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Death Political Poems | Death Poems About Political

These Death Political poems are examples of Death poems about Political. These are the best examples of Death Political poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

My Mother's Eyes- Thoughts on the Armenian Genocide

They dragged her away
Kicking and screaming
Arms outstretched towards
My little sister
Who lay dying on the ground
Her lips parched
Her eyes sunken
Her wasted arms reaching out
“Myreik, don’t leave me!”
 
My father pulled her away from 
The young soldier’s hands
The one who had violated her
The one who now sneered
“Keep moving….she will be dead
Before nightfall.”
 
I hurried after them
Stumbling through my tears
Afraid of being left behind
I turned for one last look
There she lay…her eyes closing
Left behind to join the
The dead along the path
My sister….
 
That night I didn’t hear her cry
Or complain as the soldiers
Dragged her away
She was beautiful
My mother
With eyes the color
Of the sea
Eyes that danced
And twinkled
Like stars on a clear night
Eyes that smiled
Eyes that embraced
Eyes that spoke
What words couldn’t say
I fell asleep to the sound of my father’s weeping
 
“Wake up,” I heard her say
As I fought to keep my dreams alive
My eyes fluttered open
I closed them to the hungry faces
I closed them to the filth on her dress
I searched her eyes
Calm and glassy
They looked past me
Not seeing
In them I read
No pain
No joy
No recognition
No….life!
Tears sprang to my eyes
Tears for the death of my sister’s body
Tears for the death of my mother’s soul…
 
My mother’s eyes
My mother’s eyes...
They haunt me still.


Details | Rhyme | |

Plockton - Wester Ross

The greatest holiday gift I ever received  
Goes back so many, many years
Before my life became turmoiled
And before my tears for fears

I was a child like many out there
Torn, strewn and split of kin
Mother and father in differences
Confused at seven, wearing their same skin

For I was one of the lucky ones
To a Highland Estate I would go
It's on the west coast of Scotland
Where my holidays desired me so

Secretly I internally smiled
For a whisper of where I was heading
To live with a movie star hero
No longer my life was in dreading

We were picked up by a man so fine
His manners were an absolute joy
Regimental he was in his approach
To me, just a seven year old boy

We travelled through the village of Plockton
Crystal clear waters edged to it's shore
I knew from this very moment
Being here ebbed previous family sores

On entering his house I was in awe
Movie pictures came to my view
They were images of James Bond
At seven I was totally through

A voice called to me
Hey James! sit down and I'll tell you me
Still in circles in walking awe
This is what he told thee

My name is Patrick Dalzel Job
In the Second World War I served
But this recognition I bestow
Humbles me to it's deserve

This honour that's been given
Was blessed by a colleague in war
What desired Ian Fleming to be so striven
Possibly, what we were fighting for

We served on the same destroyer
Fighting to make the future free
His tribute, in his novels I became
James Bond, it's incredibly me





Not many seven year olds have stayed with James Bond.
This seven year old Scot's boy has, maybe I learnt?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patrick_Dalzel-Job


Details | Free verse | |

To Weak To Cry

When I think of the plight that children face all over the world
I just want to cry
Hunger starts and ends their everyday
As many of us continue to waste away
The scraps that we toss could save a child’s life
I’ll tell you the human race is nothing nice
We have no problem spending trillions on war
As children starve to death outside a millionaires store
They put locks on the dumpsters to keep them out
To greedy to give what they are throwing out
I watched a show just the other day
That showed Children just wasting away
Right there in their mothers arms
As I ate my giant bowl of lucky charms
Pirates raiding off the Somalia Coast
Because their children’s eyes are hollow as a ghost
If my Children were starving these words are true
Captain Hook wouldn’t hold a light to you know who
I think in the overhaul scheme of wrong and right
Mankind in general has lost all sight
Could you imagine kissing your child’s last breath?
The rich get richer as they starve to death
So as you all tuck your kids into bed tonight
Kids all over the world will lose their fight
They will simply lie down and die
To hungry to fight to weak to cry


Shelters that feed the Hungry are in every
town, when was the last time that you gave
something. No person is any greater than the
depth of their compassion. To give is to receive
for there is no greater blessing in this life. Keep
what you need and give the rest and the Lord will
make sure you never run out. God Bless, MJ
Written for Sami's contest


Details | Quatrain | |

The Vietnam War

The pro-Hanoi Vietcong many years ago
In the 1950's Diem's government they'd overthrow
All opposition was crushed killed or jailed
These elected ones to their people they failed

This Buddhist country so religious in belief
Now politically torn apart, impending future grief
In the early 1960's with the CIA in place
Discussing with Vietnam's generals, Diem, assassinated in disgrace

With the Vietcong army, growing from strength to strength
Another communist foothold, going to any lengths
In 1965, with 3500 U.S. Marines in place
By December of that year, 200,000 in many a base

These U.S. Marines, in their defensive mode
Over the coming months, peace would soon erode
With the Tet Offensive upon us, and the "Battle of Hue"
The Americans were now involved, this bloody war now brews

One decision to end this conflict, came in 1969
Nixon sent 18 B-52s, bordering Soviet airspace line
He wanted to show he was capable, to end this bloody war
But as the months and years progressed, the body count would soar

The anti-war movement was gathering strength, also in 1969
But the "Green Beret Affair" started to undermine
A U.S. Army platoon raped and pillaged, the village of My Lai
Where civilians were massacred, and many left to die

In 1970-71, Cambodia incurred wars wrath
Where they and the country Laos, were in the U.S. bombing path
Also in 71, there was the cutting of the Ho Chi Minh trail
But arms and supplies got through, this mission to no avail

Later in the same year, the Anzac's withdrew their soldiers
The U.S. also reduced, many of theirs from Vietnam's borders
In 1973, Nixon declared the suspension of offensive action
The Paris Peace Accords took place, peace with this warring faction

Between the years 73 - 74 under Trà, the Vietcong grew in strength
There was no mass offensive, to lure the Americans to their trench
Gradually they marched to their target, to see their enemies eyes
To their city of Saigon, now over a million humans have died

The average age of the American to die in this bloody war
Was just nineteen years old, never knowing what they were fighting for
So many came home from this horror, leaving themselves behind
Because so many came home different, home with a different mind

Even to this day, many Americans look back and ask
Why their elected Congress, feed them to these tasks
The sad thing about Vietnam, it continues to this present day
Where governments make decisions, asking guns to hear their say




Details | Quatrain | |

Average Age 19

Once again, the powers that must
In rise again in what we trust
An overseas conflict, another war
Just what in the hell are we fighting for

Families are asking, Korea has just passed
Generations again reft, how long will it last
A country in need, to rebuild again
Flags at half mast, in wind and rain strain

Once again into war, sent by the Washington Post
To send back reports to hit home the most
Military observers were the first to be sent in
Another chapter of man entering existing sin

I'm witnessing our ariel power, Lam Son 719
US planners determine their incursion, saying all will be fine
Along the Mekong River, we'll carpet bomb their supply trail
Tons of munitions and napalm, this spread surely cannot fail

Many sorties are being flown, for the wounded and the dead
Whilst Nixon and his cronies, aren't thinking with their heads
The news of losses has reached me, nineteen have been killed
Eleven missing, fifty nine wounded, more American blood spilled

Seven fixed wing aircraft, more sons in action loss
Whilst back at home more protests, fading the dyeing's gloss
To to this job that I do, I was never prepared for this
To witness such bloody scenes, and ignore that life is bliss

How can I write about a soldier, whose name I'll never know
Killed at nineteen years old, his family he'll never see grow
Or even explain to his parents, when carried from the AH-1
His body bullet riddled and limp, when lifted it bloodily run

I never went back to the theatre, called the Vietnam War
Having witnessed the wanton killing, what were we fighting for
This colonial conflict that started, us on the side of France
So many came back as strangers, many to live in trance





James Fraser's entry into the contest " WORLD OF WAR: VIETNAM "



Details | Free verse | |

L. I. F. E. (Living In Fear Everywhere)

L iving 
I n
F ear
E verywhere

Just as we live and just as we die 
We laugh, kill and crucify
We are no more our brothers than we are ourselves 
We are the players 
With the tools and talent of the efficient demise 
Of war, famine and greed 
We do rise
 
Of the ever constant ricochet of freedom in our ears
As we wrap our fallen dead in a shroud of rights, laws and bills 
And continue to improve the technology, the precision 
The assurance of absolute destruction 

Buying death is easy
Dealing is easier 
Survival 
The career choice of many 
A thriving business with prestige and power 
Taking, wanting, hungry for the rush 
So young, so fragile 
Blood is running in the streets 
A seemingly endless fountain of misguided youth 
Falling, one after the other 
So far from the truth 

S  hocked 
A  ngry
D  epressed 

What good has ever come from a gun ?
Why kill ?
Why are we arming our children ?
Our future ?
Are you blind to the fact ?
Do you not hear the sound ?
Do you not see ? 
Do you not care ?
We are killing ourselves 
Stealing each others dreams 
Each others families 
Why pro-create ?
To produce, raise, and nurture more disposable targets ?
Is there another use for guns ? 
1 + 1 = 0
One bullet + one individual = one less reason to care 
We are waging war upon our brothers for money, love and survival 

G  ive 
U  s
N  o
S  anity

All to easy....................
Living In Fear Everywhere 


Eric (and sometimes not)


Details | Free verse | |

I See Glory

I see glory 
coming from freedom
and coming from God.
life is just our first stage,
death is when we truely live.
in the arms of God
life truely begins.


Details | I do not know? | |

Strike

Strike!
O strike thy wisdom
and thy freedom;
strike!

While picket signs aren't weapons,
they arouse violent hymns
and bayonet dreams;
o strike!

Where authoritarian presidents,
governors and dictators
all think alike,
strike;
and strike thee common good.


Strike,
O visionaries
with karma on their side,
where echoes fly like angels
and their halos shine so bright;
strike!

Where slavery's not an option
and poverty no life,
no liberty
or happiness;
strike!

Where no act of violence,
aimed at stifling true justice
ever won.

True justice
always voices it's complaints,
always finds some other means,
never ends with the moon
but starts with the sun,
strike!

Fore there's no future otherwise.


Details | Blank verse | |

Blood and Bullets

Inspired by the Connecticut tragedy and another minor shooting that happened in my home state
-------------------------------------

Blood and Bullets

That night we cried ourselves to sleep
For each of the little children the blood did weep
Serve upon this misery and damage
No words will excuse the savage

The vultures swoop, spread the sugar coated lies
But still the frozen child dies
Yet they still wish to remove what little safety we have
But they fail to see that will not stop the slings and arrows they have

For the media projects the fame they crave
Like wild dingos they consume what we fail to save
Serve and protect is not the duty of just some but all as a whole
ALL AS A WHOLE

And we fail
And we fail

The cameras prance around like costumed horses in a dance
All the while the mud splattered reality burns and singes the lines of damned fantasies
We are to blame, shining glitter and fame on the damned souls that should be burned
We spit acidic words of hate all the while praising them in glittering spectral lights of fame 
They do not heed the angry words, but revel in the talk of them...them..
Them...

It's

All

About

THE KILLER

Blood and bullets pollute the spoiled ground but no one cares for the rotten
Sadness rings through for a week but soon the victims are forgotten
But no one forgets the criminal...Infamous
He is immortalized by the fame...fame...infamous

Blood and bullets
Blood and bullets
Blood and bullets
Blood and bullets

Blood stains
Bullets jump

dead forgotten
left rotten

Monster remembered

remembered

Blood and bullets

Blood

and bullets


Details | Free verse | |

No Flowers

There are no flowers there...
just flies, and dust and sun
Where a child wanders
over dirt under calloused feet
under a blazing sun
on a barren land

there are no flowers
there are no trees

where hunger is the only companion
where a pool of dirty water is a lonely playground
where life drains out and sickness plays the only game

where no birds sing...
where the only sound are tears of the innocent

where a child alone, lays down
where there are no flowers
only thorns
for his grave






Submitted for "A Piece of Bread, Please" contest sponsorerd by Sami Al-khalili


Details | Rhyme | |

Lakota

I'm very small
I am called Standing Tall
My story to be read as i live through it all.

Our Dakota lands are forest and vast
Where our ancestors have hunted
From long in the past.

Our tribes are, a confederation of seven
With our language of Lakota, Sioux heaven
We stand proud as we remember our past
And look to our gods, to make it all last.

A silhouette on the prairie hill i see
This shape in the distance is new to me
As we sleep in the night, we hear guns and blows
We arise from our camp, to look for the noise
We creep on the prairie to their surprise
Under the moon, where the land would flow
No longer the Buffalo.

We mount our ponies to challenge these men
What gives them this right to kill and maim
Bodies of beasts, furs cut away
Missing heads, a ghastly slay.

On reaching their camp our bows stretched
Arrows screech, hit the wretched
Watch them fall to the prarie floor
Just like the Buffalo did hours before.

Years have passed as we are moved from our lands
These poisonous men, and their poisonous glands
Bringing illness fever and strife
Ending many a Lakota life.

We reach a point in History
Which made the white man sit up and see
Their Golden Child General George Custer
And the Little Big Horn, my what a disaster.

Arapaho, Cheyenne and us Lakota too
Sliced the Blue Jackets, their Scouts too
The US Cavalry would have their glee
At the Battle Of Wounded Knee
Where Siiting Bull would finally rest
Standing Tall's story last's the test
If we Indians had the same resources
Like the silhouette on the hill
These praries we always had. would be ours still.


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/native-americans.php


Details | Rhyme | |

Driving Under The Influence

“Your honor, after consulting with the District Attorney, we have agreed to a plea bargain agreement. The father, mother and sisters of the victim have requested that in lieu of a jail sentence, justice would better be served if my client be ordered to pay only restitution which would include the following”...
 

Walk back to that street
Crawl inside that wreck
Feel his last heart-beat
Touch his broken neck

Wake up in their dream
Face their blackest fears
Hear his mother scream
Collapse inside their tears

Stumble through their haze
Hate their morning lights
Trudge through empty days
Dread their sleepless nights

Cower on their edge
Hear their demons hiss
Slip upon their ledge
Fall in their abyss

Snap beneath their strains
Bleed out from their wounds
Spatter from their brains
Rot inside their tombs

Toe the line you crossed
Bear the cross you made
Lose what they have lost
Pay the price they paid




Details | Ballad | |

Martyr for the Unorthodox word

If I had over 10,000 dreams You'd be the only thing my mind could see Judgment couldn't be real Succumbing to the fear of this cold life Find a way to break through The self-destruction of wordly delusions Don't tell me I've lived so long in a lovely illusion Break me down until we find a Nirvanic state Then bring me a savior from transgressions An atoning sacrifice Send down to me a messenger for me to submit to Bring me the truth to break through The delusion Bring me the messenger to explain it all And let me leave behind Sorrow's caressing the earth The caliphate stole my heart Without a will to fight But I have the Means to be free I'll try to go with the word I believe But so many stones to be thrown Stakes to burn, limbs to break Faces to hate, scorns to taste Will I have the will to die Despite all of the tears no one will cry Sorrow's caressing the earth The caliphate stole my heart Broke my will Safetefied my soul Martyr for the Unorthodox word Sorrow's caressing the earth The caliphate stole my heart Without a will to fight But I have the Means to be free I'll try to go with the word I believe But so many stones to be thrown Stakes to burn, limbs to break Faces to hate, scorns to taste Will I have the will to die Despite all of the tears no one will cry Sorrow's caressing the earth The caliphate stole my heart Broke my will Safetefied my soul Martyr for the Unorthodox word


Details | Ballade | |

Silver Thumb

She’s  the girl, the girl with the tender touch
A spider's touch
Such a cold thumb
Beckons you to enter her web of sin
But don't go in

colorful  words she will pour in your ear
But her  lies can't disguise what you fear
For a silver man knows when she's kissed him
It's the kiss of death from

Miss Silver Thumb
handsome  man beware of her heart of silver
This heart is cold

Silver words she will pour in your ear
But her lies can't disguise what you fear
For a silver man knows when she's kissed him
It's the kiss of death from

Miss Silver Thumb
handsome man  beware of her  heart of silver
her  heart is cold

She loves only silver
Only silver
She loves silver
She loves only silver
Only silver
She loves Silver


Details | Bio | |

Anne Frank's Kaleidoscopic Life

At 13, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed
Brimming with youth and flamboyance.
With a myriad of of vying admirers, 
A family to love and to be loved back.
Her life was a blend of love,laughter and rebellion.

Then,all of a sudden,
Dragged out of the felicity of her childhood.
Stripped off her citizenship and freedom
For Anne was born a Jew--an outcast.
Suffered owing to the sanguinary Fuhrer.
The Devil, he surpassed.

To escape the bloody clutches of Hitler
Into hiding ,they went
But never did Anne let her hope perish
In the two years of lonely confinement.
Two years of struggle to cope with adults.
Two years of struggle with food and supplies
With the thrills of love and pangs of goodbyes

Hope was her strongest weapon
To combat severe isolation and oppression.
Eternal hope kept her alive.
Courageous Anne continued to strive.

Her eyes could penetrate into the deeper meanings of life.
The pulchritude of relationships
The sublimity of nature
The plenitude of being
Life's purpose and importance
Demystified.

Alas! Betrayed by a close friend
Resulted in Anne Frank's tragic end.
The blood red hue of autumnal leaves
Stained the Earth , as the nature grieved.
- Angom Amy (15)


Details | I do not know? | |

Listen

I LISTENED ONCE TO THE BIRDS IN THE SKY
ITS SOFT AWAKENING
I LISTEN NOW
DELEUDED SHRIEKS FROM THE PIERCING LIGHT

I LISTENED ONCE TO THE WINDS
IT’S CHIMES TINKLES WITH THE MORNING DEW
I LISTEN NOW
HOWLS OF PAIN TEAR AT MY SKIN

I FELT ONCE THE GLORY OF THE SUN
BATHING PEACEFULLY IN ITS WARMTH
I FEEL NOW
INESCAPABLE FIRE THAT TORTURES MY SOUL

I FELT ONCE THE AIR THAT I BREATHE
FEELING ALIVE
I FEEL NOW
SUFFOCATION OF POLLUTION

I LISTENED ONCE TO THE SONG OF THE CITY
I LISTEN NOW TO ITS FUNERAL MARCH


Details | Rhyme | |

Wars of Difference and Different Wars

Dream on man
War is constant
It has gone beyond
Catholic or Protestant

Religious wars
From our short lived past
Will never dilute
As long as we last

In this modern world
We fight for different reasons
What ever the excuse
And in any season

We fight over land
Imaginary WMD
Even over soccer
How the hell can that be

We now fight over oil
In a camouflaged war
Taking innocents with us
In public deplore

Guerrilla, assault
Bombing with precision 
We vote them in
As they twist their decisions

Dream on man
War has changed
Greed has taken over
From the pasts deranged




http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-3.php


Details | Free verse | |

The Evoultion of Learning (Part Two)

As long as various people run various nations
There will forever be war
What the world needs is one leader
A common man who believes in the working class
As well as the Lord
Instead of one Nation under God
Lets make it one World under God
And just let each individual decide what he or she wishes to call that God
So I here by nominate our dear friend Vince Suzadail Jr.
The first candidate of the new world order 
He seems to have the best Political views I’ve heard
And I think he alone could do a much better job
Than all the leaders of all the nations are doing
At least I’m certain he couldn’t do any worse
And that way all the super intelligent people devising ways 
Of destroying our world
Could find something more constructive to spend their time on
Like raising a crop or milking a cow
Saving a child or helping elderly with their needs 
There are plenty of folk who need a hand
Lets all start offering them ours instead of cutting theirs off
I’m just a simple man
My actual world is very small
My family, friends and neighbors
I love you all and hope you know I’ll do anything for you I can
There is no malevolence left in me
I know how to make and use a shank, zip gun or small explosive
But I’ve learned not to
For I’ve learned to think with my heart and soul
They do a much better job than my mind
I just wish the great minds of the world
Were smart enough 
To figure out what I have
And learn to love with all of their hearts


Details | I do not know? | |

Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom

(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)



Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom:



Solomon Mahlangu was trained as an MK soldier with a view to later rejoining the struggle in the country.


He left South Africa after the Soweto Uprising of 1976 when he was 19 years old, and was later chosen to be part of an elite force to return to South Africa to carry out a mission commemorating the June 16th 1976 Soweto student uprising.


After entering South Africa through Swaziland and meeting his fellow comrades in Duduza, on the East Rand (east of Johannesburg), they were accosted by the police in Goch Street in Johannesburg.


In the ensuing gun battle two civilians were killed and two were injured, and Mahlangu and Motloung were captured while acting as decoys so that the other comrade could go and report to the MK leadership.


Motloung was brutally assaulted by the police to a point that he suffered brain damage and was unfit to stand trial, resulting in Mahlangu facing trial alone.


He was charged with two counts of murder and several charges under the Terrorism Act, to which he pleaded not guilty.


Though the judge accepted that Motloung was responsible for the killings, common purpose was argued and Mahlangu was found guilty on two counts of murder and other charges under the Terrorism Act.


On 15 June 1978 Solomon Mahlangu was refused leave to appeal his sentence by the Rand Supreme Court, and on 24 July 1978 he was refused again in the Bloemfontein Appeal Court.


Although various governments, the United Nations, International Organizations, groups and prominent individuals attempted to intercede on his behalf, Mahlangu awaited his execution in Pretoria Central Prison, and was hanged on 6 April 1979.


His hanging provoked international protest and condemnation of South Africa and Apartheid.


In fear of crowd reaction at the funeral the police decided to bury Mahlangu in Atteridgeville in Pretoria.


On 6 April 1993 he was re-interred at the Mamelodi Cemetery, where a plaque states his last words:


‘My blood will nourish the tree that will bear the fruits of freedom.

Tell my people that I love them.

They must continue the fight.’



Mahlangu died for a cause!



Salute!



The Struggle Continues…




(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)


Details | Free verse | |

The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’


Details | Sonnet | |

THE BOMBING OF DRESDEN

      THE BOMBING OF DRESDEN     
        February 13, 1945
Pathfinders lit the night to show the way
for bombardiers too hungry for the word;
as Dresden's dark was made as light as day,
all hearts were stopped before the blasts were heard;

and as the din was heard by all their ears
the sound it made was not reality
but far removed from all the hopes and fears
and what they thought would never come to be.

They loved the Fuhrer--sin enough for all
to die the fiery death of sweet revenge
brought on by those who had enough of gall
to drop their loads in wartimes heated binge!

       And when the fire consumed all that it could
        the winter of their lives was understood.


Details | Rhyme | |

Smoking From the ones left behind

(FROM THE ONES WHO ARE LEFT BEHIND)


To all you smokers out there.

I’m not going to say, give up, I wouldn’t dare,

If you want to smoke, it’s up to you,

But I don’t want to smoke your smoke too,

So many lives it takes away.

It really is a high price to pay,

Especially for the ones left behind,

The ones you love, so very kind.

They are the ones left with there hearts broken,

So many things left unspoken.

They are the ones, that have to nurse you night and day,

They are the ones, who sit and pray,

They are the ones left with the legacy of what you’ve done,

When you can’t breath, because of your lung,

They to would like a voice,

They to would like a choice.


Details | Epitaph | |

John F Kennedy

John F. Kennedy 1917-1963 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


Details | Blank verse | |

he is leaving home

                            
                  In great respect of the band I grew up listening to
                       as sure as Mom passed down Saturday Chores 
                      for I had been chosen to scrub bathroom floors `

                    Yet a familiar sound would bring me to keep scrubbing
                       The red album, The blue album , The White album 
                        Then .. Abbey Road , always remembering the sad look on
                  Ringo's face ,  something hard to understand underneath~
                       
                      I get it now, what you were saying all those years ago ,
                    the many sad lonely tears , secret tears , secret fears 
                    For Maxwell's Hammer was a real one . It wanted silence

                    Going back ..remembering when John Lennon died 
                      I was in Arkansas saddened with the world .
                      Then seeing his face saying " Drag isn't it " 
                      No .. this was not my hero in music and song .

                      he was a stand in hired William , he filled his shoes 
                      bringing diversity to create so much beautiful music from loss

                       One left standing , alone;; grief struck on back cover ~
                       The other identity hidden, tried to be part of ..coming together
                                                                                                                                                                        
                            his  world of secrets
                        He to suffers today , in fear , Faul~
                       
                        Too many years gone by .let us tell the Truth. Let us be free
                         The very sad long and winding Road ~
                         Let us Bury our real Paul. 

                         No more " Mystery tour "
                             No more fear 
                                Let him be in peace ~


           Inspired by " The Last Testament of George Harrison , Is Paul Dead ? "

                






Details | Rhyme | |

Kingdom Lost

In summertime, the ivy climbs,
and hides the castle wall.
The king dreams of late,
that the sea is so great,
and yet - his boat is so small.
As swift as a fox and
dark as a raven on wing,
seven hundred soldiers march  
into the valley of the king.
Long overdue, a battle ensues
flanking the powers that be.
Children cry, and good men die, 
the monarch is now on his knee…
Soon the horsemen alone 
try to maintain the throne.
But the long way around
is the shortest way home.
The evening is filled
with chaos and smoke,
and the kingdom is 
stunned by it all…
Soon the sun will go down,
and in spite of his crown, 
the king will undoubtedly fall…
His rival’s strength
was mistaken,
by a king overtaken,
his life is now but a pawn.
His authority lifted,
the power has shifted –
an era of glory is gone…
 
 
Copyright © 2013
 


Details | Sestina | |

Class Divide

Poor  men  with  wealthy  lives  are  low  dead
Dead  and  poor  low  mens  lives  were  wealthy 
Wealthy  dead  with  lives  poor  were  low  men
Low  and  wealthy  men  had  dead  poor  lives
Lives  low  remembering  poor  wealthy  dead  men
Wealthy  lives  are  dead  those  low  poor  men
Poor  lives  are  dead  those  low  wealthy  men


Details | Blank verse | |

The Eye

The eye,a sign the 
unwise can't comprehend
  Forged from the world's 
origin,an 
illumination in darkened 
minds,for the 
enlightened ones like 
Leonardo da Vinci,Isaac 
Newton,John Milton....etc.
   The eye is a tree 
with many branches like 
Priory of Scion,Knight 
templars,I.O.G.T,United 
Nations,Masonic 
Lodge,Music industry, 
Politics,global economy, 
etc 
stretching beyond 
human imaginations-felt 
in all corners of earth.
  The world is clothed 
through wisdom from 
above.
   The eye,all seeing 
sign,an invincible 
emblem of power and 
riches to the lion hearted 
and loyal souls.
A seat of influence and 
fame.
  Creating the social order 
through men of power....
  Some see it as a 
curse,others a blessing.
  I feel it,the great eye is 
everywhere watching 
you!


Details | Personification | |

Beautiful ones are dying

Beautiful ones are dying/
Directors on silent the film is sponsored by reality/
Voiceovers turn into scandals not propensity /
Actors with no clue they get glued in life's show their future is screwed/
Born raged their actions are so real/
Kill or be killed quest between scenes/
Poverty is more than the defining moment screams/
Hunger bleeding dreams with no makeup pencils/

A wakeup call before the final cut/
A turning point of a lifetime plot/
It’s a warm-up elevating hopes before credits/
Death too expensive/
No rehearsals nor sequels/ 
Dark clouded cameras carry life insurances/
Raining scenes on corruption’s free way and streets/
The cancer eating stunning extras/
Avalon cemetery the only Stadium Lavatory flushing off written off characters/
Beautiful ones are dying/


Details | Free verse | |

If Old Men Fought

An old man looking out his door,
gaze fixed on a distant shore,
reminiscing to a time, not of happiness,
or, the prospect of a bright future,
to when he was sick to his very core,
to when as a youth, he went to war

A time before infallibility had meaning,
patriotism and bravado the craze,
the future was still unknown,
vigor for life at its all time high,
a time for romance, partying, buying,
no thought of pain, deformity, dying

Too young to understand or question,
ship to foreign shore, medals abound,
will impress the girls next time in town,
sacrifice not temporary,
forever more,
a legacy etched into a wall, few will remember,
flesh shredded, burned, torn,
families mourn

A time, when he willingly went to war,
will happen no more,
all lost in youth, now unrelenting,
no blind obedience,
minimal risk,
long life, his number one ambition

As he turns back from the door,
he thinks of the youth,
here now, soon no more,
lessons never learned,
the call to war,
to common the roar,
complacency the mood,
another generation removed

The old man agonizes
over what was originally not known,
war is preventable,
life too precious to waste,
the solution simple,
his vision, maybe too late

Send old men to the front to fight,
arthritis, heart disease, poor eyesight,
let the youth enjoy their life,
his near over, its only right

Send old men, to the front, to fight
ask them to give up their life,
patriotism and bravado, still alive,
will and desire would not last the night,
old men do not rush to death in their twilight,
failure inevitable, the old man smiles,
knows he's right

Wars not possible,
if old men, are sent to fight


Details | Lyric | |

The pen is mightier than the sword

The pen is mightier than the sword

What is it about some people?
Have they no minds of all
To me their puppets on a string
As they follow all the rules
Whether they make sense at all
That’s all beside the point
They believe all that their leaders say
When it comes to the simple joint!

Our leaders they have called the shots
On this and all that matters
They come to us on the TV set
And I hear their foolish chatter
Our premier with pigeon mind
Was heard to say one day
That cannabis is a killer drug
Or almost any way.

Now I have smoked for forty years
And not once have I ever
Suffered from this gentle weed
These leaders might be clever
Or think they are, through their position
But to me they’re simply fools
But they give me cause to laugh out loud
They’re so damned comical.

23 July 2013 @ 1133hrs.