,,
The warring world will arise,
between makers and takers,
parasitic ideology's green eyed mind,
re-writing regulations by progressive thinkers,
big brother's utopian great enterprise,,
Dependent we all become, parasitically,
even forced fed into submission,
by governmental state so enlarged,
numbered you are by institution,
nothing owned, only redistributed cynically,,
Paupers suffer under progressive fortitude,
soulless programs of living propaganda,
your worth, what you produce,
socialized into this living agenda,
living taxed products of servitude,
, and then...
The rise will come independent,
carrying courage and freedom proudly,
with wisdoms weapon in hand,
knowledge in the other soundly,
honor reclaimed by the sentient,,
Independent declarations germinating from seed,
feared by any progressive regime,
warriors in freedom stand tall,
threatened is the progressive dream,
renewing freedoms that will breed,,
The liberty that spawned revolution,
alive from all moral conceptions,
viewed as evil that's progressive,
feared are soulless seeking redemption,
the light of liberty's salvation,,
Beating freedoms of sentient heart,
the salvation of fighting worth,
a force greater than any darkness,
warriors of liberty step forth,
champions of honor that impart,,
, next, the final chapter of...
Ideological war of the worlds,
eye to eye never seen,
the hatred between clearly drawn,
problems with peace to intervene,
the conflict as it unfolds,,
Coming as thieves of night,
armys on both sides comes,
fortifying and building societial walls,
truth and lies propaganda welcomes,
armored suited masses to fight,,
Emerges the lights of honor,
the independent class called defenders,
private elites of character gold,
the shadows behind all pretenders,
opperatives that's far more superior,,
Defenders are warriors of light,
core beliefs that's solely independent,
religiously organized they never follow,
thorns in a crowned tyrant,
independent wills of great might,,
They are why freedom thrives,
true leaders leading into tomorrow,
that govern by liberty's will
that invites everyone to follow,
founding fathers of our lives..
The roaring gun that knew no owners
The ghost incarnated in a metal
groaning in the Pearl of Africa
Terminating the blood f cattle keepers
Hurtling the flesh of land tillers
Tormenting landless hunters
Scaring away lions of Mburo
And leaving Mbarara homeless
The gun of a dictator
The gun that killed Ugandans
The gun that liberated Ugandans
The gun that we know better
As close friend and closest enemy
The gun we still carry
The Martyr Girl
Arabic Poem by: Jasem Al-Khafaji*
Translated into English by:
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)
In your absence,
Dreariness, in every class,
Has been the prayer of the break..
Every teacher calls your name,
His voice falls slaughtered, in pain, on his lips..
In every standing and every sitting,
Your class condoles with your desk..
Without you there, the schoolyard feels empty
The bell sounds strangled as it tolls for you..
Oh, grief of all schools!
Oh, weariness of all lessons!
Too young to be gone..
Your mother wished to see you a bride..
Vacant was your stand in the lines and rows
For the flag ceremony
The flag was raised..
The blackboard is missing your words
Saddened with no words to spell
“Dar” … “Door”
When your braid caught fire,
The kids tried to put it off with your bookcase
Their hands were too small to carry water..
May God help your mother..
Your mother, who, in her grief, turned white,
Like daylight upon your coffin
Your mother, who, with slaps of grief,
Drew skipping squares on her cheeks
Your mother, who raised your hand in prayer to God
Your mother, who used to come to get you,
At the end of the school day
Your mother, who, not even once,
Received a teacher’s note complaining about you
Your mother, who is wrapping ribbons
Around your pictures
In madness after you
God help your mother, who, in her grief,
Turned white like daylight upon your coffin..
O God, May all bombs be paralyzed,
And all blasts be blinded!
* Jasem Al-Khafaji is a poet from Iraq,
The poem is in Iraqi folks spoken dialect
An omnipotent'd been ideated by militant clan,
Aeons tell how it put them through a social pace.
To set up abode or to relate races with astute plan,
God had its genesis;women-men needed it to seek solace.
As fact a woman conceives, is manifest
Man couldn't conceive of anything but God for law and lex.
Dyed-in-the-wool,they kept bending head for mending mind lest
They vex orders of war, worship and women for sex.
But missile killed gravid woman with faded hue,
Her baby survived in placenta of its mom of Gaza:
A whole race, policies, religion; yet nothing to rue,
As if all were busy computing to bring future bonanza.
No more sacred are our Temple and Church or Mosque and tomb.
Truth says:fetus Jesus'd been bestowed on Mary's womb!
I do not know?
has plagued my home.
I was treated
Like a toothless comb.
Brother has told me
I am not a man,
But I walked away
Before anything began.
He laughed and laughed
While I hung my head,
So I turned around
To fight him instead.
I took a shot
At his evil smile.
He moved. I missed
By near a mile.
As he threw me down
& stomped my face
Into the ground.
A funny feeling
Grew in my heart,
Like fungus in darkness.
I fell apart.
Has gone berserk.
This funny feeling
Forced a smirk.
I found joy
In hitting him back.
I began to laugh
With each attack.
Then I took him
By his throat,
Putting an end
To how he'd gloat.
I took his knife
& swung it near.
I made the blade
Was never so fun.
He shouldn't breathe.
He couldn't run.
My kind kin,
Freedom is near.
Only my sin
May murder your drear.
A beast with dark red eyes,
to give out fire burning lies,
a beast with such a hunting nose,
terrible stench where ever it goes.
A beast with teeth like jagged knives,
its mouth of saws taking lives,
a beast with horns like powerful steel,
when there is pain, it will not feel.
A beast with sharp and bloody claws,
its body of scales against all laws,
a beast with a swinging tail of spikes,
to stab through anything it likes.
A beast with wings to slice through air,
to fly and kill without a care,
a beast with death in its mind and heart,
from somewhere far and worlds apart.
I cant seem to move from this place
The scratching down the hall persists
Its as if the dark thing were inching itself closer
Its blood stained teeth digging themselves into the stone
Dragging itself forward
Its gutteral growl
Screams of promises in exchange for mercy
Bound hands offering up empty deals for either a few more breaths or the sweet embrace of death
Howls of minds
as madness takes hold
These are the lyrics.
The walls know this twisted lullaby all too well
Death rattles are no stranger
And here I lie
Knees drawn to my chest
Curled up beneath this blanket of sound
Nightmares whispering 'sweet dreams' as shadows tuck me in
I find comfort here
I find peace
I find something stronger than myself to hold onto
Break me like that bottle
Its contents dripping dark like blood over its jagged edges
"Tear me apart and build me back up."
"Do you know what that means?"
A whisper so cold yet my heart warms
"All I know is that I am ready."
I turned to the bottle because I'm a Cop.
I was a good Policeman but it had to stop.
I couldn't stand the crime and violence anymore.
It got to be something that I could not ignore.
A six year old kid was killed in the cross fire when a gang decided to attack.
I had to explain to his parents that their son got a big hole blown in his back.
I saw so many deaths that it became hard to even keep my meals down.
I could no longer tolerate the violence in this crime infested town.
I couldn't continue being a Cop, it was something I couldn't take.
It bothered me so much that every day my hands would shake.
My career as a Police Officer came to an end.
And sadly, the bottle became my best friend.
As I sit alone in this bar, the bartender is pouring me drinks.
Please don't be a Police Officer in this town, it really stinks.
(This is a fictional poem)
I put my hands around my wife's throat and I squeezed.
What disturbs me is that when she died, I was pleased.
When it came to having morals, I used to believe that I had some.
But every time I look in the mirror, I'm horrified to see what I've become.
My wife was so mean and she loved to provoke.
Life became intolerable every time she spoke.
She told me over and over how ugly and stupid that I am.
I snapped and killed her and now my soul has been damned.
I want to go to the Cops but they would lock me up for life, I would never again be free.
But that's only if I would get lucky, it's more likely that I would receive the death penalty.
When it came to my problems, she was the source.
If I hadn't snapped, I might have considered divorce.
As each day passed, that witch became even colder.
I'll spend the rest of my days looking over my shoulder.
She was a horrible Human Being and she loved to annoy me.
I'll never stop fearing that the Cops are closing in and that will eventually destroy me.
(This is a fictional poem)
I do not know?
Killing fields, a bitter pact is made.
This is vicious there is no way to
persuade. One of us does not want
to yield. Two warriors on the prowl,
one seeks vengeance with a determined
scowl. The other just wants to live,
leaving the past behind. But first he
must understand the other mans mind.
The paddock’s filled with bulls
All waiting there to die
They don’t have too much future
For the farmer, he’s the guy
Who has the power of life, and death
He decides what lives and dies
As he fattens each beast carefully
That’s where his money lies.
I see these creatures roaming round
And it makes me feel quite sad
To know that for my appetite
These beasts be treated bad
The taste of steak is mighty good
But what a price we pay
I eat my share of it, that’s true
Perhaps I’ll stop one day!
One paddock filled with bulls
It opens my eyes wide
To realize these wondrous beasts
Throughout the years have died
So I might feast with bulging belly
It really is not fair
Living on this little farm
It fills my heart with care.
A June Night in Rotgut Saloon
In walked Lefty Red behind him lay many dead
into this old dusty town his tired horse had tread
Well known his draw was quick as lightning
his stare deadly cold and so very frightening
Stranger where is the nearest watering hole
getting drunk and riled up is my goal
Ahead 120 paces is our old Rotgut saloon
enter there and you'll get your wish soon
Lefty Red , cold, bitter and as hard as granite
entered and saw a scene like he had planned it
Crowd was loud, rowdy as hell and so very drunk
beer and whiskey flowing , an odor foully stunk
Give me a beer and two shots of your best redeye
send over that sweet blonde philly that I spy
Barkeep did exactly as he was very sternly told
That philly's man was none other than Billy Cold
Billy Cold that had 7 carved notches on his gun
even once cut a man slowly to death just for fun
The stare sent a hard and well understood reply
want this har' woman , get her , jest you try
Lefty Red knocked down whiskey shots and his beer
spun around to show a fastdraw rig , he had no fear
Billy wasted not a second to make his best play
drawed his 45 to make that insulting Lefty Red pay
As his hammer was so very quickly cocked back
his ears heard a loud booming pistol crack
A huge hole suddenly tore open in his chest
a mistake, for Lefty Red was always the very best
Body was calmly , swiftly and carefully taken away
nothing new, this was like just about any other day
Lefty told the piano man to shut up and play a tune
time for the pretty saloon girl and getting drunk soon
Townfolks remember so very well that hot June day
Lefty Red had tested Billy Cold and made him pay
Forty-five slug and justice had caught up with that man
as Lefty Red had for seven, long searching years planned
The thief of Acrona, I lied,
Robbing tourists and escaping plight...
The inevitable magic in my eyes,
Was spotted in the princess' eyes,
The land beneath her legs moved,
The time instantly passed and on the royal bed, we droft...
Kissing her perfect bosom,
I laughed, in the gloom,
Then I had got her lip caught,
And the voices of love,
The ears of consierge caught!
He then broke the wooden door and came in,
Looked my face angrily and held my chin...
Dragged naked to the gallows by the king's command,
Hands and legs tied, pulled by the heel with the face kissing the sand...
Legs mine, half stretched, tied by the log,
I looked at her and heard her sob...
And when the execution begun,
My face covered with a thick lenin, hidden...
Some pins of random order touched between my nude thighs,
I could not look at the ground nor the skies...
Four leather legs I could smell,
Covered with mire and the saw begun to dwell...
I felt the saw cutting me for the following hours,
Then my soul kicked itself out my body,
Where the crowd look at my parted body and whispered ''gross''.
Taking their leave the Black Crime
Syndicate top raking members wanted to
know what Malik and Jade was talking
about. "Just stay in y'all lane and let
me and Jade handle things" getting into
his car Malik pulled off. Malik lived alone
in a one bedroom apartment and drove a
1996 Impala. Malik wasn't a big spender
show off. He liked to stay under
everyone's radar. Only a few members of
Crime Syndicate knew where Malik lived.
Mecca was one of them. So seeing
slumped over on his doorsteps was some
what a surprise. Looking at the figure
tell that it was a woman. "Who could this
be?" thought Malik as he got out of his
Malik's brain was racing a hundred miles
per hour. Reaching out his hand to touch
that's when he noticed bloody money
stuffed into the woman's mouth. "What
Malik's jaw dropped. Looking into the
dead woman's face recognizing who she
Violet who did this to you?" taking step
back he saw folded paper in Violet's right
hand. Taking the paper out of Violet's
hand and reading it. Malik couldn't
what he was reading. "It's in the best
interest of The Black Crime Syndicate to
of the escort business. The Green Nation
don't like The Black Crime Syndicate
planting flowers in our flower bed. The
Green Haven is our flower bed.
We had to uproot Violet to show The Black
Crime Syndicate how serious The Green
Nation is. Thank you
and have a nice day".
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka The
Green Poet aka Red Seven aka The Brown
Knight after knight,
Swords against swords,
Blood flows on the soil for the vengeance of souls.
Knight after knight,
Swords against swords,
Hear the woes of men seeking for home.
Knight after knight,
Swords against swords,
Revenge calls no end for it resurrects the horned.
Silent hearts will boil,
Men will fight on thorns
Until He descends; there will be no more knights with swords.
Such pain foretold.
Women of old,
As fears unfold.
Burning, cracking, the earth splits apart.
Warning, oh warning of my poor breaking heart.
Losing love as it fades into black,
Splitting the earth with fiery cracks.
The starless sky, filled with ash,
For magma bursts through a glowing red gash.
Such fear, unknown, what are you saying.
Please I need to know what the future doth hold, I’m begging, I’m praying.
Am I decaying?
No more, let me sleep.
I'm in a land where everyone is dying
Sweet child please awake
I look up at the sky screaming, crying
God, why do you take!
What's the reason for living in this world without my baby?
I'm in a store where everyone is buying
I've got a headache
My child is loud, and is quite defying
Tom for heaven's sake!
Just get the damn toy he wants so he will shut up, just maybe?
My parents are dead, not here anymore
I sell my bare flesh
They've labeled me sinner, scarlet, a whore
Malice thoughts, a thresh!
My face is bruised and bloody from the stones of licentious men
My parents are stupid, I slam my door
We just do not mesh
I hear the knocks, but I choose to ignore
The night air feels fresh!
I'll show them, I'm running away from home; what will they think then
Today is my birthday and I turned eight
It's time to be tough
I get my gun and go fight for my state
It's scary and rough
It hurts to breath in, It's so cold and dark; I want my mommy
Today is my birthday and I'm out late
I've not drank enough
Bartender another drink I feel great
Wow, I am hot stuff
I stumble to their table, I vomit like a tsunami
The blood spills
And cleaners do their work
And lick it up
For the cleaners they hunger
For us all,
So watch your step
And don't disturb
For your blood is really theirs
Don't give them a reason
To take it back.
sometimes even crows
crawling through your room
and when someone does not understand
rushes to kill
download gun fire after fire
until the noise floor wings
was removed and freezes your hands
its too late to explain
they are your love
stand up less.
My mind finally past the brink
Of pure insanity;
Slipping deep into the drink,
As I lose my humanity.
Down, down, down into the thick red liquid,
Seeing the bloating corpses;
The thoughts in my mind oh so twisted,
Hearing their distorted pain filled voices.
As I swim deeper into the depths
I slowly become sick and nauseous;
Witnessing all of their gruesome deaths,
I begin to become conscious.
I open my eyes, waking in a room ---
Filled with guts and gloom.
Rana's Legion Defends
Barbarians had won the city and slain all there
burned it down after stripping it completely bare
From the Holy city of Rome orders quickly flew
destroy these invaders now, your legion and you
Ten days hard march with never a long or great rest
no complaints for Rana's legion were always the best
Two weeks out chasing the savage barbarian horde
led by its barbaric , tall and savage murdering Lord
Time was very near because the trail was so very hot
Rana knew the enemy would pick their very best spot
Five more days racing forward at steady, deadly paces
soon legionnaires would see their enemy's wicked faces
Following day the huge enemy camp was found
across vast plains at base of a rocky mound
Rana rested his legionnaires just before the big fight
weapons ready , his brave men without any fright
Sun burst forth with a wicked gleam in it's light
legion ever so ready and looking so very bright
Rana checked each and every eager fighting man
reminding all of his clever winning battle plan
Spearmen six deep center of the advancing van
splitting right and left upon his first command
Archers firing quick volleys from fifty yards behind
raining down destruction upon enemy's failing line
Sounding horn sending in central reserves eager to slay
enemy routed by the power legion sent into the deadly fray
As Rana commanded his swordsmen to hack the enemy apart
find the tall leader and cut out his wickedly, black heart
Savage brutes tossed away their weapons and began to run
legionnaires raced forward cutting them down having fun
Rana came upon the savage Lord fighting upon the mound
rushed upon him so very quickly without making a sound
A cut to his left leg just below his unprotected knee
a jab into his chest as the brute turned to flee
Off with his hairy head as blood so freely flowed
victory won, the pride of the legion so fairly glowed
Rana's legion finished off the barbaric wounded where they lay
stripping all the bodies of weapons and spoils the very next day
Marching back to the garrison proudly to be richly rewarded there
each and every man to receive the bloody war booty, his fair share!
Cutting, biting, shaking.
Itchy, burning, ripping, tearing.
Burning, searing, blaring.
All I want to do is scream.
Walk away, walk away.
Live or die another day.
Walk away, breathe deep.
Watch everything you say.
The blade falls deep
Cutting down as I weep.
I hold my breath and take a step
Trying to walk away.
But a monster surges again
And I’m right back where I started again.
Twisted, surging to swallow me whole.
As your face
I rip away with every blow.
Until your blood
Covers my face.
And I cry here when I’m done
This pitiful thing I’ve done.
Lurking just under my skin.
Killer, psychotic, other side.
This monster, the one I hide.
A monster within.
Blood-thirsty beast lurking just under my skin.
Law is like the Sun and Moon in trust,
Guarding people's rights and interest,
Some walked taking the law in hands one Dusk,
Going beyond bounds in their possible best,
At dawn,some deaths and handsome wealth lost!
Gangsters angling for a deal on wet concrete by the station
Feared for life, but more for death, on the street
Souls purchased with wrong turns
Their associate last week lost his way in the park
An angel pulled up, found him, fed him a line, then a shot
Just for a second his eminence smiled, then died
A red car drove off with the pretty little assassin inside
After taking a kingpin out, removing the competition in a flash
Taking comfort in what a young girl can do when put to task
Now the concrete walk waits for its prey
Directed by others in a sequence of events about to play out
Events initiating a consequence of revenge unfolds
To exact equal pain in retribution for the loss of their boss
The gang had followed him for years and continues to do so
Into an early grave, by seeking out the girl unwisely
From the shadow, an angel came again. This time for them
With a killer’s lust for blood and blessings from above
Stray projectiles fly from all sides, initiated by the parties involved
The spree begins to shape the end of days, taken in an angry rage
Trajectory of chaotic gun fire directed at the gang
Took participants engaged down, one by one, until there were none
These stoic men feel mortality and reality effects
Only at the end of a gun at the point of death as wasted flesh
Saying her name with their expiring breath….. Angel
Two shadows where thousands of ghosts,
Saw their last moments so high up in the air.
Everything stopped, no one could move,
They couldn't speak, they wouldn't dare.
Few ran in as others ran out,
Many died in graves of rebar and concrete.
Too many were never found,
Too many never walked down that street.
Some say the world stopped turning,
For some, it seemed it had.
Too many felt the pain, too many cried,
More and more dead, the world was sad.
This is for all those who died on September 11, 2001 and their family members. You're in our hearts and prayers. Many people have forgotten and moved on but those who lost family and friends that day, it will never end for them.
An impressionist’s pastel painting of the foe,
Releasing unheard sighs of a sinner’s woe,
Mere wisps of his charred and tainted soul,
His empty eyes resemble burning holes of eternal coal,
Seeing only deathly pale faces lined and worn,
While following an eerie voice full of spiteful scorn,
Leading him towards lost corners of insanity,
Where he’s bound to serve ‘til the death of eternity.
Eidolon creeps amongst the bonfires of hell,
Where wretched souls burn and spasm in this fiery cell,
Him, hidden in illusions his mind created the surreal,
Captured spirit behind solid bars of steel,
His timeless existence in oblivion and spoil,
Still climbing higher and higher, to where he lays,
Where Eidolon walks cloaked in sinful ways,
A cloak befouled and woven in sin:
A weeping widow’s rope-round-the-throat,
A drunkard’s drowned body a-float,
Greedy lord whom robbed the poorly,
A psycho who raped his first child, mercilessly,
Their damaged souls tarnish this cloak of sorrow.
(I know it isn't complete and it's kindda goosebump/nightmare material. Sorry about that.)
© Copyright All Rights Reserved
Dedicated to those who have been suffering from fits in my Country
Invisible, bound to dwell in a separate dim world of strange things,
Why possess human beings transforming them into ghosts and prisons
Where Strange games of fits, deliquium, howling images of black cats
And owls daily govern exposing to hallucinations, nakedness and death?
Dla, November 17, 2014
Jaafar Sadig el Waad
Landscape of Hiroshima about eight-thirty a.m. After the death angel Enola Gay turns away she gave birth to the little boy as fiery rolling smoke starts clearing Etched upon a wall a boy and girl playing with a ball Those there could not see it for their eyes were melted A city meshed with death blood iron and rock A three year old boy partially dripping skin cry’s for mom But a twelve year old girl looks unharmed but within days Poisoned by death’s light she withers away As you pull back from this horrific seen It only magnifies for a hundred thousand plus Stench smoldering flesh mingled with everything The land of sun lays beneath a blanket of death A city leveled by little boys fierce foul breath And then aftermath for years later Countless children die or are born defective
I do not know?
You, baptised head of the snake
Left numerous dead in your wake
With deadly order, resulting in murder
Twisted beliefs, vomiting grief
Your followers brainwashed
Their humanity crushed
Your force too strong
Resulting in a bloody throng
9/11 your earthly heaven
Mankind maimed and logic lame
Prayers and deepfelt wailing
Confess the outcry of your shaming
Your slumber resulting in 7/7
Your journey now away from heaven
The melting pot of anger brewing
The world a stew of terrorism anew
Your final hour televised this dawn
The snake’s wisdom decapitated
Jubilation, disbelief and buried grief
Your body left writhing…yet
Still a real, cunning threat…
I am fire cooked in the belly of a barrel
An inferno like a messenger of death from hell
Somersaulting like a ninja assassin wilding his sword unsheathed
With double edged precision and ill intent unleashed
In my clear trajectory I target any would be shot stopper
I spit fatality and finality, I am the showstopper
There lies power in the pull of a trigger
An on/off switch of life at the tip of a finger
I entre the air with a loud Bang!
I express death like a bulletin
Collide and split air molecules with gun powder
15 calibre to penetrate fragile body armour
I shoot off my mouth like a machine gun
Two syllables, death by numbers, one by one
I recoil on my words like a liar, then silence
Steal lives and leave behind bullet clips
I laugh at your gun laws
I am the Lord of all wars
Copyright © 2014
Mankind rolling dices
causing another crisis.
From police shootings
to hoodlums looting.
Every month a new crisis
and we still have ISIS.
Did Revelations truly see
a certain crisis before WW3?
Mankind rolling dices
causing another crisis.
Melt down those weapons of Mutually Assured Destruction
or thermonuclear war will be the ultimate extermination.
Yes, the World is now MAD
and we'll miss what we had.
Or, will it be you, or you
who reduced us to a few?
It was one too many times
I felt that back hand
Rip fast across my face
My tongue no longer had a taste
For the rice pudding
Left sitting at my hospital bed side
The entire make up in the world
Couldn’t hide all the bruises
I started telling people they were tattoos
One of the many excuses
I began using so much
Until the point they were real to me
Forced myself into a new identity
That my lies could be true to
Since I couldn’t be true to myself
I wasn’t selfish
My heart and I were
Hand in hand
Racing to a beat
Only we listened to
Until my poor heart gave out
A shadow of doubt
That I would take care of the home
That bore the very essence of my soul
Was my heart
Into a flat line
I was ordered to travel to Mars.
I enjoy traveling among the stars.
When some people on Mars tried to open a gateway to Earth, they accidentally opened a gateway to Hell.
Many demons came through the gateway and many soldiers tried to stop them but they were bound to fail.
The demons killed the humans and turned them into zombies.
Now I have to kill them all before they get the chance to kill me.
I have to kill Imps, Cacodemons, Spiderdemons and Barons of Hell.
Sometimes I also come across Cyberdemons and I kill them as well.
When I come across a locked door, I have to find a key to unlock it.
A Cyberdemon is chasing me and it's trying to kill me by firing rockets.
I just used my rocket launcher to turn it into goo.
Every demon and zombie will be dead when I'm through.
A shotgun, plasma gun, chainsaw and other weapons are what I have to find.
I hope the demons don't somehow get to Earth or it will be the end of mankind.
By some miracle I've destroyed all of the demons and the zombies as well.
I was able to complete my mission and I thank God that I didn't fail.
(This poem is based on the popular video game that was created by Id Software.)
I do not know?
Everywhere we turn in this world is about violence and gangs,
Everyone thinking they are cool because they can hang,
Until one day someone gets shot,
And no one gets caught,
Police don’t give a care,
Every night I have to say a prayer,
Begging God to let me live through the day,
Jumping out of harms way,
Living in the hood,
Seems all good,
But people don’t understand what goes on,
People hoping to wake up to the first light of dawn,
But only to go back to the streets,
Only to show off their heat,
No one seeking peace up in here,
You have kids drinking beer,
People doing drugs,
Acting cool, because they think they’re a thug,
This may seem like a bother,
But I’m always going to my father,
Seeking Gods way,
Just so I can hopefully stay,
Trying so hard to stay out of trouble,
Waking up to a neighborhood in rubble,
Noticing how gangs have taken over,
Picking up a lucky clover,
Wishing to keep my life for one day,
When I saw my friend laid to rest,
I made a vow to do the best,
When I saw my friend get shot in the head,
Wishing I would never drop dead,
Maybe some day the violence will end,
Only if we can stop the violent trends……….
As I hover over the darkened room, I wonder how I have gotten here. Did I die, was I
dead? That was the only explanation I could think of for my disembodiedment. But
concentration was lost as a little light exudes from the shiny bedside table. Little golden
ringlets push back fluffy bunny sheets and tiny painted toes shiver upon contact with the
bare floor. I watch as she looks frantically for “Teddy”, whispering his name with most
urgently. She finds him at last in the toy chest, tossed in so haplessly. She gives him a little
squeeze and kisses each shiny buttoned eye, then scolds him most harsh, for this was no
time for hide and seek, he has a job to do. When she has had too much to drink before
being tucked in to sleep, it is Teddy’s duty as man of the house to escort her to the
lavatory. I glided without a sound, watching from high above as the two made their way
down the dark hall, and said nothing in my waiting outside the bathroom door as the two
giggled, splashing soapy water on the floor. But I couldn’t remain silent as Teddy talked the
golden haired child into opening the front door after the midnight hour. I tried to warn her as
she poked her curls around the frame to look down the corridor. And as the elevator doors
across the hall opened revealing a shrouded man residing inside, my voice got stern and I
spoke with a smoky voice. She can’t hear you, echoed inside my head, but I could
not give up, they were in danger, this innocent kid and instigative bear. I screamed until my
invisible voice was hoarse as I watched the tiny figure cross the elevators thresh hold and
into the arms of death. Helpless I floated my front row seat to doom. And as the metal doors
slunk closed, beauty and bear disappeared under a black cloak and all was lost.
Curse you teddy, you are supposed to be her protector. How could you, she trusted you,
I cried ghostly tears and wept without restraint. What was the purpose of witnessing such a
horrible event if I could not intervene? And as metaphoric tears streamed down my wraith
like face, I myself began to dissipate. I closed my eyes to shield them from my complete
disappearance. But I felt like I still existed in the world of the living. I opened my eyes to
confirm my suspicion and in one fleeting moment of bliss, I realized it had all been a dream,
a nightmare. My heart lightened, my steps quickened and I sang with joy as I readied myself
for the day. What happiness to know that it was all a manifestation of an unsupervised mind
and no child had met an untimely fate. No mourning mother, no depressed class mates, no
scares for a society of the meek and timid. No, all was well. I was a bit startle at the thud of
the morning newspaper hitting the cement of the porch, but I was so high on a life saved by
circumstance, I wasn’t going to let it give me a fright. I gingerly opened the door and bent
down to accept the printed gift from the city when I saw the headline on the front
paper. “Elevator Killer” Claims Another Victim.
My knees sank; my heart sank, never again would I close my eyes, never again would I
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the original author. © Alisha Groves
Torturer and Prisoner
After undergoing all kinds of known tortures
a prisoner closed his eyes with a heart-lending cry.
The torturer who witnesses the dying prisoner
was so frustrated because he couldn’t induce
any wanted information from the prisoner.
He kicked the dead man by the side with anger and mumbled,
“This persistent SOB, died so agonizingly, didn’t leave
a piece of information I was looking for!”
Then, the corpse opened his eyes,
staring at the torturer, wearing a sardonic smile and said scornfully,
“Don’t you know? A dead man won’t feel pain!”
The torturer shocked, couldn’t speak for a moment,
then gathered himself and said,
“I hope you didn’t forget that you have
a wife and children.”
The corpse closed his eyes sad and painfully.
There a drop of tear clearer than the early morning dew
welled up and stood in his eye became red as ruby
mixed with blood stain.
Arm deals and more arm deals, that's all I see.
Calibres change, the type of artillery
Changes, the game players grey and go and
Are replaced by darker capillary
With greater thirst for bleeding enemy
And with more dangerous artillery.
Deadly toys in the hands of eager youth,
Intended for warding off intruders:
Scaring them with heaps of artillery
So that they would harder prepare soldiers
If the should covet and desire to loot.
In their minds they have peace in their brooders.
But to brood over unused firepower
While only playing with blanks on dummies
Kindles unquiet thirst only blood can quench
Kills empathy for sonless war mummies,
And in blasts of gun smoke the youth's flower
Drowns its thirst in the thud of fall'n bodies.
What sort of a mother am I
Who cannot even count
the innumerable bullet wounds
spread all over the delicate body
of her beloved child
However, day and night
I keep counting
the myriad of marks
left by the terrorists' bullets
on his school bag;
I will also keep counting
the innumerable shot wounds
that spread all over
his blood-stained books and uniform as well
provided I have the luck
to live until then.
(translation by mazHur Butt)
STA PA BADAN K DA GOLO NAKHO TA,
CHA HADO PRE NAKHODAM
CHE MA SHMARALLY KHO WAY
STA PA BASTA K DA GOLO NAKHY HUM KHEY DERY WAY
ZEH TOLA WRAZ YE SHMARAM
STA KITABUNO AU KAPO K NAKHY
HAGHA BA HUM SHMARAMA
KHO K JWANDAI PATY SHOM
( Pa 16,December da yo shaheed bachi da Mor sanda)
16 December ko shahadat pany waly aik Bachy ki Maan ka Nooha..
Mein kesi maa'n hoo'n
goliyoan ke nishaan
jism nazuk per tere
ay meri aankh ke taaray
gin-nay ka izn
mila hee nahi
haan magar shumaar karti hoon
subh o roz
tere bastay pe lage
golion ke ghaO beshumaar
tere kaproan aur kitaboan per bhi jo hein
zaalimoan kee golion ke beshumaar nishaan
tere pak khoon se labraiz
mein unhein bhi gin-na chahti hoon
aur gin hee loon gee unhein
agar zindagi ne wafa kee.
Mein Ik maa'n hoon,
(translation by mazhar butt)
I do not know?
Looking out with apathy as strong as currents from the greatest seas. Destined to roam yet destinies free lost within the symphonic ballad containing all of lives mysteries. Will we ever see what we were ment to be or are we trapped within our self created Fantasy.
Screaming down from up above all of them calling "blood for blood" covering the cries from within being sure to never allow them to win. Within the blink of an eye and the burning within, turning tranquility to violence and violence will spread leaving those who oppose feeling hopless, dead. Suppressed by the sovereignty we are buried by power.In the end it's me,perhaps even we, who must begin to fear what humanuty will grow to be..
In matters of importance & civility,
Guard your hearts out of respect with & humility
There is arise in a delicate strength in numbers & so it may seem
Workplace violence is also determined by levels of deterance;
For the heart is deceitful above all else so who can know it,
One must become attentive toward all forms of posted protocol initiatives
To profile who fits the person in question fits a certain criteria
A brief moment in silence toward any harmless brevity
One must look intently into everyone in our society;
Mark the man who would be willing in which to explore
Justifiaction as an easy ploy?
What would life be like without its protection?
A quest for reason amidst desire;
Let us take a deeper look into this equation
We must strive to learn each day
With matters of detering & detecting our nations borders
In retrospect, with the service that should be implemented;
Each facility must be fully trained in equipping their workers
To become the best one must learn to achieve with quality excellence
In matters of strict enforcement it is of extreme importance
To form an essential delegation & communication
One must never sit still nor lightly negate their responsibility
Those foundational fundamentals that far too
It is important to remember that plans must be implemented to become effective
Security should move to accomadate all party's that are involved
Never to relent nor give into any false compromise system nor structure of thought
Workplace violence prevention should be resolved with the utmost respect & dignity
Throughout the vast expanse in time,
Commuication has been the essential fore runner toward this success...
One must virtual deter & report matters of security;
Since the days previously to the onset of the tragedy that had occured with the events
Immersion in a culture that promotes constant development should be the chief aim.
Heads rolled, limbs frayed, wow!
An ocean of blood, Allahu Akbar!!
Their reason for the season
Martyrs of wiles on these simple lie
Allahu Akbar! 20 virgins tiredly waiting,
Fresh tomatoes winking
it is I
Peace in white, simplicity adorning
God in man, man in God
Will peace through these heathen rise?
Or shall their Alleluias ring? Allahu Akbar!
From the east, their tiny star shone
Dome, doom, mime, maim, gbom!
Shoulder to shoulder they stood
Echoing in splaterring flesh
God in man, man in God
God is the greatest
Senile man plays God
fixing the wrongs of who,
Fireworks in their sky
curl up before lightening kiss the thunder
joy immeasurable facing the star
winking tomatoes screaming I
Je suis Charlie
The Ka'bah, so peaceful
see how it stitches the world
with bombs and explosives
from Baga to Paris
peace offering chanting