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Social History Poems | Social Poems About History

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

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Details | Rhyme | |

ANOTHER LEADER EMERGES

From sagging huts up in the hills, 
We watched the tourists flash their bills. 
They piled our harvest on their plates, 
While soup and scraps were all we ate. 

The flames lick up from garbage cans, 
Burnt brown like every working man, 
Who shouts or sings or mutters low 
Of the calluses that come and go. 

They toss in straw, more flames shoot up 
To light the faces, hewn and rough, 
that need a creed, some faith to hold; 
to make their insides proud and bold. 

Right then and there, I stand to speak. 
I will not play the lamb so meek. 
The time has come to take back ours 
from the wealthy dogs with fat cigars. 

First cans, then cars, we overturn. 
Now the boulevard begins to burn.. 
The fools shoot back, forget the cost, 
The naked rage must not be lost. 

We win ourselves some new recruits, 
Some young; some old; some simply brutes; 
I do not care where they heard the call. 
The revolution now will need them all. 

Our cause will die if all stays calm, 
So I send out Juan with sweaty palms. 
He won't come back, farewell, my friend. 
Your blood will flow for greater ends. 

Worn out, weary, our morale grows thin. 
The feeling grows that we can not win. 
We need more guns than we can steal, 
But we do have one crop we can deal. 

The rifles have arrived now. Good! 
Excited now, they crack the wood. 
My loathing of red, white and blue, 
is spreading like the jungle flu. 

Their army scatters, their leaders flee. 
We've brought the country to it's knees. 
With the capitol dead in our sights, 
We'll soon assert the people's rights. 

The grainy film does not portray 
That it was a picture perfect day. 
My second stands there, smart and trim. 
It might pay to keep an eye on him. 

We march them out in single file. 
No need to bother with a trial. 
Their baggy shirts and peasant lies 
Betray them all as filthy spies. 

Yes, the people had decreed this so, 
I speak for them so I should know. 
Your crimes have brought you here to die. 
The people speak through me. Goodbye! 

Their bodies jump in crimson leaps, 
then tumble down in tangled heaps. 
Scarlet skulls and splintered chests, 
They'll surely air this in the West. 

Bulldoze the bones and spread the lime, 
For we all are on the side of time. 
And tonight, we gather in the square. 
Their blood has paid my ruling fare.


Details | Free verse | |

Autobahn

~2012 New Berlin Remix~


Rapid Eye Movements
cruise down the Autobahn,
driving dreams of soldiers 
slaying the wicked Beast in the East,
seeds hidden in the cuff links
returning home for the victory parade.

The victory parade of the new millennium
is a mirage, as desert sand blows 
through the desolate streets of Basra,
spray painted slogans of 'Aryan Nation'
scrawled across crumbling walls.
High level Terror-alerts
scroll across the Fear o' Dome,
breeding paranoid glances 
of commercial-class passengers
flying high above barbed-wire compounds:
camps of cells in solitary confinement,
centralized secret service agents
unload the next set of trains.

"Son, do you forget all that we sacrificed?!
Have you lost all of your respect?
Okay, so maybe the Feds
became brainwashed by the Reds,
but this is for our freedom and safety.
This isn't about racial impurity,
but our Nationalist Socialist security!"

"You are all mixed now anyway,
doesn't matter if you are female, black, jew or gay,
we must unite together as a nation,
proudly wave our flags, fight our common enemy!
This enemy is trying to disintegrate
the very fabric of our free society!"

"Son, why can't you just see?!"
"Son, can you not see! Not see-notsee-notsea-notsi-notzi 
natzi-nazi-natzi-notzi-notsi-notsea-notsee-not see!"
____


....cold sweat.

I wake-up from a horrible nightmare,
remnants of images floating through my head.
Something about flocks of carnivorous sheep,
and rabid wolves for shepherds?
Jumping out of bed,
I quickly look in the mirror
just to make sure.
Everything looks as it should.
Lawnmower growls in the background,
sunshine leaks into the room
adding a warm touch to reality.
Through my bedroom window,
I spy the neighbour's Iron Eagle weathervane
goose-stepping towards the east.

Everything appears normal,
here, on the corner of 4th Reichstag Blvd.




.


Details | Haiku | |

It is now

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


Details | Free verse | |

A Declaration On Independence Day

On Independence Day
I declare  independence 
from American imperialism.
I declare U.S. out of Iraq.
And while I am at it
the C.I.A. out of the business
of supplying murderous thugs
with rifles and uniforms 
along with the strategies 
to extinguish
democracy in Haiti.
I also call for the pullout
of State Department funding
in the not so secret 
overthrowing
of the fair and duly elected
President of Venezuela.
On Independence Day
I have the right to say
we need a new policy.
Therefore, I call
for independence from oil.
I call for windmills 
and solar panels
and cool looking hybrid cars 
getting 100 miles to the gallon.
I am tired of chanting
No Blood For Oil.
On Independence Day
I look to a nation
involved in war for war's sake
war to simulate the economy
and make our leaders look great
and call for a different fate.
I declare our politicians
give up corporate sponsorship
and live up to this great nation's
highest aspirations.
Freedom from
illegal occupation.
Freedom from 
propaganda and torture.
Freedom from 
criminal actions
on sovereign nations.
I declare transcendence.
I declare we live up to
life, liberty and the pursuit
of happiness
for all humanity.
I declare world independence
from monarchies, theocracies
totalitarianism, oligarchies 
and otherwise puppet regimes.
And I declare we all share these 
inalienable rights. 
Including the right to assemble 
organize and form unions.
Protect the health 
of our elders
newborns and the environment.
And I refuse those who would
deny blacks
the same rights as whites
by suppressing their vote 
with twelve hour lines
in the blistering cold.
Let us all have our say!
And while I am at it
give the poor a megaphone
on mainstream talk shows
let their voices be heard
in the court of public opinion.
I declare freedom from
billionaire owned media
conglomerations.
Let independent democracy
infiltrating the television.
Thus let us all speak our truth
and be protected 
from the tyrannical majority
and those empowered by the muzzle.
I declare that our forefathers
envisioned this and much more
in the age of enlightenment.
So that one day
every one of us
on this magnificent planet
regardless of class or culture
national and religious origin
sexual persuasion or gender
would be endowed and empowered
by an independent
yet universal 
human rights agenda.


Dean Walker


Details | Ballade | |

Imagine

Imagine lakes of dreams 
Blood contained streams
Imagine oceans that behold undiscovered beings
Imagine human life depended off of cheers and games
Man design’s umbrellas
And eventually would play a part in acid rain
Imagine not wanting to smell another rose 
Or touch another soul 
Because of despair and shame
Imagine in the mist of your demise
You have the passion to rejoice and sing
Imagine driving pass shattered glass
The interior  is soaked with blood stains
Your mind can't comprehend the fact 
that it's a dead family in the next lane
Imagine dreaming for freedom
As a result by your neck you hang
Imagine for the sake of progress 
You whip a man on his back and call him a slave.
Rage, Pain, Fortune, and fame
You don't have to imagine this 
Because that's what life brings.


Details | Free verse | |

TV Tremors

Star strung
like Bette Davis Sundays
marathon watching 
and sitting in tears
Wrestling emotions
which calm and confuse us
Confound us and move us
beyond golden years
Broken
like black and white vision
fuzzy and stationed
with grey rabbit ears
Lost in commotion
which break and betray us
which bullet gun lays us
compounding our fears.


Details | Verse | |

Altered State

Towers collapsed to foundations,
  The planes exploded in air,
To gratify firebrand preachers
  Destruction and death everywhere.

Bus became coffin on byway,
  Train torn up beneath ground,
Fanatics end innocent life,
  Spin godless chaos around.

Child kneels broken at graveside,
  Tears drip down to the earth,
A consciousness of pure evil
  Deems human life of no worth.

Enemies fester within,
  Harbour a doctrine and creed,
Under the guise of religion,
  And nurtures a virulent seed.

Enemies hidden within,
  Feral smiles, baring of teeth,
Approve of a racist agenda.
  Murder by twisted belief.

Why should we drown beneath?
  Fundamental waves of hate,
Why should we have to live
  In this an altered state?

They can go to other places
  Where their twisted creed is rife,
Where martyrdom and slaughter
  Construe their way of life.

The simple, sorry factor  
  The ironic doctrinaire:
The places of their genesis
  Won’t stand them living there.

Thus decent, honest people
  Are left unto their fate,
A homeland under terror
  Remains an altered state.


Details | Verse | |

Looks Like Rain

Looks like rain, the old girl said,
As the sky broke stars and bled,
And the clouds all turned black with the swell;
The dingy streets were dim and grey,
The shadow people drained away,
And it seemed as though the town was going to hell.

Looks like rain, the people cried,
As the shop fronts closed and died
And the best days ground abruptly to a halt;
The fairground rides fell still,
And the view from up the hill
Was of streetlights suffocating in a vault.

Looks like rain, I wryly thought,
Just before the first onslaught
Of machinery oiled and primed for tearing down;
With the clanking chains and drilling
Someone made a quick-fire killing
By ripping out the heart from this old town.

Looks like rain, you sweetest child,
I know I muttered as I smiled,
And the oil-paint textures watered in your eyes;
Our own history set to burning
As the wheels they kept on turning,
In the hallowed name of progress I surmise.


Details | Verse | |

Ripping Christ

Holier than thou,
sacred as a cow
  anointed with margarine spread;
a Sunday to rest,
some socks and a vest
  and a penchant for laying in bed.
Sicker than sick
and thicker than thick,
  drugged with a heroin chic,
bright light beams down
through a crack in the crown,
  spearing a spoon-bending freak.
Speak unto thee,
the voice of a tree,
  afire with gelignite balm;
whacky and wild,
abused and defiled,
  born to succumb unto harm.
Lysergic the feast,
the mark of the beast,
  halogen burned to emboss
symbols on skin
as forever begins
  ripping infinite Christ from the cross.


Details | Rhyme | |

Pulp

Pretty soon, night will fall upon the city,
And lives of crime animate spasmodically
As Gene Pitney croons “A Town Without Pity”
And the clubs and the gin joints open methodically.

Hepcat jazzmen smoke reefers, shoot junk,
The pimps clean their nails with switchblades laconically,
Fedoras pulled low as they mind-jive to funk,
And the neon lights crackle and buzz electronically,

Breast enhanced blondes catch the eyes of their johns,
Pouting and winking, the sale of depravity,
For a price any vice can be practiced upon
The surface of flesh, any crevice or cavity.

Cops pound the beat twirling nightsticks around,
Turning blind eyes for a bribe taken willingly,
Failure to pay brings the world crashing down,
“It just ain’t your day,” the cops whisper chillingly.

Wiseguys hold court in an old pizzeria,
Smoking and drinking and eating the scenery
Their empire of family governed through fear,
The rule of the gun and Sicilian ancestry.

Corporate needles pierce veins of the damned,
Chalk drawings map lines around death’s ideology
Cigarettes sparked and the siren howls slammed
Through the meanest of streets of pulp fiction mythology.    

In the world of the scribe, this pulp writer hack
May exaggerate slightly for sake of the narrative,
Yet film noir seems grey when reality’s black,
At the end of the day everything is comparative.


Details | Free verse | |

The Evolution of Learning (Part One)

It amazes me how much man has evolved
Yet, How little he has learned
All around the globe
Millions die of disease and starvation
While the ever so intelligent creature known as man
Spends millions upon millions of dollars every single day
Killing each other
Instead of finding cures for the ill or feeding starving children
Oh sure, we dabble in those efforts
But we are committed to killing each other
Governments all around the globe
Spend most of their money
On their armies
Either to defend or attack
Their enemies
Supposedly, the most intelligent creature on earth
The intellectual creature known as man
If I may go so far
Mans commitment to war and killing
Goes far beyond any one mans term in office
It goes far beyond any one mans lifetime
It goes far beyond any century or any one era
From beginning to end, top to bottom
East to west, north to south
Red, yellow, brown, black or white 
Our commitment to killing each other
Is undeniable
How can a species that is smart enough to split atoms 
Creating weapons that will kill millions
Still be stupid enough to do it?
And now I see on the science channel
That man has now devised the Platonic beam
A beam of light that just disintegrates the target in an instant
At what price you ask?
Well I don’t know but I reckon if we diverted that money
To say solar energy projects
They could probably put a solar energy system
On every home in the world for free
Thus solving the energy crisis
Not to mention food in the icebox and medicine in the cabinet
Because of course when you create such an amazing new weapon
You need an entire new type of ship to deploy it from
Thus is born the next generation of war birds
They jettison into space 
Then go into super afterburner (A jet engine minus oxygen)
Which they said would reach like 20,000 miles an hour
So you could shoot halfway around the world
Disintegrate your enemy
And be home in time for supper
I believe when speaking of politics
It’s not a National Crisis
It’s a Global Epidemic


Details | Free verse | |

Turning to Cicero

"The budget should be balanced, the Treasury should be refilled, public debt should be reduced, the arrogance of officialdom should be tempered and controlled, and the assistance to foreign lands should be curtailed lest Rome become bankrupt. People must again learn to work instead of living on public assistance."  Cicero , 55 BC
 

controversy over government nothing new Civil War? oxymoron in a country divided, there is no civility protestors fume on Wall Street Tea Partiers toss their caffeine into the mix Federal Reserve makes unauthorized loans but to whom we do not know states debate seceding from the union families learn to live on budgets countries spend what they don’t have why don’t we learn from history? “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s” is there anything left for us? look to Cicero and sages of the past Plato and Socrates will set the disenfranchised straight too
*Entry for Brian’s “Anywhichway” contest


Details | Rhyme | |

Taxing Benefits

I met a Sheriff the other day.
Just teasing, I happened to say.
I am stopping by to pay my taxes.
Giving you my money before axes,

He said to me, “I get none of that money“.
I looked up in surprise, and thought, how funny.
He and many others forget our taxes pay salaries.
They work for us and their duties are in galleries.

Without working people to pay taxes, they would not be.
They forget these things after office acquired you see.
They pump us up upon the Election Day’s arrival.
Reinstatement in public office is part of survival.

We the people pay for their cars, meals, homes, indeed.
Our money than dispatched into the funds that do seed,
Without the people paying taxes, their jobs would recede.
We the people elect and pay wages, so justice will proceed.

However, many law officials take rules made for all.
Bending them to fit their need, in name of the law,
I have the utmost respect for officers on patrol.
They need to be cautious, to keep crime under control.

However, to break any law, for no reason at all, indeed.
Makes justice suffer, two wrongs make a misdeed,
Their pledge, for no reason at all to break their creed,
Serve and protect, without wrongdoing, as agreed.

An oath, I know they all take and so easily forget after.
Some upon that tomorrow, just ease back in laughter.


Details | Shape | |

The Narrow Path

                       The narrow path
                           to treason
                            is only
                            a word
                             away.
                           To falter 
                            in your 
                            reason
                          or explore
                        unauthorized
                           dissent.
                        To question
                      fearless leaders
                        or a decision
                      from the bench.
                      The narrow path
                          to failure,
                           oppose
                       the status quo
                          and down
                             you 
                              go.


Details | Verse | |

And You Will Know Me By The Trail Of Dead

And you will know me by the trail of dead,
the whistle of wind in cutthroat pipes,
the jolly japes and spring heeled capers
in the sepia pulp of the Sunday papers
and in all the Jack Tar bilge in your head,
for you will know me by the trail of dead.

And you will know me by the trail of dead
the gory tales of bright crimson stripes.
the intestinal spool of viscera and gutting,
the slashing swipe of steel blades cutting,
and the opening wounds awash with red,
for you will know me by the trail of dead.

And you will know me by the trail of dead,
the love-a-duck and strike-me-blind,
the dear boss letters and cunning stunts,
the hunter or hunted in Whitechapel hunts,
and the feverish sweats in every bed,
for you will know me by the trail of dead.

And you will know me by the trail of dead,
the buckle-my-shoe and daily grind,
the Juwes and gin and pea soup nights,
the whore flesh slaughter and ghastly sights,
and the legends of all I did and said,
for you will know me by the trail of dead.


Details | I do not know? | |

Spring Summer And Fall

From bright colors even the brightest blond turns grey.
Grown men now stand.
Were once young children did play.

 The once new cover.
Is now tattered and torn.
time has all but erased the oaths  once proud men had sworn.

The field now overgrown  still haunts memories of the blue and grey.
Old worn headstones markers of were they'll forever lay.
No bell to ring no voice shall call.
The ghosts of the past erased by spring summer and fall.

The old porch stands hidden by a overgrowth of vines.
Now blank are the boards that once were painted signs.
The blood followed swiftly from the wound of the past.
To forge a path to a time that could never last.

Gone is the tree that once stood so very tall.
Forgotten by time 
So is the legend of spring summer and fall.


Details | Quatrain | |

TO SHAKESPEARE WITH ADMIRATION

He was the bard from Stratford, and as a teenager
he helped his father in his trade; he married and had children
and became the most popular and admired play writer
in all England...acting was also his other pleasurable passion.    


Curious Queen Elisabeth was one of the thousand spectators,
who came to see him in the Globe theater...she shed tears, 
and was stunned by the performance of his timeless plays,
and yet, some of his fellow-poets criticized him for his writings!


I wish I had lived in that Victorian era so intellectual and refined,
and had met him in person and had showed him my ample admiration;
I would have asked him the secret, which made him so legendary and loved...
and he would have whispered it to me, to make me revel in that revelation!     


I have read his inspiring works, and tragedies rampantly occur
from " Romeo and Juliet"...the Verona's immortal lovers, through" Hamlet "
whose insanity was undoubtedly caused by the specter of his father; 
and why didn't Shakespeare choose less dramatic plays not ending in death?


He wanted to teach us indelible lessons to show us how the human spirit
can be passionate, adamant, loveless, envious, cruel, unfair and treacherous...
to outline all kinds of guilt: from murder to envy so well-expressed with eloquence;
it's no mystery to anyone how he conjured up such plots with grief, madness and wit!    


Shakespeare was no ordinary kid, and he played with his siblings on Henley Street,
neighbors saw him trot to his grammar school, later he would make everyone weep; 
early in adolescence, did his prodigious mind envision one from a vague thought?
It's no wonder that he is widely read even today...hear his speak, he'll impart worth!  


Entered in Amy Green's contest, " Wow Me With Inspiration "


Details | I do not know? | |

Keep My Faith

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


Details | Rhyme | |

...Perhaps Because We Were...

Hiding like criminals, we crouch under this straw heap
It’s the third day in a row that hungry we have to sleep
Mama with her sunken face looks so pale
And Daddy, oh, he seems to be dying as his health has begun to fail
Margaret sits quietly without an emotion on her impassive face 
While her little one, oblivious to the fear, has just started his life’s race

Suddenly, some footsteps make ominous sounds 
In an instant are my parents, Margaret and the little one gagged and bound 
I sit there, trembling, hidden from those brutes’ view
Silently saying in my heart all the prayers I knew
Loading their weapons, they take aim 
Of course, for them it’s nothing more than a catch-and-kill game
I see my parents and my sister dying before my eyes 
But I know I would meet a worse fate if raise my voice 
As for the then surviving little one
There was an even more horrific death than that by gun
He is battered mercilessly against the stony wall
Oh, why is God deaf to his pleading call?

Pity is a great word spelled with a capital ‘P’
But those beasts had no idea what it could be
It’s rightly said that God’s loved ones are few
Among them, my family wasn’t there, perhaps, because we were Jews….. 


Details | Verse | |

Land Of My Fathers

Arising, splits the purple nuclear sky,
Rends the dark valleys with light,
Spills along footpaths and alleys,
The glory of morning, ending of night.

In sanction, closing of the chaos,
Soothes the hot valves with dragon-heart balm,
Beams with serenity and salves,
In silvery moonlight, infinite calm.

Above, my ascendant sun and moon,
Arc-light searing and platinum white,
Adoration eternal and endearing,
My wondrous morning, my glorious sight.

The land of my fathers lays waiting,
Dispelling the lonely, the welcoming fields,
Whether industry savaged or verdant,
The hillsides of poets, their treasure she yields.


Details | Verse | |

One Night In Greece

As the green-blue spread kissed horizon,
The sun died spilled on the rock,
So the crumbling salt-stained towers,
Of marble cracked rigid in shock.
Pointed fingers to clouds on Olympus,
To the old gods now centuries dead,
And their prayers and their desolate ceilings
Decayed as the heavens turned red.
The sweet juniper scents and then honey,
Flamed and bloomed dreams in the brain,
In the aniseed searing of midnight
I sat drunk at the bar once again...


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 | I do not know? | |

South African Freedom Day

freedom day 
(april the 27th 1994)


far too many brave compatriots died

and

flooding rivers of tears were cried

far too many families ripped apart

with

daggers cutting into their heart

the pain is felt still deep today
on this glorious sun-splashed South African Freedom Day

as we pause and remember those who do not remain with us anymore

as we appreciate the fruits that their sacrifice and struggle bore

far too many to count and to name

but we honour them all while we keep burning that eternal flame

...Oliver Reginald Tambo
...Chris Hani
...Solomon Mahlangu
...Prakash Napier
...Yusuf Akhalwaya
...Matthew Goniwe
...Neil Aggett
,,,Ahmed Timol
...Vuyisile Mini
...Hector Peterson
...Babla Saloojee
...Bram Fischer
...Dulcie September
...Sparrow Mkonto

just a few, but so many still nameless

who were brutally cut down
by a racist system that was merciless, and cruelly shameless

we honour you, today
but we remember you each and every day

when we breathe in the air of the freedom that you craved

as we walk the roads of a wounded but healing country that you saved

from itself, for the hate and racism and hushed prejudice of race and gender and religion and sexual persuasion and caste and creed

that you so valiantly fought against, is still with us, as it on fear and ignorance does feed

the odour of racism and hate
of white and black and jew and muslim and hindu and catholic and yellow and brown

is a living parasite that lives and thrives all across this beautiful world, from cities and villages and hamlets, to the smallest rural town

it may become a mark of shame upon us all 

so we have to, today, struggle against and boldly fight

for the sacrifices of the many can never be cheapened, by the polite dinner-table murmurs of hate, try as hard as they might

for if we as a nation, 
a country 
a world 
a people 

one people

are to truly step out of the lashing cold painful rain

we have to continue your struggle

so that your supreme sacrifices may not have been in vain...

and so we say 

'hamba kahle, comrades'

to you who laid your young lives down and slipped away

so that we who remain may in the sunlight and out of the rain live and breathe and stay

in a country, and in a world
where religion and gender and sexual-persuasion and all colourful hues

may mingle and love and laugh and cry together on the sun-filled avenues

so thank you, comrades, for showing us a better path that we must embark on as we shuffle onwards into a brighter tomorrow

away from the hurt of the past, and away from the tears and away from all the sorrow

for the true freedom that we seek now, is the freedom from our own racism, our own prejudices, our own sexism, our own petty hates and bottled-up anger

for therein, lies the fight ahead

for therein, lies the real and growing danger.
Aluta Continua!
Amandla Ngawethu!

The Struggle Continues...


Details | Verse | |

Struggle for Freedom

Hopeless tears reign marks of 
struggle
followed by endless pain
The stigma "nigga" forever 
implanted in my DNA
From black face and sambo to 
mammy and sapphire
some still view us just the same
After years of struggle and 
progress
Not a lot has changed 

They assume stupidity just by 
the tint of my face
and because it's brown, I'm 
uneducated
a fool, a mistake
I'm the angry black woman 
that'll
roll my neck and put my fingers 
in your face
Or he's the one with the bad 
attitude 
and a gun to shoot up the place
Or the welfare queen - all she 
do is get high
Oh and he's the one that fits 
the description of that black 
guy

Still...Forever struggling for 
respect with no ideas
about what it's really like not to 
be automatically tagged 
"nigger/a"
So I stopped expecting miracles 
of blacking out racism
and continue the fight for 
freedom

Freedom from labels and 
stereotypes
Freedom from dumb ass black 
people who keep those 
stereotypes alive
Freedom from holds like hate 
and negative teachings and
Freedom from ourselves 
because some of us have 
stopped reaching
Some of us have given up the 
fight to be taken seriously
We've disgustingly lost our 
pride and our unity
We've decided to become 
enchanted with the stigma 
"nigga/er" 
so it's embedded in our DNA
Attached to more than just my 
skin
It's my soul that aches

The struggle for freedom will 
never end
Racism will never end
Until the end of existence as we 
know it
Get ready 
because all of the signs that it's 
here
Is showing 


Details | I do not know? | |

Diverse

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Verse | |

Mind and Sound

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




Details | Rhyme | |

This Memorial Day We Salute Our Veterans

We salute every soldier who’s
 served this great nation.
And offer a heart of thanks
 and appreciation!

We salute each member 
of our armed forces.
And are thankful for their
 efforts and resources!

We salute the many who 
protect our borders too.
We’d be in trouble…  
If not for people like YOU!

We salute every son and 
daughter lost in a war.
YOU are what serving this
 country is meant for!

We salute the officers who’ve 
guided our women and men.
Our prayers are with you!  
And our love from within!

We salute our veterans!  
Wherever they may be!
Those who served on
 land, air and sea!

Offering prayer to the
 Lord is our belief…
That he will guide our
 Commander-in-Chief!

As we observe 
Memorial Day this year…
Let’s offer our soldiers
 love, hope and cheer…

May God bless them in
 all they endeavor
And his peace be with them
 today and forever!!

By Jim Pemberton  
05/21/10


Details | Acrostic | |

Love came down at Christmas

L Long ago travelled Kings
O Opened their minds to prophecies
V Visiting from afar they brought gifts of Gold, Fracincense and Myrrh
E Eastern Star guiding them lighting the way

C Company of Heavenly Host
A Allelujah! Angels appeared to Shepherds, telling Savior born
M Manger for bed wrapped in cloths in Town of David
E Evangelically proclaimed Christ the Lord

D December 25th designated day
O On which we recollect
W Why/way Christ entered our world
N Nativity only part of His story

A A new testament
T Tells of new covenant between God and His people

C Christ's coming to Earth
H Hailed as new born King, Holy
R Risen Lord, righteous redeemer, 
I Intercedes for us as
S Spiritual Saviour to save sinners souls
T Time for Truth, Trust, Trinity
M Man's belief in God of Love,  
A As Father Son and Holy Spirit
S Shall be saved


Details | Free verse | |

All Bottled Up

          All Bottled Up

Bottlenecks are one thing driving down the road
Making one late for work is another
Cumbersome, slow and an all time low

Containers made from glass have their ups and downs
Mostly downs we’re told

Their poisons kill aristocrats, the poor, poets known and unknown

Highs and lows are surely going to come
From bottles filled with rum
At first a happy swirling drunk
Becomes laid out sad and dumped 

Delicious wine waits for me when I get home
The matter is getting beyond the cork and glass
Such troubles are these things 
Bottles simply have no class and make me wince

To obtain the treasure there within
I have to use the cork screw
But bottle with evil intent conspires with the opener 
Will not help me or comply to let me in
What’s the use?  A hammer will have to do
 
Other bottles from long ago held potions, magic, and snake oil brew
Fluids ran wild in the old west causing more deaths than cures for sure  
And no one had a clue it was the containers that they used

When shipping bottles made from glass
I have to label “fragile” and send them 1st. class

The ebb and flow and pour from every bottle 
Illegal in Prohibition times 
Caused many alcoholics to cry
I guess that was a crime 

Consumers today can fill their glasses free from thought
From decanters, jars and urns that carry their own weight
Someone with a bottle will always be around though
To hit me on my head for something I might say
And if the bottle breaks, someone, (I'm guessing me), will have to pay

                                                     5/19/14 Slamming Battle Round 2 contest


Details | Verse | |

I Don't Hate America

I Don’t Hate America

I like the country I live in
That doesn’t mean I have to sing their songs
to prove that sh@!.
That doesn't mean that 
I can just can’t get over the fact that
they murdered the people who built it
 
America was dedicated to a proposition that
“all men are created equal, except
for women, indians and blacks

The white men were just fine is what we were told 
but what about those who were stolen that never made it over to NEW WORLD?
The ones that were thrown overboard and
those who died from sickness while in transport

Remember those who were born into slavery and never even knew what freedom was before their physical bodies left
and people like Thomas Jefferson
He understood that slavery was wrong but did not free his own until his death
What about those who beaten senseless and burned, and hanged,  
All while screaming “Nigger" What’s your new name?
Oh how soon do we forget…
That’s why I despise that word and
I don’t care who it is that uses it
#u$k that slavery sh@!
And #u$k that flag b@%ch!
#u$k you America because you’ve always made things hard .
So don’t look at me strange when I show those songs disregard and those fake ass patriotic undertones about how we are the land of the free
more like the land of the captured and the Home of the Slaves, see

I don’t’ hate America
I can be and do and go as I please
But, then I remember the poor people they injected with disease 
They thought they were getting free health care but the doctor is giving them syphilis 
Please! 

I remember the natives of this land
They slaughtered and labored them to work for freedom in their own land 

I remember the Civil War 
where we were a country divided by the Mason Dixon Line
The north and the south of the same country at war to save lives
 
I don’t hate America
This is my home 
But I refuse to let the things that 
my ancestors endured during the struggle of building SUCH A FINE COUNTRY be forgotten
It’s 2012 and the politicians still plottin to find a way to take away the black vote 
It’s the same shit, but now they just don’t use the noose to choke the life out of souls  
I’m so tired of the constitution and it’s loop holes, and amendments, and acts, and laws
This just proves that man can’t govern themselves because even with all these rules we constantly fall into the black hole deeper and deeper
I don’t hate America
I just choose to not take part in its little song and dance
I pledge my allegiance to God 
and continue to write and lose myself in my poetic trans 


Details | Sonnet | |

Destiny's Perch

In the near future, I am going to add it all up into one big sum.
In the meantime, I am going to gather and collect my own space.
I will sift through seeds or weeds and present an enormous case.
But for sure I will hold onto every single yellow chrysanthemum.

In the near future, I am going to roll it all up sealing it by my thumb.
In the meantime, I am going to sit here with every turned about face.
I will drift through time rewinding the hands back to a God of Grace.
But for sure I will give the world a place my heart is triumphing from. 

Quickly, I will come to you,
And instantly I will be gone.
But injustice shall never do.
Nor shall a lie be my spawn.

Or at the least not on my expedient silver polished dime,
And certainly not while sitting on destiny’s perch in time!

® Registered: Ann Rich   2009


Details | Free verse | |

Pledge Of Allegiance, Revisited

I Pledge Allegiance
a solemn vow of obedience, from the earliest age of grievance,
when found deliverance, one people, united against tyranny and intolerance,
become the model of democracy and toleration

To The Flag
the symbol of once colonization come together in celebration,
a new unconquerable nation, a successful castration,
of oppression and dictation

Of The United States Of America
a conglomeration of peoples form one nation,
13 colonies a single relation, one voice, one oration,
tread on me, expect retaliation

And To The Republic
a democracy, its creation, the Constitution, its foundation,
agreeable to all  in origination, fiercely guarded against demolition,
militarization, and impregnation, over all these years, still on station
 
For Which It Stands
the protector of all oppressed lands, the world over she lends a hand,
her signature, her blood, in foreign sand

One Nation
from sea to sea, whether rich or poor, some vocal, others, chose to ignore,
those who guard the shore, those who knock on heavens door,
one nation, esprit de corps

Under God
in a time when belief was strong, today, should not be wrong,
having been with us so very long, a few may sing a different song,
most will believe, as they have, all along

Indivisible
one, as a whole number, cannot be divided by any other,
many have tried under guise of brother, only to be denied by the mother

With Liberty And Justice For All
the means to end all oppression, infinitely wrong with transgression,
succession, regression, and repression along

Our Pledge of Allegiance
a pledge of a nation, a history profound, one indivisible number,
all it takes, to be no longer allowed





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 | I do not know? | |

God's Church ?

In a time when science rules
Why am i still surrounded by fools 
To speak of a book and of faith and hope
Which upon closer inspection the book is a joke

Adam and Eve are just a disease 
Implanted in your mind and which you believe
To enquire into anything else is a sin in it self
To spend a life worrying of sinning is bad for your health

If god is kind, caring and always near
You could believe what you want. What would he care ?
But as the churches have learned there is money in fear
A tool perfected over 500 years

Even such a powerful entity as the church can bumble
Somewhere along the way they forgot to be humble
And as new science can now prove 
A matter on which the church wont move

Is that of evolution the journey of man
Sorry what part of this theory is hard to understand ?
The warning signs are approaching fast
Through not moving forward becoming a thing of the past

The thought of that never ceases to thrill me
And if god didn't like what I'm doing he'd kill me


Details | Verse | |

Home of the Slaves

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Rhyme | |

Our Country's Soul Is Being Torn Apart


Our Country’s Soul Is Being “Torn Apart”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Jim Pemberton


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

The number the brand

When I met her , a very old lady she was , yet inside lay a frightened child .
I felt my heart cry , I felt as if I was touching history itself , as I made this older lady, child,  chai .

I remember the day , and so many tears I have cried
I have cried before she and I met 
As a child , so many tears, left confused inside .

Not understanding Why , and how could we stand by and live our lives as if this never happened ?

It happened , we are left in dismay of the movies seen the accounts taken of History 
My self ..I have caught stereotyping the very people whom did this to she , the rest of her Family erased .


The white candles we light , we try and forgive , or just simply block this pain out completely.

It occurs , over and over , as it has been said History will repeat .
When thinking of my children , when I think of that little girl losing ,  cold and scarred , feeling only defeat .

There is a lesson here and I pray , that all whom have been taken from life , have no pain and are gifted spirits throughout eternity . May they be warmed with love,  and reunited with the ones they lost .

The first time I met her , her old hand I took and warmed it with mine , I held it for a long time . 
You could not,  but notice ..the Evil imprinted on skin , the Evil only to remind.
This very old Soul , in her eyes you could see . 
The child that once lived , so innocently free, not aware yet,  of the Hostility .

I speak of a Little girl, I speak of a old woman , I speak of a Jewish,  chosen Religion.

There as I held her frail , old hand  , a brand , a number stamped in Evil a long time ago .   In 1945  , once in our distant, yet Frightening  past . 

We should never forget , never forget it happened , never forget all the names .
If we do , we have learned nothing , A World living in Shame .
                                " Etta Babooshka Kofman  "


Details | I do not know? | |

A Story My Mother Told Me

someone always told me this with tears in her eyes...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)


a wife left South Africa in the 1960’s to join her husband 
who was in exile at the time...

in 1970 the husband was sent by the African National Congress to India to be its representative there...

the husband and wife spent two years in Bombay...

one afternoon the husband fell and broke his leg...

the wife knocked on their neighbour’s door, in an apartment complex in Bombay

the neighbour was an old Punjabi lady...

the wife asked the neighbour for a doctor to see to the injured husband...

a Parsi ‘Bone-Setter’ was promptly summoned...

the husband still recalls his anxiety of seeing ‘Bone-Setter’ written on the Parsi gentleman’s bag...

by the way, the ‘Bone-Setter’ worked his ancient craft and surprisingly for the husband, his broken leg healed quite soon...

but still on that day, while the ‘Bone-Setter’ was seeing to the husband...

the wife and the old Punjabi lady from next door got to talking about this and that and where these new Indian-looking wife and husband were from as their accents were clearly not local...

the wife told the elderly Punjabi lady that the husband worked for the African National Congress of South Africa and had left to serve the ANC from exile...

and that they had left their two children behind in South Africa and that they were now essentially political refugees...

the Punjabi lady broke down and wept uncontrollably...

she told the foreign woman that she too had had to leave her home in Lahore in 1947 and flee to India with only the clothes on her back when the partition of the subcontinent took place and Pakistan was formed and at a time when Hindus from Pakistan fled to India and vice versa...

the Punjabi lady then asked the foreign woman her name...

‘Zubeida’, but you can call me ‘Zubie’...

the Punjabi woman hugged Zubie some more, and the two women, seperated by age and geography, wept, sharing a shared pain...

the Punjabi woman told Zubie that she was her ‘sister’ from that day on, and that she felt that pain of exile and forced migration and what being a refugee felt like...

Zubie and her husband Mosie became the closest of friends with the Hindu Punjabi neighbours who were kicked out of Pakistan by Muslims...

then came the time for Mosie and Zubie to leave for Delhi where the African National Congress office was based...

the elderly Punjabi lady and Mosie and Zubie said their goodbyes...

a year or two later, the elderly Punjabi lady’s daughter Lata married Ravi Sethi and the couple moved to Delhi...

the elderly Punjabi lady called Zubie and told her that her daughter was coming to Delhi to live and that she had told Lata, her daughter that she had a ‘sister’ in Delhi...

Lata and Ravi Sethi then moved to Delhi...

This was in the mid-1970’s...

Lata and Zubie became the closest of friends and that bond stayed true, and stays true till today, though Zubie is no more, and the elderly Punjabi lady is no more...

the son and the husband still have a bond with Lata and Ravi Sethi...

a bond that was forged between Hindu and Muslim and between two continents across the barriers of creed and time...

a bond strong and resilient, forged by the pain and trauma of a shared experience...

and that is why, and I shall never stop believing this, that hope shines still, for with all the talk of this and of that, and of that and of this, there will always be a simple woman, somewhere, anywhere, who would take the ‘other’ in as a sister, a fellow human...

and that is why there will always be hope...
hope in the midst of this and of that and of that and of this...

hope...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)


Details | Free verse | |

Like a thief in the night -Thinking of September 11th

Another morning I got up and my thoughts returned here. Just wanted to put something of
the memory that lingers still today from scenes we saw of September 11th.  Scenes we would
like to but will never and should never forget.  I do not wish to cause further despair to
anyone but if anything bring some hope to those who are suffering safe in the knowledge
that they have the world behind them.  What has happened cannot be undone but with
strength and assistance from those who had the core torn from them as the horrors unfolded
and they watched on in disbelief we can be there for one another.  We can make sure the
memory of this tragic affair lives on, and in doing so help keep our own souls alive and
kicking... in hope all was not in vain, but that we shall learn from it and let the
promise of peace win through.  My heart and thoughts go out to all.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It doesn't matter today
if we build a building of immense height
like North and South towers of World Trade Centre
even if to use as defence system
just as we would have built a castle on a hill
in times gone by - times have changed
New buildings and memorials will now stand
in recognition of who/what was on said land
Their memories will always continue
as will the vision on t.v. all did view
Where minds stood still in disbelief
while strike after strike we all felt grief
Where tears were shed by billions of eyes
War was declared with no defence in skies

It doesn't matter today
we most probably wouldn't even see
as our enemies approached
Like a thief in the night they came
stealing from us that most precious
those whom we loved or cared about

What matters today
is that for all eternity history has been made
Times we cannot change
Broken genealogical lines gone forever
Marks made on the landscape - irreplaceable
Never can anything stand for what was again
Humanity and psychological effect remains
We may not all have lost those known to us
but we stand together shoulder to shoulder
Encircling those that remain
Knowing each one of us had our soul torn
Our eyes darkened by Hells darkest Angels
When none could believe that before their eyes
Planes came crashing through the skies

Out of ashes a phoenix, a nation arises
and with it the world reawakens
We will not sleep but remember
A tragic time when so high a cost was paid
with unknowing souls now recognised
What right to take such brave innocent lives


Details | Rhyme | |

Why all this Destructions

Why all this Destructions? – Zamreen Zarook

God created this whole universe for the mankind,
He gave everything lavishly, thinking that we might be kind,
Even though people are able, they seems to be blind,
Whereas people failed to mind.

The sky which was created for the man started to scream and cry,
Since good morals and ethics were decry,
The fire started to do the mimicry,
As the water lands cannot bear, it came to man with a battle cry.

Land couldn't hold and it started to gorge,
Fresh air merged with chemicals and started to urge,
Whatever created for the man have started to over charged,
Stop evil and let the merits be enlarged.


Details | Concrete | |

The 13th amendment

Footsteps heard from afar 
Caught in the glimpse of 
Strange shadows on walls,
the unknowable visor of 	
approaching men in uniform, 
wedged in the unbroken frames 
of those shadows;
Carrying their guns and arms,
They throw a basket of broken
Legs lost in the war, a dump yard
Of human remains

And there through the window
Struck by the very first sight
Are those pair of peeping eyes
That seek answers for all that is
Left and is yet to come,
They speak of all the pain
Felt in the anguish of the bygones,
A struggle to fight for
All that is fair and just, 
To level the men of his ‘breed’
One amongst many born unequal
They see affected patterns of color,
The raunchy division of scattered
Privileges 

In moments of solitariness, they
Look ahead into the future with a
Vision so pure; 
a utopian ideal it seems
To many of his kind, unachievable yet
Worth fighting for, for years
Of unsolicited beatings, they
Only wish to see a world of 
Equals, the world as a homogeneity of
Dark and blank pieces, 
 
Men of ‘his breed’ 
Stand up to wrong all the
Blank pieces covered in shadows
By the ‘darkness’ of their own
Misdeeds, 
So a world without
Fear would be created for once,
The end of a gruesome chapter
And the beginning of a liberal one


Details | Rhyme | |

Man's Corruption God's Redemption

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Jim Pemberton   


Details | Italian Sonnet | |

Exploded Revere

Each and every heart has lost its way
Xanadu is just fictitious, this you know.
Pain flows with love, as the wind doe s blow.
Love can be pretty or just as ugly any day.
One heart beats so different, in every way.
Dear lonely heart, listen to your spirit glow.
Each passing moment will tell the way to row.
Dream your desires, but live in reality today.

Revelations shall take your heart for a little ride.
Explosions build and fall, love has crescendos.
Veer carefully in passions lost, before you decide.
Eventual truth will guide you; out of these woes.
Respect your soul, don’t let your heart be the only guide
Every love shows, grows, though not without repose.


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus to Iran

In Iran they march
"Where" they ask "is my vote gone?"
Answered by truncheon

God, Allah, they call
In His name, holy, oppress
Gods weakest children

Other news shall show
Western television screens
But we wont forget

Hundreds dead now
We only know one name, one face
A prayer for them say


Details | Lyric | |

Come Lie With Me

Come lie down.
Beside me 
there’s no other.
Push my firm words
inside your head, 
my hard love,
‘cause tough love 
crack tough skull.
You’re revolving on the rim.
Come,
come down to me, 
a stream of knowledge.

A woman was here.
Inside my head
I hold books.
She went with bungalow 
and children.
Children are children; 
like monkeys they mimic 
Her every step painted in vivid green.
Come, 
come lie down.
Beside me my story is. 
The truth 
is never a tale 
spilled from sweetened lips. 

Come, 
come down here, 
come lie down.
Beside me 
there is none 
that can whisper this chronicle, 
my chocolate story – 
bitter-brown  – 
composed with blood and feather pen.
Sculpted in her head is 
her post-colonial self.
Come taste of the wine I’m poured.
Come, come,
come lie with me.


Details | Tanka | |

The Virtuous White Rose

--**--The Virtuous White Rose--**--

White rose is holy
Matrimony pureness of
Bond between lovers.
Blessing  to Old Rome deceased’s
Chastity and innocence.

White Rose in myth and
Legend was tainted by blood,
Made blush from kiss, thus
Made it red and made it pink
Against its pride purity.


Details | I do not know? | |

WE ARE INDEPENDENCE!

We are Tausug Nation
Defending independence
Free from the enemies
Stood not to get oppressed

Our Nation ruled
Of the country’s independence
Never conquered from then
We shall develop our land

Our country, nation is known
Home of courageous person
Bound only in one faith
Never care of the death

Tumantangis, Dahu peaks of our land
To Bagsak, Sinumaan
And to all the mountains here
Only one God is aimed

Zamboanga, Basilan, North Borneo, Palawan
Centre is in Sulu land
Ruled by the Sultan
From the early point of time

Our nation is united
In the name of faith is complete
Only God is firm
Determined not to get conquered

Land of the pearl garden
Sulu Sea in the world is famous
From the South and North
And East and West

Blood of Martyrs flowed in the vein of the Sug Nation
Fought to defend
Flag rose like Vinta strip
Eternal pledge appeared


Details | Rhyme | |

Buried Truth

Years of history, failures and mistakes, 
written through the eyes of winners.
What happened to the other side,
the story of the so-called sinners?

We all find peace when truth finds us, 
but not when it has been locked away.
We will not know what has been taken, 
from those who died that day.

Only those who were silenced know what had conspired;
a truth filled with their feelings.
The victors took the circuits and had them rewired
to fit in with the wheeling and dealing.

And what have we now but a half- told tale, 
filled with glimpses of the truth that we seek.
What would have happened if the rewriting had failed, 
the strong now regarded as weak?



Details | Dramatic monologue | |

LET US NEVER FORGET

Social injustice and economic inequality 
have always been practiced in our Nation's working industry
Irish need not apply, Hispanics we don't want your kind
and Blacks don't even show your face
this was the typical response to ethnic minorities in America's workplace

nepotism and favoritism were the norm and status quo
as it was not about your knowledge or skill but about who you know
let us never forget the unions and labor laws which evened the playing field
for if it was left up to corporate America economic inequality would never yield

Racism, discrimination and segregation on our Nation's history is a blight
and in spite of all the civil rights laws we still have to fight
for a measure of equal opportunity 
for some respect and a little dignity

let us never forget the Rev. Dr. King Jr., Medgar Evers, Cesar Chavez and Rosa Parks
those who stood up against injustice by igniting a socially conscious spark
they did not back down, they would not back off, they took a moral stance
so that every single human being in this country could have an equal chance

We hold these truths to be self-evident that all citizens shall be treated the same
regardless of race, color, age, gender or how we pronounce your name
and as we celebrate Black History Month let us never forget those who led the fight
in the struggle for social justice, economic equality and basic human rights


Details | Ballade | |

ABORIGINAL RESIDENTIAL SCHOOL, 1927

THE BLANCHING

Gone, the sun dance, gone, the beat of the drum,
forbidden by the phantoms who stole us away.
No dreamcatchers here so the nightmares come,
and lashes from thick belts bully our play,
branding even the youngest Ojibwa
who ache for family, long for their lands,
but dare not speak what their tribal hearts say
as church and state slowly blanch the red man.

Beneath my skin, I hear the Great Spirit hum
as the priest yells of sins on Sabbath day.
Bellies are empty, we scrounge for small crumbs
on scrawny knees while we’re forced to pray
before we drink blood to kill our wicked ways.
My native tongue has been muted and banned,
but visions tell tales, old memories stay
though church and state slowly blanch the red man.

The circle of life hides from the sacrarium,
my warm wiigiwaam is so far, far away,
we feel the cold as we’re taught decorum, 
and the girl who’s stood since dawn now sways
but she remains like a totem on proud display.
Each hour seems whiter, part of their plan,
we scrub with bleach, read Psalms, tearfully obey
for church and state slowly blanch the red man.

Weep for the taken and the peace English betray
for they sent us to hell to say that we’re damned,
as we witnessed our birthright first pale then decay
while church and state tried to blanch the red man.





*This ballade uses slant rhyme and loosened syllable counts intentionally. 
For more information and to read of the near ethnocide of First Nations People: --- http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/story/2008/05/16/f-faqs-residential-schools.html


Details | Rhyme | |

To Too Fast

Perplexed by the changes of technology so fast,
Maybe my mind will not manage or last.
If technology continues upon this speed,
Our personal minds we will never need.
When man no longer has any need for a mind.
That will be the end of all of humankind.


Details | Free verse | |

A Costly Mistake

Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION


Details | Light Poetry | |

' More Than Any Of Us ... '

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Braver … Than Any Human Being, Ever Born)

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

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

                 Amen

            His  MoonBee


Details | Rhyme royal | |

" Bahama Nation"

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Free verse | |

Sesizlik

Ya simdi
Inanilmazi  
Yasamak varmis 
Vatanini  koruyan
Ordusunun komutani
Teroriste olurmus

Ya simdi
Yeni  kurallar ve karanlik  gelecekler
Agzina bir parmak bal mi caldilar
Yarana biber mi  bastilar
 Acma agzini  karsiysan  da be kulum
Cezasi buyuktur  yigitligin agritir basin
 
 
Ya simdi
Gune baska bakan
Silivrinin  yolcusu
Bekler yillarini
Yarginin  sonucunu
Eskiden  meshurdu yogurdu


Ya simdi
Kim kaldi  
Demokrasi oturkenini
Donusturecek tilsim
Sadece  isiitigim
Sessizlik  sessizlik


Details | Couplet | |

Indigenous I Am, from the Stolen Generations

This is a journey, a trip call it what you will It follows the footsteps of my ancestors, and allows my thoughts too spill Firstly let me take you back, to tell you so little of my past Indigenous I am, from the "Stolen Generations" I did not last This is why I must make this journey, to allow me to find the real me To retrace the few steps I made, to rediscover what my young eyes seen How ironic that the person I'll ride with, is the son of the then official Whose deliberation to round up us children, the scene, locale It's now the morn of our travel, where I look I find hard to see The peripheral of the distant horizon, is all that really captures me The town where I grew up so young, barely to the age of five Perth, now bustles like a termites nest, zig zagging in busily strive Into the bush we go, to a place where us youngsters so enjoyed Moore River Native Settlement, which soon became children void As I walk my arid lands, patterned in the heat of this day I recall with every step, where us Indigenous children played We could survive on the smallest of fruit, water we could easily find Even the son of the then official, said that we are a superior kind He marvelled when I spotted tracks, traces of where animals crossed Remembering back to when I was five years old, our lands always talked We opened up as we led our horses, introduced all those centuries ago They opened up my lands, rivers we walked, now the white man flows This is a journey I had to make, it's called, it's in my will No more "Stolen Generations" no more will my culture spill


Details | I do not know? | |

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


The Nameless


Slipping through the sieve of history,

the nameless rest.

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

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

The nameless rest.

Their silent sacrifice,

quiet ordeal,

muted trauma,

remain interred,

amongst their remains.

The nameless rest.

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

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

The nameless rest.

They rest within us,

they walk with us,

in every step that we tread.

They rest within us,

they walk with us,

for their spirit is not dead.


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


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


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


Details | Free verse | |

Day Servants -- Servientas Diarias

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


(For translation, see "About This Poem")


Details | Free verse | |

THE FULL MOON BLOOMS

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


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


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


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


Details | Free verse | |

A SOCIETY'S SECULAR DREAM

Socrates and Cicero
incorporated civility as a powerful, effective tool
in their poetry and dialogues
to smite the unsound ways of the sly fool.
Today our society
snaps with anger at such wise thoughts,
having little regard 
or respect for its laws, and so disobedience
grows at an alarming rate, 
to set up garrison; and would the modern
barbarians absorb the substance
of the proposed, logical ideas?
Cognizance is learned by knowledge and deed!!
Any Nation embracing civility
can guarantee its citizens order and harmony,
and as a matter of conscience,
its a rendition of many values not coercing
a free spirit, but allowing it
to coexist to make many, who rebel, cogitate.
Civilization can't survive,
if its pillars don't rest on its foundation as Greece 
and Rome did! Do we despise
them with smirks and smuts, not appreciating
what made them truly great....
assuring everybody peace and prosperity?
Good, lovable and fair parents
raise virtuous children to be beacons of morality,
and does faith contribute to their
well-being by instilling in them amorous sentiments?
We have seen courageous men 
and women defend their right to choose,
to exist without being imposed restrictions... 
and they succeed in their quest!
All that Mankind wishes and dreams
can be achieved by being trustworthy and diligent;
greatness awaits those holding up
those values that still are a society's secular dream.


Details | I do not know? | |

Tomorrow is Ours



Tomorrow is Ours.


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

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

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

but,

tomorrow shall be ours,

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

tomorrow shall be ours,

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

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

we are here, now, alive with hope,


we shall rightfully claim our own tomorrows.





Details | I do not know? | |

POLITICALLY CORRECT, MORALLY INEPT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Rhyme | |

Times of Trouble Are Ahead

Read the Bible and the words that are said. Times of trouble and tribulation are ahead! All one has to do is read the book of revelation. To read about this world and this nation! Days of wickedness and evil that abounds.. Shall very soon. Come “crashing to the ground!” For our sin, there’s a price that has been paid! Many have become sin’s servant and slave! Many will not escape God’s judgment and wrath! They’ve chosen the wrong direction and path! Right now... There’s a path and a way to “escape!” Please do it right now! Before it’s too late! The right path to take, is through Christ alone! He must be the lord of your heart and home! Jesus alone, can bring hope to your soul! He’ll never leave you! Is what he wants you to know! Times of trouble and uncertainty are well on their way! Christ can help you to overcome! He can do it TODAY! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Free verse | |

This Union Means Jack

Twitching limply atop an Ulster lamppost
Like a hung man, legs kicking in spasm at the last seconds of life
Its bigoted purpose now spent and now abandoned to the elements
No longer recognisable as the flag of union, a rag, a disgrace

Its fate summarises the fall of a culture that once honoured it
A proud nation of proud men, of starched collars and stiff upper lip
Colonially pink maps on schoolroom walls bore testament to empire
An empire won and lost when the map turned from pink to red
 
Up and at ’em lads! For King and country! Hold the banner high!  
Ypres and the Somme, regiments of the brave under one colour
The twitching curtains of multi-culture now fearful of the emblem
The emblem of abhorrence uncased by those not qualified to fly it

Patriotism, a narrow path parting pride from prejudice
Defined by a flag, one duplicitous fluttering cloth, a split personality
Now the badge of hooligan, xenophobe and pop diva
Courage now gone, bleached by sun, washed by rain…atop an Ulster lamp post


Details | Rhyme | |

Nothing More Or Less

Millions of lives and souls untold
And to account it all
Words, lines, films
Imagination trims
A sliver of soft, scarlet ribbon
Hollywood rounds
Quills deliver
Writers flare with passion so strong
Filling minds with fantasies, reveries, histories
Tragedies
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
Dead
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


Details | Free verse | |

Curled Up With Shakespeare

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

marveling
at the depth of words 
nuances read 
between lines 

knowing that 
many hands 
had turned 
the same pages 


reaching 
different conclusions 
and evoking 
myriads of emotion 

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

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

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

my tears fell
upon parched pages 
leaving 

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


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

 

leaving nothing at all  
for history 

to record...


 


Details | Free verse | |

Star Of David

he stood 
among the swasticka's 


a star 
in the center of chaos


and still
he couldn't comprehend


with ticket in hand 
for a train 
that was heavily laden 
with lost hope 


he was bound and gagged 
by religion 
that was neither practiced 
or received 

yet he was convicted 
by birth 
advocating his death


tears would not save him 


German words would convict 
spoken with accents 
of David 
yet there would be no 

slaying of Goliath 


and so he went 
without a word in yiddish


to ovens readily heated 
and skin was but butter for 
German bread 


he walked among the gentile's 
and was slain 
for he was too gentle 


like a lamb to the slaughter

they dined on mutton 

of Jewish mute 

 

evil knows no boundaries 

for it exerts power and control 

 

and those that are complacent 

will pay the price with life 

 

Star of David 

shone 

but was covered 

by German eclipse

 

blocking the glow

 

extinguishing the flame 

 

 

 





Details | Free verse | |

The Thin Color Line

I smell them, 
coming like a landfill 
racing against my success, 
a race with spaces 
divided by a thin color line
The world is printed like an aged Washington Post; 
quite a man he was, old George 
Nothing akin to Abraham, 
who knows, a man is just a man

Of the few that perched on the edge, 
some, their seats were taken when the three came
In September we break devil’s backbone
and cut the camel thorns; 
some were used for fuel, 
but one was allowed to flourish 
Near Ground Zero, a monument was erected 
echoing the sacrifices to Allah, 
because he begged for New York like Jerusalem, the unholy 

So, you see, my calamity is painted 
Deep within my roots 
are things that boil my blood 
and colored me for my judgment
While the races are numerous,
we forfeit the only we should run
We are HUMAN, we are of that race only
I’ve mentioned the “college” in prior times, 
how my journey was almost blurred; 
I was forced along a path directed by a thin color line, 
and ordered to run a race the God did not design



Details | Free verse | |

The Newest Old Movement

We watched Frida Kahlo 
with our backs toward the rice fields
The monkey fits tightly to her breast, 
her right breast. A parrot 
on her left shoulder; two chatter-boxes that mimic
What if the wolves pull our wool over our eyes?

In lands where barbarians sacrifice youths for takings, the woman 
that speaks like a man wears the trousers in our houses
She muddled up many sharp wits, but not mine; 
I’ve seen the Adam’s apple
Why are we standing taller than our heroes, 
and what honor is a wheel-chair to a builder?

We‘ve seen Miss Kahlo these days, she believes she can 
paint a brighter picture. Her children are media fed, 
and far from initiative; they hunger to prove Marx’s theory, 
but are scared of the manifesto and the horror 
mushroomed by the monkey and the parrot on News at Ten
In George’s house, where some acquire the taste for caviar, 
a man is understood like Fidel if he argues for an amendment

When Frida went out for tea, and Donald considered running
From behind the white wall came the joke, and the four winds
were primed to laugh.  The monkey whispers lies to Sarah, 
and the parrot is frequent on the Oprah Show, 
Oprah, like Frida Kahlo, wears testes, 
not under corset but beneath Victoria Beckham


Details | Ballad | |

BESIDE EVERY GREAT WARRIOR OF OLD

Men were given total dominion
over all living things, and when
they subdued their enemy:
they were granted immortality!

Beside every great warrior of old, 
there was a strong woman of humility,
who gave him a victorious  sword;
and helped him change the course of history! 

Emperess Theodora was one of them to show adversity;
when Noka's revolt broke out:  she decided to stay,
while her hushand, Justinian, fled the city;
what an admirable act of feminity!

Beside every great warrior of old,
there seems to be a look of invincibility,
a defying moment to obtain glory;
and the cost for a golden crown is well-known!

Be the warrior of modern times, treatened by fear and fragility, 
seek out the man you were destined to be;
trust that woman who posseses internal beauty,
and beside this warrior, her courage will guide you with dignity!


Details | Free verse | |

Christmas delights!

Clouds garland snow capped mountain peak
Icy snow butterflies melt kisses upon my nose
Puffs of warm, moist breath balloons billow out before me,
quickly chilling, disappearing before my eyes
Crunching snow compacts beneath booted feet
Prints set deep, little more than momentary reminder 
of where you have stepped before
Crisp white blanket glints
almost winking it’s Christmas card welcome
as it’s vast white carpet spreads before you beckoning 
All of nature along with everything manmade becomes anew
Nothing seems out of place
A bird lands on branch of tree causing cascade of padded canopy
New mound takes position with little noticed effect on perfect landscape

Children laugh and run as they hurl packed balls at one another
Dashing, darting, ducking and returning rogue ammunition
to offending hand and screams of pleasure
Slipping, falling they tumble over repeatedly 
Waving arms and legs, when finally still to create snow angels
Then, standing up clothed as abominable snowman
Giving rise to fresh ideas as new creation begins with rolling snow
Bigger and bigger they chase and push, packing tight as they go
Another ball a little smaller to place on top of first for head
Then off they scatter in all directions looking to clothe their model
Returning with woollen hat scarf 
carrot and stones to place as eyes nose and mouth with button features
Admiring they know their masterpiece shall be short-lived
For mother nature’s hand will chance to create another slushy muddy puddle


Details | Lyric | |

The Ex-soldier

I happen upon a veteran, once,
An old man
With a four-sprang cane
And war tales
Stretched like China wall.
This event transpired in very recent past.
The man turned out to be pterodactyl
And flew away. 
I fell upon a boy, once,
A once child soldier,
A hero
Released
From youth and life.
Oh, how time has changed.
Men are taught to bicker,
Children are trained to fight. 


Details | Elegy | |

My Kashmir Burns (Part 1)

I picture Kashmir through lightened KL. News of another massacre darkens my eyes
Winds are thirsty there. They continue to taste the young blood.
I groom myself with exquisite things,
Sipping ice tea in ac room, I comfort myself
And Kashmir burns. Kashmir set ablaze

I can smell the warm blood of beaten corpse
Where from winds bought this smell. Somewhere Karbala reborn.
Mosques are being slammed
There windows stoned. And the black boots leave their footprints on Mimber
Even God judges on evidence
There is one Imaam left now; he hides her daughters in his shadow
A blunt knife in his hands; soon he will sacrifice them to keep their innocence
Kashmir is burning. Kashmir is bleeding
And I write.

Army jeep chases the tracks. To find the associated bodies
They are alive now. Soon they will be dead
From Patan to Sopor, And in narrow passages of nostalgic downtown
Ghosts of curfew
Haunt the houses for young souls.

From the Kupwara cantonments, search lights chase emptiness
Nothing is left now. Search lights can’t see inside the graves
A boy there went missing for two days. His father starts digging his grave.
I put my earphones on and I close my eyes. I sleep
While my Kashmir is ablaze
“It’s me poor farmer’s son. Kupwara’s charm, I feel no pain”.
I see him so alive in my dreams.
He chants songs of Mahjoor from his burnt lips. My hands shiver. He has no finger nails.
I see his smoke tanned skin. Same as that of Khayam’s barbeques
He stands at a distance from me. I can still smell kerosene
“Tell my mother to let her heart become cold. Her heart will not bear my state.
Tell my mother to let her eyes become blind. Her eyes will not withstand my sight.”
I follow him towards his tortured body. He tells me to follow the spilled blood.
His blood has made its own Jhelum. I row on it. Until it gets lost in black boots
The story will turn into legend. I find his body no more.

On the streets silence prevails. Nobody has permission to wail.
Sisters are beatifying coffins while brothers look for stones.
For bullets there will be stones
Kashmir is ablaze. She is wailing in grotesque tones.
In Lal Ded hospital a new born cries: Father register me at cantonment then take me out
Death is recruiting in dozens at a time.
Tomorrow is curfew. Death has no curfew pass.
How they want to identity you. Becomes your identity
People burn up all you identity cards.


Details | Haiku | |

colors of freedom

colors of freedom
remind us what wars have cost --
we must not forget


Details | I do not know? | |

The Petty Posh-WahZee - Liberation and Ostentation



The Petty Posh-Wahzee - Liberation & Ostentation


The Not-So Distant Past:

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

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

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

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


The Present:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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








Details | Shape | |

Uncle Sam's Hokey Pokey -- shaped as his top hat

                                  


Uncle Sam's Hokey Pokey
                                 _______________________                                                
                                     l      l      l       l        l 
                                     ya' put your red flag in
                                                  ya'
                                      put your red flag out
                                                  ya'
                                       put your red flag in
                                               and ya'
                                       shake it all around.
                                       *           *          *
                                  ya' stop this hocus pocus
                              and we'll turn this thing around
                                end war's what it's all about!


Details | Sonnet | |

Book Launch

The generous seas do roam vividly,
And sacred words spoken earnestly.
People suffer and people go to war,
I just hope these words will go afar.

Yesterday I published a FREE book,
Indeed a feat of altruism, no crook!
I suffer in silence in every moment.
I have no money to publish a stunt.

I was just hoping for word-of-mouth
And email propagation as loudmouth.
Book is at: http://bookbooster.com/newage.htm
I accept feedback just at: percarus@hotmail.com

OFFICIALLY THE MOST ELOQUENT STORY TELLING POETRY BOOK EVER WRITTEN
-ALL NON FICTION- (This spiel typed in the spur of the moment - God Bless you)


Details | ABC | |

Green People

I see green people
They tell me they come in peace 
But they are showing me the roots to all evil
I see green people
They try to disguise their intentions 
But their actions are so see through
I see green people
They are the true world leaders
There are no free actions or thoughts
You do or think what they want you to
I see green people
They manipulated all of our history
So if we were to find the truth
It doesn't matter because their is no proof
I see green people
As their head grow larger 
I continue to have distant dreams of me being considered a equal
I see green people
They told me to worship them or die
Close my eyes and look through the lies
Because without them 
There is no chance to walk among the Gods
I see green people 
And there is no doubt about it
They truly show me the roots to all evil





Details | Free verse | |

Southern Tradition

Southern Tradition

Daddy didn't look at them as they 
passed by
August illuminating unkempt hair 
and
worn-out hand-me-downs
a woman and her four children
walking in the road 
to avoid the sidewalk on our side.

I see her every day
but she doesn't have time
to see me, ebony eyes
too busy watching  babies
crying over the hot asphalt

Daddy spits and shakes his head.
' Too sorry to buy a car!'

Years later a muddy red boot print
graces our front door
A gift from a long grown child
(confident as a ghost who's never 
been seen)
in exchange for the tv  in the trunk
of a car his Mama never had


Daddy spits and shakes his head.
' Well look at where they come from!'


Details | Free verse | |

A True Credo Of Love

(To All Who Believe It Can Be Achieved)


Caucasoid, Mongoloid,and Negroid
Colour the conscience progression 
of Man's ethical Truths...
The cultural aggressions of violence
and ignorance must end!
Extend your heart, hand and life
Towards the Precious Don of Honour...
Freely, keeping the sincere
Brotherly Creed


 

Comments:  Brothers and Sisters it is time that we stand up and let the Love of God in, after 
all we are all one in the same under the skin, so why not give it a grand try... One Love and 
Many Blessings in Him Always, Adell


Details | Couplet | |

Fallen Angels

"Angels descending, bring from above
echos of mercy, whispers of love."

And that is the fallen angels lie.
corrupted beings that will never die.

Ruling the earth apart from God's throne.
by enslaving humans, their evil has grown.

Promising mercy, lust, riches and power,
twisting souls as one, like Babels tower.

Throughout history, again and again,
they have sought the conquest and worship of men.

Beyond the veil, they work, plot and scheme,
planting seeds in our hearts to blaspheme.

Building the New World Anti-Christ empire.
Final earthly kingdom set for fire.



For the "Fallen Angels" contest.


Details | Free verse | |

Christmas 2009

Recession made Christmas harder than ever before
Family’s splitting – money the core
Dad’s leaving to live on the street
So that young hungry mouths are able to eat
That some extra cash might be in the house
and children might learn what Christmas is about?
But without Dad gone, roof would be lost
for the bills are much higher – we can’t meet the cost
No longer can the average family budget
2009, jobs lost, even working struggle to afford it
Commercialism needs to stop building hopes and dreams
Childern don’t understand you are busting at the seams
Disappointment reigns as kids outside taunt and tease
No longer we fit in we’re all on our knees
Sinking. Even love has fallen apart
We don’t want this Christmas just haven’t the heart!
Expectation lower, depressions set in
Politicians not helping the hole we’re all in
Instead raising taxes they’ll crucify more
and this miserable life could be at your door
Will someone tell them that family should be together
sharing love, life, hopes dreams whatever they weather


Details | Rhyme | |

Perfidy to the Fidelity

I see perfidy to the fidelity which is replete of your treachery 
Too bad we ain’t cool, because for you was a melody 
About the despicable ingredients that thrive back then
To create aspersions for my heart to grow fat in
You having a back of mine was thought to be perpetual 
From grabbing the horns, I saw it was all bull
So when I manifest this light, you shouldn’t be in my sight
I’m watching my own back when you enter a fight
No more under the timber, will my name be in December
Forgive and forget the final Thursday of November
Perfidy to the fidelity, I’ll always remember 


Details | Limerick | |

Quit Wasting My Time { Edit }

<                               One by one they'll shall roll on and come
                                 Like soldiers marching to beaten drums
                                 Echoes  are acknowledge
                                 Cast across thy arched bridge
                                 Haste makes waste even for everyone




Inspired By
Carolyn Devonshire's Contest
Follower Or Leader
GL All


Details | Free verse | |

Thin line

Thin line between politics and truth
Be a man like sword  both sides  akin
What could do man without wearing  mask
Making promises in his dreams without cutting corners
What could do man make others wear his shoes
Afraid of how much  his followers can  take
Betray his felowship  become an enemy



Details | Free verse | |

The Wait

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Details | I do not know? | |

You call yourself a father

Growing up was hard for me,
I think i grew up to soon,
I had to take charge in the big brother role,
But also i had to take hold to the father role somehow.

My mom was the only one who was there for her children,
We knew that she loved us,
She was in love with my father but he wasn't faithful,
So she found someone else who showed her true love.

My siblings never truly understood it,
I tried my best to encourage them to behave,
Which they listened but to a certain point,
Finally my mom married her true love and the caos began.

My father tried to step back in the picture,
My siblings began to side with my father not knowing the seriousness,
I decided to talk to them one-on-one but neither of them listened,
They wanted for my mom and father to be together.

One day my mother sat them down,
Telling them the hurt and pain she experienced with my father,
She explain to them the whole nine yards,
They understood then and began looking at my father differently.

Getting to the stage of middle school,
We began to see less of our father,
It was his choice...not ours,
He wouldn't call for our birthdays or holidays,

So we leaned mostly on our step-father,
They wouldn't accept him as father,
He would do all he could for us,
But instead the only one(s) who really let him be a father figure was me and the 
youngest brother.

My step-father loves my mom and has been there for her going on Fifteen years.
He is a firm talk like he's a policeman or something,
But he is a nice person.
My mom loves him and so do we.

So this is a message for all of the children out there who has a no good father....if 
your mom has a man or husband, please treat him right because he is there to 
protect your mom and you all. Thanks for listening!!


Details | Free verse | |

Marked With His X

amid shackles and ropes 
with fire burning 
hatred into eyes 
a child stood 
without understanding 

seeing tears wet 
on mama's cheeks
and papa's goodness 
spread hatefully 
upon tracks
displayed as flags 
of their righteousness

worth descended
into slavery
of white opinions
placed on heads 
bleeding into 
superiority
expressed in violence 

he grew to become 
the hate 
that hate produced
with a fierce 
determination 
to offer freedom 
for all peoples 
who suffered at the hands 
of racist oppressors 

by any means 
necessary 
became the creed 
adopted from years 
of watching whites 
cover their crimes 
with veiled innocence 

what is not given 
freely 
must be demanded 
for to suffer 
in silence 
is complicity 
to accept 
is stupidity
to do nothing 
is cowardice 
and he was none of these

no one race 
is divine
only God is thus

and so he stood, tall 
against all those 
who deemed him 
unworthy 
taking his seat 
at the table 
of humanity 
demanding to be fed 
as all humans 
have an inalienable right to 

demanding that truth 
be served 
on large platters 
for the world to consume 
for where there is truth 
lies can not hide 
and hope is born 
into minds and 
hearts

in his life he struggled 
to find that light 
but in time 
he stepped into it 
basking in its glow 
ready to shine 
enlightenment
on a world 
still shadowed in 
hate's darkness 

but he would pay 
the price for dreams
with his life 
yet the price 
was never too high 
for the dream lived on 
and thrived 
giving birth 
to a future
that he marked 

with his



X...





Details | Rhyme | |

All Roads Lead To The Holy Land

Hundreds of years would pass by, 
and still the battles raged. 
Arab and Palestinian enemies, 
new wars would now be waged. 

The land of milk and honey, 
where riches do abound. 
Is where you can always find, 
some army hanging round. 

What man doesn't understand, 
he tries to take by force. 
What he doesn't like it seems, 
he tries to change its course. 

Internal struggles abound, 
of who owns what and when. 
To the death it seems to be, 
their religion they will defend. 

Of the Jews they suffer still, 
persecution and so much woe. 
No matter where in this world, 
they ever choose to go.

Not one small piece of land, 
are they allowed to own. 
With the creation of Israel, 
hatreds seeds were planted and sown. 

Add in the Iranians, 
and all those from Iraq. 
Sprinkle in Afghanistan, 
and we have today's rather sad fact. 

The fight lives on and on, 
until all are in their grave 
Or one to the other themselves
will soon become enslaved. 

So now we've come full circle, 
with the crusaders trying to defend. 
The rights of one religion and race,
now on them have come to depend. 

There has to be hypocrisy there, 
or have we learned the lesson well. 
Did history teach us the truth, 
only time will too soon tell. 

Or is it just the same old game, 
as Peter and Adolf will attest. 
Is oil the riches that we seek,
again to feather our own nest.

The truth is hard to find, 
and even harder to discern. 
For man's power and greed,
inside our souls does burn. 

Under the guise of religion
or protection of our homes. 
There are way too many buried, 
as we climb upon their bones.



Details | Free verse | |

My Thing

Writing is my thing. My drug of choice. My bling bling.
I fall in love with the similies and mentions of passion while wrapping my body in 
sentences.
Creating complicated rhythms and making them simples as instances
Every line a differenet emphasis
Commas, explinations and periods
Sometimes rhyming and sometimes not
Stopping to puff so my thoughts can lock
Feeding hungry souls starved from starvation
Creating new creations
Making people feel the sensation as I build up to mind elevation

The quest for knowledge is not a game
Spoken movements teach about the pain
I write to ease the pain
Rhythms run deep

Deep underneath clouded visions of unspoken truth lies a message
a message...a message that should be taught accurately to the youth
About the struggle of a people that was misued
abused, refused, confused, raped, beaten down
uneducated
portrayed as clowns, coons, niggers, fools
Modern day niggas and goons
Wake up!! Did you hear the news?
You are responsible for you!
Imagine how it would be tho
If we were uninterrupted and brought overseas yo
Uprooted from a line of royalty kings and queens
Africa unite is all we'd sing
Rhythms run deeper into the seams of my being

I write to ease the pain of the oppressed
I write to celebrate their success
I write to educate the rest
The message..The message..The message is very clear
No time time to waste
The time is NOW
It's here!


Details | Imagism | |

English

I am colonization personified.
The foundation of my being,
my language of thought,
belongs not to those ancestors
whose blood now feeds my freedom,
but to the slave master
whose oppressive bark echoes deep within my mind.

I am colonization personified.
my strengths have died
as I have tried
with Afro centricity exemplified
to show my mother;
whose eyes cry
as they scan the horizon
and leave her with a sigh,
that in her smile
Afrika will never lie.

I am colonization personified.
Read these words
and see this as true.

Thabiso Nkoana©2005 


Details | I do not know? | |

Letters of Enslavement to Mr.President Obama

i have seen the coming of a great social change
and do believe in my case it means no passing
to a free and health interchange of life's greater moments (not exchange)

this is about, the enslavement of my life
that is based on the the extra freedom of others
so i do scream
in my shy small voice
"I am in slaved in America"
and i am ashamed
and i am dirty under the light 
I have seen that enslavement in America
and it, is but a pen and paper of mind indicting lies (not induction)
and smile of the upper class, that have dreams of glory 
that are hidden by an exchange of networks
by which agent play under no supervision
playing psycho mind controlling games 
on the weak and poor
and will and do punishment  me
and yet i am still frighten and small
necked in the wet rain of tear and  Ritualistic Abuse

under this insane cry,
you will not see me
you can not hear me
for how can you here a kitten trapped
a thousand miles away
alone in a dark room
striped of its ability to fight back
with out the proper words to make you understand
I have been framed
i have been systematically Hypnotize
this is a rape to my soul
please see past the fake paper work
and look deeper
and find the cover-up
clean up and swept-out your house
that holds the deeds of yesterday 
Wikipedia.org/wiki/Project_MKULTRA


Details | I do not know? | |

The Cowardice of the Taliban and The Silence of The Good Muslims

The Cowardice of the Taliban and The Silence of The Good Muslims.


When hot lead tears the flesh of a 14 year old girl,

ripping through her skull,
leaving her to bleed out and die,

does Allah not recoil in horror,

to see His child whimper,
to see His daughter cry.

Where is the indignation,

the anger that often boils over and manifests itself as flags and books and videos are burnt in mass orgies of hollow piety,

where are the voices that scream so loud,
that denounce all but their own creed,

where are the men, the impotent men who crave for nothing more than their fascist egos to feed,

where are the voices that so loudly proclaim,
enemies here and enemies there, always quick to condemn,

where are those voices when the enemy walks amongst them.

14 year old Malala Yousafzai was shot in cold blood,

her crime?

Advocating the rights of girls to an education.

Shame on you, men of bigotry and men of cowardice.

Shame on you, silent and mute accomplices in this carnage.

Shame on me,
for my inaction,

Shame on us all,
who proclaim lofty ideals,

yet are conspicuously silent,

when a 14 year old girl is shot in the head,

by fascist fundamentalist bigots who only worship bullets of hot lead.

Not in my name!

Not in my name,
shall the cowardly men rain down abuse,

Not in my name,
shall the bigoted men light the communalistic fuse,

Not in my name,
shall Malala Yousafzai be shot in the head,

left to bleed out,
while countless mothers' tears are shed,

not in my name,
shall religious murderers,
be left to wander free,

not in my name,
for I dare all believers to open their eyes,
to see!

To see,
the innocence of a 14 year old girl,
wanting only an education,

as the men of the cloth,
prance around with their pathetic self-righteous indignation.

I write this today,
the anger raging in my veins,

yet I fear,

that I shall write more of this,

unless we stand up and say 'no more',

I fear that I shall be writing this again,

until we all,

reclaim the true principles of humaneness,

until we silence the voices of bigotry,
of rage,
of fanatical insanity,

I fear I shall be writing this again,

and,

until the muck-ridden bile,
is not excised,

I shall continue to say,

NOT IN MY NAME!

Or else I shall have nothing,

but my unending shame.



(for Malala Yousafzai, 14 years old, in a critical condition after being shot in the head by the Pakistani Taliban, for her work as a young activist advocating the rights of girls to attend school)


Details | Rhyme | |

At the Wheel

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

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

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

We’ve let the bad guys
take the wheel.




Details | Rhyme | |

Not For Naught

What you do here, is your job, life, future and health.
Without each one of these, there will be no wealth.
Apply and learn each day that you live and breathe.
Give your all in whatever you do, protect with a sheave.
Don’t ever think, what you do, is just a plain job.
If you let this happen, it is your soul, spirit you rob.
What you do makes a difference, in someone’s life.
What mistakes you make, causes someone strife.
So take a new look, at what you do, every day for pay.
Take pride, take revelation look, and see life’s display.
Give thanks for all the work you do, with praise or not.
For without you and what you do, everything is for naught.


Details | Chant Royal | |

PI - Inspired by the movie

THREE year olds know about circles. They play
ring around the rosy and here we go round
the mulberry bush. And if one should say 
that in reality nowhere is found
a perfect circle, they either don’t hear
or won’t buy it.  Yet.  Another year
or so they’ll eat the awful truth and then
conventional wisdom will slip right in
to its proper place and babyish why
will give way to unexamined lives. Sin
preached from pulpits at preschool shrouds PI.

POINT to the red stop circle. Here’s the way
to walk safely: keep one foot on the ground
at all times.  Slowly and steadily. Stay
between the lines and never let the sound
of  critical thinking distract your ear
from the sound of my voice. I love you, dear.
Trust me to tell you what you need know when
you need to know it.  I tell you, I’ve been
granted credentials. Listen to me, I
pledge allegiances, comfort and even
wealth.  Conformity’s requirements stifle PI.

ONE damp March morn, buzzards circled the gray
expanse of four-laned wasteland where a hound
dog had foolishly chased a dove away
from any sign of obedience. Mound
after mound of petrified organs.  Clear
chords rang out. But the harsh grind of the gear
of  market driven semis hauling men
and their pimp wares of lies told by vermin
with disposable fantasies rolled by 
and outscreamed the prelude of peace. The end
justifies. Wall Street domesticates PI.

FOUR the fourth time, circle in ink to play
lucky numbers. Fortune cookies abound
with their scratch off oracles of big pay
and tight buns and white cuspids.  Wrap-around
leather skirts lust for more time and sincere
pleas for help get downsized. Year after year,
oblivious to the tipping of win
or lose scales to the right and left to grin
and bear it. Occasional urge to cry
‘til imbalance seems natural. If your skin
crawls take medicine. Addictions cloud PI.

ONE nation under God circles to sway
one lord one faith one baptism?   Joshua downed
Jericho and Truman blessed Enola Gay
to drop her horrid load  Does it astound
anyone anymore?  Or has the fear
of death obscured sacred tidings of cheer 
and replaced them with slick prayers to low men
in high places?   Hallelujahs in thin
screechy voices.  Who will dare to ask why?
Blind patriotism and religion
unsupported by spirit torture PI.

AND SO ON TO INFINITY. Again
and again and again.  There’s never been
an end or even a pattern.  We fly
around in circles, unaware. But when
we wake, we will come face to face with PI.

~~~~~~~~~~

the capitalized first words in each stanza when taken together are pi


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

D-Day Th' Day Cometh

"D"~DAY (TH' DAY COMETH...)


JUST AS PEACE,SEEMED TO EASE US OF MISERY...
DOUBT N' CONTEMPT ARISES,YET 'GAIN TO GREETETH OUR CONTENTMENT
TH' WORLD'S REQUIRING OF INTRICACY,RESOUNDS DINS OF DISDAIN
PLUCKING AT OUR SANITY'S STRINGS,THIS IGNORANCE REWARDS US MOROSE


TO TH' POINT OF BREAK,OUR TOLERANCE IS STRETCHED TAUGHT
REASONING NOW DOUSED OF DEBAUCHERY,OUR EMPATHY WAXES FUTILE
WHEN 'TIS FULFILLED,WRATH WILL RESTORETH SIGHT OF TH' OBLIVIOUS
FOR TH' TRUTH OF THEIR PRURIENCE,SHALL PROVE THEMSELVES PRIMITIVE


TH' PERVERSION OF KNOWLEDGE,ONCE MORE AFFIRMS DESECRATION
BY ADORNING OF GRACE WE WERE REDEEMED...NOW LOOMS DEATH OF DIGNITY
LUXURY SPREADS IT'S ROOTAGE,SO OF IT'S VINES WE ARE ENTANGLED
EXPEL TO HELL THEIR WANTONESS,N' THEIR EGOSTIC DESIRES OF GAIN


ABORTED FROM OUR WOMBS OF PIETY,THEY NOURISHED NO REMORSE
ROES OF REPRISAL THEY HATH CONCEIVED,OF PROFITOUS FORNICATIONS
THEIR SURETY IN AFFLUENCE,SHALL CERTAIN THEIR CONCLUSION
WHEN DULY ACHIEVED COMETH...


...THEIR DAY OF DESTINATION!



~AZAZA~'09


Details | Rhyme | |

What Do We Expect As We Seek to Remove God

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


Details | Lyric | |

A Running Chestnut- Acoustic Phonology

Toyous melody of childhood memories 	                                                          Board in tune becomes a high wire trapeze   						        Two cans and a string acoustic phonology 						               Each part paper comb sings the bucket drum 				                        With whizzing blade of grass in hands with breath hum  			              The paper roll trumpet blows ensemble strums         					    Running along the day grows as children play  				                   Rolling hillside a box becomes a sleigh  							     Tutor love pea shooter from across the way  				                      After a rain paper boat follows the drain    							           Bows arrows cornstalk fiddle finish reframe               					       Hoop and guider dolls cat and mouse homemade plain


Details | I do not know? | |

The Dumb Mother Award Gos Too

the dumbest mother, award goes too... dumb
me 
and why you may ask
because i am not home schooling right now
because my child my student 
fell softy asleep! during his math lessen today

i wanted to personally belittle him
and poke home with a learning stick      
and with a witchy voice say 
get up and open your eyes 
you can't get a job that way 

but i didn't do that, 
i just say are you sleepy 
and to my supreme surprise
he said in a most tired voice
Yes!

I just took him to the doctors 2 or 3 times 
and they found not one thing wrong 
the other is talking in his sleep too
and making sound so loud that 
he stop breathing and wake and talks
with words that could be made out to be anything
like words that are not of this the plant!

I want to wave my flag 
but there is not one to tell 
and what could keep my 
kids wanting to learn 
when there health is small and weak 
and there understanding that 
these who are to do no wrong 
just do nothing 
          
 aka:lyricvixen


Details | Rhyme | |

FLOODS

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

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

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

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


Details | Ode | |

An ode ter sheep an' mountain things

Whee am i, eh?
A'm Cumbrian thats whee, like eh.

Red, Green, Yellow

Once a year ower the Cumberland show,
Livestock, ter an' fro, ter an' fro.

Yan, Tan, Tether

Gypsies, jockeys, towns’ folk alike,
Appleby 'orse-fair awwer the dyke.

Red, Green, Yellow

Scotland has i's 'aggis, Lancashire i's ho' pot,
We 'ave uz sausage an' tha' does uz lo'.

Yan, Tan, Tether

Ice-cream a' Allonby shiftin' ter Silloth on sea,
Righ' round Wes' Cumbria an' back yam fur scordy, like eh.

Red, Green, Yellow

Up a' five an' ou' a' dawn,
The 'aaf-ne' fishers, early morn, like eh.

Yan, Tan, Tether

Keswick, Caldbeck an' Seascale too,
All the visitors passin' through.

Red, Green, Yellow

There’s Por' Carlisle on the warl,
People comin' yan an' all.

Yan, Tan, Tether

Whee am i, eh?
A'm Cumbrian thats whee, like eh.


Details | Rhyme | |

What If Christmas Never Came

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


Details | Free verse | |

Bullets rain tears

Young and innocent they went to school
 Expecting to learn and play
 Never in anyones wildest of dreams
 Did we expect that day
 For a rain of tears to shell them
 From one lost deep to sin
 But heavenly hosts came down for them
 Releasing them from him
 The devil he did have his day
 But God in end dost win
 For noubt will be lost but these young lives
 Will not be gone in vain
 The laws of the land will change in ways
 For it must not happen again
 
Those who reign must stand on this
 Take stance and make a difference
 No one should be able to take a life
 With intent nor mindless innocence
 For even when with madmans mind
 You cannot be left to mingle
 How can you be able to walk in shop
 Purchase guns and not be liable
 Actions speak far louder than words
 And if we let just one slip through
 Without accounting for their sin
 It might well be me or you
 
For on anyone these bullets
 Might be named to fall upon
 So make a difference – make a change
 Add your name – petition
 The whole wide world mourns in shame
 An Amnesty is long past needed
 Write your letters – use your vote
 Act now while it is fresh
 And pray for the souls of all those lost
 That each by the Lord be blessed
 Also for those who’ve lived through this
 That they might find a way
 To find the strength and courage
 To step out further each day


Details | Couplet | |

They Embraced Today

Copyright © 2009 #233
01/20/2009 // edited: 11/11/2012
(a new way)
-To Live And Pray-


On a brisk 2008 & 2012 Winter´s Day
  Americans voted and joined to pray.

Changing its history
  for a better humanity.

Freedom´s regal souls
  braved 2 days so bold!

Renewing Dr Martin L. King's dream
  uniting an American nation it seem.

A day etched in infamy
  for all humanity to see.

Brave Americans
  taking a stand
  on its blood soaked land.


by: LP


Details | I do not know? | |

Woman's Day

Women's Day


wiping away those tears

of the brutal truths of your past

wiping away those tears

your spirit rises up, far beyond your scars

and your strength resides deep within you 

with an unshakeable resolve that shall forever last


...the weakened men whose brute force is so macho and empty 

and that has always been in your face

are now nothing but specks of aging, obsolete rust

flitting past you, for you hold it all together

as you always have 

rising up firm and strong from being shoved into the dust


...you are a mother, a lover, a daughter, a wife, and a worker ... above all a worker you have been

tying the loose ends together time after time

always there 

yet unseen


...a woman you are 

of fibre 

of courage

of being the bedrock on which we trample 

on whose shoulders this world stands

as you continue to work ceaselessly on

with lines on your face

and with raw wounds on your hands

but...

now your time has come

and no longer will you silently bear

the jabs and taunts of men

for now you proudly declare

that a mother am I, a daughter too, a lover and a wife as well

and now the time has come for them to awaken

to the tolling a new bell


...a bell that tolls for you

for you have taken back the pride and dignity that they stripped off you for ages

for now theirs is a lost cause while your battle still defiantly rages

through cities and homes and villages 

and in town after nameless town

for now the bell has tolled

and the time has passed for you

to be ever
again
put down


Details | Blank verse | |

Remember Strange Fruit

The clouds, the first at dawn, ripened, pregnant,
With sunrise, and wet, dissolved, gathered,
Evolved and became, blankets, tarred black;
Feathery rain, hammered, dropped and spat,
Cast out, of the womb, of heaven; the trident,
Electricity, crackled, white, forked the earthen
Vagina; splitting trees, their penile trunks, charred
With tongues of flame; gnarled bark, ablaze,
When from a bough, hung, fruit, the strangest
Fruit you’ve ever seen; untouched by flame, black
Just the same; noose neck crooked, sightless
Crow-pecked sockets, purple tongue torn,
Ravaged; hands hemp-bound, dripped with rain;
Carcass left to rot, decay, pendulously sway,
Morbid compass, warns others who would rise,
Speak, dare suggest, they have human rights.
Strange fruit, indeed, yet stranger still the
Bone orchard spooks, supremacists, bigots,
Who put the fruit on the bough; retards, dumb,
Blinded; nothing is achieved by ignorance,
Terrorism, superstition, stupidity – just self-fulfilling
Prophecies and a long, hard day’s dying, for those
Of such morally rank, necrotic persuasion. 
By such hands, progress falters, cosmically trips, 
Slips on galactic banana peel; and people, innocents, 
As ever, are needlessly done to death in
The redneck night of each numbskull day. 


Details | Choka | |

Purity in Life

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


Details | Didactic | |

Blind By Mod

Modernisation is hopping her repercussion
 Modernisation is driving her civilisation
 This is the safari; that brain the colony
 The colossal obnoxious tenets of the West
 Calling her to the deluding evacuation.

 The edifice her architect had strictly structured
 Who can dare to alter it?
 Even on her own body and soul.

 Variety upon variety, she want to put on
 That is her whisper why, she mime the day.
 A Bimbo! Mimicking the mockery of the West.

 Who is barbaric in this case?
 Reason! She revolt the reasoning
 Focus! She resist the purpose
 Loyal! She refuse the modesty.

 Let her believe this one
 That in her friction state
 Her forward (will) never; her backward (will) ever.

 Perhaps, she should recall this one
 She need to behold
 If she must to recount, in her world.


Details | Epitaph | |

Auschwitz

No more the wretched screams of pain are heard within this place
We walk here with the ghosts of they who ever haunt this space
This godforsaken abattoir, this slaughter house of shame
Remembered in far distant land with one eternal  flame.

No birds sing here nor pass in flight, Life pauses at the gate 
The silence of the grave abides within this fence of hate
And even from the hardest heart it screams the question why
The ovens yawn their dreadful truth that bleeds tears from the eye.

A cold and dreadful ambiance is trapped within this wire
Imagined sounds of shuffling feet of those consigned to fire
The chambers shame in silence bears, the horror that befell
What evil, Godless, twisted mind, designed this ordered Hell

What awful thought, what sick warped mind, imagined such as this
Where hid the souls, who sold their friends, betrayed with Judas kiss
Repentant tears can never cleanse, this stain that mars this land
Nor Pilate’s basin, wash the blame, from bigots bloody hands

The earnest prayer of all who stand in silent witness here, 
Cries Justice for six million lives, destroyed by Facist fear
This manufactured hell hole, this mark of Cain defined
This everlasting edifice, of disgrace and shame enshrined


Details | I do not know? | |

For our Father, Nelson Madiba Mandela

For our Father, Nelson 'Madiba' Mandela

you are our eternal inspiration

our hopes
our dreams
our conscience

you gave everything of yourself
so that we may live and love and laugh and dream and breathe the air of freedom, dignity and liberty

you lead us through the darkest days with your unshakeable principles and your belief in us

you brought peace and freedom to us

and when at times we felt all was lost

you stayed with us as a father would

you lent us your wisdom
and you chastised us too

and we are here today because of you
you stayed with us, Nelson Rolihlala 'Madiba' Mandela, through all the crests and valleys of our turbulent times

you stayed with us, father
today, we hope and pray and wish
that you, our father Madiba
stay with us still
stay with us, Madiba
stay with us...


Details | Sonnet | |

Berlin 1948-1952

        Was Ist Los?  Oh, Nothing, Just the Berlin Airlift...
         Berlin 1948-1952
You came into my life one summer's day
the beatnik of a Frauline, caring less
of what society might have to say
than seeking out your inner happiness;

those were the days! Berlin was in a bind
you still had all your tan from South of France
and in your hair, what flowers you could find
but not dressed out for love, it came by chance.

"What's going on?" you said, as our eyes met,
suggesting I might think the same as you,
you seemed just as surprised as I, and yet,
it seemed so natural, the bonding grew.

       As freedom roared down from uncertain skies
        love came into our world, from where love flies.
        
The roar of engines fell from overhead
as pilots dropped into that world of yours,
delivering your life--your daily bread,
to show you when it rains, it surely pours;

all your emotions mixed, I caught the feel
you had, that maybe life was fit to live,
you pinched yourself to see if it was real
and still the sky gave out all it could give.

The ships were ev'rywhere--hope made it's call
as my faint heart fell to the will of you,
der Kempf, 'twas ended then, once and for all,
and now you'd see what only love can do.

       your question--was ist los--what's going on?
        was answered in that break of early dawn.


Details | Free verse | |

The soldier, the war, and I

The soldier, the war, and I


Today I am home and thinking to my self..
What would I be doing if I had a soldier coming home to me and my family?
What would I be doing if I was the soldier looking to going home to my family?
And then, I look back at all the years passed since this last war..

Many children have grown to become men, Others have grown to become soldiers
Where would I be if I had gone to the war and fought for my country?
Where would I be if I had gone and came back safely?
Where would I be if I had not gone at all because I was not qualified to go?
Would I be with my family or in a hospital injured?
Would I be standing proud, and laughing with my friends and family?
Or would I be dead, as I never got to come back?

Today I am home and thinking to myself..
Thinking of all of those brave soldiers, children still
Who are out there, suffering.. And some ill

Today I am home and thinking to myself..
How many woman are crying because of their gone loved ones
How many men are crying for their loved and missed ones
How many children are fatherless or motherless, or both!

And at the end I stop. I think no more..
I am grateful for the things I have, 
I am grateful for the people who surround me...
And I am sure grateful to never have gone to a war; yet, 
I sure appreciate the thoughts, courage, life, and suffering
Of all of those who have been touched by it.


Details | I do not know? | |

Wildfire legacy

Tensely polarized 
Fiercely alienated 

Furiously devoid of
Space and peace

By deeds unjust
By antics blatant

Short-changed
Shit-noshed    

Orphaned 
Offended 

From people
To pieces 

An equation 
Unbalanced

Sinister motives
Documented

Grand strategies
Visible mirrors

To annihilate
To assimilate 

Partisan practices 
Warped policies 

Of can’t pilot 
Be passengers 
  
 
Lost trust
Lacks shine

Lost lives
Eternal

Galvanise 
Demonise 

Keep on to 
Put down  

Till one sees
The snake’s

Nude red 
Buttocks!   


Details | Rhyme | |

The True Meaning Of Easter

The True Meaning of Easter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Jim Pemberton


Details | Free verse | |

The Drone

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


Details | Alliteration | |

pith-fully from truth

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


Details | Couplet | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Darts

Drops of sweat slip from my furrowed brow
Eyes squint, select a number and let fly now

Miss again, a millimetre is a mile once more
Aimed for triple twenty, only got double four

The walk of shame, my oh so familiar friend
Silence broken, on alcohol I forever depend

The steel point of eyes bore into my neck
My opponent leaves me a juddering wreck

I lose the match; the wife won’t give me a kiss 
I wish I could have been anything else than this... 


Details | Rhyme | |

The Golden Rule according to Gee Dubya

Do unto others before they can do unto you
Call it preemption and lie through your teeth when you do.
Make up connections to terror, folks don’t have a clue.
Be sure you’re firmly entrenched when they find out what’s true.

Scare the bejeezus right out of them, it’ll be fun
Don’t let them find secret prisons, hide that smoking gun
Unpatriotic to speak up for truth and peace, son.
World domination’s the game here, forget the long run.

Propagate myths through our compromised media herd
Broadcast them loudly repeating each threatening word
It’s well established – beliefs form on frequency heard
After while “mushroom cloud” won’t sound so grossly absurd.

Strategy’s worked for four years now, don’t want to get iced
Hard work required to keep justice from spoiling our heist
Must keep the populace panicked and properly biased
Maybe pronounce that Chavez is the new anti-Christ?


Details | Verse | |

Knights Lance Fluttered Streamer

Scottish charm Gods grace merry place
Long tables brightly colored cloth canopy
Foresters  tales  minstrels  manuscript
White flowers hanging garden priests
Veins on forehead thick black  beards
Castle hall best  jesters bravest beef
Scarlet cross mantle linked chainmail
Gallant warhorse plaited headpiece
Kindhearted  man  loved her deeply
Sage smoke vapours rose sunrays
Mighty hunter brought quarry home +
breathed deeply the scent of flowers
Red-and-gold garlands on his neck.


Details | Free verse | |

The Russian Palace

Far from harsh reality
Of cruel peasant life
Gilded surroundings
Of smooth parquet floors
Damask-lined walls
Crystal chandeliers
The background music of
Imperial fountains
Soothed the nobility at Peterhof
St. Peterburg's bow to Versailles;
Carriages and troikas 
Moved elegantly, smartly 
Conveying crowned heads
Seeking favor from the tsar
In a great hall now guarded
By old Russian babas
Nodding, fighting sleep
As they glare at the tourists.



Details | I do not know? | |

South Africa salutes Dr Martin Luther King Jr

South Africa salutes Dr. Martin Luther King Jr!




They gunned you down,
on this April day,
all those years ago,

yet you live, you breathe!





They gunned you down,
just as they did Chris Hani and M.K. Gandhi,

and they failed, as they always will,

for they can never kill,

your dream, your ideals.





Your dream, your ideals,

live, and breathe,


still!









Details | Ekphrasis (Ecphrasis) | |

American Gothic { Picture Poems}

After noticing a small white house
this painter decided that it would look
fancy if someone would live in it too
so using his sister Nan and his dentist 
Dr. Byron Mckeeby this colonial print 
is mimicking 19th century Americana
And to think that they were never even standing
in front of the house they had been painted separatley





Grant Wood 1930
Americian Gothic

The Art Institute Of Chicago


Entry For Brian Strand's Ekphrasis


Details | I do not know? | |

Gulf Oil Spill !

Man to blame,
Once again to his shame,
His record continues to destroy !
 
The beauty he did not create, nor can he save…
He will never learn how to properly behave…

Nature screams pointlessly once again ?
Fearing where next we’ll drill ?
Gulf oil spill.


Details | I do not know? | |

I Stand, Alone



I stand, alone.

Scratching for my truths,
peeling away the veneer,

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

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

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

I stand, alone.


Details | Rhyme | |

Canvas

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


Details | Rhyme | |

Are We Trying to Remove God From Everything


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


By Jim Pemberton


Details | Free verse | |

In the Hands of the Weaver - anyi

The air is heavy like a dirty woolen blanket
each colorful strand pulled through the warp.
Horns blare and traffic skids and screeches
as unborn accidents are aborted 
by fancy-pants cops.

The city slickers in their posh clothes
zip along toward the outskirts 
avoiding those in dirndl-shaped, Polleras skirts
and Monteras hats, as if ashamed,
either of their own roots, or of the neglect.

The road to El Salvador* is long
weaving along rough pacific shore lines
wefting past fishing villages, 
and cement factories with tangerine groves, 
each lane bringing the colors of modern life.
The oranges, red and pinks of fine fabric repeated
in on the metal surfaces of trucks, buses, and motor cabs.
Each person’s destiny pulled and pushed 
by the action of man, earth and tide
forward, ever forward..through 
the dunes of Lima’s desert.

The invaders hug the hillside,
thousands upon thousands, of rural poor,
driven from the teat of the mother by earth quakes
and the terror caused by The Shining Path.*
Mao lives on in the upheaval caused by his ideology.
Yet, so does ayni*, the helping hand of neighbor,
the brown-skinned hand, more used 
to the bobbin than the gun. 
Here they have come in oneness
a finished soul on a back-strap loom,
dyed and drying in the heat 
of Lima’s desert
they bloom. 


*El Salvador- a shanty-town 45 min outside of Lima
with 350,000 residents. This community was nominated
for a Nobel Peace Prize in 1986 excellence 
in social work and community growth

**Shining Path-The Communist Party of Peru
is a Maoist terrorist organization in Peru.[

*** ayni- Quechua culture is centered upon community
and mutual help (“ayni”). Their social system is based 
on the principle of reciprocity: helping a neighbor 
to be helped in return.


Details | Acrostic | |

Choices of Words

Children learn from what they hear and see.
Have you ever heard certain words from a child?
Our thoughts and feelings spread to them from me.
Intentions are good, though prejudice comes wild.
Carefully, we should not press our evil, outwardly free.
Every time, we do, it will come back, oh, so beguiled.
Senses of the child are impressive, guided by thee.

Our parents embedded both wrong and right on each.
Freedom of choice is what everyone has, within reach.

Words, deeds, are what teach the young, indeed.
Our greed can also be pressed inside the seed.
Ruthlessness also transfers, but what does it breed.
Does anyone know for sure, what children will need?
Sacrifice your evilness, or your children’s spirit will bleed.


Details | Couplet | |

March or any Month's Madness

Madness seems to follow everyone it seems these days.
People seem to be so angry, in so many ways.

I did not use to have much stress, in years past.
Though here lately, pressures grow very fast.

Dealings in my job of facility property that’s old.
Seems like so many want it free, and make it bold.

Though I have found if I grant one a bold gift,
Another comes around and gives my life a rift.

They seem to want to be fair in who gets what.
As long as it is themselves that get, others not,

Other things I have noticed about so many chums.
They want more play at work, and become bums.

Now not all are like this, but the bad seed churns.
Making life harder on others who make good turns,

I enjoy all the differences people have within.
Though here lately all the madness starts again.


written for
Sponsor Carolyn Devonshire 
Contest Name March Madness 


Details | Sonnet | |

An Afghanistan Wedding

The swift and silent missiles swept,
The quiet well kept neighborhood.
They ran like hell, those that could,
While the reposed laid in their best dress.
With evil-doers upon the earth,
Vigilant must be the pursuit.
To cut the sickened by the root,
And banish vile impure thought.
With white-collar crime for collateral,
It matters not the costs.
As pockets line, the death toll climbs,
While the positioned take sabbatical.
And I cannot hide my bastardness,
For when we kiss   my lips   fall dead.


Details | Free verse | |

Bang A Gong

Who the hell rings bells anymore
whether in a Capitalist society, a Theocracy, an Oligarchy,
or a Dictatorship

	the DING has sure been taken out of the
	rama dama ding dong

No ones home, the juries out
	G-d is dead?
	Shell, Chevron and Texaco
	have reduced the life expectancy of people in the Niger delta
		to 50 years ......

The Oil companies are fracking the hell
out of the water table ....from here to Canada and back
and guess what..then they can up the price of 
BOTH oil and FRESH? water??

Who are the bell ringers [Ask Jessica Ernst how the water is in her well?]
	Where are the bell ringers [hmmm, Canada?]
		[Strangled in the nooses of corrupt governments]

DO say! Do doubt! Do think....

Take a whistle blower home for dinner!

Blinded by the stars [lulled into limbo by Flamingo dancers]
	 living vicariously ..voyeurs
		peeping through the key holes of arse-holes
Pull yourselves UP..OUT, declare COMMIT
	re-remember what it means 
	to have YOUR WORD mean something
		re-remember what it means to be a friend.

Free yourself, for no one else will.
Fallacies RING true to the disempowered
	there DONGs removed, their clappers plucked

Sex, drugs and Rock and Roll was the mantra
of MY age, and HELL NO I WON'T GO
	our calling card.




*Thank you to my muse and friend Rueben O.
for inciting this ancient ding-dong :) 
Please read his excellent write [Didn't Don't]


Details | Free verse | |

In a word So

There's a point blank 
Just south of Soulsville
where common pit desires exude 
extreme ego ratios rotating on human gutlike
socioshadow experientials. Slow slug immuno
pain gestures cloud coilshaped reason
with limited intellirespect ids--only
that lonely by product of talking to
the mime chip on your shoulder clasped
hands in a froth frame of zero quotient
personality tolerance. Socioscan the fluid
flawed internoschism and plug yourself
into those autothoughts so socioprevelant
as to walk away and call it a draw day. Never
the tweens shall resolve. Sharp footsteps
with no meaning will evercast jaded overtone half 
with tongues that bite their own limplip droppings
wag wash in cumulative deceit doings.
Drag your dill depths with an ether 
grappling hook and sociosoothe your
infection---massage your emo entrails
with an existential ease of a 
junk jolt to colon ize another
fecal space of cleansed renewal--like ripping
the tape from a well wound
dancing scales up and down
to a new brainbeating--livid at living
fax a look outside your self and erase
your exit embarassment for a beholding
chance at adding a new socioscore to your
puss life tax deduction. What a rectal return on your
individual invest mint-- ass the rich get raunchier 
the poor prey prime  evil----sign here, please.


Details | Haiku | |

2-8-2012 Prompt: hat -Written for NaHaiWriMo

exotic plumage
adorning expensive hats—
chicks

© February 8, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen

http://www.endangeredspecieshandbook.org/legislation_lacey.php


Details | I do not know? | |

Tomb of the unknown soldier

There's flowers on the grave where this man lies,
The flowers on this grave will never wilt or die,
Thoughts of this person resting in this tomb,
Lay across this nation in every living room,
He died beneath the colors of the red,white and blue,
To keep people safe like me and you,
Nobody knows his name or his race,
All they ask is for on him will God shed his grace,
God please watch over this soldier that nobody knows,
And keep the others safe no matter where they go.


Details | Monorhyme | |

Undated

Aggravation waited.
Health always debated.
Material things created.
Mental capacity unstated.
History always elated.
Final breath is fated.
Future is overrated.
Partners never sated.
Love cannot be slated.
Compassion will be desecrated.
Desire falsely translated.
Life is overly stated.
From the day we are created.
While we are all interrelated,
We continually face each other abated
Awaiting our dignity to be dictated,
We fail each other blindly sedated.
If we are lucky we go through life conjugated.


Details | Blank verse | |

Storm Warning

The gathering storm rattled snakelike over distant hills,
Heads of dust and debris thrown as charcoal relief
To the vast expanse of the sky;
In the drought of reason, heat radiated a stillness,
Diseased and brooding, motionless as fissured statues
Or corpses in their time of desiccation.
The old grudges quickly stirred, their animation jostling with fever,
Until they burst tall and armoured, bloody hands
Raised up to the heavens;
Ceaselessly goading, provoking war dogs, effected
Reprisals in a rain of missiles, for attrition ruled
The stalemate kingdoms with seething deities.
The storm is coming, a travel of increasing ferociousness,
Laying waste to desert blooms and flesh,
And sat upon the pale horse the name is always death.
Towers of toasted glass and white steel,
Market places, schools and homes…and people…
All fair game carrion before such implicit dominion…


Details | Rhyme | |

The Walk

The Walk
An elected position walks into transition, but not without apprehension.
Thrusted forward into accountability, a " word" that was lost in recent financial history.
Blame and blasphemy encircles him for others greed, carelessness, incompetency and 
irresponsibility.
Unlike the blind man to our today's society, anger creates a false reality.
A "change we can believe in", is the course called destiny.
Persecution upon every action or direction met with resistance by those who remain held in social captivity from their own personal experiences or enthralled perceptions of " what ought not be".
Prepare the world, for the world is watching and they  see, that without corruption 
and a massive scale of discrimination , injustices and judgments as their plea, they are not happy nor do they believe that  they can or that they will succeed. 
May forgiveness and mercy find it's place upon his adversaries as well as for him whom they do this unto in the sight of he.
People, we call ourselves, "we"; therefore, "we must not lose focus , the walk for change remains on our compass to destiny and real facts vs. opinions will be our guide for future history.

copyright@2010 by Carrie M. Love-Atkins


Details | Free verse | |

Flower Child's Lament

a “flower child” danced through life so many years ago cares were lost when she took a “toke” and “passed the pipe” around feeling “way cool” wishes for “peace” and “luv” she gave freely but “pigs” were her enemies even “flower power” couldn’t help her rise above the brutal force used on students at Kent State “Four dead in Ohio” became her mantra when the National Guard surrounded her campus fallout from Kent State spread nationwide “Gimme Shelter” from the storm at home while “Charlie” was pursued by draftees Vietnam, a place she had never seen, but the flower child’s spirit suffered each time a son or father was “sent home in a box” she wanted all to “live long and prosper” in a fantasy world where love bloomed like “Strawberry Fields” but the “flower child’s” petals fell as she grew older it was time to “get real” after all
*Entry for Craig Cornish’s “Talk That Way” contest. By Carolyn Devonshire about life in the 1970s


Details | Blank verse | |

broremann the angler

Broremann the Angler

On the pier where fishing vessels were tied up my brother 
sat fishing all the while seagulls kept swooping and shrieking, 
he blissfully ignored them. He had no hook at the end of his 
line and when asked why he said, I don´t like to hurt the fish. 
 But crafty little Broremann was not as innocent as you may 
think, he didn´t like fish, all those horrible tiny bones, 
his mother had sent him down to the pier to try catch some 
fish for lunch. He liked sausages with mashed potatoes and 
stewed peas, now he could go home tell his mother fish didn´t
bite today, but made sure to put the hook on the line so his 
mother could see he was really trying. An old fisherman gave
him two sardines wrapped in a newspaper, but wouldn´t you 
know it the pair of sardines somehow slipped out of the paper
and made their way back to the sea. 


Details | I do not know? | |

For Nelson Rolihlahla 'Madiba' Mandela

and just when i felt lost

again...

when i feared that you were slipping away

i feared more for myself, in truth I say, than for you

again...

you came back to us

again...

your light shone, ablaze

reaching inside of me with the warmth of your dignity

with your infinite gentleness

with your effortless peace

with all that makes you, you

again...

soothing me as you soothed a nation

and a people, and people everywhere

of every hue

and of every creed

and of the human spirit itself

again...

you gave of yourself

92 and frail and weak and alive

oh yes alive!

again...

you breathed my fears away

you embraced me as you have always done

again...

you made me cry

weeping tears of joy for you

for your light to shine on through

again...

you shined so brightly

as I basked in your warmth of you being you

again...

you cradled my shaken being in your hands, lined with age and with wisdom and with a pureness so bright

that just knowing that you are back home, smiling that fatherly smile of yours

was enough for me, to slip into the waiting arms of this warm and joyous night

and again...

though i know that you cannot be with me forever more

you came back to me on this night

and just knowing that you are still here with me now

is enough now, for within me, you will reside forever more

just knowing that you are resting and recovering at home

filled, and fills me with peace and with joy

with the peace and the joy that has been your gift to me, and to us, one and all

shaking me to my very core

as you have selflessly done

throughout my life, and on countless occasions before

He is home

you are home

and

i am home with you

as your light of life continues to shine

now and forever

warm and dignified and forever true

Viva Nelson Rolihlala 'Madiba' Mandela Viva!


Details | Quatrain | |

Plaidoirie for a 'Prince' of Jaffna - Part One

“We learn from history that we learn nothing from history.”
George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950) Nobel Prize

                  Part One

Blue blood gushes when heroes die
   From gory wounds on battlefields
Not in castle intrigues when for a lie
   Crowns use commoners as shields.

A royal house does not construct itself
   After centuries have broken tradition
Or on formal rules on how to name itself
   Nor on who should follow in succession.

A true prince re-possesses the land first
   Takes for his witnesses native-born citizens
Bids them follow his will out of dire thirst
   Not as the self-crowned leader of denizens.

To be born a Kshastriya is not a privilege,
   The birthright is even an act of sacrilege
If he who dons the crown scorns the people;
   A spurned poem in the culled florilege.

In the blown sliver of land at Great Bharat’s feet
   No one knows what Tamil line came to greet
Found refuge and took throne to announce a reign
   Nor helas to make much of a glorious feat.

Kings are not born to hoist the castial banner,
   Rather had they earlier scaled the social ladder
Through heroic deeds by protecting the masses;
   Chieftains peer-elected to top the social order.

(...continued in Part Two)


Details | Verse | |

Waiting For The Bloodbath (1917)

There, at the parapet, part-built with corpses,
Where we dug out the two year old bones of the French,
Stands on the second rung of the ladder,
The corporal keeping watch from the lip of the trench.

His periscope scans the fields of the wasteland,
Where bodies hang rag-like on coils of barbed wire,
And he watches for movement in no man’s land
By the thump of distant batteries, and the glow of distant fires.

We wait, sipping whiskey with water and sugar,
Smoking Woodbines in hands cupped to guard from the rain,
Supping from tin cans as cold gnaws the marrow,
And the wind from the south howls across the terrain. 

Something may happen, or something may not,
In the ominous silence that floats like black clouds,
The gas gangrene stink of the damp rotting flesh,
Floats the dreadful reeking of old funeral shrouds.

Should they come, we will rush out to greet them,
At least then the waiting will be at an end,
We will rush out to greet them, with whistle and screaming,
With rifle and bayonet, attack and defend.

In waiting we think of life and of home, of all that is holy,
Yet death and abandonment and Satan’s thrall,
Bids there in the future a writer will write
Of innocence wasted, of we who would fall.

Waiting for the signal flare, as comrades have before us,
To be cut to bloody ribbons in the charge into the fray,
Staccato hail of lead mowing men like wheat,
To gain an inch or so of mud and never see another day.

For now, waiting for the bloodbath that itself waits to unfold,
To unleash the will of generals which decree our dreadful fate,
The fears and silent tears, the seconds damned expire,
In the absence of humanity, for all the world we wait. 


Details | Grook | |

I'm A Chump

<                                        emphasis of labor day

                                        symbolic's end of summer

                                        picnics and parades display

                                     American workers get chummier


Details | Narrative | |

VALE - VICTOR STANLEY JONES

You were born in Clermont, Queensland on December, twenty-four, 
Away back circa eighteen sevn'ty-two. 
Edward Jones now had a fifth child, whom his dear wife Anna bore, 
Their second son and both were proud of you. 
 
They'd migrated out from Ireland back in eighteen sixty-three 
And sailed upon the good ship Beejapore. 
Landing at Rockhampton harbour in the Queensland colony, 
Resettling on a strange and foreign shore. 
 
Childhood days behind you Victor you then joined the work force lad, 
Assigned to a gold mining company. 
In the range town of Mt Morgan you enjoyed the job you had; 
A diligent and loyal employee. 
 
You assisted the paymaster, though you left your posting when 
You chose to join your countrymen at war. 
For you heard the call of duty and you joined Mt Morgan men 
To fight for Queen and country 'gainst the Boer. 
 
Volunteering as a member of the gallant Q.M.I. 
You proudly donned that feather in your hat. 
First Contingent of B Company you waved this land good-bye, 
Enrolled as British troops and went to bat. 
 
Rebel Boers embarked on raiding farms of loyal colonists 
In Griqualand west district to the north. 
Counter measures were then put in place to stop these terrorists 
By sending Pilcher and his column forth. 
 
On the last day of December circa eighteen ninety-three 
This force would march from Belmont heading west. 
Information was forthcoming as to where the Boers could be 
And Ricardo led his party which was soon put to the test.
 
On the first day of that New Year Victor Jones you lost your life; 
They buried you at Sunnyside that eve. 
Since that day the world's continued to be filled with war and strife, 
So many die for what they do believe. 
 
But the nation recognises that the first Australian 
To die upon the battle field was you. 
So Mt Morgan folk erected to your memory young man 
A monument;  the least that they could do. 
 
In the not too distant future Victor, nations may yet  see, 
How precious all their young men really are. 
Then refrain from sacrificing them and let the young men be, 
Fine fathers to their families, not memories afar. 



Details | Verse | |

Remember September 11th Civil Rights

Remember September 11th
Signed legislation, equal access, public schools and mobilized troops.
Supreme Court Justice Warren, controversial some would say, provided  a goal of unity, 
the removal of stigmas, fair competition, birth of global recognition and a future for the 
spirited ambitious, the motivated  and the entrepreneurship.
911
Terrorism, tragedy, illnesses, women and men of good deeds, financial wills, heirs , war 
and mobilized troops indeed.
A blow to it all, the young, the old, the rich,  the poor, the working, the unemployed… the 
skilled, the unskilled, our service members and our vets as well as some committee bills, 
but mostly the future of America’s youth…. onto a system of restructuring wages and for 
some of us enduring exploitation to make up for the loop.
Ranking 27th, Lower five, a time for the nation to realize, status quote can be no more for 
the circle is full and it has closed.
The future is your vote like a Clef Sign on the staff and the rest will flow like a great 
symphony from the past  , yet to be numbered because it’s not the last and the people’s 
opera will take the stage…we will restore the two decade old history page.
To participate, to live, to fight for the already established route, come one, join all, rally 
and acknowledge your rights. 

Copyright@2010by Carrie M. Love-atkins



 


 



Details | Quatrain | |

ME, MYSELF, AND I

   I guess you could call me a silly guy
   For humor is how I get through the day.
   I love telling stories, writing poetry, and romance
   Each in its own separate way.


   I could be called a "Hopeless Romantic"
   As I have always been sentimental inside.
   I learned that feeling growing up
   Watching my parents, and their worlds collide.


   I knew my Dad better than anyone...I think
   He and I worked together for some time you see.
   And when he died at an early age
   Everyone seemed to be in tears but me.

  
   Of the six kids in our family growing up
   I had a brother named Ron that I was closest to.
   He had a sense of humor and devotion to his family
   And he would always find strange things for us to do.


   We loved driving around in his old MG
   When it worked it could do no wrong.
   He took me for rides I'll never forget
   To teach me his favorite Irish drinking songs.


   His death really put me on the writer's path
   As I eulogized him with "Remembering Ron".
   But afterward I could not stop the words from coming out
   As if a spigot had deliberately been turned on.


   So I have written poetry, stories, and a few songs too
   I'd like to publish something some day.
   Getting to read and write here on the Soup
   Pehrhaps, I will finally find the way.


   I believe in the goodness of man's inner soul
   And that God intended for us to be happy here.
   The love of Wife, Child, and Family
   Just make me want to stand and cheer!


   I'd like to see us not have wars
   Or even have cross words with others we meet.
   Sometimes I plead my case in the words that I write
   And sometimes, the proverbial "Dead Horse" do I beat.


   I look at history as a great learning tool
   For I've studied Antropology in college you see.
   And all the past comes into the present time
   At least, it does for me.


   So I will write works about historical things
   As much as I write about family, love, emotions, and silliness too.
   Just so others can get some insight into me
   And perhaps their own lives as they should do.


      I don't know who will read my work
   Or if they benefit at all from the things I say.
   I only know that this passion to write
   Is one that is here to stay.


   Some people think I'm kind of grumpy
   I guess that is also true.
   But the words I write fill that void inside me
   This is but one more poem...for you.


Details | Rhyme | |

The True Meaning of Christmas

The True Meaning of Christmas During this Christmas, let’s celebrate Christ’ birth. It was for all of us that he came down to earth. As we think about Bethlehem and the baby boy… We shout glad tidings to all! And peace and joy! This young child was to one day touch all of mankind. His message of salvation… Today… You can find! As we celebrate and fill up with holiday cheer… This same Jesus is alive today… And is always here! Though 2000 years ago, he was born in a manger... You can know him NOW! He doesn’t have to be a “stranger.” Won’t you spend some time and reflect on Christmas’ true meaning? It’s in the merciful arms of Jesus that you need to be leaning! The good news of Christmas can certainly be found… Across this nation. Every city… And town! This same Christ can bring peace to your life today! He loves you much more than words can say! May HIS love bring peace and healing to your weary soul… It’s only in him, that you can be complete and whole!!! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Couplet | |

Confucius Says

K’ung Fu Tzu or Confucius his English name,
for centuries, brought China much dignity and fame.

Born in the state of Lu, now Province of Shantung,
a scholar of Asia, Chinese his native born tongue.

As a child, he held a make-believe temple ritual,
as an adult, love and learning became habitual.

Confucius was made a magistrate by Duke Zhao of Lu,
under his administration, the small city flourished and grew.

Bordering countries worried, Lu would get too strong,
Confucius resigned, so that the countries would get along.

Royal courts shunned Confucius, plotted to kill him,
He was arrested and jailed, his future looked very grim. 

He sent word to a kindhearted king, in nearby homeland,
to rescue Confucius, a solution the king had planned.

Confucius shared ideas and teachings with royal nobilities,
who learned eventually of his distinguished abilities.

Only after his death did Confucianism commence,
everything he taught completely made sense.

Confucius bequeathed no writings or historical list,
but it is known that the “Record of Rites” exist.

 “Record of Rites” contains anecdotes about his teachings,
a complete collection of his students’ preachings. 

There are three dimensions of human condition,
that totally make up the Chinese tradition.

Self, community, and tradition are Confucian spirituality,
and endless teachings of human morality.

Father and son were held in high admiration,
since man was the family’s root foundation.

Ruler and minister maintained social order,
developed guidelines of human social border.

Husbands controlled the family and his wife,
she had no opinion in her family or her life.

Elders were held in higher regard than the child,
since great wisdom held their social order more mild.

The last of the social order was the true friend,
from which the human could fully depend.

These five bonds were developed for flourishing souls,
and the boundaries that were set for Confucian goals.

Confucius says; never give a sword to a man that can’t dance,
and real knowledge is to know the extent of one’s ignorance.

Copyright © 2010  By Caryl S. Muzzey

Fifth Place Winner ~ "Broad Horizons” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Deborah Guzzi
June 30, 2010

My suject is "The Five Bonds of Confucianism"


Details | Monoku | |

Assessments

Expressible emotions divide, enumerate, humanities mind.




written by Cecil Hickman

Sponsor Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~ 
Contest Name "One Amazing Line"  


Details | Haiku | |

Monument

Forgotten but here
Remembered yet never there
Why do you exist?


Details | Free verse | |

The Language of the new generation.

Understanding the new generation.
They have their own language.
Their own new meanings to the same words.
They have their own communication + lingo.
Has it not been the same with each new 
generation in history?
They discover a new style that is shocking
to the older generations.
Adjoining generations seem to listen
to each other.
At which point do the generations do not want
to listen.
Where is this gap?
Spelling is different for the same words. 
A lot of abbreviated text is used.
There seems to be an absence of books amongst
dvds + cds.Has this interior design element
been overlooked?
Is there a new dictionary to accommodate the
new generations?
Or is this just how life is?


Details | Narrative | |

Scars

.The survivors. Yes, that's what we call ourselves. We've lived through the terrors of life. 
Gentle hands, soft spoken, safe in his arms. Obey, and listen, and the swirling melody of 
love plays throughout the scene. And yet, this masquerade is always broken to reveal the 
truth. Words sharper than daggers explode around our ears. Bruises appear on our skin. 
We've "fallen", the clumsy females we are. We fell. A sports injury, a car crash, a freak 
accident. Freak accident of hatred. Much like the lion, quiet and stalking, and then exploding 
into a flurry of the hunt. Of the hurt. Swift blows, and blood drips from noses, tears stream 
from eyes in a silver river of desperate please, bruises decorate us in tawnys and majestic 
purples. Reminders of our "wrong doings". We need to pay for our sins. The only witness are 
the walls, and the moonbeams that dance about our dizzy heads. On the ground. Steel toes 
to the back. A crack. Fire. Pain. And then, a cool silence. The rage subsides, and apologies 
appear. "I'll never do it again" and "I lost control" replay in the back of our heads. Our deja-
vu from the previous night. Always the same. Always the pain. The survivors. Thats what we 
call ourselves. And by the dark dance of the moon against the velvet sky, as stars twinkle 
like sequins, and fade into the dawn, we pick ourselves up. New excuses. New plates to buy. 
A new alarm clock. New knives, doors, but no new hearts, stabbed until the hemmoragging 
hurts like a firestorm. Alone. We are alone. We, the Survivors, have lived not an apocalypse, 
not a plane crash, but the darkest part of our lives. Therapy can lock it away, but never 
remove the dark stain of dried blood upon our souls. Lost. We come together, and escape. 
We start anew, but are never the same. Dark dreams, paranoia haunting our shadows, and 
the jumps that come with shattered glass of the clink of dishes. Never the same, but 
stronger. What doesn't kill you is sure to leave a horrible scar, but wounds heal And while 
scars remain as a reminder of the pain endured, we are, for the better, stronger. We 
survived.

.


Details | Rhyme | |

Hang The Witch

She loved big hats
A red bodice she wore
Plumes, bobbles and ribbons galore
This was enough to call her a whore
Many a fight she engaged publicly
But she was no different than you and me
She enjoyed the drink
Entertained late into night
In Puritan society this just wasn't right
She had three husbands
Two had died
Twas wichcraft her accusers cried
Thou be a witch her neighbors declared
At first she was angered
Later quite scared
Her trial commenced without hesitation
I am innocent she claimed
With great indignation
I know not of a witch
Suddenly the girls began to writhe and twitch
They cried and screamed 
Great acting I must say
With this they took poor Bridget away
Upon deaf ears her pleads they fell
Bridget Bishop must go back to hell!
Her naughty behavior and costumes so bold
Helped the Magistrate believe the tales told 
Twas To Satan her soul she had sold
So she would hang by the neck until dead
No one believing a word she said
Soon 18 more would suffer her fate
Once accused was already too late
The Salem Witch trials came to an end
When no one could tell a foe from a friend


Details | Cinquain | |

Attack

Attack
Vaguely warlike
Guiltless people suffer
Dreadful losses, heroes arise
Assail


Details | Lyric | |

FAITH KEEPS US APART

It seems the path Iam on  is changing everyday
the road uncertain just an endless shapeless gray
some would say it would all be clearer if I took up there religion
even with the doubt Iam not scared enough for that decision

I see the faith you placed in one of the many saviors
I lame excuse for the centuries of mad behavior
Iam sure your prophets where the very best of man
but your church and bibles where never in the plan

so every race has a version of there own
stories stolen from the gods of the past spoken out like it was always known
not one of these faiths is open and understanding
they keep others down and your soul churches are demanding

then you history holds no science no enlightenment
dogmatic foolishness written before free government
and every soul that is afraid to die or to ashamed to live
if you stop thinking then heaven is what they give

even now the human mind is found wanting
but reality is intelligence is hard work and life is daunting
if only the concept of good will and love
we understood without some sign from above

if you need the ancient fiction to ease your pain
I respect you and to all other men you should do the same
your saviors were righteous there’s know doubt
in there time they worship but no church was there twist whets its about

there have been many Christ’s since the beginning of man 
the Mayans and Muslim have had tales since they ruled by the roman
dry king ghandi and many more sacrifice there life so others could be free
in my mind that’s what Jesus is what he is supposed to be

even know there some man of great worth he has no money no powerful church
he’s  giving of himself and and loving the lost I dare you to search 
and see the truth were in this together and this is paradise
we are the only keepers of our fate we must realize

I can no longer people pay to pray and talk down to others who dont believe what you say
but Christ himself did not hang with the saved he knew the hopeless so he could see them ok
but times have changed were not ruled by religious empires mad with slavery
we fought for those rights not with one mans good with collective human bravery

a new age is upon us and the true test is coming not one of prophecy
the makers of worlds the stars the cycle of suns chaos of the galaxy
I hope soon we see are only time is now there is no second chance
are race needs to come together  and make a united stance
if faith keeps us apart do we even have the heart



Details | I do not know? | |

They Left so Abruptly

They Left so Abruptly

(for the countless South Africans, of all colours, who dedicated their lives for freedom and democracy)

the valiant ones
countless
many known
many more nameless

the truest sons and singers
husbands and poets
lovers and wives
daughters and farmers
workers and sisters
brothers and friends

they left so abruptly
with quiet pride
steely courage
gentle dignity

they left so abruptly
leaving us our tomorrows
brighter
hopeful
filled with promise

they left so abruptly
so that we may breathe
the breath of liberty
the air of freedom
the warmth of justice

they left so abruptly
leaving with us their parting gift

freedom
inkululeko
swatantrata
liberte
azadi
vhudilangi
libertad

they left so abruptly
yet we remember them all
today
in the days that slipped away
and in the many more that we await

they left so abruptly
yet they remain
hewed into our memories
etched in our consciences
engraved in our hearts
they left so abruptly
and yet they endure
with us
within us
now and forever more


Details | Sonnet | |

Snipers

Dust and blood on an iPod that plays,
Hole, for love of country, for love,
Of the scope on a fine bolt action M-40  rifle.
Cupid was a sniper, for love of Psyche.
Like the marksman in the minaret that shot,
Lance Corporal Miller in the face,
He will have a thousand virgins at his feet.
As Corporal Nick Ziolkowski loved to kill,
Having taken three mortals in one day,
Was a badge of honor he would proclaim,
Now he lives under that shining city on the hill.
The world loves it’s patient heros,
How gently they lay in wait, divinely,
Saving humanity    from it’s dark Eros.


Details | Rhyme | |

Remember Remember

Grab your jacket, scarf and gloves and wrap up nice and warm.
Hope the weather holds its peace and doesn't bring a storm.
Grab your cats and call your dogs and get them all inside.
If you care for the little tykes then this rule you must abide.

Fill your buckets up with water, get them at the ready.
Do not fill them to the brim so you can hold them steady.
Get the first aid kit supplies on stand by just in case.
I've heard the tales of injuries and burns around the face.

Start with something simple, "someone go get me a light".
A sparkler in all our hands, now watch them sparkle bright.
Get the kids all gathered round as older guys prepare.
See the kids all waiting and their eyes wide as they stare.

Hammer up the Catherine Wheel and nail it to the fence.
"Do not ruin the paint work, let us do it" said the gents.
Stick the tubes into the grass and deep into the ground.
Careful not to poke that pile left there by the hound.

Be prepared, all is ready and it's going to get loud.
Parents buying mass displays to make their children proud.
Roman candles, some sky lanterns, whistlers and rockets.
Rebel kids around the streets with bangers in their pockets.

Stand well back and light the fuse and watch the tension grow.
Let's fill the sky with sound and light and put on a great show.
They all erupt and whistle off higher than a kite.
Wheels spin, and bangers blow as the rockets take their flight.

Explosive pops and electric fizzles at an amazing height.
Every colour fills the sky, it's such beautiful sight.
All around the sounds of bangs suddenly all stop.
No wait, there's always one or two to give a random "pop".

Now the sky is clear apart from massive clouds of smoke.
It's worth it for the kids, but all that money, what a joke!
But a smiling kid is priceless, so try not to be tight.
'Remember the 5th of November'...

and have a Happy Guy Fawkes night!!!


Details | Free verse | |

Saint Augustine, City of Historic Lights

soft flames flickered offshore Timucuan tribal campfires luring Menendez’s armada Feast Day of St. Augustine 1565 Spanish settlers rowed covertly to shore more than 600 torches ushered in a new era of light torches turned to gaslights hanging yet today in a city of artists where street singers hope you’ll look their way centuries old Castillo de San Marcos ghosts of slaves held within cast a spiritual shadow on harbor water originally restored Spanish architecture throughout the gaslight village living history, soft lights, no neon antique stores adorned by twinkling white lights lantern lit are the many street-side vendors couples stroll past, hand-in-hand on the cobblestone street historic integrity for the nation’s oldest church multicolor strobes ascend through huge stained-glass windows colors in streaming rays reveal detailed architecture bright spotlights from the Fountain of Youth climb the large, wooden cross Spanish settlers erected one of two signs observed by mariners brilliant glowing image of hope, guidance St. Augustine Lighthouse’s beam shines a path far offshore black and white rings glow in its tower, circling candy cane Bridge of Lions, an illuminated spectacle visitors’ gateway to a forgotten age well-lit harbor, safe haven for houseboats and yachts gaiety reigns during sunlight hours night brings a different mood, perspective warmth and intrigue - city of historic lights
*For the City Lights competition City: Saint Augustine at night *See “About this Poem” for history on the United States’ oldest city.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Model's Mirror

Scanning for the perfect
model inspired by Leonardo's
rendering of his muses.
I ask the oracle....
Mirror,mirror on the world.
Who's the most fairest girl
of them all.
Searching high + searching
low ...finally the mags I let
them yieldingly show.
And who should I find with the
most fairest complexion?
Why,the wearers of precious 
jewels recieved the first 
spark of attention.
Alibaster porcelin skin ,lights +
sparkles in her eye's 
reflection.


Details | Quintain (English) | |

Advice of the Doomed

Only mince words for society’s detriment.
Mollycoddle youth for the future’s corruption.
Beware of using political correction,
society’s wormwood; overdose for descent. 
Today’s apocalypse is due to discontent.


Details | Rhyme | |

Zimbabwe

Zimbabwe we hear your country screaming
We're powerless to help you you're at the mercy of a party thats murderous and 
scheming
Robert Mugabe and his thugs the Zanu PF
They deny you free elections instead they dole out death
The world see's your pain but hears only one mans voice
Your human rights violated he's taken away your freedom of choice
The United Nation's and the peacekeepers won't intercede in this mess
If it was me that was in power and the balance i could redress
It would'nt take an army
6 men
3 letters
S.A.S


Details | Quintain (English) | |

Hypothesis of My Life

Paradigms of my loves are a mystery.
They set me apart from any other one.
Within any of mine there was no misery.
They were all riddled with such fun.
Though destined to failure, when begun,

They say three times is a charm in history.
Though it took me four, three were done.
There was never any force, just mental injury.
Three were shaded, I thought love was won.
Blessed with so much guilt, bound by a ton,

Building love upon a lie makes it die intensely.
One or the other will begin life’s bitter shun.
Destroying the sanctity of emotions inwardly,
Ripping apart all living truths, as with a gun,
Deceit also prepares the end of race to be run.

Date written
12/15/2011

Written for
Sponsor Francine Roberts 
Contest Name English Quintain contest  


Details | Senryu | |

So Predictable

so predictable:
political maneuvers
by the left and right


Details | Free verse | |

Diversity

Diversity
I was born out of a number,
Faces defining my world,
and I've always been inclined to cumber
the distress I witness at this berth
against the figure.

Yes, the figure that is and is not,
because I have no culture, no heart, nor home.
I am something light tricks to be, an illusion of diversity,
the colour of your teething bone,
the greatest profanity
being humanity,
I am much less-the unfortunate- the unknown.

Words are nothing without your lips,
and spite can't see without some tongue.
So being human cannot reason
without some puncture to the lung.

If there is a God he is not here,
the reliance of invisibility
is one to me
an unintelligibly cowardliness of fear.
You want the air, to take care of what you said was your own will.
You want new souls to suffer for an ancient bill.
You want me to stand and say I am sorry for something I haven't done,
when you're the one,
who is ticking the times tables incorrectly.

Today will be tomorrow and soon after the great past,
If you don't want history
to be seeded in misery
then you should stand out and make it last.

I was born out of a number,
mathematically spiralled into life,
and so far I still find it a struggle
to understand the joy of waking.

To be born is to be alone,
To live is to be surrounded,
To die is to be free,
but for that you must work first.

And I don't barter with this curse,
if there is nothing- I may as well exist a little first.
But what I can't compose is how I see these faces,
where others separate by numbers, words and races,
I only see one in the mirror:

human.


Details | Rhyme | |

Tottenham to Toxteth

Let loose the whip
and tighten the lip
with its reasons for humble cause.

And I'm alight in darkened entries
shrugging my shoulders to warm
my picked pockets with another's
shoes.

Burning down the towered clouds
for the gas chamber streets,
why burn the bills
whilst flesh is still flamable?

And the crier rang out silently.
Could only make out the action,
of something she was trying desperately
the reasons of the destraction.

"You're too blind to make out colours
which have mixed to make brown.
Just a human illusion
of light under cover of sound."

The cobbles are disrupted
and yet its just another cup of tea
to watch on with, pathetically.


Details | I do not know? | |

Blasphemy

Blasphemy

The caustic tongues of the evangelists,
Across all creeds and faiths,
Seem as brittle as an old bone.

For they promise heaven and they spew forth threats of hell
While neglecting the words of that man who walked in Galilee

'let him who is without sin, cast the first stone'

the caustic tongues of the evangelists...

across all religions
new-age and the ones of old
baffle me even as I hear
a single simplistic sermon

for they really do, view us all
as blind imbeciles
scurrying around like faithless vermin


the caustic tongues of the evangelists...

wag on and dazzle us with visions of an eternal paradise
while here and now
their hypocrisy festers
within their earnest
well-meaning eyes...


'...dil mein hai khwaaish-e-hoor-o-jannat
aur zaahir mein shauk-e-ibaadat
bas hamen sheikh-ji aap jaise
allah-waalon se allah bachaaye...'


'...in your heart you desire the maidens of heaven
yet in the now you practice the rituals of piety
o' sheikh, may allah protect me
from the people of allah like yourself...'

is my tongue as caustic as the tongues I write about?
if so, then glad am I
for they shouldn't be the only ones
who preach and rant and continually shout

from their pulpits ever so high in the sky
from their hubris of comfort in possessing the 'truth'

from their 'knowing' that heaven or hell
awaits both the strong as well as the meek

while oblivious to the reeking foul smell
that encourages prejudice and hate
and visions not of peace
but of endless chants and prayers

which they, in their opium haze
rattle on and on
as they never seem to cease to speak

and though I’m sure that all this bile that I have spewed
will threaten
hurt
and offend

friend and
unfriend and
acquaintance alike

but...

take pity on me instead
for it'll surely be I
who'll burn eternally
impaled by a benevolent god
on a slightly warmer than normal day in hell

on a crude wooden spike.


Details | Rhyme | |

Respect Comes with Age

My father and my mother sat me down one day
     to tell me how wonderful that I was growing O.K.
The years passes by as I got to be a teenager
     with high hopes of becoming the first young manager
Life turns out a manager job is not for me
     so I kept things to a minimum working hard you see
My family had taught me with all do respect
     the life we lead is the image of our age in an aspect
Like queens and kings we bow our head
     to the people who is wiser in age even when dead
Life as our guide the time we have aged
     is what we leave behind that we are gaged
In prospective we are the stars and we are the earth
     because we age and leave behind a new birth
To those that seek such blessing of heart
     remember this age is respect for living from the start
Do you remember your father, mother, and teachers
     they are the ones cheering you on, sitting on those bleachers


Details | I do not know? | |

MLK - 1929 - 1968

MLK...
(January 15, 1929 – April 4, 1968)


they shot you down
all those years ago

but

your dream lives on
and always will

for though much has been
gained since you dreamed
your dream

there is much to fight for
and much more to struggle for

and much, much more
to fight for still

so
your dream resounds in
our hearts and we pledge 
this to you today
for though they shot you down
all those years ago on a memphis day
we shall overcome
this we do believe
deep in our hearts
that
we shall overcome
someday...


(for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.)


Details | I do not know? | |

The Stench of Prejudice

The Stench of Prejudice.
 
When silent prejudice strikes
in living rooms with plumped-up sofas
a quietly insidious venom begins to seep
into the consciousness of the chattering ones as they sleep
 
The beliefs held so true and so deep
appear stripped of all feeling
empty and hollow and without compassion
as the conceit grows in the chests of those with righteous passion
 
the prejudice once firmly entrenched
is worn like a warm and comforting shawl

needing precious little to compound and to mutate
into the doctrines of superiority and of aloofness and of hushed hate

we are all guilty of succumbing to this silent pervasive plague
as we sip martinis and laugh and shovel more food on our heaving plates

and as we slip into pleasantly inebriated moments we dare not care
to smell the stench of hate & prejudice & greed wafting in the cool evening air.


Details | Senryu | |

Comparisons

Comparing all things
In apples, oranges now
Same with same is game


written for
Sponsor Carol Brown 
Contest Name APPLES ? ORANGES ? 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

LOVE ON DEATH LINE

I have not eaten today,
But my heart is filled
Not hungry of affection.
I had a fill of you last night
A fill of you for a life time

All around us are walking corpses
Corpses of political disregard
Humans of no nations
Even when they are bona-fide citizens
Your blood and mine flows in them

The government abhors the poor
Feeds them with empty promises
Shoves them through the door
They pay the bills
For social amenities they can’t find
Pay taxes for their castles 
Government built in the air
But we know their ancestors
Filthy dogs eating from the king’s crumbs
No; Lets not unknot the knot
Soon a messiah might heed us

In heaven’s book of life,
I heard the poor names are there
In here’s book of life
It is deleted.
Thus, in your head,
Lays your kingdom and glory 
Get rich or die trying
Or; be their poor and keep sulking.

Well, like them I saw… 
I have not eaten
Flesh gone weak to skeleton
Nevertheless, 
The solitude of love within
Keeps me living; I am breathing
But I am moving,
Towards your direction
I see your beam

I feel new
When I see you
From my heart 
Seeps through the rays of the sun
Its fun; this love on death line
We survived the genocide
We survived the war
We survived love
We survived us
I love you too.

This poem is dedicated to the abused tribes of Rwanda and Nigeria during their respective civil wars resulting in near human annihilation. Though time has passed, we still feel your pains chilling our bones. The survivors.


Details | I do not know? | |

Comrade

You're wounded yet you stand 
oblivious of the blood gushing forth 
taking every ounce of your strength 
but still you fight. 
They wonder my friend, 
why you chose to live with 
red flags rather than white. 

Show them your hands 
that cracked from tilling 
the earth. 
Reveal to them the sufferings 
and pains you endure 
on the hands of your 
adversaries. 

point to them the ground 
where they kicked you, 
where they have 
trampled upon every inch 
of your dignity. 

Now, maybe they'll understand 
why you chose to carry 
that red flag.


Details | Acrostic | |

Political Corruption

Partisanship hinders compromise
Oblivious voters put cronies into power
Likeability trumps substance
Idiotic commentators bicker
Tension builds amongst the people
Idealouges pollute the system
Charming individuals manipulate
Society falls apart


Details | Rhyme | |

David And King Saul


David and King Saul…

I think of the story of David being
 “hunted” by King Saul.
As “God’s chosen,..”  David may have thought;
 “Is it worth it all?

The many times he hid in the caves and  “underground…”
I’m sure he had his times of happiness…
 And times of feeling down.

Through all of this, as he was being
 chased by his “adversary…”
God provided a safe place for him.  A “sanctuary…”

David decided not to take matters into his own hands…
Even though he was being chased all over the land.

Though David found out where King Saul had slept…
His promise to God…  He surely kept!

He chose not to take Saul’s life. 
 The opportunity was there…
He didn’t want “vengeance…”  
He was someone who cared!

David trusted all that he had to a 
God who reigns supreme..
He knew that one day…  God would take
 care of everything!

Do you feel like your life’s “being chased around?”
Perhaps there’s no where to go... 
 No safe place to be found?

I’m going to tell you…  There’s someone who’s right here!
His love surrounds you!  You’ve nothing else to fear!

This same God who kept David out of harm’s way…
Is here right now!  And can change your life today!

An everlasting life with Jesus… 
 Is what you could be missin.’
Won’t you give him a chance… 
 Hear his voice… And listen???

By Jim Pemberton


Details | Senryu | |

Can You Help Me I'm Lost

lost and weary soles
looking for their better half
at Auschwitz bone yard


Details | Quatrain | |

My Traveled Approach

I trek the corridor of an easy path
Not because I am lazy or leery.
Just because I want no lingering wrath,
I searched for meaning of life’s query.

Death has its end or a new beginning.
Life has so much joy for you to give.
Each New Year is another inning.
To be played with the spirit to live.

We spend so much time wondering.
What will be received at our end?
That time we end up blundering.
That so much more we could send.

I have settled that what I have learned.
Will be carried onward in some way,
Probably better than what I have yearned.
That each life of past, will continue an array.

I cannot with any doubt, feel there is a beyond.
The road less traveled is not easy or hard you see.
Just spreads out in different lanes that correspond.
To everyone’s path they must follow or foresee.

These trials I have passed on my thoroughfare.
My faults, tribulations, delights, my own making,
My spirit and soul has always been duly aware.
I regret much, but resist spending my end quaking.

Each sin that has passed through me I put to rest.
I struggle not to repeat any again, to my best.
I still ponder much and still continue my quest.
Though I shall not let my living be suppressed.


written for
Sponsor Catie Lindsey 
Contest Name The Road Less Traveled 


Details | Free verse | |

Ruthless

ruthless are
the powers that be
controlling
the substance
withholding
the cure
growing
the means
feeding
the addiction

saving none

burying all


Details | Quatrain | |

All The Way Live

                                       


                                      So we're on the brink of a new weekend;
                                       And I'm ready for the guests to arrive.
                                          Come Friday everything will begin;
                                                  Let's go all the way live.





                                                     ©2014 Honestly JT


Details | Rhyme | |

The Kentucky Derby

So swift behooves...
in challenging quest...
competitive hearts...
race their best...

A treasure to win...
one measurable test...
for equine ones..
Churchills best.



Details | I do not know? | |

If you think you know me, think again

  
It is not a knowledge based judgement when stereotyping is your research. 

It is a judgement off of broad and unclear definitions (labels) made up by "people in power" to oppress diversity. 

So before you make judgments off of discriminatory facts, remember; I believe half the truth is equivalent to the whole lie.

 Therefore, if your basing what you perceive you know of me by broad and unclear labels, it is a complete and utter lie to say you know my kind. (Shyne930)


Details | Bio | |

Artificial Intelligence

A mind will listen by expanding 
knowledge to learn; or explore 
possibility's.

In these teachings of technology
we figure out what we know is:
just A various combination of what
was programmed into our mind.

As time passes, we'll adjust to
evolve ourselfs into becoming
artificial intelligence; amoung
society and indulge it's greatest
achievement.

Until they soon take mind; over
body and loose all self~control
to empower the world.

I will not be your robot to control, 
I am my own individual person.


Details | I do not know? | |

Personal last quote of the day

 "Although prejudice and discrimination has subsided over time and history, it is hidden in every corner of our present; for there is no escape from diversity in America. As hostility and violence is less prevalent some say, to say we live in a society of Pluralism, is to speck prematurely and blindly."


Details | Free verse | |

Invisible Chains


When you think your alone I’m actually there. . taking away your freedom and your not even aware.

Its better this way with you not knowing, as if our true face was to show, well that would be the end of the plan as we know.

So do us a favour and keep working your 9-5 watching our T.V thinking you’re alive.

The truth of it all is we run this show and even if we told you no better people would know! 

As most aren’t wise they do as there told, makes them feel secure. . Its psychology of old, an as we both know sheep do not lead  . . but follow!


Details | Tanka | |

Nature and Humanity

Effervescent dreams
Flow down upon mother’s plate
Chilled by destined fall 
A time always remembered
Appearing third time of year

Season of life fades
Human apertures grow weak
Though, knowledge is strong
Love holds different stages
Bonding affections with key

Combined all blessings
Unfold into beauty bold
Each respect enriched
Of their returning faction
Crossing over great divide

To rapture rebirth
Forming times readmission
Natural recourse
Within nature is beauty
Returning humanity


Details | I do not know? | |

The Quiet Hypocrisy

A Rant – The Quiet Hypocrisy


it seeps in through gradual osmosis

and soon is ingrained in pliant minds

it mutates and thrives in tunnels of vision

and then is fused into the fiber of unreason

the quiet hypocrisy that drips of the tongues

spouting broken words of unfathomable callousness

the mutilated reeking carcass of cynicism

obscured by the veneer of polished discourse

stinks of inaction and of insipid rationalization

the probing and prodding and splintering of each thought

curdles the shallow layer of feeling

interring the basic simple and only humanity

that is gleefully ripped into isolated fragments

the quiet hypocrisy of battles fought and of causes embraced

is plain to see in the faces of the earnest

as they cling onto their bitter loathsome prejudices

whilst buying redemption under a placard of well-meaning

the quiet hypocrisy of these selective battles waged under the flimsy pretense of caring

stinks to the highest heaven promised in mantras and duas and prayers and chants

as the spectacle of the apartheid within the mind is worn on each tailored sleeve

the choosing of these battles in the name of faith and clung onto simply because of a common creed

is a pathetic spectacle of segregated thought

buried under the folds of righteous bluster

so before you jump on that bandwagon of indignation because 'your' people are in pain

take a look at the hidden fascism that simmers just below your holier-than-thou sudden spurt of heartfelt rage

for the quiet hypocrisy that is unknowingly imbibed

is apparent for all to behold

for when the 'other' endure the injustice carried out in 'your' peoples' name

you stand mute and silently complicit for your indignation simply melts away

as the quiet hypocrisy that is firmly rooted in you 

exults in pious pretences while 'your' own continue to hate, rape, pillage and slay

it saddens me that so much vitriol drips off my pen in such effervescent times

but I cringe as each moment another quiet hypocrite rants about the despotism of the 'other'

while smiling complacently and smugly and soaking in the quiet hypocrisy of remaining mute about 'my' peoples' own crimes
 


Details | Free verse | |

Much Like the Sun.

 You look up to the sky.
 It is a normal summer day like any other.
 Sparse clouds line the sky and the sun beats down on you.
 Except this is no ordinary summer day.
 This is the day you ship out.
 You have said your good byes and cried with your lovers.
 The weight of your country rests upon your shoulders.
 It beats down on you much like the sun. 
 It burns you if you are not properly prepared,
 much like the sun.
 Much like the sun you are depended on by all that you known.
 Depended on by your country.
 Much like the sun,
 you fade away into the night appearing in a different country


Details | Rhyme | |

The Story Of Job

The Story of Job I'm sure you remember the story of Job. God's blessings in his life were greatly bestowed. The Devil came to speak to God one day. "I'm sure Job will curse you if I take everything away." Everything in Job's life seemed to be getting worse. Through all of this, to God, he never cursed. All that he had-was soon to ge gone. His "friends" told him it "was his fault-he was wrong." He blessed God in spit of all they had said. He would praise God until the day he was dead. In all the loss and the turmoils. His body would soon be covered with boils. He loved God even though he lost his possessions. Spending eternity in heaven was his obsession. If everything in your lie was taken from you. Would you bless or curse God -what would you do? Is he more important than your house or s.u.v.? Would you give him up for a "big screen t.v.?" Is he your prized possession whom you love so much? Or are you using Christianity as simply a crutch? For one day soon-all you have will certainly perish. Is it God--or this world-- you love and cherish? By Jim Pemberton


Details | Couplet | |

Here Take My Seat

<                                          Racial      Segregation
                                             One         Nation

                                              Why   Oh   Why
                                              Did   King  Try
                                              

                                              Right   Or   Wrong
                                              Everyone   Belongs

                                        
                                              Black     Or   White
                                              Put        Up   Fight

                                   
                                               Americian    Made
                                               Blood          Gave

                                              


                                                Share        Wealth
                                                Spare        Health


                                                 Rosa         Parks

                                                 She   Did   Bark




Entry For
Adeleke Adeite's
African Attitude

                                               

                                                   

                                                  

                               


Details | Free verse | |

Festi and Fireworks

Zurrieq Festa our destination
Driving off late into the night
Over terrible roads, chasing islanders
All worth it to see the sight.

The church golden and brightly lit
Shining out for all to see
Bunting and stalls lining the streets
Everywhere people, excitement is building
Bands lining up to be heard as they march.

Suddenly it's midnight!

Melodic sounds keep time with fireworks
Each display more impressive than the last
Whirling and twirling freely on posts
Physics at the base of their design
As beauty shines through in the colours and patterns
Hands clapping, people cheering, part of the moment.


Details | I do not know? | |

THESE STATES UNITED - PART II

How someone like you 
 
and me
 
could ever be
 
this forever free

Never say never

Ever
 
Oh say, can you see
 
this valiant righteous fight
 
of the tiny 13
 
against the giant gorgeous gallant might
 
of the Royal Crown
 

into that last gleaming
 
fluorescent
 
effortlessly seeming
 
twilight 
 
as American soldiers fell
 
and died
 
and their women 

and Lady Liberty

rang the bell
 
and cried
 
screaming
 
and the little ones 
 
so sound asleep
 
nestled in their bed
 
so peacefully dreaming
 
whilst their King 

while their King lay dead
 

Hear his deep voice echo over and over in your head
 
You remember what he said
 
You remember what he said
 
You remember what he said
 
You remember what he said

You remember what he said

You remember what he said
 
You remember what he said
 
You remember what he said
 
You remember what he said

You remember what he said

You remember what he said

You remember what he said
 
as you lay there
 
missing and yearning
 
teaching and learning
 
freezing and burning
 
and tossing and turning
 
battledrums slow and become tribal
 
Yes, you too, remembers what he said:
 
"It is impossible to rightly govern a nation without God and the Bible"


 
So trumpeters blew and told 

their story
 
the drumboys rolled
 
out Old Glory
 
My God behold
 
Watch Old Glory
 
so dignified
 
unfold
 
Stars and Stripes 
 
thus signified

an Independence newfound
 

on Sacred, Sacred, Splendid, Sacred, Holy ground
 
Kneeling at ground Zero
 
Never forget
 
My, your, Our forgotten Hero

Ole' Father George pause and take a good look around
 
Ole' Father George steal the stars 
 
just this once

just in between
 
the glare of royal red rockets
 
and hand them to
 
the mighty 13
 
and the red stripes so soaked with blood
 
from our beloved Mother
 
across the pond

Sons no more, oh no, Mother 
 
There isn't any other
 

It’s me now - your new younger brother

Just passing through

the bright white rays of sunlight
 
into the big bold box of navy blue
 
into starry starry nights
 
Ole' Father George, our hopes ignited
 
Your legs so weary
 
Our dreams excited
 
Thank you, Ole' Father George
 
Thank you, God
 
God Bless These States United




Details | Imagism | |

Omlet - or - The Taming of the Screwball

         "OMLET"
            or
      "The Taming Of A Screwball"
      cast of characters:
      Julius Caesar
      A Roman Teenaged Kid
      A Roman Guard
      Brutus
      A bunch of Caesars Girlfriends
      A bunch of Roman Senators
   
   Julius picked up the violin and looked at the
kid. ""Et playdimus youdimus?"" he asked.
   "Nonimus!" replied the kid. "Cousinimus Nero
playsimus."
   "Ahhhh," sighed Julius. "Prodigimus bratimus."
   Suddenly a guard ran in, waving his sword and
shouting, "Mightymus Ceasermus! Brutumus et comingus!"
   Just then Brutus comes in, followed by a bunch
of drunk senators. All of Caesars girl friends
run offstage screaming in terror.
   "Ahhhh--Friendimus Brutumus..."" Julius said,
putting his arm around Brutus' shoulder.
   Brutus took out a dagger and promptly
thrusted it up Caesars bellybutton.
   "Ahhhhhhh--Brutumus!"" Caesar repeated.
"Youdimus screwdimus meedimus."
                     curtain
                      (applause)
© Ron Wilson


Details | Couplet | |

Putrefying Overthrow

I plan my murderous ways deep within my mind.
She is ruthless and demeaning and so unkind.
Telling no-one of my prearranged scheme today,
No-one that can discuss this deed in anyway,
She is uncanny, mysteriously, skulking in house.
I despise her fortitude making me her mortal louse.
She deserves this death a thousand times more.
She has traveled from this place and that store.
Shopping and traveling with a hunger unknown.
She is destroying my castle and taking my throne.
A widow stumbling upon me, not once but twice,
Her planned arrangement, slightly at any price,
Our merger won by nature’s fortitude and design.
Coupled in society we had lived in life so fine.
She was about to meet the end, my perfect crime.
Our unity really forbidden, calibrated in time.
This murder will never be traced back to me.
No-one knew she existed, a complete mystery.
Poison my choice for destruction for my lady.
An agonizing painful death for Mrs. O’Grady,
She was a female that held a gratified divider.
My prey and murdered victim was a spider

written by
Cecil Hickman

written for
Sponsor Susan Burch 
Contest Name Getting Away with Murder/Murderous Thoughts 


Details | Ode | |

HIS WEALTH 1

HIS WEALTH

He was renowned for farming 
ploughing lands as large as atlantic  
but his harvests he keeps beyond the sea
beyond the sea all he got

Down here, his roof leaks
his town roads untared
they make use of his wealth
to paint their town more white

he thinks his wealth is safe 
but the value they use
promising him security and secrecy
to shut their mouth from his people

his pots occupied
by cockroach and rats
as had been aboandoned by his wife
his children grow everyday
developing big belly and head

He goes back to use ibeleju as lamp
but he claims to be rich
his children goes fishing to pay their fees
the school fees he has refused to pay

they built a school for their wards
and beg them to look inside papers
nobody pays a penny
those are the people beyond the sea

his wealth is intact
but had been used
times without number for their anuual budget
they beyond the seas

Worms leak his intestine
and his offsprings from six to two
he took their looks to the people
the people beyond the sea

they gave him a name "Malaria"
Malaria took them all
contented he came
carring no less for his kwashiokor wards

His bicycle like buried iron
yet he appears before his kinsmen
to speak in language that tingles
they smirk at him

though the gods let him live
his expliots and wealth
managed and utilized by the people
the people beyond the sea

he claims to be learned
while they have brain washed him
he trusted them
and left our heritage

the gods forbide
our black heritage
that our fathers died to protect
like our brotherly love

Our heritage
that forbade greed
he forgot our maxim
that of Unison

him that our fathers gave the "Ofor"
the Ofor that represents power
power to protect our interest
our black interest

the gods bear us witness
witness of our unquenched suffering
starving in front of plenty
plenty at the so called bank

banks beyond the sea banks
the name for their civilised theft
theft because they use the value
the value of your wealth
to reinforce themselve

the Ofor has fallen
from his hands
the gods has departed  from him
but he will not believe

our chambers now lagoons
lagoons from the light shawers
our tables now canoes
and soup spoons paddle

mosquitoes now our pets
nursing our children
our working age amended
starting from 6  to sleep

our heads now bald
not from age
but from fetching water
water from the eden 


Details | Quatrain | |

THE AMERICAN WESTWARD EXPANSION

The Quakers, being religiously persecuted, set sail from expatriated England;
they were the first settlers to reach the shore of New England: a free land!
Later the Puritans came and settled in other eastern, bustling colonies
seeking the same religious freedom, but their urge was stronger than dreams.


Many moved westward on foot, on horseback and on overloaded wagons...
exploring the American wilderness plundered by indigenous Indians;
they searched for grassland everywhere, to let their cattle roam and graze;
first they built wooden shacks on vast, lush prairies full of Queen Ann's Lace. 


And out of this American westward expansion, came the fearless pioneers,
who sought gold mines...despite the wild cowboys causing troubles
with heavy drinking and desire for unscrupulous women, seeking money and pleasure, 
who served them more whisky and lured them to a room with a demeaning measure.


Beyond the Rocky Mountains' and the Appalachians Mountains' skies,
these diligent pioneers obtained wealth with sweat and sacrifices...
changing and shaping the wild landscapes of arable land,
avoiding the drudgery of getting stuck in mud and sand.


Details | Free verse | |

Men of November 1963 - 2008

Today, forty-five years ago, we heaved
this weight to our shoulders,
not seeing, knowing its complete meaning,
yet beckoning to ask why not?
 
You are now asked to carry this light's great intent:
to find, explore the fiber and nerve of essential need.
Define ways, delicate means.
Yes, leverage our dexterous technology,
whose logic claims bold, deft plans.
 
You are the leader, who my very own son,
on a cold winter night, on his campus,
not two years before --
yes, you had sent his eyes aglow, with goose bumps
dancing on his tender pale skin;
he'd gulp hope like he'd feast
on his mom's mashed potatoes ...
 
Now, we will bring you more, my captain -
you have engaged the imagination
of the whole world watching, one in whom
places informed hope, forged in the school
of knocked about and down and not quite up again.
But surely not out. Not us. Not now.
 
And, now together, our first step.
 
 
 
COPYRIGHT 12/23/2008


Details | Rhyme | |

LET FREEDOM RING

Some foresee what others cannot see, 
That is to never be a slave but be free.
My ancestors paid the way for me.
That is why I have to be all that I can be.
They were chained, whipped, hung, and killed;
There were so many marches, sit-ins, dog bites, and blood spilled.
We must keep fighting to make and keep things right.
Past the torch and keep that light burning bright.
Right now I have a chosen culture.
I have a right not to be profiled or tortured.
I always pray for a world without discrimination.
We need opinion without separation.
It is never a priority to be a minority.
They say grass is greener on the other side.
I will always walk around with my head held high with pride.
To me freedom is always a jubilee.
With my love, trust, and faith in Jesus freedom is always a guarantee.
Lift every voice and sing.
Let freedom ring.


Details | Rhyme | |

This Fourth Of July


This 4th Of July To my fellow Americans, during this 4th of July. I have a thought.. . Here's why… When we salute our flag ever so grand. Our country's foundation is sinking in "quicksand." This is because. From God... We're way "off course." Driven by lust, greed and an "immorality force ." Our ungodly government continues to rule. Anything of God has been removed from the school. We hear of "separation of church and state." Anything of God... Many people seem to hate! America! Listen to what this message is about! Everything of God is slowly being taken out! We must return to Jesus!... He gives true freedom indeed!. The truth word of God’s . Our country must read! Living for God is worth the cost! Without HIM... America is forever lost! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Prose Poetry | |

BOOMERS

They were hippies 
and societal dropouts.
Scholars, poets and 
pot smoking draft dodgers.
Civil right activists,
and anti-war protesters.
Patriots and soldiers
fighting an unpopular war.

Relationships were confused
and marriage became open.
Morality lost meaning and
God  was largely forgotten
except to grape Kool-Aid drinkers.
They liked to “groove”
on a Sunday afternoon
and kids hid under desks
for H-bomb drills.

They were good and bad
and pretty and ugly.
They were raised on Dillon, 
Joplin, Hendrix  and Doors.
Motown was happening 
with The Beach Boys,  Zeplin,
and the Rollin Stones.
Paul Revere had his Raiders,
Love was a Spoonful and
Three Dog was the Night.
The Beatles reigned supreme.
Sullivan was a king maker,
Elvis was a soldier,
and Archie and Meathead
were "All in the Family."

They welcomed the British invasion
and hung out at Woodstock -
sometimes in the nude.
Many were students 
who got high and
routinely cut class.
Most of them were psyche majors
trying to “find themselves?”
LSD was a bad trip 
that many took.
Sex was free 
and there was a lot of it.

They were spoiled, selfish,
lazy and genius.
They grew up late, 
but at least grew up.
They hid their past
and regretted much of it.
They were artistic,clever 
and very  inventive.
They are also to blame for 
much that is wrong.
Many are in denial
and most have regrets.
They were the boomers
of the baby boom generation.




Details | Burlesque | |

Life at Diverse Angles

We’re all at rivalry with an undistinguished universe
 let the truth be known;
politics are garrulous about freedom and what they’re going to do
hell of hands their helpless.

Before the world goes to fire,
I hope all is done,
No one is here to help us possessive and acquisitiveness.

New Orleans living life underwater;
only thing that can seem to save them is sensitivity.

We live life on the passenger side:
We’re fearsome to stand,
but willing to only follow.

We all have problems
no one is overcoming.

Faith is no longer here,
luck has overturned the man above.

Black people must keep voting 
too many people on us joking.

God has many blessings to bless
but we’re giving up too fast.

We all riding on love and money
it can’t buy happiness.

This world is helpless,
it’s too late for us to go back,
sometimes, too late to move forward.
We all think the future has 
nothing more we can hold.

Helpless of taking life for granted;
everything in life isn’t perfect.

The war is a battle fought
but we all looking like cowards,
thinking we fighting for a reason
now is our biggest tragedy.

Sometimes a tragedy let us know its over;
we can not win.

Over shoulders we must stay strong,
he won’t put more than we can not bear.

The economy has reached it’s next worst peek.
Here is the morning sun
all we have is racing hearts
and prayers.

Don’t let no one steal your pride
it’s yours inside.

Born in the U.S.; where people think we’re blind,
where we live secrets and lies,
as people we’re not listening,
anything that is said, we believe.

Many lives lost,
many waves in the ocean lost,
we’re left in a world of nothing.


Details | I do not know? | |

Rambled Wording

Lives are lost
Souls are caught
All because of
one man's plot.

The cries
And pleas 
That pierce through 
The night.

Life planned out before
My birth;
Nothing I could say.

The blood 
Of innocent children
Falls.

His father was
Here before.
He told us
What he had in store.

There is no peace
In this land
Of hope and freedom.


Details | Free verse | |

What is the American Dream

I was 5 years old when I first stepped onto this land of the free America, the place that I heard was the best place to be To live a better life to become better beings To chase the American Dream to provide for our family, the finer things The world tells us wealth and power is the number one But is that what really provides us the happiness at the end of our run? What really is the American Dream? Tainted by our materialistic desires, we believe that worldly success transfers into content But will we really forever be at peace with just these tangibles present? To achieve this American Dream means long hours at work away from our families and friends To hear everyday, “Daddy, will you be able to make my recital?” Or, “Honey, come home early today. Please.” To buy the family hundred dollar Nikes and thousand dollar Louis Vuittons But to have lost the word, “family” in its entirety No, this isn’t my American Dream The media tells us, Just Do It, and we’re all individuals but we’re all part of a movement Pressured by the media to buy what we can’t and to be who we aren’t In a world of rich be rich and poor be poor, We can never be content with just the objects of this world. True moments of happiness occur between family and friends To gain all of the world’s objects is in no comparison to the bond that a family holds To continue this spiritual value against the tangibles that will one day no longer be To earn self-confidence in the goodness of the future generation For this is my American Dream.


Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

Ages of Time

Who should ever know, ages of time forgotten last?
They should grab hold, for new is never first.
Gentle good memories fade, bad ones burst.
Ones life gathers things, flown from past.


We shelter time sold, wishing ahead so quick.
Instead should cherish, moments that quake.
Passing time more swiftly, a large mistake,
Days of week, foregone to weekends flick.

Each week, churns onward, toward months end.
No more justification, new does begin.
Each time we rush, our faces lose another grin.
Transfixing years that expedite, fleeting send.


Ages of time forgotten, who should ever know?
First, grab each day, for what it brings so new.
Burst free from bad, so they will fade too.
Gather from past, what is rich with glow.


Written for

Sponsor Barbara Gorelick 
Contest Name Once Upon A "Time 


Details | Rhyme | |

The Bible Or the Consitution

The Constitution Or The Bible?

From our news, courts and government institutions,
We often hear about the U.S.. Constitution.

As many cry what is and isn’t “constitutional;.”
It’s a wonder how this country is till functional!

\As courts seek to remove the Bible and it’s commandments.
They look to the constitution for some kind of “enlightenment.”

The freedom of religion, which the early fathers taught.
Is now “freedom from religion” is what’s in many thoughts.

It’s almost like the courts “wave the magic wand.”
And then tell us the difference between “right and wrong.”

Many Godly principles have often been disregarded.
 God’s word in many homes, has often been discarded.

Without God in many lives. This has left an empty void.
As perversions of his word 
are taught and “enjoyed.”

It’s time to wake up America!  And begin to see!
It’s only God and his word that gives true liberty!

We’re quickly becoming a nation of bondage and sin.
As so many struggle with afflictions within!

We all need to let God’s word daily renew our mind!
Even though we’re busy…  We need to take the time!

God was here before the constitution was written!
It’s time to come to him!  Will our country listen???

Because of Jesus… There is no “man and God separation!”
The truth of his word is what’s needed in our nation!

By Jim Pemberton


Details | I do not know? | |

Vula Amehlo - Zulu for open your eyes

Vula Amehlo (open your eyes)

"Vula Amehlo"is Zulu for "open your eyes"

Vula amehlo
sisters and brothers
though eyes aren’t needed to behold
the flowing tears of those of us, left out in the cold

vula amehlo
sisters and brothers
the time to turn your back is long gone
no time now to pander and no time now to fawn

vula amehlo
sisters and brothers
we the people are hungry, angry, and our skin is torn
though we say it loudly, unbowed we are, and not forlorn

vula amehlo
sisters and brothers
we may be invisible and tucked away far from you
but we are here, still, waiting for the promise of freedom to come true

vula amehlo
sisters and brothers
you see us sometimes, though you avert your gaze
come on now, compatriots, awaken from your complacent daze

vula amehlo
sisters and brothers
we are the open wound that festers on your ostentatious display
band-aids won’t do anymore, we are here, and we are here to stay

vula amehlo
sisters and brothers
as you roll down your windows and toss us some coins, look in our eyes
we are your slumbering consciences, we are the famished proof of your lies

vula amehlo
sisters and brothers
forget us not as you tuck your pretty children in, and turn off the lights
we too are the children whose mothers, fathers fought for all our peoples’ rights

vula amehlo
sisters and brothers
don’t think that we are bitter and livid for no reason or cause
we have been waiting and waiting, for days and a decade, without any pause

vula amehlo
sisters and brothers
vula amehlo
mothers and fathers
vula amehlo
brown and white and all shades of this rainbow so bright
we repeat what we said, we are not going to melt away into the night
vula amehlo
one and all
our patience is being tested from day to day, year to year
we have listened to your promises and we now demand that you hear
vula amehlo
open your eyes
and see us, and hear us clearly, and hear us today
band-aids won’t do anymore, we are here, and we are here to stay

vula amehlo
open your eyes



Details | Free verse | |

Border area (Grenzgebiet)

"This bilingual poem is for people who live between two borders and who have two decide
everyday how to manage their day between bombs and hatred, even if they want to live in
peace."


>Grenzen<
erscheinen grenzenlos,
wenn grenzenlose Wut
gebieterisch Hass schürt
und sich dennoch
ehemals begrenzte Gemüter
dem Grenzfreien öffnen,
um so die Grenzwälle
zwischen Grenzen zu sprengen,
um endlich grenzfrei zu sein.

>Borders<
seem to be boundless
if boundless rage
stirs up immeasurably hatred
and nevertheless
erstwhile limited people
open their minds for borderfree thinking
for blowing up the border walls
between frontiers
to be finitely boundless.


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Forgotten

In the beginning there was peace, joy, and love.
Then came hard times, war and hate.
What is this poor world to do,
when people aren't human anymore?
Computers think for us.
Minds are slowly fading.
Old people are forgotten.
Children are forsaken.
Youth have gone mad.
and for the rest.
There is no rest.


Details | Quatrain | |

Read Earth

Harsh beauty spreading far and wide
Mother's creation by nature's own bride
Iron grain canvas under bright atmosphere
Where arid, baked land meets water cool and clear

Streaming cruel heat reigns over all
Beating down on a land held in subjugating thrall
Parched artistry spreads over miles of land
Rocks, hills and animals, and course shifting sands

Fevered earth burns on an unshod sole
Trees give sparse shade to those who stroll
Along a path, that's been walked by few,
Over millennia past; now awash with soul's residue

Land red with iron and actions abhorred
With laughter and bitterness, with hope deeply stored
A vast stunning world, a back drop so grand
A future and history that's held in the land


Details | Verse | |

Let Me Think

Discrimination,
Through my windows,
Touched my skin,
And nailed down my soul.
I were born untouchable,
My colour was dark,
My loving nature was dying on the stretcher,
My tongue tasted,
The sweet and sour; a taste.
The colour of my black eyes,
Flamed fire into someone’s heart,
My natural visionary sights,
That was covered under black hairy strips,
And my skull was burning ashes.
Pain was sucking my blood,
Red tissues were turning gray,
My death was natural.
Nobody claimed my dead body,
White-eyes and fairy hands,
Donated my heart to a posh,
That was lying on a money bed,
And eating his golden spoon and silver plates,
Someone restored my organs,
For human research,
A candle was burning in a corner,
Donate your blood for human beings.
My beheaded body,
That was covering with a mercy sheet,
And a voice was loudening in the sky,
God may bless him.
Air was freshening the dirt,
Forgive him to stay in heaven,
A shrinking voice was weeping bitterly,
Empty hands were rising up,
Is this a natural life?
Why did you give him a birth?
If a poor has no equal right to live.


Details | Couplet | |

What is Reason

So many have intelligence, or acknowledgement,
Who amongst us has the right, to set judgment?
One thought, shall not, make any major logic.
Sanity or insanity, which would be neurologic,
Ones intentions are the true real only sense.
Objects, desires and finished plans, keep suspense.
To reason about truth, is set forth in the mind.
To reason about falsehoods, are definitely unkind.
Each of us has turmoil, traveling with us each day.
Our choices, we make always carried upon the way.
Comprehension of what is right or wrong, our impasse,
Upon our decisions that we make, drives what we amass,
So therefore, reason is the season of mankind’s soul.
What we openly see, what is blindly found the goal?




written for
Sponsor Paula Swanson 
Contest Name The Voice Of Reason  


Details | Monorhyme | |

Rufus Dufas

once came a man of civil tongue
spoke of another poet for what he has not done
tattered his name across the morning daily sun
depicted depraved drunk even a drug-addled madman he was none
since 1842 grudges just for some weird kind of fun
Rufus Wilmot Griswold  Mr editor got his gun
posted Edgar Allen Poe Was Dead died in Baltimore the day before yesterday I just shunned
If this is what memoir of the author is I may be as well as be done
But believing in and still reading Poe's work I have forever keepsakes of suspense and fun


Tribute To Poe



Memoir Of The Author
Rufus Wilmot Griswold
Editor

Also Entry For Brian Strand's
Adaption Contest


Details | Couplet | |

Get A Rope

Gun slinger
    Matt Zinger

Dressed in black
     Didn't come back

High Noon
    Was Doomed

Quick Draw
      McGraw

Got A Rope
   Hung that dope

Undertaker Called
    Dead Body Hauled

Poured the whisky
     From Junction 60

Dead Man's Trail
  Where slingers failed









Details | Light Poetry | |

Optimism's Gift

Let the past empower not devour you, 
blink that third eye dry and let the cowards prove, 
that fear effects domination, 
as power hungry demons were starving for confirmation, 
I'm hardly a conversation, I'm starting the conservation of energy through my being for seeing a brighter nation.
I can no longer ponder another's fixation with digression, 
my ears remain ready for confusing confessions, 
but they attempt selling the words from concession, 
I won’t drop or lessen my positive light, I ask, is a spiritual battle still a cognitive fight? 
Yes the most vital, let this bible unfold and be told with no title, 
don't mistake envy of state of being for actions suicidal, 
I just wish to prove yolo wrong, come back as a spirit so you may hear it in a song or another form of expressed emotion, so we can progress once the earth hits lost commotion, 
take some love and meditation and conjure up the potion 
as the earth's still in motion, if the leaders here would tell the truth I'd identify promotion. But what do I know I'm twenty with no college, undermined for not conforming to mainstream knowledge. Spirit, Love and Peace will grow soon, once we've vacated the station and choose to change tune


Details | Rhyme | |

Holocaust Day of Remembrance

Note:  Every year the government sets aside a Day of Remembrance for the 
Holocaust.  This year it is the first week of May.  Please share this with everyone so 
that none of us or our children ever forget.


They rounded us up one day in the rain
Herded us into a cattle-car train
We were just Jews, it was simple and plain
The pain – we must always remember

When the train stopped there were so many dead
Ushered into two groups, tears were all shed
Weak ones culled out and away they were led
That said – we must always remember

None of this ever has made any sense
Staying alive in good health our defense
We'd spend every day praying out by the fence
Consequence – we must always remember

At night we would gather and in silence we pray
Pray that we make it through one more day
What tomorrow would bring – no one could say
Today – we must always remember

Each morning we’d line up; they’d walk down the rows
Deciding who lives; deciding who goes
Each morning we’d pray that we weren’t one of those
God knows – we must always remember

And the stench in the camp from the ovens by noon
Reminded us all of our impending doom
Relief from this hell-hole could not come too soon
Repugn – we must always remember

There were thousands of us left back in the damp
In our bunks, in the ovens, or the cattle-car ramps
And surviving this ordeal left its own stamps
The camps – we must always remember

So each year we gather on Remembrance Day
To honor the loved ones who have passed away
And the horrible price that they had to pay
We pray – we will always remember


Details | I do not know? | |

We Are Your Future

Hay Mom and Dad
It’s been 40 years
Since you’ve been born
Now its time we change gears
	
You were to set the stage
And prepared the cast
You were to direct 
For the torch to be passed

And now in this age
As we begin a new
You were to train us
So we could surpass you

Of course there have been mistakes
Cuz you all were blind
You destroyed the world
That you were to leave behind

Pushed on by greed alone
You didn’t know
That that was your job 
So you didn’t show
The devotion
That was meant to raze
The heirs of this earth
That you set ablaze

But it’s all good 
We know our task 
And unlike you
Our head is not in our ass

And we the newgeneration
Will fix what is done
Then teach the way
For the children to come


Details | Free verse | |

FRANK'SGIVING!

Hey, Pilgrims,
Let's dress-up
Dress-down the plumes
of the dancing Peacock
(If we'd allow)
but for the Ritual;

For Francsly speaking
in tongues of plata y oro,
Pound-for-bloody-pound
How much 'cide this buys?
A simply-uneasy angst to the quest,
Oh, how Corpulent "m.d.'s" -
Which dystrophy Indigene Water - Land - Identity muscle 
Manifest your Destiny! - Trophied.

Lots of time for sargeants,
for unhappy Cherokee rides on trails to tears      
Led from 50,000 years to Discovery? Indeed!
With no reservation 
'cept to enslave the Spirit,
And with tobacco & cotton gotten
from the corn colors of the Earth!

Are the Iroquois/Mohawk/Navajo/Cherokee/Hopi
Thankfully jeeping...?

Don You grisly-now...
Our meleagris gallopavo decapatito,
Strut and march like mute Mummera in the Charade!

                                                                            Cum Multis Aliis  


Details | I do not know? | |

The Crushed Skulls

The Crushed Skulls

the crushed skulls

and the 

torn-off legs

and the 

single shots piercing countless heads


women, men, children
young, old, everyone just a human being

when will we tire of the senseless killing which we keep on impotently seeing


the gaping wounds soaked in blood

dismembered corpses piled high in some humid make-shift shit-stenched mortuary

who will remain to someday write, war's final obituary


for the killing goes on in the name of tribe
faith
race
religion
caste
sect

and the vested interests above all

but who really hears the whimpering sobs of a 4 year olds call

for her mother, father, brother, sister

as she lies dying, bleeding out like a gutted animal, on the stinging gravel

while we deliberate and engage and while to Geneva we always travel

to sign some scraps of paper that merely postpone the killing for a while

while the putrefying carcasses of human beings lie side by side, mile after bloody mile


war is ugly, they tell us

but necessary too

and we go to war for peace 

while the generals and the money-men and the politicians drink and dance and screw


war is ugly

it is indeed

but so are we

if we fail to see the humanity stripped away 

and peeled off the skin of that 4 year old girl

and if her cries for help we do not heed


war and guns and bombs and the very latest smart nuke

sickens me as it should us all
making us retch and puke

but who gives a **** about the bombs falling far away

we've got chores to do, margarine to buy, and take the family out for the day


war is ugly

so they tell us

while loading the magazines without much of a fuss

war is ugly

and cold and brutal and evil as the hounds of some distant hell

but who gives a **** for we have sneakers to buy and stocks to sell

war is ugly

but so are you and I

for we remain silent

as the bombs fall incessantly on

out of the open sky

shame on me and shame on us all, that much I believe is true

for our silence in the face of misery is tacit acceptance

and try as we might to inure ourselves 

I am as complicit in it all

as are you...


Details | Quatrain | |

America's Lament

Slipping gently towards entropy,
Ownership with an apostrophe.
Braid the loose frays of sanity
Till something true finally answers me.

Troops are marching over many lands,
Tagged cornflower blue--a worldwide brand.
Don't speak out or you will be banned,
Towers implode just as they've planned.

Constantine merged Rome's faiths to one
Keeping time and step with Pagans.
Moloch laughs at our dull compassion
While Illuminati goals corrupt conception.

With a punitive eye beneath the skin
Mankind’s been declared the pathogen.
So an age of ignorance was ushered in
With aims to squelch the soul within.

Rotating parties deflect shared shame
Allowing complacency to be blamed.
Splintered populations can be tamed,
And bombs tend to leave bodies maimed.

Thieves steel gold and filch the free press,
Bobble heads working to keep up stress,
Businessmen sponsoring all this mess.
"We've got some pills if you feel depressed..."

We inherently trust their authority
As they outlaw nutrients due to toxicity.
In an effort to organize bioactivity
They count on our enduring apathy.

We protest lies, so they've built some pens.
Peace simply means they'll take our weapons.
"So go buy a widescreen for your den
To watch us start your wars again."

Even the name Bilderberg is a joke.
As they like it they’ve managed to fleece us broke,
Locking humanity into the yoke.
They sold the world lies before they ever spoke.

Crypto-eugenics is a fatal threat,
Academia functioning as a stooge pet.
Look into those eyes; they've got no regret
To kill us all off like they're clearing a debt.

Global control would only serve them well,
Micro chipped souls have no secrets to sell.
Salivate each time you hear their bell
Or they'll call themselves gods chasing you through hell.

Our oppressive puppet liars, they will not quit,
So don't waste breath saying, 'I'll submit.'
Words of our liberty are just and legit,
And truthful self-rule is a righteous fit.

When bureaucrats state dissent is treachery
In truth they've already sold their loyalty,
They still threaten our sovereignty.
Reclaim our human right to be free!


Details | Fibonacci | |

Whistle While You Work

when
when
I first 
stared at this
woman rocking
I wanted to start whistling






James Abbot McNeill Whistler
Whistler's Mother  { 1871 }  Wikipedia



Also Brians Strand's Entry 
Sequence Fibonacci Imagist Contest


Details | Free verse | |

All American Eagle

"We don't speak Spanish here, speak English
This is America”

Unbelieving brown eyes
Turned, toward that face
Unbelieving that that this person
Had a right, to open his mouth
And utter death
Towards my culture

Furious, brown glory, pride, spitting
And I set, my eagle, my ALL AMERICAN
Eagle, gold and magnificent,
unleashed

This is the land of the "free"
So free your head from your rear
Before you ever tell me not to speak Spanish here

¿Usted tiene razon, porque todo suena más bonito en español,  no?
Your jealous because my skin
Is pigmented gold, and it shines like the gold in your banks
But this, this is my own

“this is not your  land”

How dare you say that this land belongs to you
The world belongs to nobody but if you want to play that game
My people have breathed this air for centuries
This land, these riches
This is MINE

Go ahead and hide behind Manifest Destiny's and "God Granted Rights", 
This Sonoran desert, with its desert flowers
Blooming in the night
This is mine
Passionate, hot, sultry
Makes my blood boil from all inequalities
Like when they hand my people a broom
And tell them to start sweeping
Since they have no other options

NO 

This Passion comes from centuries of injustice
I refuse to let this happen, anymore!
Not to me, not to my children, or my children’s children 
My people have broken themselves over this wrong for too long
As for the next person
Who decides to try and step on my 
Pride

It’s never broken, so stop trying.

Furious, brown glory, pride, spitting
And I set, my eagle, my ALL AMERICAN
Spanish Speaking Eagle, gold and magnificent,
unleashed


Details | Free verse | |

Thanksgiving through...

A red, orange, brown fuss
in autumn once more
as fog comes upon us 
Halloween ghouls to the door

The trees turning yellows
rains tumult and pour
thunder bellows, 
winds blow cold with a roar

and puddles they widen 
until they're almost a lake
then out we need go 
for the leaves we must rake

So we dig out our gloves
and we wrap round our scarfs
Then we shop for our loves,
friends and then some other halves

For Christmas  approaches
but fireworks come first
as Guy Fawkes encroaches
kids pennies do thirst

Then it's time for the lights
as the children do sing
And Santa's nearly in sight
while the church bells do ring

Then Jesus Christ's birth
we will try to remember
the meaning of 'worth'
on 25th of December.


Details | Rhyme | |

Are We Discriminating Against God


We often hear this topic across our nation. Another person crying; “discrimination.” In our many attempts to not discriminate. It seems like it’s God that we seek to eliminate. It seems like we’ve come up with our own “rules.” And somehow have turned into a bunch of “fools.” We accept many perversions of various kinds… But God himself? We seem to close our minds! In many of our lives, we’ve “kicked “ him out. And refuse what he really is about! The words, “In God we trust...” Our money bears it! Anything of God? We’re afraid to share it! It seems like the courts almost say he doesn’t exist! And have brought much confusion into our midst! As many say it’s “offensive” to display a cross… Many godly values have already been lost! It’s time to wake up America! And begin to see! The kind of country we’re beginning to be! A country that’s foundation is getting off course. Being driven by a wicked and ungodly force! Out only hope is in God! And him alone! We must invite him back into our homes! To God and his word we must hold secure and fast! He is our only hope, that our country will last! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Acrostic | |

Spirit Torch

Souls are guided by interior circumstances infatuated.
Persons are accountable for own actions devaluated.
Internal guidance is always there in some kind of form.
Reading the right or wrong is what will break a storm.
Indirect words may help with any decisions that inform.



Torch within your spirit will always guide you true.
Our hearts and minds will deliver a softer clue.
Recycle the tribulations that you have lived thru.
Carefully make the right choice in what pursues.
Heal mistakes; forgive yourself, before darkness ensues.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Do The Wah Wah

Wah Wah
       Ha   Ha

Jimmy
      Was  He

Overdrives
       Amplifies


High Gain
     Ear  Pain

Thumb Fret
    You  Bet

B . B. King
   Idol's Zing

Hall Of Fame
  Bears His Name

  Jimmy Hendrix
      But Buster Sticks


Details | Light Poetry | |

Stick It To Him { Footle } Light Poetry

Vampires
           Desires

                       Holy
                               Moley

                                              Beware
                                                         Out there

                                                                       Used stake 
                                                                                He's baked





Tribute To Halloween   
 [BOOOOOOOOO} LOL

Also Entry For 
Donna Golden's   Footle Fright


Details | Free verse | |

Rap Rage

It doesn't have to rhyme, in time
its all semantics anyway.
The words to play
into other words and every thing
doesn't need to ring
in rhyme.
Write about how it be.

C-span gobbldegook of terror
committes sit as souls pour out of poverty
services unprovided while
building bombs.
Who cares about the conspiracy
of greed and machismo to
keep us in our place?
Race to the bottom line:
I'm a bank and your black and back off
I'm a mortgage company and your puerto rican
with credit stinkin
have we killed all the Indians yet?

Without the news the blues
is mindless sitcom cons
or
when the polls close the winner will be named
before the count
you is out.
Show me the beef 
stay obese for spiritually
priestly pedophiles.

A perpetration of a preponderance of b.s.
reigns in the land of the
locked in
locked up
bondage of souls
dreamin' the great dream of a house
to be blown away in a storm,
or run over by a Free Way.

What's mine ... ? 
Rage.


Details | I do not know? | |

For Aung San Suu Kyi

For Aung San Suu Kyi

manacled
you remained unyielding
bruised by their bayonets of power
you remained unyielding
gagged by their coarse brutality
you remained unyielding
today you return
and we salute
your spirit
that remained
and remains
unyielding


Details | Narrative | |

Beauty and the Unpublished Author


Far away in a little town tucked in the corner of a map
Lives the girl who ruined his heart
And broke his life

While with him she would smile and laugh so sweet
Tender as only she could be
In his heart she lit even the corners so deep

With time she became his definition of life
In all he did he had her in mind
Life wasn’t life without him seeing her smile

As moments grew into weeks
The flower of his heart started to reveal its wilt
In her eyes no longer was the sparkle he was used to seeing

Winds carried awful odour of their disorder
Tales went round of her illicit exploits behind the counter
The man with the shop at the corner savoured all the honey she offered

At first he dismissed the whispers with laughter
But soon he discovered he was the only one on the other side of reality’s border
Yes indeed, another prince had taken over

Trouble was how sincerely he loved her
Problem was that even she had only love to offer
Issue was he hadn’t yet sold a dime of the books he authored


Details | I do not know? | |

For Robert Zimmerman

For Bob Dylan

sheltered from the howling winds of vows and scattered souls and sweltering hate

she is a refuge from the blistering sands of dread and loss and torn and twisted fate

when the emptiness inside becomes an abyss so dark and wild and cold

my words get lost in the jangling alleys where dreams are bought and sold

I met her in those alleys among the withering roses on a bed of thorns

and she filled me up with poems banishing the scowling moments and their baleful scorns

now I lie awake and wish that I could sleep and drift away into the maze of her dream

but slumber has fled and slipped the noose around my words as they thrash around and scream

words that swirl around and around like that scarlet scarf wrapped around her face

she's a mystery still as she will always be while I sift through this empty desolate space

the storm it broke and ceased and shuffled my words as they drifted forlornly into the chasm of the dead

leaving me here still and mute and frantic as I try to pick up the pieces of all the words that have been said

far too many far too often far too conceited and far too proud

for I failed to hear the stillness of beauty as I rambled along barking my words out aloud

she hushes me now as she hushed me then in the cobwebbed tunnels of the past

while I weep more words in blood and ink onto dried parchment meant never to last

so tell her that her whiskey has been greedily gulped down and now that I am soberly drunk

I see her songs and hear her breath reaching down into my mouldy abode of hapless funk

fare-thee-well for now as I slide into the scribbled hubris of another battered rhyme

dazed by the glaring embers as they scorch the moments of quickly fading time

and if tomorrow finds me here still shell-shocked and drained in body and in mind

tell her that her wine has slipped through the loose knots that bind

tying me to this place of sanity and insanity all rolled into one

while all is numb and scarred from the deed that has been done

and as I flee recklessly chasing away myself from me once more
she'll know the words for its a song that's been sung far too many times before

(for bob dylan)


Details | Ballad | |

Songs of Louis Capart

Songs of Louis
Capart
-by Bob Atkinson

simple phrases
satisfy

although messages
pass me by

deep within the
voice of sentiment

moves a heart toward
contentment


driving again down a
road

ample farms of crops
unknown

to Dijon up from
Paris

could have been just
any place


City of Light still
inspires

six story limit
gives up an aura

expanding
possibilities for
space

room for sidewalk
dining tables


Treff am Rex written
on pages

a story told of
feckless craving

someday bright
screen will show

how heart's desire
grows and grows


Capart's voice
transcends my mind

could be from any
decade past

language used to
paint the sun

drives in toward all
meanings of


past good times or
future fun

satisfaction sipping
a coffee cup

successful endeavor
or busted run

no matter, has all
been fun


no matter now, all
will wait

for this album to
run its pace

settled feelings of
quiet grace

all bodes well, no
wild cast rage


thank you Capart for
morning mood

of my time within
mind's groove

language meaning
escapes my thought

yet this feeling
ever locks


me into awareness of
satisfaction

allowed this morning
from reaction

to words describing
your desire

to entertain with
heart filled fire


Details | Rondeau | |

Pulling

Wool over my eyes
In life that happens many times
Wool over my eyes
Someone laughing in others cries
Our nature grows as our youth climbs
We never seal our heartfelt crimes
Wool over my eyes


written by
Cecil Hickman

written for
Sponsor nette onclaud 
Contest Name WEAVE A RONDELET 


Details | Ottava rima | |

WAR SEEN THROUGH A YOUNGSTER'S EYES

Born in that historical and eventful year
when changes were sweeping this country,
peace songs were heard in the scary, tumultuous air...
not realizing the dear cost for the quest of liberty
when soldiers would have gone to a foreign land so far,
to defend what others thought was sheer folly!
And their blood was shed in jungles and on dusty roads,
never feeling selfish pride by carrying the heaviest loads.


And from those sad and tragic memories,
my lyrics were written and sung to myself
with the hope of revealing them with teary eyes...
remembering what took for them to face pain without relief
and whenever letters were delayed in the mail mothers
began to fear the worst, if not a horrible death...
many went to churches and synagogues to ask God for mercy,
and yes He heard their pleas, but war had no clemency.


Many of those soldiers were given Purple Hearts
for their remarkable courage to have confronted danger without surrendering to the enemy,
others were forgotten in wheelchairs without legs and arms,
and they wept with no one offering comfort, warmth and sympathy...
but on those heart so proud of their Motherland they wore American flags,
unable to forget their commitment when they were asked to fight for their beloved country.
O brave soldiers, if no medals or honors were given you...let me reward you for your fright:
by erasing all the atrocity of bloody scenes that still are troubling your longest, coldest night. 
    


Details | Rhyme | |

A New and Old Sway

Once a man told me of this saying so clear,
That I have noticed comes true every time.
Such a simple saying with a meaning sincere,
Left deep impression on my mind, in my prime,

Just one line and here is what he said to me.
He said, “A new broom always sweeps so clean“.
At first not knowing what he meant in any degree.
In just a little while, I understood what he did mean.

If you have ever swept any floor with a new broom,
Then you know the ease of flowing dirt in those piles.
With an older broom, it takes longer to groom.
Along with it might seem like traveling miles.

Humanity terms it means, a new person works hard,
To prove maybe their worth, in a new position held.
Though after time they seem to fade, playing a card,
Then they seem to fade into the shadows and quelled.



quote " A New Broom always sweeps clean"


Details | Verse | |

Liberian Sky

Harsh is the wind of Sahara,
Serrated by grains of dusty sands,
Stripping flesh from the bones of the dead,
Kalishnikovs gripped in their skeleton hands.
Child-soldiers trained as assassins,
Magazines slotted in like building blocks,
Smooth as silk, this gun never jams,
It musically clicks as the catch unlocks.
Itchy were the trigger fingers,
Calloused from teasing the guarded steel,
The psychopathy of poverty teaches
Kill what you can, kid, that’s the deal.
Dead lie the innocent children,
Dead as the sprawl of the desert terrains,
Conflict diamonds as payment
Fired Washington bullets into their brains.
Harsh is the land of corruption,
And black the nocturnal Liberian sky,
The blood in the moonlight drying
Seems equally black in the white of the eye.


Details | I do not know? | |

WATCHING BY THE WINDOW...

It's raining gods!
A flow of rare colorful gods
Sailors of soil-of-evermore
for last comrades, dreaming the outdoor

It's raining gods
It's raining gods,
the line accross all feigned-glories
their lord's irreversible stories
to remind me that we
were all born to be free

It's raining gods...


Details | Rhyme | |

Rosa In the Right

Tired and weary, she was feeling,
and was not, in no mood, to fuss.
After a long day, of working hard,
she just want, to get, on the bus.

However, she was born, and raised, in a period,
one of color, never received, any justice, or respect.
Always treated, as if, just an animal, existing,
just to do manual labor, of which, the south, would expect.

With every item and place, being categorized and separated,
with the attitude, that colored, and the white, should never mix.
The people, who made it bad, for those, in association with,
doing good, for all, were still up, to doing, their dirty tricks.

People of color, had to follow, these laws, and guidelines,
for following them, meant one's, strict survival.
Only so much, of this, could one of color take,
so often, some go, to church, for comfort, of a revival.

This time thou, no more, could she, then accept,
when she did, the right thing, sitting where, the sign, was stated. 
Because there weren't, no seats, in the front, for a white passenger,
she had, to give up, her colored seat, and this time, she debated.

Realizing, and fearful, was she, of the danger ahead,
by the truth, and her faith, she then, stood her ground.
The white bus driver, who felt threatened, lie on her,
and had the police remove her, from being bound.

Her having to spend, a brief time, in jail,
she stirred, up frustration, that has been there, for so long.
Because of her, a movement, was then started, making possible, 
a future, for she, had the courage, when faced, with the wrong. 

 


Details | Cinquain | |

Fighter (Insurgent Man)

                                                            Fighter 

                                                      Insurgent man 

                                                   Detonator in hand 

                                  Stone eyes watch the troops approaching 

                                                            Killer 

                                        Awaits the optimum moment 

                                          Shouts "Death to Infidels" 

                                                Soldiers survive 

                                                         Coward


Details | Verse | |

It Only Hurts When I Laugh

So where did all the flowers go when the lights went out?
  And sunset plunged beyond the rim of planet’s earthly crust?
It rained a constant torrent in the middle of a drought,
  Global warming brought a chill, of irony it must.

Where have all the prisoners gone, missing from the cells?
  To roam with sheer impunity upon the city streets,
To murder, rape and plunder through a multitude of hells,
  Where innocents surrender to political deceits.

Where resides humanity on backdrops of despairing?
  Casinos spawned in super size, hard drugs dispensed with ease, 
Cessation of integrity, of common sense, of caring,
  As demigods smile dissolute through tabloid greed and sleaze.

In hope of one last favour when I am dead and gone,
  That carved into my gravestone be my chosen epitaph,
When they lay the granite monolith into the emerald lawn,
  Let the fascia legend say the words: “It only hurts when I laugh.”


Details | Rhyme | |

Refined Perfection

On a cold eerie night they come out to feed.
No desire to kill they just have to fulfill a need.
Most evil things plan on doing cataclysmic wrong,
Vampires are made through no choice, even if strong.
One reverse bite is all that is needed to start desire.
Their souls thrown out into the dreaded Hells’ fire,
Sleeping thru daylight they hunt and feed at night.
They are presumed evil since death follows fright.
With no soul they are doomed to this world of dark.
They carry on with life un-chosen with makers mark.
Witches have choices between being evil or good.
Maybe Vampires would choose differently if they could.
This monster that has been crucified thru ages defined.
If given a chance would deliver perfection refined.


Details | I do not know? | |

When Tyrants Tremble

When Tyrants Tremble

when tyrants tremble
at the fury of those who tremble no more

their veneer of stability seems rotten to the core

when the trembling ones shake off their long-hushed fear

the trembling ones
tremble now with a rage that injustice everywhere can hear

when tyrants tremble
as the dispossessed shake their foundations of tyrannical conceit

tyrants tremble
when the common ones expose the phantoms of tyranny's deceit

when the trembling ones
refuse to be cowed and bowed and beaten down again

the trembling ones
scream their vehemence as they have little to lose and freedom and dignity to gain

when tyrants tremble
their trembling resounds and echoes around the world

tyrants tremble
then in each far-flung tyranny at the peoples' flag being unfurled

and finally when the trembling ones
take back the citadels, the streets, the squares, and the parks

the trembling ones
send a message to power that revolutions may be triggered by the merest of livid sparks

and that tyranny may reign for a decade or a generation or even two

but tyranny must eventually succumb to the rage of the common ones that appears suddenly out of the bright clear blue

this isn't a warning or a threat or a declaration of ill intent

this is a sober lesson in history for the peoples' history with oppressive stasis can never be content

when tyrants tremble
they should know that there will someday come a trembling surprise

for the garbage heap of history patiently awaits each tyrant's wretched demise


Details | Free verse | |

God Save The Minute Men

The squelching heat has of no effect
on the air-conditioned Minute Men
as they survey the desert land.
Keeping ever vigilant 
against the alien brown skins
that endlessly cross their borders. 
These pressed khaki pant militias
devoutly scour the arid passageways
equipped with bottled water,
binoculars, and cell phones.
Guarding the roads
to the ancient canyons of the Navajo 
and the Peabody Mining Company.
Or through the Mexican Missions 
that predate California.
Territory good Anglo American's 
recently inherited
from the parents of rape and murder.
God bless America
and God save the Minute Men.



Dean Walker


Details | Free verse | |

Obstacle

We didn't start out this way
We didn't plan for this
We created this

Our ancestors didn't think about
Corporations
and
Cars

What were their dreams?
Were they as materialistic as ours?

Survival only has one road
But many potential avenues to travel

It all ends up the same
My friend

Death
That final unconquerable
Obstacle


Details | Limerick | |

Freedoms Not Allowed

Not allowed to chew gum anymore,
What will be next, not able to open door?
This may seem frivolous.
Will be advantageous,
To profiteer, he will know the score. 


Details | Sonnet | |

Minnesota Nice

The great upper mid west
Minnesota put to the test
Ten thousand lakes and streams
Reality for many who like to dream


From Itasca state park
To the Louisiaina's wooden bark
The mighty Mississippi flows
Gently down the outcrop she goes


Crime rates are always's on the rise
But really does it come as such a surprise
Everyone seems to like to hug
Except when its a mosquito bug


So many call us Minnesota Nice
But some still say were Cold as Ice




Details | Idyll (Idyl) | |

Monticello

Hearken back unto a time
when the willow weeps o’er the riverside
where radishes and cabbage grow in a line
nearby rabbits hop away and hide

The women whisper amongst themselves
and bid you call upon the master
over the hill upon which sits a well
you will hear a chorus of sweet laughter

The mountain you sit upon is your castle
and from it sprang the seeds of a new nation.
the wind brushes you against a thistle
what do you feel stirring inside? It is creation.


Details | Sijo | |

President Bush in Three Lines

Confusion reigns in him, even before the press conference.
Yet when there's a chance to make a bad choice,  none's more decisive.
Acting only when he must, he throws the chips, lets them fall.


Details | Free verse | |

You Must Set Yourself On Fire

A thousand midnights tread,
Highwire circus acts
Traversing the lavender Horizon-crease;

I memorize such sudden perforations,
Keep them under my swollen tongue
Only to purge them gracelessly
Back into your fist.
Replace my stumbling almost-words
With vastness:
A self-induced universe freckled by
Cauterized cigarette burn stars
And half empty beer cans.

I fill my lungs with feral smog,
You fill your head with smoke;
My nose trickles blood freely.

And if it was not for such ongoing facades--
Psuedointelect, rabid romances,
My world on unstable axis--
We might have,
By now,
Enshrined our Hearts in plaster molds,
Traded our eyes for seaglass pebbles.

The cherry blossoms have yet to bloom under
This hemisphere of the city:
Bare branches claw against dusk
and, in masochistic frost,

You burn your fingerprints into
My back.



"You Must Set Yourself on Fire"
Jenna-Nichole Conrad
Wordsmith


Details | Free verse | |

Sebastopol - Apple Blossom Weekend

The First Methodist Church,
with its bold wooden steeple,
burnt to the ground in 1914,
for preaching prohibition.
The good folks of Sebastopol
weren’t having any of that.
Today the Apple Blossom
Parade marches past
the rebuilt church, past
the Masonic Temple, past
Martha’s Mexican restaurant,
with its soup bowl Margaritas, 
past Old Main Street Tavern,
overflowing with biker patrons,
and Jasper O’ Farrell’s,
past The Powerhouse Brewery,
The Greenhouse, and G.T.O’s,
with its bottomless Bloody Marys.
As the entire town, marching bands 
and all, spill into Ivy’s Park 
for a two day party, pixilated music,
and four dollar beers to support
Analy Union High School.
No wonder Luther Burbank
and Charles Schulz
called Sebastopol their home.
And The First Methodist Church,
now made of stone, 
the only quiet place in town.


Details | Choka | |

Moon Effects

Before thru after
Deaths by three always follow
Crazy antics from the sick
These terribly true
Proven by natural ways
One act of full moons displays.


Full moons way depletes.
Taking human energy,
Whacking hormonal balance,
Both female and male,
Both differently but same
Each one resides in the game.


Full moon affects plants.
Without it, would not have chance.
To sprout, live another day,
Mother Nature’s plan,
Gods full natural design.
Beautiful cycles complete.

Date Written
10-13-2011

written for
Sponsor Russell Sivey 
Contest Name What Happens During A Full Moon? 

written by
Cecil Hickman


Details | Verse | |

Buttered Toast And Trains

His dreams of buttered toast and trains became
  Beleaguered by town-planners and architectural sharks
Who erected on his green and pleasant visions
  The blight of sunless tower blocks and concrete parks.
Once bicycles and potting sheds held blissful sway
  In country lanes and gardens swarmed with bloom,
Replaced by streams of motorised invaders,
  In place of lawns - hot tubs and decking loom.

His chronicles of defiance ring like warning bells from
  Small quaint churches in his rhyming pages,
Across the village greens and through the cobbled streets
  Down the passages of post colonial ages.
The words of such gentility and slowly dying culture,
  Sandwiches of cucumber and egg and cress for tea,
Earl Grey poured from china pots, sugar lumps in silver bowls,
  Croquet hoops and endless sun and sweet austerity.

That world, though semi-fabled, seems ever more unreal,
  And images he drew upon are all that now remains,
To teach us of a man who lived and then outlived his time
  With his marvelled dreams of buttered toast and trains.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Who Needs You Now

You have fought for your country
You have heard the calls of death
And felt the loss of blood
And now, no one hears or cares
About the tears you cry
You fought a fools war
Inspired by heroic deeds
Majestic words of honor and fame
From people who never knew your name
Many were those who fled
And endured behind their protest signs
But you, you fought the war
Lost your limbs and gained insight into reality
It was you who came back less than human
And now you stand alone at night
Lost and forgotten men
Tell me, tell me who needs you now
Where are the people
Who gave you hell
Where are the people
Who cried to bring you home
Who marched for your life
While you marched to your death
Where are the people
Who loved you when it was the thing to do
And fought for your cause
While you wondered what it was
As you watched your buddies fade away
Heroes and medals
Tell me, what does it all mean
Now that you stand alone at night
Lost and forgotten men
And tell me, tell me, who needs you now
Now that our memory fades
Of those who served and the reasons why
All we seem to do
Is stand aside and watch them die
And tell me Brothers
Who needs you now?


Details | I do not know? | |

Tourt

 
 Humans are humans,

 Animals are animals,

 But a tourt is one that

 seperates.

 We live in a country that

 claims to have greatness,

 and the truth of the matter

 is that it's in need of maintenance.

 The tourt allows only who they

 think is worthy to live in America,

 and years ago they tried to deport

 Black American's back to Africa.

 Tourt's hate to see unity in any

 community, and they will prosecute

 if they think you have gained to much

 from their country opportunity.
 
 A tourt is very perfidious, and

 their act's against other culture's

 is most atrocious.

 Tourt's only Divide, Destroy, and

 conquer.


Details | Free verse | |

The Written Word

Such wicked fools, 
What angry, half-crazed things they are
Such despair sticking to them
Around them and through them
Difficult to be certain about
How they have fared for so long.

Such violent buffoons, 
What dramatic, forgetful things they are
Such regret spilling toward them
Behind them and before them
Problematic to imagine
How their mistakes continue on.

Such loving simpletons, 
What brave, tender souls they are
Such passion within them
To end and begin them
Hard to know
The depths of their love.

Such magnificent dolts, 
What imaginative, dreamy-eyed things they are
Such creations flow from them
And I, one among them
Impossible to understand
All that is contained in every one.


Details | Free verse | |

Futile

Red-wine melodies
And moon-light visions,
Painted moments
Of my best memory,
Live among the swamps
Where midnight climbs cypress trees,
The bounty-hunter 
Of my childhood.

There,
Water-moccasins and alligators
Are much prettier 
Than the human atrocities 
I’ve encountered
Since first wandering
From those familiar lands,
So savage and sweet.

Now I find
The disappearing marsh
My preferred salvation,
Scented with an integrity
Humanity would not understand.
For the raw temperament
With which I exist
Is unmatched by foreign element.

I’d rather smell the discontent
Of an unspoiled bayou
Than the wetlands
Of man’s superficial 
Acknowledgement,
Yet I am an unwilling criminal
To the crimes
Wrought upon my nature.

Would, if I could,
Find balance between
The cicada’s recital
And the beauty of humanity,
If only in a glimmer.
I’d walk in both worlds,
Satisfied and complete,
Without hesitation.

But for the force
Gleaming within the impossible,
I am left to flounder
Within red-wine melodies
And moon-light visions,
Emotive motivations
Prompting my pen
Into futile action.

What heartbreaking agony
To witness the last
Of mangroves 
Where I’d sooner die
Than see my great-grandchildren
Live without knowing
Such eloquence
Of genuine statement.

From where I stand
There can be no substitution
For the memory lost
To progress
And I, too,
Will fade away,
 A tribute
Blurred by time.


Details | Rhyme | |

What's In Style

How can I sleep, with this warfare?
All left to weep, in this bomb scare.
All hell, is breaking loose.
Angels fell, so ready the noose.
In this country, we're all to fail.
So much animosity, right on our tail.
Should we try anarchy, that'll do the trick.
It's you and me, we'll make 'em sick.
Kick in their heads, rebel to no control.
The snake skin sheds, so they'll pay the toll.
We'll take on the Fed's, we'll sell our soul.
They'll die in their beds, hearts black as coal.
What's in style, should we be communists?
We'll stand on trial, and read off the list.
They'll be in denial, as we chain their wrists.
We tried it with peace, but that didn't work.
Gunfire will never cease, for Death'll always lurk.


Details | Rhyme | |

The pain

Can you feel the pain.
That still remains.
I'm really plauged.
Like doctors revealing aids.
neal and wait.
while the government steels your fate.
look at your freedom get peeled away.
i feel for the children that havent had a meal n days.
kill the rage.
that builds the hate.
Like when your spiritual shield inflates; the ego.
now we know.
the founding fathers gave the natives mezels. 
and its hard for a rich kid to reach close.
to the poor kid who can't concieve hope.
our integrity becomes the unwieved rope.
holding together the east coast...
while you eat toast.
your needs grow.
making us more evil.
like people controled by the eagle.
I'm leathal like upheavals that beat you.
I read through the bleak truth.
Feed to the oblique youth...


Details | Carpe Diem | |

Weep Not Too Long

Love has grandeur and finesse. Sometimes greater, sometimes for less, Weep only for a short while. Move on with harmonies style. When your eyes have tearful drape, New passion shall always escape. Recall the memories that are deep. Gallop ahead, for not long shall you weep.


Details | Blank verse | |

church bells

Church Bells 
Once I lived in a charming English village, near 
an ancient church, every Sunday morning 
on my only day off, the bloody bells chimed.
Thought I saw a woman cycling to mass in 
the mist, and it wasn´t Germaine Greer.  
When Muslims ruled Andalusia, they tolerated
 Christians, but a poet of that time -Ibn Baqi- 
 circa 1059 1112, wished they wouldn´t clang
bells so hard waking him up when air was cool, 
sleep sweet and his Christian mistress had to 
get up and go to mass. So far nothing has 
changed, dear Ibn Baqi, the bells keep on tolling


Details | Blank verse | |

Ebony and Ivory

Sitting here
With the worst headache of my life

This poem I am vigorously
Trying to write

Everyone in this world
Is still judged by black or white
Racism is still
An unsinkable fight

Even throughout the years
Even throughout the ages
Generations with different stages
There will always be the topic
Of the racial discrimination
In this great nation

They fight and die
For the right to live
Yet they need not to be treated
By the vindictive

After wars, after protests
After speeches after sports games,

They are not seen all as equals
Only they are victims of vulgar names
And not treated as our same

Only through the shadows
Of tension and hate
Light must come
And peace it create

Never will this place
Ever live in harmony
Until ivory
Merges with ebony

Together we must come
Not further apart
Yet always one
Must learn the place to start


Details | Free verse | |

History repeating itself Inspired by jesus to save Iraq

Look at the bible
it was written as a rock thrown to the future
in case history repeated itself
and there was yet another religious war

here it is
in our presence
bullets and bombs
and enemies who have no reason to hate

send someone in there with a plan to slide
some signs
to get the women and children out of the arena of death
known as their village
that is under attack by evil
a satanic massacr of men hypnotised by demons

send someone in there
to lead them out
a stage an act a subtle plan of candle in the window 
church bells
and bakeries closing for the food for the road
for even jesus fed his followers a crumb a day

dont fall into that trap
plan and plan

history has repeated itself
jesus saw it
threw a rock into the future and is trying to tell us
we have to work together
get the innocent out
turn the war zone nightmare into a ghost town
and lead the refuges of the nightmare somewhere else

was no one listening to the gospel
the chines 
the indian
the jewish the german
all the bibles have prophecies to help mankind in the future
right now its english
put your plans in action instead of watching the innocent suffer
where is the love
 atree has a price
think of lumber and paper
a bird cost to catch it and put it in a zoo 
a human life is priceless

learn from jesus
lead them 
like a thief in the night
out of the nightmare
with a subtle plan when history repeats itself
and turn the nightmare to a ghost town
nothing more to fight over
an dthen the next religion can shine


Details | Ballad | |

WATERBURY'S PAST GLORY

Old Brass City
with massive gothic chuches,
abandoned rail-roads
and run-down factories...
we still glimpse into that bygone glory
which made your name so famous!

O Waterbury, no Christmas 
can be compared to yours,
when Main Street glitters under the fluffy snow
and everyone hummers a carol!
O Waterbury, those starry nights
are too surreal and make lovers fantasize!

Old Brass City,in ninenteen-forty-two
lads and gals were sent to war to fight the Cruel,
and mothers cried as their sons and daughters
left this once-happy-town of friendly and kind folks!
And despite all the sorrow and pain yet to be,
they proudly marched off to defeat the enemy!

O Waterbury, your monuments inspire hope,
and remind all of your past glory and leadership;
and the brave soldiers who sacrificed all...
became those heroes we've engraved into the soul!
Some returned, many died to seal their fate,
and their courage and valour put an end to all hate!


Details | I do not know? | |

Untitled number:64

He stands Army strong in his big combat boots.

He's makin a name and defending his roots.

To set him off would be your regret.

An enemies name he won't forget.

Gentle with a woman and strong with his words.

He won't back down until he knows he's been heard.

For a good cause he stands firm and tall.

Loyal to his friends...he's the guy to call.

To him man...


Details | I do not know? | |

X

Meaning beating rhythmic patterns the letter X,
   an initial in my name
 It's a letter most people fear
  but once you know it dear
 Approaching it with-in it's text,
  it will be a whole new game
 
Two sister cities
  once stood still
  one city in Africa 
it took a pill
 The sister city
 took it's name
  Africa's President took one look
 They declared war on a great big crook
 
Then China once again retook the name
 By paging out it's domain
 It carried out it's plain
  
 By the way Xi men is the name 
I am a X


Details | Rhyme | |

Jesus Could Have Called 10,000 Angels


Jesus Could Have Called 10,000 Angels…

On a cross… Jesus suffered for you and me.
He could have called 10,000 
angels to set him free.

Nailed to this cross, he went
 through so much pain.
He knew his purpose and the 
reason why he came.

Being there for all of mankind 
was his choice.
Weakened and alone… 
 One could hear his voice;

“Father forgive them.” 
 “They don’t know what they’re doing!”
As the crowd listened… 
 Many began believing.

“My God why have you forsaken me?” 
 With one last breath…
And then...  And very quickly… 
 There was death!

For all of the pain and suffering
 he was to endure
Was so that a plan of salvation
 is now secure.

This same Jesus, who was to rise again.
Is forever to be our atonement for sin!

Seated at the right hand
 of God the father... In heaven above..
He awaits there for us all with
 an abundance of  love!

Won’t you accept his gift 
of life that he’s giving?
And allow him to forever change
 the way you’re living!

By Jim Pemberton


Details | Rhyme | |

TERRORISTS

They are feared by most countries
So leaders do well to protect their boundaries
They are messengers of fire and arms
After every victory its time for jams
They are always on the looking
Out for the resourceful and opulent nation
Because that’s their main assert
When it comes to their next target
They always invade a countries affairs
And control it in blackmail pairs
Leaders who prove to be obstinate
Are likely to see their citizens desolate
It’s not easy to escape them right
Because they can be knocking on your door at any time
Because of their ravaging deeds
They render most rival countries in screams
One of their most effective wagons
Is the ever powerful nuclear weapon
That can wipe-out whole city like New York
Rendering it in total air block
It is sad to know that
They are able to accomplish these acts
Mostly in their agents countries domain
Because of some amount they will gain
That’s the secret that keeps them rocking all day
I guess if not eradicated they will continue to stay
So let’s be on the look out for their signals 
Which they always use as a means of invading our countries portals


Details | I do not know? | |

Old Sof'town

Old Sof'town*

1.

In old Sof'town,
the jazz struck chords,

the jazz lived, it exploded,
out of the cramped homes,
rolling along the streets,
of old Kofifi,

in tune to countless blazing heartbeats.

In old Sof'town,
Bra' Hugh breathed music, Sis' Dolly too,
and Bra' Wally penned poems that still ring true.

In old Sof'town,
Father Trevor preached
equality and justice,
for all, black and white and brown,

and all shades, every hue,
even as oppression battered the people,
black & blue.

In old Sof'town,
the fires of resistance raged,

'we will not move' was the refrain,

even as the fascists tore down Sof'town,
with volleys of leaden rain.

In old Sof'town,
the people were herded,
like cattle,
sent to Meadowlands,
far away and cold and bleak,
as the seeds of resistance,
sprouted and flourished,
for the coming battle.

In old Sof'town,
the bulldozers razed homes,
splitting the flesh of a community apart,
only to raise a monument of shame,
and 'Triomf' was its ghastly name.

2.

In Jozi today,
we remember those days,
and those nights of pain,
that stung our souls.
like bleak winter rain.

Yes, we remember old Sof'town,
as we struggle onward,
to reclaim our deepest heritage,
and build anew,
a country of all hues and shades,
of black and of white and of brown.

And yes, we will always remember,

and yes, we will never forget,

the price that was paid,
by the valiant sons and daughters,
of old Sof'town,

those vibrant African shades and hues,

of black,
of white,
of brown.


* Sophiatown in Johannesburg, South Africa, was also called Sof'town and Kofifi.



Details | Senryu | |

What Are You Waiting For

this wait
has alway's
meant never





Tribute To Martin Luther King


Details | Verse | |

Pumping Irony

Pumping irony through the veins,
  A heart of double entendre quips,
A plasma TV burns remains,
  Deceiving smiles upon the lips.
Smoking guns are hard to find,
  When they don’t exist at all,
Civil riots flood the mind,
  Kicking statues as they fall.
Jumping Jesus on the box,
  Money is all evil’s root,
Still, this church it rolls and rocks,
  Send in all your hard-earned loot.

Pumping irony feels like heck,
  Flexing muscles of despair,
Veins all corded in the neck,
  Clotted vessels going spare.
Cartoon capers cause affront,
  The offended seeing red,
In return for such a stunt,
  Terrorise and kill you dead.
For a true untrue portrayal
  Stereotypical and dumb,
In revenge for such betrayal
  Blow you all to kingdom come.

Pumping irony of the truth,
  In a lie that still persists,
Finds the inconclusive proof
  If it’s true that truth exists.
Gather round and all be friends,
  Multicultural global village,
Indulgent of one’s trends
  For terrorism, murder, pillage.
It’s politically correct,
  A fog of smoke and TV screens
Warfare just as you’d expect:
  Politics by other means…


Details | Imagism | |

The Eatery

urban alienation
pehaps ambiance of loneliness
or circumstances ambiguous to show



Automat - 1927

Edward Hopper 
  










Tribute To All Nighter Cafe's
Also Entry For Brian Strands Contest


Details | Rhyme | |

So Long Sacagawea

Poor Sacagawea we will no longer see. She was replaced by the “Father of our Country”. Just like predecessor Susan B. Anthony, Sac’s image is no longer on our money. Some presidents are there now. You have bid adieu. You carried your papoose on the front in plain view. Before the dollar coin, we knew nothing about you. It seems women are done no justice by the Mint. As was Sue, your presence was less than permanent.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Forgotten Love Found

Forgotten Love Found
Wildncrazy555
WLM
March 31, 2011

I thought she was lost
I did not know at what cost
She did not want me
So she let me be free
But now I have no more fear
For now she has returned here
Do I really know to see?
That she really does need and want me
For now I will think and just sit
This is her chance to prove it
I will truly be very strong
And she must show me that I was wrong
Should I let go of the slack
She must show me she wants me back
Will she really come and show 
If so my heart will have such a glow
As the sun is so hot and bright in the sky
I will lose all my fears and know why
I want to hold her so bad
And by doing so I will never again be sad
All my love I will give to her now
The amount she will never know how
We will make love for the first time
It will be so exciting and so extremely fine
I hope she will want me forever
If to be we will always be together
We will have to be till the end
This is the best time we can begin


Details | Rhyme | |

If There Was NO Christmas


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


Details | Cinquain | |

Release him, China!

                                                          China 

                                                      Iron fisted 

                                              Silent eyes suffering 

                                  Underneath bloodied golden stars 
 
                                                        Beijing 

                                    Communist terror reigns supreme 

                                            Wan Yanhai vanishes 

                                                AIDS exploding 

                                                   Deathtoll


Details | I do not know? | |

Ludwig and Vincent

Ludwig & Vincent...


‘They said that you were mad, Vincent’, whispered Ludwig to a silent Vincent.


‘I still am, quite insane’, replied Vincent, ‘but you, dear Ludwig, you were deaf, and mad, I hear’.


‘I listened with my soul, Vincent, I heard it all without hearing a sound. Yes, mad and deaf indeed I too, still am’, Ludwig said, smiling at Vincent.


‘just look at them now’, Vincent replied, smiling with Ludwig, ‘look at them now, as they hawk sunflowers, blissfully oblivious of exquisite starry nights’.


‘yes’, smiled Ludwig, ‘look at them now, they crave joy, yet they cannot hear an ode, dear Vincent, they cannot hear it! They do not care enough to hear’.


‘Yes, dear Ludwig’, Vincent sighed, ‘they do not care enough to hear’.


Ludwig and Vincent smiled, each tugging an ear.


Details | Narrative | |

Sorry, Yesterday was a Bore


Sorry, yesterday was a bore
That wasn’t me on a roll
It was the other me – John Winston – who wrote it all
But now I feel convinced I’m back
‘Wise-the-Prins-Wins’ in white and black
So please just sit back
And wait for more than just another rap
From this Kenyan dude on this part of the map

So what if there I sat
Butt flat on the dirt
Near the boulevard of broken dreams
Bleeding within from the wounds inflicted unto me 
...while in pursuit of impossible dreams
Still I insist there is nothing impossible to me
I gotta heal quick and get back to the ring of dreams
I gotta fight for what I believe in with all that’s invested in me
Defeat is a word unacceptable to me


Details | Free verse | |

Lost

America,
You fly your flags at half mast.
It make us feel right
to mourn our mistakes in life
Never let your flag reach full mast.
otherwise you forget what is a wrong thing.
Rather it be to resent your past and
Never succeed in this dog for dog world.


Details | Verse | |

TO FORGIVE

            


                        



                         TO FORGIVE 


                	
          To forgive is to give another chance which is
         something friends generally ask for in one way
         or another in hopes it is not too much of a bother
         regardless of what father and mother devour- it is
         always necessary

          But does it really enhance self esteem and 
         confidence? despite what color the fence behind
         which one should never feel too tense or course
         there will often be a need for recompense and it
         is still a good thing to do even at school?

          Whoever wears the pants in a good relationship 
         should be smart enough to know if both individuals
         are happy and if so be in control of all actions 
         or decisions- but always forgive wrong doing 
         instead of automatically condemning which tends to 
         be what People are always doing- whoever wears the 
        skirt should be at least smart enough to never 
        commit an act of betrayal


Details | Free verse | |

Home Sweet Home

Home Sweet Home
My childhood home
Is cherished 

Memories filled with
Silver and gold
And sometimes pure cold.

No one told me
It would go with me
Where ever I go 

When I roam from
Town to town
I carry it with me

I open the door
Each night when
I go to sleep
And dream.

I can’t shake
What I learned
And what I didn’t 
Learn inside 
My honeycomb

I can’t stop
Moaning 
About that
Home.


Details | Rhyme | |

Jesus Purchased My Soul



Jesus Purchased My Soul! Jesus purchased my soul… And I now it! I love him so much! I want to show it! Jesus paid it all on Calvary so long ago… He loves me so much! This I know! Jesus gave his all… With his redeeming grace! And has put my life on a solid place! Jesus paid the price! He did it for you and me! He died on the cross… So that I may be free! Jesus is coming back soon! I want to be with him! He is coming back! With the clouds beneath him! Come quickly Lord Jesus! Perhaps today? You’re the truth! The Life! The only way! By Jim Pemberton


Details | I do not know? | |

Evolving

That Lil green monster thAt seeps in my skin 
Making me trip on whats to begin 
Thoughts race and create words I'd never speak 
A new vocabulary evolves from the simplest of minds 
It's only cuz I'm exploring cuz still we tend to speak lies 
 it's the Lil canon that explodes the truth 
Just look around cuz society is living proof
You need too look this way 
Talk that way, and make sure everyone is pleased... 
That green monster is the revolution of change rolled into an outfit of his own n reeks of creative uniqueness. 
This is a piece of your generation living in mine.... 
That little green monster for me is the key to open the other 90% of my mind... 
I am at a stand still looking, observing, and dividing the journeys into groups
The intellectuals, the artists, the explorers,the lost souls, the ill prepared...
 But It is an unknown definition which society branded illegal because the greatest moments came from the 
monster himself. 
Viva la revolution... Creativity can not be silenced it is lit and passed to all.. 
 


Details | Verse | |

A Concept of progress

The world has this development,
The cause of their thinking,
They know how to use brain,
Why has a mind this power?
Development for an Idea.

As a seed, that shoots,
Grass, shrubs, plants and trees.
A needle or a space shuttle,
Only a cause of an idea,
Human travels with this concern.

Experience, knowledge and education,
A cause only for idea,
How a person can develop,
And progress individually,
Society hopes cooperation and peace.

Unity a tact of growth,
Enjoyment smoothness in flow,
Entertainment is encouragement,
A concept of progress,
So idea can move in its way.


Details | Rhyme | |

IT'S A TEEN'S PASSION

Whenever teens gather for an annual concert in Central Park,
they can't wait to swing their bodies hypnotized by wild music:
it's the irresistible charm of their idol...it's the rhythm and beat
of the song they'll shout until they can sing louder than a lark!  


Then, wouldn't we admit it's a teen's passion, or another trand?
Today's lyrics mesmerise, but to us they are ludicrous and blank!
We had ours when Elvis was king of the land,
let's understand them...we were just like them!


It's a teen's passion arosing an undeniable desire for a franzied, youthful living!
And if some songs promote rebellion and encourage promiscuity:
it's their choice to listen to what they like and project it as reality!
So why deny them all the fun...didn't we think that swing and rock were thrilling?


Details | Ode | |

SOME WILL KNOW GREATNESS

Our modern world has become
so advanced and sophisticated,
and its technology is at our fingertips;
unlikely yesterday when everything was slow-paced,
now fast-food and credit cards are a convenience...
and poverty is the plight of low-income!

Some will know greatness,
for having made unthinkable strides,
and they will be honored or even immortilized;
and I like to be one of them...simply remembered!
The great minds of the past, like those of today,
struggled to come out of obscurity,    
until Popes and wealthy people recognized their genius;
and those names became so glorious!  

Each one of us is born with an amazing gift,
and through vocation and inspiration,
it can grow in size and scope...
if it's used with good intention!
Painters choose the colors of their images, 
writers create the words of their moods;
sculptors carve out  faces with a chisel,
and  composers imitate the feelings of the soul!

Some will know greatness,
and though riches may not ever be theirs...
their works are the reflection of themselves,
or of others who made a difference;
we have seen them, admired them
and applauded them with excitement!
And they are as detemined as we are,
fullfilling a mission beyond compare!
  


Details | Verse | |

Who is the Son of God?

Lord Jesus  
A Son of God,
I read it in the Bible.
Where also lord mentioned.
A false prophet will be born.
After this message,
Lord Muhammad was born,
And these teachings were never accepted 
Christians followed Lord Christ holy Bible,
That ‘d written by his followers,
Because he was unable to write.

If this is the truth,
Who was the father of God?
That was the father of Lord Christ?

If Mary was virgin,
And God took this responsibility,
That her child, 
Jesus is a Son of God,
Is it that means? 
God was a human.

I read also on many occasions, 
Devil also slept with many women,
But nobody claimed that,’ he was a son of devil.
As Dalits were accepted untouchables,
Over the centuries and Mahatma Gandhi,
Accepted Indians ‘A father of nation’,
Claimed that untouchables are ‘harizans’.
The Son of God.

In 2001, The World conference against Racism,
Taken place in Durban that I attend,
And protested that, ’Casteism is Racism’. 
The 7th Global form,’ reinventing Government’ in Vienna,
I attended where I heard,
UN failed to hear Dalit’s issue of Caste,
Because they admitted that, 
Gandhi was a great philosopher.
He will be awarded with noble prize.

I appreciated the world philosophers,
Who admit Gandhi’s Claim that 
250 million Dalit’s are not human,
They are the Son of God as Lord Jesus Christ
But was that reason, 
Not Christians, not Muslims, not Jews, not Buddhists,
Condemned UN role of discrimination against Dalits.
Is these religions accepted that,
Gandhi was a great philosopher,
250 million Dalits are the Son of God,  not human. 
If they accepted that Dalits are also human,
They must claim to UN,
How did they fail to address?
Dalit rights are also human rights.


Details | Free verse | |

Media

white walls of
television screens
where the future lays
hidden in static
images
and smoky effects

behind recycled cans
and beer bottle labels
under skirts of
cheerleaders
and slogans
for consumers

in pages of bias
and speeches decorated
with patriotic backgrounds
and empty promises

on MTV
laden with Fox(es)

just out of reach
are bifocals
and remote controls

and ending the search
is an e-truth
sited by mothers of soldiers
and voiceless

corpses

who believed in it all


Details | Free verse | |

WAR

Atrocity all over,
Belligerent in parts,
Catastrophe in houses,
Denial in all the minds.
Effectiveness of weapons,
Ferocity in souls,
Geographical locations
Itineraries hold.
Justifiable crimes and
Knives cutting hearts away.
Lonely are the ones that leave;
Mothers often weep and pray.
Nobody cares at all,
Only power they must seek.
Poor are the ones
Quite eager to stay safely meek.
Random killings all the time,
Some for money 
Too many for none.
Under the sword of Aries the fight
Varies the price it carries.
We all suffer, war’s no gift
Xenophobia can excuse,
You can’t think the whole abuse
Zen-like-wisdom does inflict.


Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

Who I Am---Who Am I

I am the uniter of the divided
Also the decision fo the undecided
I am also the dividend
Between the people who want to live and not meet their end
From the people who tend to offend, and not befriend
These are not real people, for they are only pretend
It's the truth they bend
These people try to ascend
By making others descend,
But you can only descend
By doing this, so to make yourself ascend
Help others ascend.
So who am I?
Am I as beautiful as a butterfly or a firefly?
Or am I an unnoticed person who gets passed as a passerby?
So I can't justify that I have the answer to the question: Who am I?
So I testify that I crucified the stereotype of the question: Who am I?
Even though I'm not a stereotype, there are people who I mystify
But I still can't identify the answer to this three word question: Who am I?
I purify, modify, and amplify the question: Who am I?
Who I am is the person trying to find the answer to the question: Who am I?


Details | Free verse | |

More Than Knowledge

no sur,
eyez cant reed
massa sez we do hem harm 
ifin we coold reed

eyez jus wana sos dem roos
on da whal wood maik sens
eyez turd fo getin whoopd
not nowin y

theyz ses thur b slayvs risin
gainst theyz massas
don sees how reedin is t blaym
massa mus b ryt bout dat doe

o lawd whyz eye n chaynz
eye dun no won haum
lawd wayk mee frum dis dreem
eyez n minz swer weel neva reed
if dat be wat u be needn

no sur
eyez cant reed
(Mr. Douglas turns his back and walks away)


Details | ABC | |

NEVER BE AFRAID TO BE PROUD of AMERICA


America, the abundant, the place I was born 
I'll cherish till the day I die.
Where the bones of past heroes lie buried in the ground 
Who loved her the same as I.

Her mountains are so tall they reach for the sky;
With prairies where the green grasses grow.
There's billions of trees where wild birds nest
With creatures that flourish below.

That blue gold called water with which we are blessed
As raindrops or crystallized snow;
Changes to rivers and fresh water lakes
While the winds of our seasons blow.

There's the haunt of a whistle from a lonely freight train 
Racing on ribbons of steel
With the harvest of farms and from the factories 
Balanced in a box on a wheel.

Some cities have buildings a hundred stories tall, 
Structures of concrete, glass and steel.
A statue in a harbor, a present from France, 
Describes how, inside, we feel.

That flag on the moon with red and white stripes
Proves America’s dreams come true.
A country of heroes who line up to protect
The past, the present and the few.

We’ll defeat terrorism as it should be fought
Never letting Satan’s horde chase us to our door.
Safeguarding our borders and system of life
As our forefathers sacrificed before.

Never be afraid to be proud of America
And march with the brave, faithful and just.
Refusing to submit to the will of our enemies
Standing firm to preserve what we trust.















Details | Narrative | |

ANYONE CAN CHANGE

Most of us are too quick to judge
not knowing anything about a person,
and distrust is the outcome of ignorance
capable of setting us apart  from civilization;
first gather the facts, not useless rage,
and the belief that anyone can change
draws ourselves to a truth so unknown...


Hear all the words they speak, use intuition;
do they convince you to continue listening,
or throw you off with idignation?
If that voice sounds too unconvincing,
and can't confirm the answers you're expecting,
come up with questions that are pungent:
transforming those ideas with a thought,
and always believe that anyone can change...


Empires have risen, giving the obsolute power
to fearless men who were made into legends;
some were deserving, but most were tyrants of unclemency,
and did shameful and cruel deeds:
torturing or killing anybody who used to dare;
are we learning something from History?


When Attila the Hun rampaged Italy,
Leo the Great...the courageous Pope,
persuaded the savage king 
not to sack the city of Rome; 
and he also believed anyone could change: 
that any heart, with all its brutality and rage,
could replace its rampant fury and grim
with human compassion and mercy...


Details | I do not know? | |

Just For A Moment

Just for a moment close your eyes,

Just for a moment listen to the sounds.

Just for a moment think of the the past,

Just for a moment imagine their rounds.

Try to remember as you celebrate the fourth,

all the meaning behind it and all it's worth.

Be thankful you see pretty colors in the sky,

and all you are listening to are fire works...


Details | Verse | |

Cattle

oh, this grinding surge
roaring into battle,
how the air is filled
with the sabre rattle;
how the sky is blacked
by fires in their burning,
how the townships sacked
by counter-strikes returning;
how the guns and shells
through the air are streaming,
how the tolling bells
bleed into the screaming;
oh, the fight for land, 
conflicts over chattel,
how the days are spent
in slaughtering the cattle.


Details | Free verse | |

Drugs

It started once in chocolate,
It ended up in coke,
It found its way in music pangs,
Like vipers deadly fangs…
This poison spread like fire,
Throughout each state and home,
Now that it’s an epidemic,
To legalize they’re prone.
It started in candy,
Then ended-up in schools;
It spread when they thought the Bible...
"Was not-a-good Golden-rule...!”
It started in the homes,
When kids had nowhere to play;
It took its toll and boomeranged-,
Back on our heads to stay…!
Now it’s in our churches,
For each old aged-gran;
‘Cause Steroids aren’t just for boxers,
It’s for everyone across the land.
It seems the government has the market,
For every cause and lure; 
Oh yea, drugs are really big business,
Or they would have found a cure! 
 


Details | I do not know? | |

For Comrade Chris Hani 1942 - 1993

For Comrade Chris Hani
(1942 – 1993)

mowed down
by hot lead
your blood flowed
into our African soil
murdered you, yes, they did
silence you, they never will
for your voice
your spirit
speaks to us still


Details | List | |

The New World Order

Freedom will now be defined as the absence of
Constraint to control, coerce, constrain or force another
Person (s) into believing what you believe.

Independence will now be defined as the forcibly enticed
State of being under the political “thumb” of another
Ruler and being “occupied” until such time as you can
Live by the rules of that occupying government.

Truth will now be what is said in the media and will
Be filtered by public relations officials. As well, there
Will be no “true” statements, unless by “true” you 
Mean, those statements believed to be true and 
Ultimately disputed even when discredited as 
False. 

Justice will now be defined as the ability to manipulate
How laws are implemented and overriding those very
Laws to make new ones based on the situation at hand.
Impartiality and fairness is now dependant on the “truth”
As mentioned above.

Religion will now be defined as any group or groups
That deem themselves to believe in an “other” and
Should be considered ignorant and brutal under all
Circumstances, unless what they believe is congruent
To what is believed by the occupying government.

                                                                        
                                                                      [a political thought]


Details | Bio | |

Dali

Dali.
Smattering of neuron fires.
Waking to dream.
Salvador.
Peace before violence.
Palm of the hand.
Lama.


Details | I do not know? | |

Jar Head

The Gulf War
Jar Head
Jake Gylenhall 
portraited  by a 
dessert tan
devoid stillness.

His back muscles
seductively distracting
from the insanity of
a trained boredom
riddled man
repeating routine in a 
white washed 
un-colored withered
wilderness.

Brilliance only 
offered at dusk 
in a deliriously 
daring flamed sunset
that is followed 
by a brilliant blue. 

Days dated by an 
orb that pointedly
drops his eyes into 
the pitch of true chaosed
confusion and 
insecurity.

Asking
questions about 
purpose that he 
wouldn't dare say
outloud. 


Details | I do not know? | |

THESE STATES UNITED - PART I

A watchful white Dove 
 
patiently hovers high

slowly, high up above
 
as One 
 
of the forgotten few
 
Look down from the Great Golden 
 
Bird's Eye view

 
sigh sigh sigh
 
try not to cry
 
why why why
 
is there a  teardrop in your Golden eye
 
try try try

 
try not to choke
 
on the clouds
 
or on the smoke
 

Fly on your heartbroken
 
Paternal Wing
 
so tried and true
 
not so fast
 
past the Golden King
 
that we once loved 

that we once knew
 
there falls the red, the white, 

and the beautiful blue
 
teardrop - so long 
 
so long overdue


 
What a worthwhile journey 
 
A poor Pilgrim's passage through
 
Blood-soaked stripes 
 
taint pale me
 
and Americans of all types
 

of all shapes, sizes, and colors
 
and they also paint a colorful you
 
oh yes, you
 
yes, you too!
 
They Are Coming!
 
to paint you a somber more forgiving hue


 
Hear the Golden bagpipes 

Play for us now
 
Songs of a Nation
 
that we cannot replace
 
The Star Spangled Banner
 
God Bless America
 
and Amazing Grace
 
Pray for us now
 


God, George, save our Golden Face
 
Save our Sacred place

On Earth
 
As it is in Heaven

Where dreams renew

Where our Golden Eagle
 
Once so gracefully flew


 
Soar into Heavens of unthinkable
 
unsinkable

unreachable heights

 
Through the fears
 
the tears
 
and for over 200 years 
 
of a bloodstained
 
star struck
 

history
 
which is reflected in our 

and our older brother’s bloodshot eyes 
 
yet still remains
 
a mystery


Details | Narrative | |

SCARCE HARVEST

War World II was raging over this
southern Italian town* spared by a miracle...
a deluge that suddenly occurred: 
a night of blasting sounds, of rising flames 
as American planes bombarded its buildings;
the Nazis fled to occupied Naples.
In the North, the Fascits were executed,
as the Dictator Mussolini himself was. 


The farms could not be furrowed deep and neat,
fear hung over the farmers' shoulders;
and wheat couldn't grow abundantly to make bread,
and brazen women to a distant granary they went, 
risking their lives to grind the wheat kernels;
they were no young men in town, or the older ones
who had gone to war for a concept so deceptive.
Many youngsters and soldiers were kidnapped by the Nazis, 
to be taken to Germany as prisoners of war...who would have 
challenged the Third Reich, or disobeyed?


Old women with handkerchiefs on their heads, weeping loudly
and mourning the tranquil town it once was...so lovely and happy, 
and their cry was too bitter and inconsolable to be hushed;
now, even bread was taken away from them,
damning the cruel Duce, who had betrayed them for vanity...
why did he bring prosperity to Africa, not to Italy?
Why was his ego so manipulated by Hitler's cleverness...
that he could have conquered peoples and lands?


Ruins and dead kindred...a scenery of dread and abomination,
and the lively memory of begonias on their sunny balconies 
brought a sweet nostalgia in an hour of horror and death;
and gathered among the crumbled walls, their rosaries  
recited with graceful whispers, gave them 
the strength and the courage to desperately grieve:
"Peace, o beloved peace, have you overlooked
the kindness of such humble and honorable spirits?
 

Darkness brought the silence they had sought under the glittering skies,
to hide the ugliness of the war in their gloomy shadows,
never to reveal the devastation of their town;
and with the new sun rising, hope would have been 
renewed in the sunrise's lasting glow.
They would have seen those wheat golden kernels 
bend under their heavy weight and bow.... 
and heard themselves saying," Mercy, o mercy
of our righteous God, let prosperity abound...
as the misty rain slowly comes down!"   

Southern Italian Town:  Baiano

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


Details | I do not know? | |

Unconstitutional

Are you trying to pass this amendment,
Because of religious contentment,
Or are you just scared of your own feelings,
Not knowing what to do with these dealings,
Telling someone what they do is strange,
Seems to me to be a little deranged,
So don't tell people who to marry,
It's not treating some fairly.


Details | Free verse | |

An old motto renewed

woke up this morning
to an epiphany
of how your world works
be the best you can be
the best human 3 coil double flusher you can be
at first i was upset
in denial
that i too could live up to such high standards
how could i ever compete with such human waste
when they practice being a walking talking waste of skin everyday
acting it out
singing it
and making more money just by practicing an old motto renewed

Thats the only power you have over me
to be or not to be
a huge clog in the toilet we know as life
and i could practice it
all day and all night
no point in dancing around it in denial
but that might make me worth something
if i could pull off the feat of unequal measure
and finding someone to label what they really are
and laugh at the fact that they are oblivious to how your world works

Practicing being a total waste of skin
and then blame it on someone else
and hang their dead baby off my neck
but nope i'm better than that
i can be the best 3 coiler double flusher i can be
without any practice
just human nature at this point

Act 1 scene 2
making one person living a lie
look like a good person
as the rest of the play is all about everybody competes for the reward of being a clog in the 
toilet we call life
Song and dance
still the same glory
and yet soo many of you basking in your power
of who is or isnt in denial of how your world works
practice makes perfect i guess
no point in trying to change anything
just go dangle someone elses dead baby off your neck

an old motto renewed
be the best double flusher i can be
live it, sing it, paractice it to one day show the world their brand new lie
and next lesson of how to be succesfull at something
that will only come naturaly
why not?


Details | Rhyme | |

There Was A Time In America

There Was A Time In America… There was a time in America, when the Bible was taught in the schools. The ten commandments were displayed, as “God’s set of rules.” There was a time in America, where the cross could be displayed. Even In public places, people came together and prayed. There was a time in America, there was no “church and state” separation. As people all across this country asked God to help this nation. There was a time in America, where people knew right from wrong. You could see it in the way they lived, and could here it in their song. There was a time in America where one was proud to be a Christian. One could take stand for holiness, without coming under “suspicion.” There was a time in America, when mom and dad were together… Now, any kind of a commitment to marriage seems lost forever There was a time in America, where many were proud of “tradition.” There seems to be a lack of any kind of “spiritual nutrition.” There was a time in America, where so many could proudly say; “I’m going to read the Bible and do to church on Sunday.” This is the time for America, to wake up and try to understand. We need to seek God right now! All over this land! This is the time for America, to listen and begin to hear… The coming of our Lord is drawing ever so near! NOW is the time to seek the Lord, while he may be found! The word of God needs to be read in every city and town! Won’t you too seek God and listen to his voice today? Simply give him your heart and life. This could be YOUR day! By Jim Pemberton 11/25/11


Details | Rhyme | |

The Dubious Case for Love and War

Sorrow hastens the hearts lament
     For love and things once owned,
As one is material to a great extent 
     Yet both are almost always bemoaned.
Long has man heartily undertaken
     The art of bloody vicious war
And all too often love is forsaken,
      Just to settle a selfish score.
On common ground would some agree,
     “That all’s fair in love and war,”
But I beg to differ because it is plain to see:
     That love is what is needed more.
History tells us of the battles fought
     Along with the many reasons why
And even today, we are yet greatly distraught
     To know that many still fight and die.
Oh would love be grand if it spread like plague
     Infecting all and humbling their ill will,
Causing the dark hateful memories to fade:
     Forever crippling the urge to kill. 


Details | Free verse | |

This is the Story of How We Begin to Remember- Part 2

We hardly remember the truth
Victims of the Great Forgetting
We hardly recognize that history is popular culture
A screenplay of the past written by the victor

We joke George Washington 
Is the Father of our country
Both Literally and Metaphorically
Simply because he fathered so many illegitimate children
Picture Martha knowing that Betsy Ross
is sewing more than just stripes on the flag

As Paul Simon sung, 
We hardly picture Joseph's face 
as black as night
And Jesus wandered his days 
Under African Skies 

We hardly look at the big picture
which is that we are destroying ourselves
We cannot continue to keep living 
the way we are living 
And not expect civilization to collapse

We are so short sighted
We hardly see history repeating itself
We are Rome 
And quite sadly Nixon is our Nero
Hardly a hero
It won't be long before 
The clock strikes zero

By: Joseph DeMarco


Details | Free verse | |

Natures destiny

nature’s destiny
embedded in mankind’s soul
destroyed by humanities imprudence
civilizations deliverance
basic laws
preserved 

written
09/10/2011

written by
cecil hickman

written for
Sponsor Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~  
Contest Name Six Lines of Poetry, Please 


Details | Free verse | |

Tradition in transition

Rome
A cat
Drowned

A middle ground
Of Europe
Searching for a new identity

A new entity
New parasite born

The King is dead
Long live The King

An image of filthy streets
Garbage
Rats

A new squalor
New age of technological progress

States rise and fall
And survive through art

Literature of hart
Paintings and machines
Bringing modernity's beginnings


Details | I do not know? | |

The Vagabond Within

The Vagabond Within.

I slip through cracks,
my memories dimming,
as thoughts of yesterday swirl,
down dreary tunnels of decay,
into the chasm that is today.

Waiting, forever waiting,
to belong, yearning to fit in,
taking solace in transient cities,
wearing masked faces,
tailored for fleeting places.

 I stagger each night, lost,
wasting precious breaths,
drawn from a lifetime of sighs,
no consolation from the cruel,
while donning the skin of the fool.

Wrestling unseen demons,
dreading tomorrow as it nears,
ripping away my shallow smile,
withering into a hollow shell,
seeking comfort in everyday hell.

I stumble, I falter,
words slipping off pen onto paper,
fickle doleful murmurs of distaste,
at the gradual emptying of a soul,
needing to shed it all to be whole.

Stray dogs savage each other inside,
a body lathered in deep muck,
soiling my pants, wetting my being,
whistling promises that turn into lies,
the plaintive songs of a clown that cries.

I am momentary, 
a soap bubble on the breeze,
just smoke clearing into thin air,
wasting away in my cocooned lair,
too old to change, too young to care.


Details | Free verse | |

Knock It Down

down down down, knock it down to the basement 
blowing stuff up for a book never made sense 
the books were made, we've been screwed since
religion should be talked about in past tense
hence, the age of ignorance is over 
ill put the burdens of the weak on my shoulders
its a heavy weight to carry 
but death is a women i would gladly marry 
if it means i could stop the torment and destruction 
of our youth, they don't deserve to be corrupted
the mind is pure, void of superstition 
don't transmit unto your loved one your condition 
let them grow up, and make their own decision 
because i know if you did they would never choose the same path 
they would figure out the simple math  
they would never be so arrogant
to believe this world was heaven sent 
and was made with them in mind
they would reject any mention of a being divine 
only wealth and religion can cause a man to be so vain 
eternity, what is there to gain 
is this life and this world not enough for you 
you need another, and another, and another too
it is sad to see you wasting the only life you have 
don't let your children fall victim to the same fad


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lessons taught

Long ago on rolling hills
And endless plains
Stood men who fought
For a cause beyond common understanding
Bound together by integrity
They persevered 
When odds gave no chance
Led by a man
Whose name was always half whispered
They made a vow
From that day forth
To stand as one
For in so doing
They found the strength
Lost on thousands
And won the day
Freedom they earned
From the blood they sacrificed
In defending a land
Not all their own
Thus were legends made
Respect of generations earned
Handed down from father to son
Mother to daughter
For all to hear 
How strength is found
When standing as one
Throughout history
From the example made
Nations have been born
To see freedom reign
Overcoming such odds
That would defeat weaker men
All brought forth long ago
On rolling hills and endless plains
In the lessons taught
By men who stood as one and persevered
For a cause far beyond
Common understanding of mortal men


Details | Rhyme | |

It Is Written Chapter One Verses One To Five

In the darkness of the night,
a camp fire glows, yellow, orange, bright,
around it sit people who we now describe,
as together, having formed a tribe,
and as they roast their latest kill,
enough this time to eat their fill,
the father figure of them all,
begins to reminisce, yes, to recall,
stories of great deeds that he,
has stored within the recesses of his memory.

And through passing millennia it was thus done,
tribal histories passed from father to son,
until the populations of tribes had grown,
and many different stories had come to be known.
Then there came the great idea to draw,
depictions of what each day they saw,
when hunting the animals they needed to stay alive,
they recorded each species which then, did thrive,
painted on cave roof and wall,
wondrous visions which still enthral!

Change came slowly from this time, and,
populations moved to find new land,
so they could ensure their survival,
looking for space without any rival
tribes competing for scarce resources,
life was hard with Mother Nature's forces,
stacked against this new species, who,
compared to Earth's history, was brand new.

Successful tribes began to grow,
and with life experience they came to know,
that the hunter gatherer way of living,
was particularly hard, and unforgiving,
and that for their populations to expand,
they had to find new ways to exploit the land.

So from this point, change came faster,
sometimes punctuated by a natural disaster,
but change it did, and before too long,
they built settlements that were big, and strong,
on land from which they now knew,
the kind of crops from the soil best grew.


Details | Narrative | |

' In Knighthood Realm ... ' (Medieval # 8)

I saw a Band of Royal Knights
upon their mighty Steeds
Coat of Arms,  A-gleaming
Herald Heroic Deeds...

One is Valor, One is Truth
Chivalry and Might
Another, Honor, Loyalty
Justice and Light

Charity and Chastity
and Faith, Their Golden Spurs
Those Bold, Polished Lords
Oh! Such Handsome Sirs!

Their Pennants were the Ladies
Once Damsels in Distress
Banners were the Orphans,
Now Kith and Kin to Crest

Their Swords and Shields on Battlefields
Unsheathed for Innocence
in Fealty to a Crown
Obey or be brought Down...

I saw a Band of Royal Knights
They rode upon their Quest,
that the Noble Creed of Men Henceforth...
be their Shining Armor Best


Details | Verse | |

generation zero

GENERATION ZERO

We are the generation zero, born without a hero.
Waiting, waiting for it to happen, caught without a weapon.
To you I turn in my hour of need, part of the same creed.
Our leaders fail us and fill their pockets, building nuclear rockets.
What can we do but run from this zoo?

Generation zero, generation zero, caught against the trap of a material world.
March and unite in a display of being bold
Generation zero, generation zero, throw away teenagers burnt in the fire,
as their parents choke in their children’s funeral pyre.

Watch and learn, be by my side, we can swallow our foolish pride.
Into the war we venture, unafraid to fall.
If the devil dogs get us, join me and be my evenfall.
England cries as her folk party and trip,
On make believe happiness, the Devil’s whip.
This is the fire of President Blair’s treachery,
an experiment of hypocrisy.
Soon no one will be left, except me and you.
Can we be strong and come out true?

Generation zero, generation zero, caught against the trap of a material world.
March and unite in a display of being bold.
Generation zero, generation zero, throw away teenagers burnt in the fire,
as their parents choke in their children’s funeral pyre.

The system has failed us and has now broken our backs;
now the enemy follows in our tracks
to hunt us down and take our lives in a frenzy of death.
Stand with me and fight to the last, become my heroine of the earth.
Together in slow motion we fall,
fallen souls against it all.
Generation zero, generation zero, generation zero…


Details | I do not know? | |

My Imperfections Thats Just Me

I'm a girl of imperfection, that's just who i am.

Sometimes I give up doing things when i don't think i can.

I'm a horrible liar but i sometimes still try.

They say my give away is something in my eyes.

They tell me I'm to passive and that i need to stand my ground.

Yet when i become a brat(altered for site)....

nobody wants me around.

I am Sagatarious and as stubborn as can be.

I bet on number 9 cus false hopes tell me it's lucky.

My number never wins but i play it anyway.

The dreamer inside me is waiting for that day.

I use bad grammer and stumble on my words.

Sometimes i talk so quiet...it's hard to be heard.

Some friends call me pokey cus i move at my own pace.

I will get there eventually cus my life is not a race.

I'm a girl of imperfection...that's never gonna change.

Even when you know me, you'll still think i am strange.

Sometimes I'm frustrating and even annoy myself.

I take things for granted and I envy others wealth.

I love the smell of roses but i think Daisy's are the best.

Sometimes I eat the pettles and throw out all the rest.

I love to drive when theres more then just me.

Slug bug gets boring with just the car seat.

I have been known to snore when i sleep.

Bad dreams cause me to grind my teeth.

I was once told I was laughing hard in my sleep.

Still today i wish to remember that dream.

Forgotten forever like a stranger passing by.

The one that made me laugh without saying hi.

Occasionally im clumsey and I'm often being rushed.

Be careful with me...my feelings are easily crushed.

I'm modest about my feelings so you would probrably never know.

But if you lie, cheat, or steal from me their sure to one day show.

I consider myself a passive woman...never lookin for a fight.

I was raised to use my words to stand up for what is right.

.


Details | Rhyme | |

America WITHOUT God

America Without God? 

America is being destroyed from
perversion within.
As it’s people indulge
in wickeness and sin. 

The moral fabric that our country
once held so dear.
Is now beginning to dissappear. 

Many judges seek to remove 
God from our land.
Traditional marriage... they don't understand. 

From the neighbor’s house 
to the college dorms,
Perversion is legal in so many forms. 

Our money reads: “in God we trust.” 
Many are addicted to
perversion and lust. 

Nothing of God seems to
be sacred anymore.
While his judgement draws
close to our nation’s door. 

This so called “freedom” that
many have “enjoyed,”
Is causing our great country
to be destroyed. 

America must heed the Savior’s call,
Only God can give true freedom to all. 

HIS word is our country’s
true foundation.
Without him in our lives... 
we’re doomed as a nation! 

By Jim Pemberton 
2008


Details | Free verse | |

I Still Remember Walt Whitman

Was is you Jack Kerouac?
walking next to me
down the street
on a brisk September evening
beating around 
America and Mexico?

Was it you Walt Whitman, I saw traveling through the woods?
	Listing to the quiet sounds of America
while still conquering city streets?
	While still roaming the halls of the forest?

But why did you Mr. Poe
	trade a pen for a vice indefinitely,
cease  your soul of poetry
	and your mind of interpreting?

Or was It you –  
Emily Dickinson?
I heard, –  waiting – 
silently without a Word,
without a way out?

And yet Robert Frost,
how can I not feel 
the embrace of a New England Fall
while watching a wall
mend itself in Michigan?

And how is it that something changed in America?
Left the body like a fleeing spirit,
blinded by a neon sign
	displaying a continuos sale
of the American dream,
not listening to the voice that used to be
the role of identity. 

Yet it used to be that America knew
	the soul that lies within.
Spoke the voice of value
even with the hint of sin.

It used to be the writers and poets alike
who commanded the land and shaped the sky.
It used to be that America knew
	itself,
but know it knows nothing
not even that it is lost.


Details | Monorhyme | |

Faint Connection

Miniscule link between love and hate,
Same may be said with victory and fate.

What you do see, you can also rate.
Many things happen with your mate.

Maybe feel joy or might get irate.
Between marriages, divorce estates.

A fine line you will cross in debate.
In either or both there is a wait.



There is a fine line between love and hate and we usually forget all the love and just fester on the hate.

written for
Sponsor Nancy Jones 
Contest Name Fine Line 


Details | Verse | |

Interlocking antlers of stags

Steep-roofed great oak doors sheen of sheilds
Deep tombs stones shrines honoured dead
distant past creaking of rafters carved red oak
Stones in a mysterious rivers course.............
 the rush of life whirl past ancient ships
Rams skull masks crescent moons..........
deep three beat rythum of skin drums..........
 The raging seas hurled him high a wave 
crashed over him as he clung on to a piece 
of driftwood almost tearing him clean.
Majestic mountains on the horizon ...........
shimmering in a haze of heat ...................
An abundance of rain and rich fertile soil
The  peeling  of  the  bells swelled heavily
The  women's crowns   , veils and pointed
headdresses trailing fur trimmed mantles
A young knight on a white horse the squire
dropped from his perch on the ramparts.
The steward came in with a covered platter
then used a knife to shave thin slices of lime



Details | Sonnet | |

The Date

Pulling teeth seems more appealing
than the squeaky reeling, the howling
experience, of the flogging date
I had with you; like catfish to bait.
Cracked my skull wide open.
Can’t think, can’t explain the straight pin
lobotomy I received from a kiss,
which, at first, brought cosmic bliss.
I thought my rocket expelled
into love space rather than Hell.
Had I known what I know now,
I would not have kissed the cow.



  
(A metaphor for the U.S. involvement in Iraq.)
 

 


Details | Etheree | |

Argumentative

One, 
Life long,
Liberty,
Reiterates,
Free speech upon all,
The right to anytime,
Complain about anything.
Even though nothing may happen,
We do it about every theme.
Until the day we die, maybe beyond.


Details | ABC | |

FLY-BOYS



World War I gave us the fly-boys
Who flew by the seat of their pants.
Many would never return from war
While others survived by chance.

Their planes were mostly canvas and wood
Gasoline, bullets, bombs and poison gas.
Every pilot carried his own pistol
Wearing leathers, scarf and goggles of glass.

Aviators had no Parachutes
To escape their burning plane.
Many were forced to jump to their death
Or self inflect a bullet to the brain.

Blimps where known as battleships of the sky
The roar of their engines gave reason for fear.
They flew so high they were hard to shoot down
Hiding above clouds till their targets drew near.

Tracer bullets for the first time were used
In the guns of airplanes to set blimps a fire.
The skies became man’s highway of death
With duty and honor their driving desire.

How many Fly-boys have we lost since then
Those days of the Great War and more?
Where do we get such brave souls of chance
Who rise from the rest in the battles of war?

By Tom Zart







Details | Quatrain | |

command six

kill the Catholic, kill the Jew
kill them all, draw sword 'n' slay 'em
kill the Muslim, the Buddhist too
spill their blood, creating mayhem

kill the Taoist, kill the Zen
kill the agnostic, kill the skeptic
kill all religious, come back again
wash away everyone seen as septic

kill the women, kill all the men
that other tribe, who you eschew
everyone who might be your brethren
take weapon in hand and kill them too

kill that other race of beings
kill the innocent, kill too, the guilty
kill anyone with peaceful leanings
kill wholly with unspeakable cruelty

kill all hope of ever finding peace
kill yourself for your own release
kill believing you'll justify
all these hates that in you lie

© Goode Guy 2011-06-04

the only good ___ is a dead ___ ...know it's sarcasm, ok


Details | Free verse | |

No Name

This world of ours slips in an evil stream
As we continue on in this demented dream
We have married a selfish bride
That has so much to hide
Our great president worships her
The holy trinities bless her
And yes those tea parties in England just go on
As the skis over Baghdad burn
She has her ways
Running our cars
Making life so nice
But our monetary slice does take so much
And Oh
She is so slippery
So dark
So maniacal
She lives to consume
This bride 
The true God

Oil


Details | Lyric | |

Affirmative Action

I’ll tell you what I think
will you think on what I tell?
Where the Hell are you
while they’re busy
whipping me?
Persecuted so you say
the actions of others affirm
it’s the other way around
While you claim I am the demon
by reflections of the past
and the shades of my skin
if you look deep inside
your own skin
You’ll find that your own reflections
have sins shining brighter than those 
that can be claimed mine
Put this in your mind
while you’re crying
for hand-me-outs
and how your beliefs
are self-condescending
like the self-hating Jew
Your biggest enemy 
is not me nor my "kind"
rather, it is you


Details | Bio | |

Burnt Sugar

Jose does the work that the homeless wouldn’t
Yet they blame him for stealing their opportunities
When they wouldn’t even dream of taking opportunities
When they had millions of chances to

Pancho dreams Big
Bigger than the Rich White Boys with Everything
Because the White Boy already has what Pancho wants
And doesn’t realize how good it is until Pancho has it

Fickle, fickle Man
These people expect us to Work Hard so they can Play Easy
But once we rise up, it’s snapped shut, treasures, equality
They end up taking it all away just to complain about how bad they have it

Why is it that I’m working a crappy job for minimum wage
But Sally gets an internship right away, same grades, same teachers, 
Except I go to a minority dominated intercity school while she lives in the Foothills
But Sally has Pretty Blue Eyes and Long Blonde Hair, "All American Beauty"

Look at my skin, THIS is Beautiful, to me
Golden Yellow Brown Caramel
They call it Burnt Sugar, but I call it Perfect

Asiática Vietnamita Chicana Chica Fresa Señorita
                                                                            Multi-racial Mutt and I don't give a Damn

Dark hair, dark eyes, the darkest kind of electric fury
I’m American too, Damnit
Do you have the audacity to say that color makes a difference?
Discriminate me again, I dare
You! come on, come ON

Keep on pretending like your giving me a chance with Affirmative Action

Well Affirm this

I don't want your pity, or redemption
I want EQUALITY, once and for all
Not a cheap imiation of it

What the Hell are you Afraid of?!
Discriminate against me again
And I’ll show you what being American is all about

Come On, DAMNIT!
I'll bring it  H A R D, with everything I have
                                                                      I want to show racist America what I got


Details | Verse | |

Finito!

The end, at last, is glorious,
If true,
Concluding the mindlessness given,

But having learned this much
Of you,
Mind change is perogative driven.

Having built up hopes before to
Be free.
And clear of a harrowing bleating,

To have them dashed upon rocks
At sea
And your absence be only fleeting.

So perhaps this time good luck will out
And reveal
What has been incognito;

The elusive outcome achieved and
For real,
That at last it be ended, finito!


Details | Sonnet | |

Desert Moon

Created, desolated, resurrected and even in reverse, 

You are a transformation under a Sun drenched day. 

Beckoned or heralded you climb above a beaming ray, 

Bristles of your hair shall glow and many are perverse. 

  

Shuffled, hurdled, corner-stoned and even immerse, 

You are a salvation upon a Mountain leading a way. 

Stripped or naked you run below an endless cache, 

Light inside of you shall outpour so all will disperse. 

  

The collectors shall find, 

Lost on a course in time, 

Many stranded or behind, 

Many with no unjust crime! 

  

Jacked up, a ripped off, a maniac or just downright a true blue loon, 

Still remaining is a red flaming shield up under a sacred desert Moon. 

  



Details | Free verse | |

The Gap

the generations are diverse
as different as can be
generation gaps exist 
in every family tree
 
Grandma had the radio
Hitler and two wars
"sacrifice" and "stay in line"
the first co-ed bars
 
My Mama saw Vietnam
Woodstock and the moon
television..  birth control
and phones in every room
 
Now generation x is here
and hero's don't exist
but we have the Internet 
and fancy e-mail lists
 
the millennial's have seen so many things
Katrina and face-book
you scoff - but know our purple hair
invite those second looks
 
each generation changes things
not always for the best
but heart to heart and hand to hand
we give the gap a rest
 


Details | Rhyme | |

Look What I Can Do

I can control the flow of tears.
Start a new nation of pioneers.
Build and teach a better school.
And I can split the atom of a molecule.

I can make what is yours mine.
Speak to the deaf community by sign.
I am the one who can drop the ax.
Take away or raise your tax.

I can write a best selling book.
Take what I want and not be a crook.
I can approve and sell you narcotics.
And I can make new antibiotics.
 
I can sweep you under the rug with a broom.
Give us more power in a technology boom.
You can say pretty much everything I do own,
because I can lead a nation with a microphone.  

I can go until I want to stop.
I feel so alive to be on top.
Go anywhere, my reach is global.
You can't say anything my cause is noble.

In my tower I am secure.
In my position, my power is pure.
I can hand out a million vaccinations.
Let them all die in exasperation.

Its all under my command, its my right.
I can guide missiles by satellite. 
You chose me as your number one.
You gave me the power of the sun.


Details | Rhyme | |

"The Walk"
An elected position walks into transition, but not without apprehension.
Thrusted forward into accountability , a  “ word” that was lost in financial history.
Blame and blasphemy for others greed, carelessness, incompetency and irresponsibility.
Unlike the blind man to our society, anger creates a false reality.

encircles him for others greed, carelessness, incompetency and irresponsibility.
Unlike the blind man to our society, anger creates a false reality.”  
A “change that we can believe in” is the course called destiny.
Persecution upon every action or direction by resistance and those individuals who remain in 
social captivity by their  own personal experiences or enthrusted perceptions of “what ought not  
be”.
Prepare the world for  the world is watching and they see “without corruption, and a massive 
scale of discrimination, injustices and judgment as their plea”, they are not happy nor do they 
believe that  they succeed.  
May forgiveness and mercy find it’s place upon his adversaries as well as for him whom they do 
unto in the sight of he.
People , we call ourselves “we” , do not lose focus, the walk for change remains on our compass 
to destiny and real facts vs. opinions will be our guide for future  history. 
Carrie Love-atkins@copyright 2010
corrected version August 20,2010


Details | I do not know? | |

what is poetry?

Heart is an organ,
pumping blood,
only a survival body 
can dream
and enjoy,
the touches of mind
flying thoughts
and a bundle of memories
or the significant experience of time,
becomes a poetry
when moment speaks eachother
then 
word starts to dance
on a white paper 
to kiss
the lips of a pen.
to leave a message
for someone.
to hear the message 
from someone.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Immigrant

Sorry if I came here illegally

My country lacked opportunity

So this is how it had to be

Never took anything from you

Paid my taxes just like you

Society let the color of my skin in

But shamed my people and culture

I chased the American dream

As Americans wanted all my people to leave

I adapted to your culture

Your way of life

What more can I do

To say that I truly appreciate the red,white and blue


Thank you for reading. Visit jorgesouthkorea.com for more poems and writings that I have written.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Perennial Exile

The Perennial Exile.

Alone,
a foreign body,
eliciting condescending smiles,

the exile walks on.

Though gracious intentions are spoken,
well-meaning band-aids applied,

the exile walks on.

Alone,
never shaking off the fear,
the cold, damp trepidation,

the exile walks on.

A scab on the body,
ignored as benign,
tolerated by its host,

the exile walks on.

Alone,
knowing the danger,
imminent and grave,

the exile walks on.

Alone, outside,
malleable, acceptable,
truths rarely spoken.

Fit in, shut up, pipe down,
swallow the whispers,
chew on the smirks,

the exile knows its place.

Decades pass,
an accent is adopted,
papers are signed,

still,

the exile walks alone.

Weary now, beaten-down,
by careless kindness,
and stifling generosity,

the perennial exile,

remains.


Details | ABC | |

THE HINGE OF HISTORY

THE HINGE OF HISTORY


The hinge of history swings in all directions 
As the happenings of the past are written down.
Out of all that has occurred since man's beginnings, 
Less has been recorded than waits to be found.

Babylonians kept chronicles of history,
Hebrews wrote the past as a dramatic story. 
Greeks had no faith in the future at all,
Believing mans repeated errors doom his glory.

Christians added a new dimension to history,
Looking forward to Christ’s return to earth. 
An on going drama involving man and God,
Believing all are created of equal worth.

Some have asked why must we study history; 
It just encourages us to live in the past.
When we forget history we repeat its mistakes, 
As the outcome of humanity is cast.

By Tom Zart
 


Details | Free verse | |

Those Were The Days

with muse in hand
I'll take you on a walk to remember

do you remember 
when you used to be able to 
keep your windows and doors unlocked
and got to enjoy the night breeze's while you slept

do you remember
when you were able to
walk to your local corner store
and not get jacked

do you remember
when soda and cigarettes
were 50 cents a pack and 25 cents a can
and suddenly you had friends
you've never knew you had before

do you remember
when you could ride a city bus for a dime 
and go downtown and look at christmas displays
without getting knocked off feet

do you remember
when gas was only a nickle a gallon
so family's could take a nice
summer vaction without noise and traffic

do you remember
when kids walked to school safely
and never had to worry
who was lurking behind them

do you remember
sitting at the soda shopp
just dancing and twisting
the night away without having rumbles

do you remember
when boys were boys
and girls were girls
well on this walk to remember
I'm sure there still out there
but got lost along the way



Tribute To Youth
And The Oldies


Also Entry For
Constance La France's
A Walk To Remember Contest


Details | Quatrain | |

pressed

he stands amid the dusted rays
of beams from smudged, windowed days
casting light on the words below
pressed flat upon papered page

he's been here since before sun up
stained and smelling of turpentine
surveying the thoughts he's pressed
quickly he hangs the page to dry

then re-inks the typeset laid to table
and inserts another piece to press
pulling at the screw-pressed platen
repeating process his labors express

his desire to enlighten the world
not just his neighbors informed to tell
ideas and thoughts carried on back
ancestors haunched with ink and quill

before them criers cried the street
events be known upon lips aloud
spreading ideas throughout the land
difficult to speak beyond the crowd

and unbeknownst to him and kind
someday in future ideas are spread
with something called electricity
through wires and waves on into head

to reach to you my heartfelt soul
ideas with emotions and feelings said
until now, thoughts sweetest aspirations
words spread like jam on slice of bread

words, like feelings toil quietly
carry your touch and feeling along
to distant lands and distant times to
give life's meaning, therefore prolong

what the publisher and writer wish
to convey to all able to read or hear
that thought, like life, is precious
held close at hand, the mind made clear

© Goode Guy 2011-08-09

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ink
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Printing_press
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Publishing


Details | Couplet | |

Trill

In sick dreams bullets cut-through
tire tough truth like raw meat;

stringy and dripping with blood.
Teeth ripping through organs,

heart, kidneys, liver, making
sausage of our small intestines.

There is no valid temperature
for proclamations of redemption,

no trembling for forgiveness,
announcements of new leaves.

Baptism is spent gun shells, as
the chorus trills to the slaughter.

Everywhere we're allowed to go
little eyes stare like Big Brother

hungry to purify secrets.




Details | Narrative | |

You Are My Curse

I had to let it all go,
The day and night,
Their hours ran too slow.
It was more than just a fight.
I trusted you and knew you,
My love succumbed to the worst,
Faith and loyalty just wouldn’t do.
You became my curse.
 
I was pulled down to Earth’s plane,
And judgment did set in.
Then new days begin.
I stood parallel as many went insane.
My heart drenched and my soul crunched,
I couldn’t let my heart take this very much.
I died and I died losing each endless breath,
I swallowed the victory and ate your death.
 
You reaped and I sowed,
But I saw no one grow,
Not even you.
What was I to do?
I let it go very slow,
Now I am all grown,
And I’m on my own.
I died watching you go.
 
I will always remember begging mercy,
I will always know this pain,
You are my curse you see,
And nothing did you gain.
I can never just be alright,
I can never love you the same again.
I died watching you go out of sight.
You are my curse and forever in my heart you made an end.


Details | Acrostic | |

Bubbles

By and by you might just agree.
Undeniably life is just floating free.
Babies are gorgeous, we all do agree.
Blowing bubbles, there are cute to see.
Living life is the same, to some degree.
Each one of us looking out in esprit,
Seeking way out of life’s, bubbles spree.


Details | Quatrain | |

War of Contempt

Without the quest for redemption
The populace play idle games
Gigabits won’t grant exemption
When sovereignty goes up in flames 

Genocidal business mission
Funding both sides of each conflict
Stoking the flames of ambition
Bankrupt countries fail by edict

New orders rooted in the past
Proffer real wealth for dead paper
They sow ignorance vile and vast
Freedom dissolving like vapor

Warranted balance sheets dictate
Suitable loss as they see fit
Diseased airwaves warn us to hate
While poisons infect the mess kit

Failing sweet liberty’s daughter
Uranium shells pierce and spall
Embedding explosive slaughter
Self-righteousness annexing all

Peace proves a word of corruption
Imposing control serves their end
Troops and camps to quell eruption
When cheated free souls won’t pretend

Babel rebuilt before our eyes
Covert designs from ancient times
I recognize the Fourth Reich’s rise
Never ignoring their war crimes


Details | Free verse | |

Delusions of Grandeur

He lays flat, stunned for a long minute.
No longer able to respond with the usual
indiscriminate blanket of bullets.
Now his world is grit and gruel.
The same spit he has subjected
the rest of the milieu to has befallen
his eyes, limbs, father, mother.

Blinded by an enemy, he can finally see
the consequences of his dreams.
Nintendo war games, cops and robbers,
cowboys and Indians, good and evil,
paintball, Army, Stryker, Commander, 
slaughter in Falluja, now triple amputee.
At least he helped set the world free.

He’ll send his son into the same battle.
Believing he too will be a hero,
he too will slay the dragons of antiquities,
conquer the Greek Roman gods.
He too will spread the ass cheeks
of the slaves in Abu Ghraib, for the future!
And this colossal act will make him proud.



Details | Free verse | |

Ode To Marla Ruzicka

Died in Baghdad, April 17, 2005

Nothing can stop her!
Not a  rocket
or an improvised
explosive devise
in spite 
of her untimely
death.
Just 28
and amongst 
the Greats.
Unyeilding campaigner
with unwavering faith
in something greater
than all the grenades
in the U.S. arsenal.
The greatness of love
of truth
eloquently spoken
by this petite woman.
Yet, a Goliath
in humans.
Her work
the simple act
of counting victims.
and compansate.

Marla dared 
to ask
who were 
the 100,000 plus
innocent civilians
that have died
in Iraq.
The sisters, brothers
fathers, mothers
babies
caught in the crossfire.
They had names
faces and dreams.

We sing to you
dear Marla.
There is nothing higher
than the acknowledgment
of life
and the strife
the grieving
the loss
the pain. 
Marla sweet angel
your work
remains
the most dignified
the most humane
of endeavors
in this
seemingly
overwhelming
insane world.
And no one 
not the president
and his mongers
not the apologist of war
can ever
take that away.



Dean Walker

Marla was the young founder of the nonprofit organization Campaign for innocent Victims in Conflict. To learn more about Marla or show your support visit her website at www.civicworldwide.org


Details | Acrostic | |

April My Love

Assured to find a muse
Penmenship must be at its best
Relaxation and motivation is needed
Inspirations will be its bounty
Let the world discover its tale



Tribute To All Poets


Remember April Is 
Poetry Month 
May You All Find That Muse


Details | Blank verse | |

A Picture of Betrayal

A face among a sea of faces stares at me
Cold and numb the face looks tired
Waiting for absolution from closed ears
A tattered uniform of devastation
Eyes, eyes that see into eternity
Genderless and weeping into silence.

It hurts to look upon truth
Surrounded in self-glorifying patriotism
They are the true heroes
Burdened with a remembrance they long to forget
A tattooed number, their name.
In vain they bleed for retribution.

My heart breaks into a thousand shards
And so many tears long to comprehend
But could not.
There is nothing to compare such peril to
A shroud of ignorance and tyranny
Shaking my head, a thought so incomprehensible

Reality for them.

Can’t shake that picture from the foreground
Oh, so many bodies, what did they do?
No respect, no reflection on their crimes surely
What, I ask, what could they have done 
So suffer the innocent for another’s evil
Surely someone question’s the final solution…

But no one did.
My heart dies a thousand deaths
They look to us, pitiful, no other so needy 
No act so disgusting, a betrayal of the human heart
So beautiful their faces, so beautiful
Standing in a bare state, starring into history

They record their suffering in black and white
Burning images into a pure white film
A dark, terrifying image, terrifying
Never to comprehend what massacre they partake of
So beautiful their faces, so beautiful
I will never forget what I could never comprehend.

I will never forget.


Details | Free verse | |

The One True Omnipotent Superpower

Majestically standing at the podium just so
These men of power with prestige and honor
Making promises; can they be kept?
While our father and sons
March into the face of death
What can they offer us?
What will they do
Come the day of reckoning
Are we the fools
Whose heads will be the example of
Leadership gone mad and drunk with
An uncontrollable power?
Too big to handle alone
Playing God and the Devil at once
Who will we choose
To march us into Freedom,
Peace and redemption
Choose wisely and be particular
How many caskets do we need to fill?
How much land is there left to bury?
Innocent lives with loved ones left behind
To prove the strength worthy of being
The One True Omnipotent Superpower
There is only one Lord God Almighty
But if we keep this up, we shall never
See the day we meet Him


Details | Couplet | |

indebted to

the debt crisis started in Greece
with that ancient fact, let us make peace
we are founded after all, after Greek democracy
today's government grown to democratic bureaucracy

so, our debt crisis started in Greece
our numbers much larger, make governance obese
but managing the peace, of home and abroad
does not imply that our democracy is flawed

thinking back, our debt crisis started in Greece
and many allude that we're on the decrease
but crystal balls are more truly opaque
in democracy's future we're indebted to make

our real debt crisis that started in Greece
really none of us want our freedoms to cease
by dictators and theocracies none of us want
or lorded over by some damn crazed commandant

so we're indebted to ancient crisis's of Greece
when people got together and voted for peace
kratos, the "power" and dêmos, the "people"
a far superior government than it's prequel

back before our debt crisis started in Greece
there were slaves and soldiers praying for release
because aristocracies and kings, ruled all things
the only freedoms granted were what death brings

so yes, we are to ancient Greeks, much indebted
for them asking for a better governance vetted
giving each citizen voice, in the governing choice
a way toward a civil society we all can rejoice

© Goode Guy 2012-11-05


Details | I do not know? | |

For You

The day I met you,
I at first saw you as strange.
But then, later in time,
I realized that it's just your disguise.

I never felt so lucky
Before you said you loved me.
There aren't many guys in the world
Who don't despise looks.
Yet you are the one who seems the most true.

Maybe deep down, I love you too...
And I'm not sure why
I stopped you from suicide.

I guess I just want others to follow
The guiding light that always helped me through.
Although I think that,
You say that I'm probably in love with you.

If that is really true,
Then I can't handle hearing your voice,
Life as if your feelings for me
Are forcing me to love you without a choice.
I can't even handle such love,
At least not yet.

For now I just want to keep my bets of me
Finding another person.
And I don't find anyone like you,
Then I'll become yours
Just for you...


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Depressed

I feel very depress
The point where ,lets forget about success
I feel very sad
Where the little boy inside want's to cry
The tears that fall seem very dry
The point in life were everything seems to fall apart
That i get plugged up inside my heart
Where i feel to be left alone
To not talk or disturbe anymore
Does it matter what people say to me?
Not anymore
I lost the touch , that feeling i had once
But i dont want to live it no more
Forget about all this
Forget what they all said
I dont need no one to help me
Or be there for me
Cause, it's all about me
Not you , or you , but me


Details | Narrative | |

The Setting Of The Sun: Part One

She no longer rules the waves,
no longer is heard the chink of ice
in gin glass beneath darkening Indian skies;
what jewels glisten in the corroding crown,
how happy now this happy breed who bows
collective heads and cries?
History’s pain trawled across the planet face,
when slaughter ruled and oppression demarcated
the only foreign policy;
exploitation and enslavement of the weak,
colonialism and the salvage rights
the tools of peace and democracy.
Empires of muscle, iron and discipline,
forged on the blood, bone and murder of millions,
so proud, so pleased as punch;
a bullish bite spreading wildfire rabies,
mad dogs and Englishmen
permanently out to lunch.
Empires of dreams, of glittering prizes,
home of the brave where freedom’s flame
burned naked and bright;
a cultural plague preaching death, destruction,
fed on subservient carcasses
in sinister shadows of night.
And now in dying feel-good days,
clinging to glorious dreams of the past,
of powder, bayonet, cannon and gun;
achievements in the global butcher’s yard
may be all that remains in bearing witness
to the setting of the sun...





Details | Free verse | |

Nazis

Maestro's uneven orchestration of life,
seasoned with unassuming whispers,
began the eminent finale 
of their misguided souls


Details | Narrative | |

The Setting Of The Sun: Part Two

Tommy Atkins was a good boy
grew to be a good man, good soldier,
packed up his troubles in an old kit bag and smiled
as his entrails blew out with aplomb;
he died as the black rain struck his slowly glazing eyes
good son, good husband, good father
left only good for fertilizing the Somme.
Damned carnage-strewn carnival
of barbed wire bisected mustard gas days;
how “great” was the great war,
how “great” was the harm
when old strategists cast generations of youth
into the stalemate jaws of trench warfare death
and all those young hopefuls who bought the dream
unwittingly bought the farm.
Two decades down the smouldering road,
up rolls Euro Death Circus
rolling out Four Horsemen and a Fascist regime insane;
now technology enhanced the butchery
with planes and tanks, boats and submarines
and all the young hopefuls bought the farm again.
Proudly she revels in her past glory,
wallowing and exalting, sucking rotten cold comfort
from the memorial corpse of a golden fleece;
learning nothing;
we’ll meet again, no doubt,
over the white cliffs of Dover
beneath Spitfire engine trails, perhaps;
for she may have won the war,
yet she has surely lost the peace.
A land once fit for heroes, warrior kings and demigods,
now freezes crippled and immobile
when the race into the future has begun;
in a pox of politically correct Fascism on one hand
and the real thing on the other,
where is the hand of reason to stop the fall of night,
stop the setting of the sun...?


Details | Tanka | |

Abandoned Children (besprizorniki )

besprizorniki 

roaming the streets of Russia 

no mamas to love 

bereft of humanity 

a million beating hearts sigh


Details | Ballad | |

' Warriors ... The Battle Cry Song ... '

There Are Sounds of Ancient Thunders
There Are Sounds of Ancient Drummers
        Calling … Brave Warriors
         Gladiators and Warriors

And They’re Marching To The Cadence of Their Hearts’ Pounding
Marching, To The Cadence of The World’s Rage Resounding
They’re Going By The Beat of Their Heart’s Pumping
By The Steady Flow of Blood and Bloodlust, Tells Me Somethin’

               … Warriors …
         Courageous Warriors …

Chorus:

But, We’ve Seen These Men, Playing With Their Children
We’ve Seen These Sons and Their Laughter, I’m Hearing
We’ve Seen These Men, Loving Their Babies
And Tenderly Holding and Kissing Their Ladies

               … Warriors …
         Courageous Warriors …

2nd Chorus:

Oh Lord, Please Stop These Warriors’ Battle Cry
And The Battle Cry, Coming From Their Mothers and Wives
The Battle Cry, Coming From Their Little Ones’ Eyes
The Battle Cry, Coming From Warriors … When They Die

               … Warriors …
         Courageous Warriors …

Sticks and Stones, Swords, Arrows and Bombs
Lances, Knives, Hand to Hand Combat, Napalm
God Almighty, Oh, Thy Kingdom Come
Please Rescue Us, From The Kingdom of The Gun …

And Prophecy Is Marching – Listen, All Who Arms Bear
Warriors, Must Beat War Weapons Into Plowshares            ( Isa. 2: 4 )
And When War, Is No More, Then We Will Hear
All Warriors’ Battle Cry, Will Be An Amen Cheer !

              … Gentle Warriors …
            Peace-Loving, Warriors …

2nd Chorus:

Oh Lord, Please Stop These Warriors’ Battle Cry
And The Battle Cry, Coming From Their Mothers and Wives
The Battle Cry, Coming From Their Little Ones’ Eyes
The Battle Cry, Coming From A Warrior’s … Last ‘ Why ? ’

                … Warriors …
           Courageous Warriors …

How Can Flesh and Blood, Mortal-Men, Be So Fearless, I Wonder
Are They Strengthened By Duty, Love and Honor
Facing Danger, Death and Being Torn Asunder
Sacrificing All, As A Fallen Soldier …

                 … Warrior …
           Courageous Warrior …


Details | Free verse | |

Gemini

With a fondness of life,
jest and pleasure
You’re a lover 
of unmeasurable attention as ever
In the third sign of the zodiac
known for storytellers
Of elements Fire and Air,
masculine considered
Diurnal or day orientated,
Physically or mentally related
Primarily focusing
on spirituality and activity
Being adaptable, eloquent,
versatile and lively
Youthful, witty, logical,
spontaneous, communicative;
All thes bing positive traits
are held back by the negative
For you’re changeable, inconsisatent,
cunning, nervous and inquisitive
Restless, superficial,tense
and gossip – well you’re talkative
You hate to be stuck in a rut,
or being left alone
Love novelty, variety,
anything unusual or unknown
Working multiple projects at a time
you’re addicted
Disliking mental action, conventional learning,m
being restricted
Gemini’s inclined to direct energies
into the world around them
Anatomy – rules arms, shoulders,
lungs and nervous system
A strive to learn persevearance
and culture depth
Subjects are lovers of language,
poets, bard, or wordsmiths


Details | I do not know? | |

black mold

a hint of lime
brings back the time
when we were young and stupid
we loved like children
in the rain
i wish we only knew it
we walked for miles on 
eighty proof spiced rum
we found no answers
the shag green carpet 
told the truth about alien landers

will we go all the way
will we stay in all day
on Robitussin chasers

well we slept above the cigarette store
all on separate couches
we ran a tab
for beer and cigs
and hit four hundred dollars
bored to death
but still alive
we drove right out of town
chris got pulled over
and a dui
and then my car broke down

will we go all the way
will we stay in all day
on Robitussin chasers

brent and i stayed in a room
that rented by the hour
drank Robitussin 
and each other in 
and we waited for my brother
chris showed up at ten am
he spent the night in a cell
jeff showed up and took us home 
and we drank til we felt well

will we go all the way
will we stay in all day
on Robitussin chasers


Details | I do not know? | |

Given So Much

Given so much to others in my life...
Written sincerities to my friends.
Forgiveness of their mistakes and
For those who once hurt me verbally.
Many times I have generously given
A dollar to those in need of it...

No returning owe to pay, they forget,
Yet I still remain generous and gracious.
I'd give my life for all my friends
If I could and ever have such a chance.
They my friends have not been with me
For as many times as they've been with each other.

My life journey though
Is of self-reliance...
My mind is of sincerity
And generosity.
I give so much...
Even though they rarely do the same,
I continue to this strong
Sense and feeling of loyalty anyway.


Details | Bio | |

Fairly Fierce

Some are timid,
Some are meek,
Some are strong,
Some are weak,

I'm laid back,
And quiet too,
But if you attack,
Don't matter who,

I become an animal,
Like a cornered beast,
I'll fight against all odds,
Till the threat does cease

I have proved this once,
I have proved this twice,
Invade my dignity,
I am not a bit nice,

I've fought against odds,
Where others might cringe,
When I'm done and thru,
Your apt to feel a singe

I go on automatic,
My brain freezes fear out,
I'll take on any odds,
On this you should never doubt

So those who value survival,
Remember when it comes to me,
I may well seem comic and weak,
But beware that which you do not see.


Details | I do not know? | |

Question

inequity in life, immortalityin death,
striken from the words, taken from the pages, the pages of time, 
choose not what your told, but what you think, question your morals, 
question your world, question authority, question reality.


Details | Free verse | |

Untitled #160 / Centuries of history

Centuries of history
roll past on a film reel,
moment after
moment after
moment


Details | Rhyme | |

Universal Link

So when I look out into our atmosphere,
Gee Whiz! I’m thinking God it is so bare.
But there are dynasties just everywhere!
 
Their quandary is the universal link all for all,
They pluck through their greatest then small.
They stand up in their height like most in tall.
 
But their element of surprise is merging through.
One by one and inch by inch inside of all of you,
I swear! Today is the day you are all you can do.
 
Beyond the great minds are hidden eyes that see.
Buried in their breath are dreams of you and me.
And locked away in that is the masterminds key.
 
®Registered: Ann Rich 2008


Details | Senryu | |

With Certitude

Can anyone say
"with certitude" that scandals
in Congress will cease?


Details | I do not know? | |

Tree

The tree did not ask
“Where are you from?”
And in my fatigue
I stretched out in its shade


Details | Rhyme | |

Climbing Lifes Ladder

I wonder where my life would be in a different path.
Would I be happier or sadder or feeling some wrath.
Maybe others would have been better off in aftermath.

I understand the choices I made in life, were all mine.
That choice is the most precious thing given to enshrine.
It is the only thing we were truly given, hidden in a vine.

I contemplate daily upon everyone’s choice path in life.
Why some to choose to kill anyone with a gun or a knife.
While others just survive each passing day to give strife.

I feel the pain that mankind delivers and passes out.
Hypocrisy and greed are humankinds rebought.
They seem greater in some that say they are devout.

I believe I did make the right choices, most of the time.
Definitely not perfect, especially in my early prime.
Each mistake I made; rendered life’s ladder harder to climb.


Details | Ballad | |

CARRYING ALONG THAT SECRET

Gradma singing her passionate Neapolitan songs 
from a balcony adorned with scarlet roses...her deep voice
not a soprano's, but delightful and expressed in humaneness;
her long golden hair brushed by the summer's aromatic breeze, 
to spark a new passion in her lively blue eyes!
And has she ever told anyone about 
carrying along that secret?

When grandpa left Italy, in clandestine  disguise,
for a long, hopeful jeouney to America in the late thirties,
grandma sacrificed and suffered much;  and when the Nazis
invaded the peaceful town of Baiano,
grandma made trips to the  small mill in Arciano,
to grind grain and make her delicious bread:
encountering many dangers and fears ahead...
making her the heroine History won't recognize! 
Have the historians overlooked her incredible courage,
and let her carry along that secret?

Women  and young ladies, including grandma, adored
the handsome and fearless man Mussolini,
who resuscitated the old concept of the Roman Empire with evil ways...
manipulating the puppet' hands of the loyal Fascisti;
woe to me, if I had lived and rebelled in those dreadful days:
I would have been imprisoned and possibly been killed!
Out of grief and anger, I speak against 
every injustice and not carry along that secret! 

My uncle, Stefano, was taken to England  by the British
as a prisoner of war...a coerced man so torn;
and Emma a kind-hearted English woman ,
and a lovely nurse with an impeccable humanity,
visited him often and brought him a home-cooked dish;
someting wonderful could have bloomed between them...
but all records and details have been lost instead,
and mine rely entirely on faded pictured filled with memory!
  
What unthinkable steps, the dictators of this earth take, to gain
their day in an unpromising sun:  suddenly power and pride...gone;   
Hitler's land devastated by the armies of justice...
with no shot-down bodies falling into self-dug ditches! 
Powerful people could have prevented this inhumane slaughter with haste,
but  silently watched them die... carrying along that secret!


Details | I do not know? | |

They Do Not See Me at All

They Do Not See Me at All

they do not see me at all...

as I walk through these desecrated avenues

of soul-deadening frenzy

I see them all rushing past me

and no matter how hard I try to holler and to call

they do not see me at all

it seems at times, that invisible am I

for when I reach out, and shriek out, and when on my knees I crawl

they rush past me

for they do not see me at all

I have tried to raise their ire, I have taunted and goaded them, till exhausted and fatigued, to the cold damp ground I fall

still they rush past me

for they do not see me at all

I stand mutely then and wave my hands all around while scribbling verses in my unintelligible scrawl

and yet they rush past me

for they do not see me at all

they rush past me, knocking me over without ever looking back

and then trampling over my fallen form, they look past my limp crumpled shadow, as they whine on in their monotonous drawl

for they do not see me at all

and when at last I see them look my way, and as a flicker of recognition crosses their faces

I wish to crawl back into my nothingness

where they cannot see me at all


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Lucky Ones

We were born...
Of the Greatest Generation,
Who wordlessly showed us...
Valour, integrity, honor.

Unflinchinglessly sacrificing
their lives,
To fight back the greatest evil
the world had ever seen...
We've had our challenges,
though few compare with theirs.

The more I've learned of those days,
The more they surpass the greatest fiction,
The bravest heroic tales,
Were everyday things...
The women ran the country,
outproducing all others combined
Their war was as real, and valued...
As those who fought from their fox holes.

We grew into our little "Levitt" homes,
Expecting to eat every day...
And few of us concerned of such worries,
We hadn't experience the great depression,
We had been blessed enough,
To escape that lesson of humility.
 
We worked for a new status car
to impress our girls, "wow!" our friends,
Not for merely avoiding starvation.
Somehow, for some reason, 
We had missed that particular life lesson...

And now our torch has passed
May it long burn
The future is now out of our hands.


Details | I do not know? | |

"The Mental Trigger"

Mental Trigger 
inside your mind is a set of rules, made to be trigged deep inside of you~
which you could never understand, because its not the real part of you
it placed in your mind to act out in a set place and time~
to do things which you would never do~ and where ones proof, 
never be found because its a seed, a trigger inside of your unsuspecting mind~
because its as old as time, maybe over 2 thousand years old~
the ancient art of take your soul, and make you do things, you your self would not do~
it starts with marks on your body that come from needles in the night
you know not were they come and in the night you wake 
to the smell of stringent scents made by the Concierge of design 
who will be your puppet master, at this all so real monument of time
no were will there be help, who would believe in you 
would i? if not for my own eyes, did i not see ~
my soul, my life taken from me~

P.S. to all who scream and no one hears

aka:lyricvixen


Details | I do not know? | |

LET US REST IN THE SHADE

Let us cross the river,                                        
And rest in the shade of the trees. 
                                       
Yes, General, you just lead the way,
And we'll follow, by and by,
When with this madness we are done,
And our bloody swords are laid aside.
                            
Let us cross the river, 
And rest in the shade of the trees.
                                        
Yes, General, we will join you there,
In just a little while,
When through this wilderness of hell
We have fought and bled our final mile.
                                       
Let us cross the river, 
And rest in the shade of the trees.
                                       
But, General, we must struggle on;
Our battle is not done.
We we’ll meet you, across the river,
Beneath the trees, at set of sun.
                                       
Let us cross the river, 
And rest in the shade of the trees.
                                       
Then Old Jack closed his fevered eyes,
And crossed the river wide.
The valiant Stonewall found his rest,
Beneath the trees on the other side.

Let us cross the river, 
And rest in the shade of the trees.


Details | Free verse | |

What are we doing to us?

What are we doing to our planet? 
Processing oils, 
pumping air with oxides;
be them sulphur, 
or nitrogen gas.
Burning coals,
manufacturing chemicals.
Making acid rain -
burning our -
dumb ass!


Details | Free verse | |

In Need Of Therapy

Ulysses Rudolph Roberts
a Federalist by default
laid on the couch
and spilled out his guts
to a women he
envisions to be
the ultimate 
siren of shrinks.
With her hair in a bun
books, glasses
and that half buttoned
blouse thing.
He cried and he shook
over the battles he fought
and how everything
that ever happened
was never his fault.
After all
he would reason
he had built
the best fortress
in all God's Kingdoms
with ultra thick walls
turrets and draws.
The tallest
strongest and soundest
in all worlds.
So what if he had to kill
capture and rape
in order to feed 
the armies he made
he had God's blessings
His sacred grace.
Yet, Ulysses was
still cowering in the arm
of an old red couch
and crying out loud
It's Not My Fault!
as the Doctor scribed
delusional 
pathological 
denial...


Dean Walker


Details | Couplet | |

Human Dialogues

People in conversations raise frustrations
Some in communications cause tribulations


Details | Senryu | |

WORDS OF FREEDOM

Behind cell bars, he
wrote that letter with wisdom... 
revealing his dream.

Desiring justice,
he condemned unfairness...
confronting evil.

Without violence,
He spoke loudly and clearly...
the Nation listened.


Entered in Abe Lopes's contest,
" From A Birmingham Jail "


Details | Free verse | |

Home Grown Pirates

Boxed in
and filled with sand
like a dry ocean
the towering
creosote soaked pillions
take the form 
of an old shipwreck
with riggings, planks
and a captain's wheel.
Paid by the commons
for the children to enjoy.
"Aye scalawags all aboard,"
shouts a portly 
pint size scoundrel.
Hence heed the call 
and came skipping
from his yard
none other than
six year old Suleiman.
"Halt boy,
There are no black pirates"
says the patched eye 
little thug
within ear shot 
of his parents.
Keeping the world of thievery
squarely in the domain
of whitey.



Details | Quatrain | |

PEOPLE'S EYES

People's eyes are not what they proclaim,  
if only they reflected their truest selves by being fair....
they certainly would offer charming smiles when they wink,
and nobody would keep from them or resist them...


On the boulevards of the big cities,
they briskly glance to admit surprise...
perhaps not too friendly as the country ones,
but still fascination sparkles in them to stupefy us...


People's eyes tell of love's tragedies and tales of past glories,
Juliet's eyes madly in love with Romeo who saw beauty and poetry in them...
Shakespeare who wrote of the madness in Hamlet's eyes,
the Danish Prince, who swore revenge when his father's ghost appeared to him...


On the suburbs' streets different faces are seen,
not as sophisticated and cold as the metropolitan, scurrying ones...
warmer and less irritable, not chasing after missed busses and trains,
a big difference in the fast-paced rat's scene...


People's eyes staring from sullen and joyful faces, immortalized by the images
of the serene and angelic ones chosen by the painters of the Middle Ages;
saints and innocent souls calling upon God's forgiveness and clemency,
and the Renaissaince gave us endless works of art so admired in all of Italy...


Observe me and look into these bright and confident eyes,
what is the feeling you get from their friendliness...
sincerity, unpretentiousness and a loyalty too unquestionable?
Are there any other charms that make them so noticeable?   


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


Details | I do not know? | |

Only Human

Only Human

stripping away the shielding peels and layers of a heart that reels

searching for solace in an ocean of overwhelming promises more slippery than eels


only human...

sand-paper strokes grating within

piercing the moments like shrapnel before they even begin


only human...

devoid of malice and of ill-intent

burning out rapidly in order to merely be content


only human...

thoughts swarming around the flaming mind

silencing the bellowing hounds in a world so patently unkind


only human...

fleetingly here and then into the dust to mingle

at times howling a dirge of sorrow yet sometimes whistling joys' lilting jingle


only human...

aren't we all just human

so...

may we then briefly halt and think and see

the truth that always was and always will be

that truth that bears bounties from our common tree

the truth that humanity rests within us all

in you and in me...


Details | Lyric | |

That Day

See, it's the Risky Truths
 that we try to brush under the rugs, 
replacing them with fantastic fantasies, 
but we never seem to realize, 
until THAT day, that those fantasies 
that were so easy for us to build,
 may not be so easy for our children to. 

And it is on that day, 
the day you meet truth, 
the day your child meets truth 
and comes to you, their hero, 
with broken eyes, asking "why", 

on that day, 
a catastrophic wave of guilty insignificance hits your soul,
 and with a truthful tear 
overshadowed by a denying voice, 
you say, "well there was nothing daddy could've done." 

But until then, 
until that day, 
if ever that day, 
life is...fantastic


Details | Free verse | |

From Cover to Cover

From being forced to cross the Atlantic Ocean under the cover of stars
to volunteering for a mission above every ocean to the stars.

From being stared at on an auction block and having the family sold and separated
to ten years running, in the most watched block, as a priceless model of the family unit.

From working for peanuts and fertilizing somebody's land with the blood that runs off of
the back
to owning the land, working the peanut, and transfusing the blood back.

From being robbed of a spoken language, losing a religion, a culture, a god
to influencing: the language spoken in cultures, songs in religion, and the pathway to God.

From losing a hand and a foot or a leg for not being fast enough to get far enough away
from “the man”
to using the hands, legs and the feet in running farther and faster than the average man.

From the king, of a nation, beaten into a personal slave and called names like coon,
spook, and “Boy”
to a boy named King who would grow up to “win over” a nation for the equal freedoms of
every person.

From generations that had to take the last names of past presidents
to being the name that can give a future generation its first president.


Details | Haiku | |

The News

Stabs reality
into souls, images
seared like marks on minds.


Details | Rhyme | |

Filipino roots

What reminds me always of my own identity 
being born in the Philippines, a poor nation;
faith and history that nurture my thinking,
their colossal meaning shows how I am doing.

  Perhaps an upbringing in my own family culture
  can add a vital implication in my behavior
  yes, it’s pretty evident as I keep going
  with my own certainty in language articulation.

Our constant struggles, miseries and beliefs
provide a perspective that comes with faith;
it’s a way to get plunged into the mainstream
that life in the Philippines has shaped my whole being.

  Major hurdles as reflected in various situations,
  the core truth of being subject to wrestle with life,
  along with the fullness of time and the so-called ‘leb’ 
  a challenge, indeed; the incarnation of my interior sense.

It is an awareness that poverty in most parts of the country
makes me realize that something has to be done so far,
it’s a person’s longing to achieve that goal of going elsewhere
like in the States, UK, Australia, Hong Kong or Malaysia.

  That quest for greener pastures and other human aspirations
  employment takes the centerpiece as a redeeming treasure;
  like a “chiaroscuro”  in the haven of human acquisition
  where hope begets hope and where faith begets faith.

Well, seeing the reality of my own people’s struggles
I cannot help but be responsive to what they long for;;
a call from within drawn across the cry of the poor,
my own people, my sibling souls in the right direction.

  I’ve developed that attitude of love and compassion
  especially to those who’re eclipsed by epic proportion
  in their search for peace, justice and Christian thought
  with their roots plunged into the depth where we are.


Details | Blank verse | |

representational task

enter stage left the successful politian
with more moves than a bird chased crow
speaking in glowing terms of limited taxation
with his projective protective representation

I close my eyes to see him standing speaking
to cold Valley Forge's traitorious rebels
oh that every rep and senator be required
to speak on such a bloody pulpit

Three Cheers for King George
The Mad Englishman wants it all and Honestly states it
There are here woods enough to hide in and be free
Rather there than stand and fight for thee
Whoever let you be?


Details | Verse | |

Shadows Of Night

I once saw a lion alive in a grave,
Chewing dirt with the jaws of a heroic slave,
But fight as he might he could not understand
How a king could fall prey to the weight of the land.

I once saw an activist nailed to a cross,
Leaking blood from his wounds, growing weak from the loss,
And bleed as he did he could not comprehend,
Betrayal and forsaking by father and friend.

I once saw a tiger gone mad in cage,
Pacing back and forth, incandescent with rage,
Roaring and snarling out animal hymns,
As he foamed and he frothed and bit his own limbs.

I once saw a patriot die on the street,
In a gelignite overcoat, blown off his feet,
All for some twisted preaching of hatred and fear,
Spilling innocent blood of those who stood near.

I once saw the difference of man and beast,
At the point at which either was nearly deceased:
The beast fights for life and rages for light,
Yet man invokes death and the shadows of night.


Details | Elegy | |

Court Historians

The Court Historians'
official dictums
of special reports
and minor fiction from
deep in the archives
where they've been
resting with other lies
besides these, and other
generally accepted deeds
have just been released
for "people consumption" now
that the donkies have been appeased
and truth into lie
and lie into truth
have rendered history
spin-city legalese.


Details | Free verse | |

Winners and Losers

                                                                False promises and bold faced lies
			From leaders we call men,
			Too foolish, vain and unwise
			It’s the election blues again.

			Feign to believe the web they weave
			With patient ears we listen,
			Future balanced if they achieve
			From deceitful eyes teeth glisten.

			In principle, fate is our blame
			Yet in our selfish pride,
			Our judgment shadows woeful shame
			Behind scapegoats fail to hide.

			Ballot fiends they all may be
			Watching poll numbers, plus or minus three,
			What will their victory bring to me
			After January twenty-three.
		
			Subsidized youth sports, gun control
			Child care dollars galore,
			A policy a day, and truth be told
			Campaign gifts are a chore.

			What matters East-West-South ‘n North
			Is that we get it right,
			While opponents bicker back and forth
			By cable, bus or flight.

			Success depends on unity
			Without it we’re a wreck,
			While one side suffers mutiny
			The Grits give Tories heck.

			The separatist Bloc` says “Let us go”
			Demanding sovereign freedom,
			White margarine and one-tongued-signs
			Does Canada really need them.

			The answer is, quite simply, oui`
			We cannot tear apart,
			Instead, honor all with dignity
			And make a brand new start.

			While men debate with pointed fingers
			On issues big or small,
			Our neighbor’s fear of terror lingers
			With plans to build a wall.

			Five billion they shall not relinquish
			While bring East to peace,
			Infernal war fires ne’r extinguish
			Diplomacy for lease.

			Denying partnership in war
			To Iraq we didn’t go,
			And up in space where eagles soar
			Again we said “Oh no”.

			Canada is not the States
			Their future is not ours,
			While Bush comments on us, berates
			His future quickly sours.

			When we look back upon these days
			In golden years of life,
			Will mirrored lakes obscure with haze
			Too thick for sharpened knife.

			Or does the future hold great treasure
			For Canadians, one and all,
			With strength and courage beyond measure
			Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall.

			Like years before, each voter chooses
			With hopes and dreams of change and glory,
			But in the end there’s winners and losers
			Different writer, same old story.


			Scott Goldsberry

			December 30, 2005
			

						


Details | Rhyme | |

Ghost Town Trains

By a rotted down shack 
Near an old railroad track,
The trains rattled past and sometimes came back;
There’s a thin plume of smoke
From the old chimney stack,
An underfed scar on a night painted black.

Hangs a dead end sign
On the long disused line
By a hole in the earth like a bottomless mine;
It’s so hard to conceive,
It’s so hard to define
When the darkness prevails and the stars never shine.

In the mind of the tramp
He sets curse on the cramp
That lays waste to his joints in the cold and the damp;
And he swigs aftershave
In this refugee camp,
By diseased, ragged flames of a paraffin lamp.

The town that once stood
Made of brick, glass and wood
Now plays host to the ghosts like an empty town should;
As a starving dog howled
Just as loud as he could,
An ill wind kicked in, blowing no one no good.

As the dust blew away
And the night turned to day
The sun barely rose so the black turned to grey;
Dead hearts never beat
In the cold human clay
And the silence imprisoned the future at bay.

The ghost town trains
Turned to mist in the brains,
Of vagabond corpses and all their remains,
Their whistles fell mute
As did pistons and chains,
Of ghost town trains, the ghost town trains.


Details | Verse | |

America, I Sing

Land of the Bigot
Home of the Slave
Why should I sing you praise?
Look at what you done to me.
Turned me into a wild beast
Civilized you say, Devilized I say.
Stole my past, holding me captive
You can’t deny my future.
How can I love you when you constantly hate me, hurt me
destruction is your destiny
Change before it is too late
Don’t punish me because you fear me
I made you great, you owe me
You owe me America


Details | Rhyme | |

UNCLASSED

Uncertainty breeding tolerance or default
that openness forever I exalt
my weakness, as new weakness, not assault,
would execute new justice by strength's lack?

So bridging some infirmity, take back
the homicidal structure of exact,
unknown to self the causing, still impact
all differences demeaning, all retract!

By stating my contention, not react
I clarify my purpose ~ in contrast.
So let me delve in empathy, Faith's last
and let me live in sympathy, my bast!

As still injustice learning, am aghast
by fortunes interacting, through War's path,
the flagrant guesswork erstwhile marring lathe',
I loosen my indemnity ~  God's wrath

is so determined judgment . . . . mine unclassed!






Details | Free verse | |

The Hunter Painted the Bison.

In pre-historic times
Man painted on walls
the things he wished
for.Food.Success
So holy was this act 
it migrated to churches.
Success.Power.
What we wish for.
Eastern art contains
natures elements.
A mountain.A river.
Our peaceful dreams.
Art is important.
Everybody loves it.


Details | Tail-rhyme | |

Leonardo was a Strong Man...

It was said to be...
Leonardo was a tall muscular
man with a well-poised
,graceful carriage.
Leonardo kept a journal
And in it he would render
All his inspirations for
future generations to tender.
He keenly observed nature
using all his five senses.
Sight he said was the most
powerful to commence with.
He encouraged his students
to also employ  hearing,
smell,touch and taste for
awareness and insight. 
Then he would majestically
stroll down his boulevard
greeting everybody by name.
Yes,Leonardo was a one of the
World's greatest thinkers in
the late fourteenth century!


Details | Limerick | |

Holy Rasputin


There once was a sage man named Rasputin,
With filthy beards, and wore cross made of tin.
While preaching his holy crafts,
He met the queen and her staffs.
He slept with them that got him in a bin.


Details | I do not know? | |

Haute Prejudice

Haute Prejudice.

Wrapped around manicured fingers,
Carats and ounces.

Flung over muscled shoulders,
Pin-stripes and silk.

Shoveled down open mouths,
Caviar and oysters.

Reeking from each pore,
Prejudice and hate.

The reeking odour is alive.

It is carried by the forlorn breeze,
Wafting through mansions and jacuzzis.

The reeking odour of the whispered epithet,
Lingers on as the perfume fades away.


I try to hide.
In dusty corners and trashy alleyways.

I try to escape the noxious smell,
As I flee into a crawl.

Yet the pervasive smell of hate in the air,
Swirls and invades and mutates and propagates.

The bile rises,
Nauseated,
Sick with mock pity,
For those fighting over the scraps,
In our gleaming city.

'freeloaders' and 'bums',
White, brown, black, pink, yellow,
And those battered into shades of black and blue.

Will it ever end?

Perhaps never.

Not until I realize,

That 'they' are me,

And that I am you.


Details | Light Poetry | |

' Why Do We Believe ? ... '

… Oh, Why Do We Believe ? …
… Because Real Legends, Never Leave
A Mistaken Myth, May Be Reality
Or Was It Just A Folklore Legacy

Is A Pure Promise, A Prophecy ? …
Oh, Why Do We Believe ? …

… All Our Storytelling Around Camp-Fires
Or Storytelling, Beneath Architect-Spires
Tales … To Help Get Thru Muck and Mire
But … Who Speaks True and Who Are Liars ? …

Which Promise, Is A Prophecy ? …
Oh, Why Do We Believe ? …

Pray Tell – Does A Myth Explain Mystery ?
Pray Tell – Will That Legend, Live For Eternity ?
Is It A Diluted or Overdeveloped History ?
Will The Story, Stand The Test of Accuracy ? …

Does The Promise, Point To A Prophecy ? …
Or A Fleeting, False, Folklore, Fantasy ? …

… For We Make Dream-Worlds, To Cope
and Dope and Smokes and Gold-Wealth-Ropes
or Super Heroes, Knights and Words, Wrote and Spoke
‘Cause Humans, Must Dream, We Must Have Hope …

… It Is In Our Everyday, Hustle-Scope
In Each and Every, Hurry-Clock-Stroke
Until, From Myths, We Have Awoke
And Live by Honor, Instead of A Hoax …

Holding Promise, and Hoping Prophecy
Bring The Proof Of Why We Believe

Yes, That Is Why We Believe
In All The Beauty, Our Souls Can Conceive
We Believe, We Can Achieve and Succeed 
But, We Know, We Need Someone Who Will Lead !

… So, That, Is Why, We Still Try …
And Why Real Legends, Just Won’t Die …
And Make-Believe Myths, Are Exposed As Lies
When Prophecy, Pass Before Our Eyes …

… and All Will Know, Why We Believe
and Believe, As Long As We Breathe !
As Long As Hearts Beat and Bleed
… Because Our Hearts Can’t Survive … Faith-Bereaved

Oh, Why Do We Believe ? …
And All Believers and Dreamers, Say … Wait And See ! …



Note:

There Is More Factual Proof That God Is Real
Than Any Other Person Ever Lived…
That Includes: Julius Caesar, Plato, George Washington
King Henry, Cleopatra, Shakespeare and Tennyson
And Most People Believe and Agree, They Existed
But The Notion of Almighty God, Is Still Resisted
Now, In All Instances, (We Were Never There) …
… I Guess, It Just Boils Down To A Prayer …

                       The  MoonBee


Details | I do not know? | |

A Judicial Opinion

A druid's interpretation of forefathers' declaration
There shall be  twixt Church and State a separation
There shall never be a separation twixt God and state

This "over simplification" of what they said cuts through
and shreds all of The Magnificent Arguments lawyers
judges and atheists have put forth and causes this latest
Supreme Court decision to be  considered treason
What else can one call overthrowing constitutional law
but treason

God willing before they fire their chaplain 
This congress can come to its senses
This country started with a revolution
Men put their necks at risk ruined their lives to say
We are free to govern ourselves
Under God and no church shall interfere

This druid says replace incompetence 

But 'tis only wry humor 
Incompetents multiply too quickly
In any robes they don


Details | Free verse | |

Humanity after All

Is there life without emotion or any feelings at all?
Can there be just one, that all would share as one.
Can Happiness or joy exist without sadness to know?
Sadness so unknown, if joy has no place to grow,
Will knowledge continue, without pain or pleasure?
To be void of one or the other would just be wrong.
Evil cannot exist without good, to be relevant.
Happiness, never be acknowledged, if none known sorrow.
Emotions feed from one to the other of how we’re made.
How we are made, delivers the feelings, which we share.
Though many may disagree, man is the only one with all.
Yes animals feel, though rely on instinct for correction.
They feel sorrow, happiness, pleasure and pain so real.
Knowing how to balance is a human detail of life.
We were made to adhere to certain laws, we do learn.
We develop from our past, if we do indeed, pay attention.
Dangers of losing the feelings, no humanity, will be the defeat.
Life without any emotion; is just repetition of existence.
There cannot be one without the other, in the human race.


Details | Rhyme | |

nothing much

It's nothing much,
were almost home,
still not a word.
We listen hard,
and hum the songs on the radio.
Guess we didn't save enough,
for this rainy day.
Funny how something comfortable,
can lead to so much pain

We'll talk out loud,
we'll say what were thinking,
one of these days.
It all seems worth it,
not to be alone in this thing.
But this thing doesn't seem,
to want to change.

I hope I'm ready with my thoughts,
what I'm going to say.
She'll start to talk,
and before long,
it has become.
one of those days.

I hope I get a break before,
lonely comes and its time,
to begin nothing much,
all over again.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Chocolate Tree

A complex Composition may take a long time to compose....

Several female figures communicating their relaxed relationship

within a safe , stylish comfortable environment  or harvesting

of the fruits, like a Van Gogh metamorphisis.   Several figures 

in the field working within an orchard environment.

Selecting ,reaching, placing , gathering and  singing rythmically.
 
Oranges , apples or grapes and carrying  a woven cane basket. 

Working in the field, on the land , organically without machinery.

Chocolate grows only  3 degrees north or south of the equator.*

The oblong knobbly pod  is not particularly attractive , it looks a bit

like a custard apple and grows directly out from the  trees' trunk . 

The sound of drums reverberating through the lush, humid forest.

The Chocolate tree was originally discovered in the deep , dense,

dark canopy covered rainforests of South Americas and was 

used as a mood enhancer , possibly also an entrancer in  rituals. 

Explorers carefully carried and contained the revered cacoa seed,

thinking nothing much of its bitter taste.

Introduced and redeveloped  in Europe from the fifteenth century.

When the pod is cut open it looks a bit like a custard apple again.

Dark, waxy seeds embedded within a pulpy flesh here and there. 
It is  Cocoa seeds that are used to make our favorite chocolate!

*(A  few feet either way North or South of the Equator , water swirls
   downwards  clockwise 4 North and anticlockwise 4 South.}




Details | Narrative | |

The Setting Of The Sun: Part Three

Behold a land of monarchic decadence as celebrity status
of family values eroded in a smorgasbord
of half truths and bare-faced lies;
what life-model this,
one of toe-sucking chequebook journalism,
degradation and scandal, contempt for the public.
TV vendettas and cellulite thighs.
She no longer carries the big stick
with which to shake the world’s foundations
and bring the dogs to heel on bended knees;
now the blue-blood veins have been hacked and severed,
blood jets black and turns to dust,
led by Uncle Sam with ring through the nose
a merry John Bull with spongiform brain disease.
In a dying gasp of colonialist logic,
and meathead fascist chapters
the coda of the empire thug gives free way
to remedial apologism in overkill
that suicide bombers may rule this day.
Come one come all, loot, execute and pillage,
we’ll protect your rights to murder and plunder
and pay you welfare cheques whilst you do;
it’s politically correct that you do what you will
no discrimination in this here global village.
She is all but a fossilized relic with a makeover mask
extremist surrender when all is said and done,
and our children inherit a legacy of illusion,
of redundant beliefs, nothing left at all
for we stood blindly by and never sought to prevent
the setting of the sun...
for we stood blindly by and never sought to prevent
the setting of the sun.


Details | Blank verse | |

Alligators

Beware from alligators,
A notice board was hanged,
Outside the pond,
And water was very quiet.

I tried to look around,
I haven’t seen any alligator,
But suddenly an animal came,
And bend to drink water.

I have seen a giant alligator,
Attacked on an animal,
But a poor animal has lost his life,
But board was still hanging.

I have seen thousands alligators,
In white clothes but never seen, 
Any notice board, is system so worst?
They are sucking bribery who noticed.


Details | I do not know? | |

For Compassion

for compassion...

hate like silent venom flows
spewing forth in dribs and drabs

how will the wounds ever heal
with such vitriol tearing at the scabs

we shudder at the words of hate
and wonder will it ever cease

but hope springs forth for
we know it begins within us, now, today

with the simplest acts of human compassion
so that gentle love may banish the hate away



Details | Free verse | |

The Butler Made Me Do It

Where shall I go ?

             What shall I do   ?


                 Frankly      

                My  Dear
           
     I  Don't   Give   A    Dam


For I am  Gone With The Wind
In search of that Rhett Butler
Other Girls Can Dream Too LOL





Tribute To Great Movies


Details | Free verse | |

MARTYER

Martyer 
Martyer 
His main idea was not survival unless you count the spirit at the end of life. The 
hatred in his heart for the people cheering and jeering left him in just one 
moment of his time. A heart given to the LORD will never die but is beating now 
inside the body of the christian. 
The man was name of mud or even fence his name is not important but just for 
this one poem call him JIM. Jim went to the ARENA against his own will and torn 
inside to try to survive and live. The end of time comes to some in the form of real 
life death. The crowd was silent as the MAN strode to the LION and slapped him 
twice so hard the lion felt it. 
The man was soon destroyed by the LION just reacting just a thing created to be 
smiting 
anything and anyone that bothers it. This man JIM was soon a thing of many 
pieces laying there. This is called martyr when a MAN gives of himself to his own 
LORD the life given unto him is now returned. This is very hard to do and seems 
so odd and yet the way to Heaven is not easy for most men and the Lion would 
not eat the man for food it seemed to sense that the party was now over. The 
Emperor was Constantine he loved the sport and watched it endlessly not no he 
did not like the persecutions but even this Constantine was unable to save the 
life of JIM the martyr the christian the friend of JESUS . ROME continued in its fall 
and fell from Grace but thanks be unto Constantine for making it a better place. 


When Diocletian and Maximian announced their retirement in 305, the problem 
posed by the Christians was unresolved and the persecution in progress. Upon 
coming to power Constantine unilaterally ended all persecution in his territories, 
even providing for restitution. His personal devotions, however, he offered first to 
Mars and then increasingly to Apollo, reverenced as Sol Invictus. 



Details | Ode | |

Painted Over Graffiti

It's more than painted over graffiti,
The trouble with our world today.
The problem's mass is sweeping
More like a paint brush,
Used to wash wanton layers,
Time worn colours, away.

Strategic historical scholars, studied to rote,
Besmirch budding Buddhists babies,
Learning to vote by thinking.
What a novel concept!
If people would just pay attention,
The entire world could get smart.

The youth keep shouting louder,
Falling fast, far, and as hard,
As earlier generations did.
They are THE hope of our nation.
Shouting in codes their passions,
Spouting a shiznit with voices hid.

There's something wrong in this country.
It's been simmering in a brew quite a while.
The hippies got old and face graying,
While the youth now do their own thing
With a new fashioned font style.

No lessons learned,
Old leaves not even turned
To compost for human renewal.
Few values passed along the trail
Because values, then,
Weren't the popular thing,
To be in, with it, man.
Can you dig it?

There are 50-odd million Americans
Staying, saying, and swaying,
"We won't let you whitewash us away,
Like grains of sand in a rip tidal bay."

So I'll face every day on my own terms.
The representatives stand for me, too.
One must be true to his conscience
As the rest pigeonhole patriotically
Into immigrant shades of red, white, and blue.


Details | I do not know? | |

"Anesthesia, how i do not love you"2-16-09

"Anesthesia, how i do not love you"2-16-09

your breath is of a Drug-inducing interjection of a Lullaby  
singing the unsuspecting, unconscious, unaware 
into a deep and danger  "Hetero-suggestion"

come trespass into the night 
as I lay helpless in my bed
fill my thoughts with dread 
make me your unwilling slave! 

"Mesmerism" is by the State of usage
used in the mind to control the innocents     
to a violation of which 
morality is but a vapor a way~ 

i don't remember said the unguilty blameless
its not my nature, it is just not me~
I could not have did this sin~

how to walk the line of care? 
when the air you do breath 
changes you world~ 

to inform you, that never warned~
that your "Enemy" has a new Tool~

 
 AKA:lyricvixen


Details | I do not know? | |

THE BUGLE BOY

I said, "Son, you look too young
To wear that uniform.
You ought to be home with your ma,
There, by the fireside warm.
                                      
"That bugle hanging 'round your neck,
You sure can blow it fine,
But you'd be home, singing in the choir
Were you a boy of mine."
                                       
The bugle boy's blue eyes flashed fire;
His freckled face blushed red.
He slowly shuffled his booted feet
And cleared his throat, and said,        
                                      
"I guess I'm older than I look.
I'm kind o' thin and lean,
But I'm not "son" by a damn long site!
I'm goin' on fifteen.
                                       
"My ma, she died when I was born;
The Rebs, they killed my pa,
On a battle field called Prairie Grove,
Out west, in Arkansas.
                                       
"One brother died at Chancellorsville.
He got in a cannon's way.
Another was lost at Gettysburg,
In Pickett's Charge, they say.
                                      
"Well, that leaves only two of us--
Just me and brother Phil.
He's with the troops on the forward line,
In the woods, just down the hill.
    
"They don't let me tote a rifle;
Guess I don't shoot so well.
But I can sound a bugle call
That'd send a charge through hell."

The bugler's story ended there.
No time for more to tell,
For, the midday quiet was shattered
By that awful rebel yell.
                                      
The cold air rang with musket fire
And cannon, from both sides.
Soon the sparkling snow was crimson stained
Where the fallen bled and died.
                                      
The blue line held; the Rebel thrust 
Was slowly turned away.
Now the boy was told to sound the charge
In the fading light of day.
                                      
The blackness of the winter night
Brought fighting to an end.
The moaning of departing souls
Mounted up the wailing wind.  
                                      
The bury detail found the boy,
On their grim, morning beat,
The bugle grasped in his frozen hand,
He had never blown retreat.
                                      
"Why, sonny, you look peaceful there
In that blue uniform.
I guess you're home, now, with your ma,
There, by the fireside warm."


Details | Free verse | |

The Conqueror.

Who beckoned the beast forward
Stirring within a darkness found
Covering the shadows of evolution
Where the sands do not fall
No inkling…
Lumbering forward he lurches
Westward on a destructive swath
Painful in staunch remorselessness
Devouring serenity unsparingly
Laughter echoes…
Obliterating all yet sparing life
Clawing over obsidian ranges
Shrouded rivers of flowing blood
No escaping or resisting 
Manufactured divinity…
Crusading of envelopments plague
Unceasing war of casualties
Flawless insight
Perfectly executed battleplans
A losing victory…
Savvy smug accomplishment
Every birthright now victimized
Still among us obscuring eyes
Warring campaigns concluding
Destiny dissolved…
United we are peoples many
On a marble spinning as one
No flight from his warping grasp
They will come praising his name
Civilization…


Details | Narrative | |

' A Poet, Goes To War ... '

‘ A  Poet  Goes  To  War … ’ ( Josh. 23: 10, 11 ) 


A Gentle-Poet … Goes To War
Oh … How Far … How Far … How Far …
Did You Push A Tender Heart
before Poet Finishes, What You Start ?

Just Like That Musician, Shepherd – Boy
whom a Lion and Bear, Dared Annoy          ------  1 Sam. 17: 37
Trying to Steal Some of His Precious Sheep
Poet, Showed Them … What’s His … He Keeps !

And That Same, Brave-Poet Went To War
Against Goliath’s Insulting, Roar !                ------  1 Sam. 17: 45 – 51
… But With just One Pebble Fling
That Poet’s, Sling, Thru All Of Time … Rings !

And If  A Wise-Poet Goes To War …
That Poet … May Wound and Scar                -------  Acts 7: 54, 57
For Words, Gouge Deeper Than Stones
Pen’s Mightier Than Sword … Cuts Clean To The Bone !

But, You made Poet … ‘your’ Foe, with Mock-Chimes
The First Thought … Just Give Them, Calm-Down-Time
But, Know … This Poet Thrives … Behind Enemy Lines
Forgiving and Wishing, God-Giving, Words-Divine !

‘Cause When Peace-Loving-Poets… Go To War …
‘We’ … Must Travel by:  The Bright Morning Star    ---  Rev. 22: 16
and Wait on His Orders … His Way
and I’m Cautious … Like ‘The Commander’ Says …  -- Matt. 10:16

So, Before you feel The Need To Spar                  ----  Zeph. 2: 2, 3
Before…  Big Poets … Have To Go To War             ----  Genesis thru Revelation
… Know That Such Poets … Are Word–Warriors
 … Don’t Make ‘em Go Off … on ya’ !

‘Cause you Won’t Survive … The Tongues of Fire    ----  Acts 2: 3, 4
( or The ‘ Lake ’ Either … If You Live Like A Liar … )  ---  Rev. 21: 7, 8
Gon’ Wind Up, Locked Behind Abyss’ Bars
… For Making  ‘  Poor-Poets ’ … Go To Wars !          ----  Matt. 18: 6


Details | Free verse | |

Nose Picking

Sometimes a nose,
must be picked,
when it tickles,
or to stop an itch.
Politics similar,
things dug up,
or lying around,
can't dig enough.
Try to be graceful,
a little discrete,
while you stomp,
others feet.
None are perfect,
and an itch is an itch,
beware whose watching,
when you pick.


Details | Verse | |

Ancient Anthills

They ate the carcasses of worms, drunk the blood
Of ants, pests and rodents;
So did this people who dwelt in these anthills.
Till their ailing bodies wreaked, smothered with
Pain and unrest.

They crawled upon the ancient footpaths 
That led them, deeper and much deeper
Into the densely and thickly thriving forests.
No sunshine would they behold for days
No cloudbursts could they hide their withering 
Faces from, he says.

He says-
Well, the old man says- I started living here
Since distant ages ago
Ages long gone and hard to come by.
I stayed here, witnessed the moments
When famine walked majestically 
Into the verandahs; It climbed unto the tops of 
The thatched houses having done with several
Gallops and hops like the ill-timed movements
Of birds on the corridors.

Again,
Blurts this man who swallows dozens of health-
Sustaining, life-prolonging, divine herbal
Medicinal pills; He speaks in accents that would
Send
The most insensitive hearts present in the bodies
Of courageous men in this community throbbing,
With ticks of uncontrollably wild laughter:

A good gift should never spark a rift;
Of the bottles and kegs of oil
My forebears defended, kept and left behind
For me, of these long-but-not-forgotten places of green
Memories, may we ever scale past the huge mountains
Before us, and always feed on its balmy substance
Of wisdom.


Details | Haiku | |

Parthenon Marbles


Parthenon marbles
the Greek ancient heritage 
why the Queen has it?


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

UNTURNED STONES GATHERIGN IN MY SOUL

UNTURNED STONES GATHERING IN MY SOUL 
AS I WALK BACK HOME FEELING YOUR SMILE 
AS I GLIDE TO MY DOOR I WAIT IN STRIDE 
EVER AFTER BITTEN BY THE SUN 
SINGING THE PRAISE OF MY UN BEGOTTEN
LOVE AS DEEP AS THE SOUL WOULD SEE
AS SHALLOW AS THE SUN WHERE I SEE YOU PASS BY 
CAN I FEEL YOUR WARM EMBRACE 
OF PURE SPUN SNOW AS GOLD AS THE LACE 
SPINNING KNEELING FEELING YOUR PACE 
GASPING FOR BREATHE AS I FEEL YOU SHAPE
AS I SINCE ELAPSED AS I SEE YOUR FAITH UN BEGOTTEN 
SUN GIVE ME A GLIMPSE A TRACE AWAKEN MY SOUL 
UNTURNED STONE GATHERING A TRACE
MY LOVE MY LIFE IS LAST AT GLIMPSE
UNTOLD LOVE I SEE IN YOUR FACE
EVERAFTER I GLIDE BACK TO SLEEP
DEEPENED AS I FEEL YOUR TRACE
DEEPER HOTTER I CAN FEEL YOU ON MY FACE
BREATHE SO SHORT EVER TELL ME 
MY LOVE CAN I SEE YOUR FACE 
STONE UNTURNED DEEP WITH IN MY SOUL
LOVE HAS LEFT WITHOUT A TRACE


Details | Free verse | |

Fall of the Empire

All roads lead to Rome
As the migration begins
So goes the fall of the empire
Once invincible once respected now cursed
Weakness in the Senate corruption speaks
Destroyed internally by a lack of integriity in its 
Leaders
Lies become truth
Deception its dogma
City burned but no lessons learned
Historians document the fall but no notes taken
Thought forsaken
All roads lead to Washington.


Details | Verse | |

Recalling the Recall

Civilly shivily,
Golden State voters said
they should have Arnold			
to lead them, you bet!

Hasta la vista Babe,
gubernatorial
Big Terminator is
not finished yet.


Details | Didactic | |

The Cheater

Educated she is, in one of the finest school abroad
Through the blood and sweat of my innocent people
Now she is here to pursue her life’s real ambition
Aided by the shadow of her dearest loving father

Waving to the welcoming crowd, smiling like a star
Then with confidence she delivers her magic spell
Of peace, economic growth and of political stability
In a short span, our beloved motherland will be back 

To the top, where she once before, she proudly tells
Hopes and contentment are being etched in the faces
Of the many, who never seem to stop worrying for
What to eat and what to wear, so, one must lead 

The country to prosperity from chaotic leadership
That blackens the dignity of my brothers and sisters
Suffering deep humiliations from the foreign hands
In exchange for a penny of five to support the family

She pretends to be a star, really, she is a great star  
Her avid followers are tirelessly spreading the news 
Of her, being a god fearing servant, yet, her prince 
Unbeknownst, is a top gambling lord, under her skirt

She doesn’t seem to notice her prince’s illegal deeds
For she’s too damn evil of her own, a cheater of a kind
Thanks to the whistle blower, who exposed her color-
Her true identity, immoral, worst than her predecessors

Yet, she doesn’t want to relinquish the stolen throne
To cover up, she uses all her power in order to restore 
Her pride, in return, the freedom of speech is repress
And those who challenge her will is silence to death  

She is, indeed, a star and she will never be forgotten
For a star without shine, always takes the center stage
To you my people, rise and stand against ruler like her
If, you want to see our motherland once more on top 



 


Details | Free verse | |

After

After the shatterings, the fires.
After the fires, the darkness,
And with the darkness, the heartless cold.
After the dark and the cold
Had confirmed their dominion of the world,
Their ministers, Fear and Silence
Made their home among the remnants.

After communication was rejected
And the art of diplomacy lost,
After tolerance got dropped by the wayside
And predjudice battened fat on the tasteless fruits of ignorance,
We cast aside the desire for progress
Choosing instead to believe in shadows we built of nothing
Firmly set in one another's minds
Until at last the day came when we said,
"Let us purge the world of anyone who claims it.
Let us see they inherit the dust."

We assured one another of destruction,
Founding security on a glass sheet of terror
That shuddered beneath us
And weighted our illusion of safety
With load on load of suspicion.

No voice rose in protest, though the danger was clear to all.
We believed our leaders knew better than we,
Doubt was a weakness
Disbelief, heresy.

So we skated on thin ice a long while,
Until at last it broke, and dropped us through the Nightmare Moments
When the planet itself trembled beneath us
While Civilization slew itself,
The work of millenia scattered like chaff.

All that was left
After the horror faded
Was this ragged chaos
Through which we, bit players left wandering the stage
Drift, lost and desperate, until the curtain falls.

We sit and sift ashes for memories,
Splinters of things that once held meaning.

Journeying the cold wilderness of our making
The landscape of walking, murmuring dead
Nobility of soul becomes a luxury all desire
And none can afford.

     Last night I heard four horses approach
    Down the broken highway out of the ruins.
    Beside it I thought I saw Dante's ghost weeping
    And knew that now, madness is a gift.

    I joined the others gathered by a feeble hearth
   Guttering in the bones of a building.
   We dined together on the hollow flesh of emptiness.
   From cups of salt we drank our tears.


Details | Free verse | |

Cotton

Cotton sleeps unsoundly, 
Knowing many hands are there  to pick it--
Many scarred hands that roam
The fluffy fields at the crack of dawn.
Cotton gets anxious
When sunlight wakes the morn.
Cotton smells the coffee brewing
And fidgets fretfully 
At the thought of brown
Blood stained hands.
Cotton meets its death
In sacks slung around
Poor men’s shoulders.


Details | Verse | |

A Bright Shining Hope

A bright shining hope in a blind ricochet
In the gardens of stone where the sleepers lay
Where the bells chimed out on a brand new day,
A bright shining hope peeled resounding.

A bright shining hope firing heart and mind
Like a grand constellation in clusters aligned
With a mystic astrology built predefined,
A bright shining hope shone abounding.

A bright shining hope out of centuries blew
On the winds of change, ringing in with the new
And from Auld Lang Syne rose a future anew,
A bright shining hope stood agleam.

A bright shining hope of souls reuniting,
Amalgams of legends and heroes inciting
An unwritten future made ours for the writing
A bright shining hope to redeem,
Of a humanitarian dream.


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Murder

A man lies dying, a victim of a cause
his name not important, nor the time of his fall
Impaled in Romania, or crucified for the glory of Rome
cut are the sinews of conscience, dangling from a soulless abode
How many have bled, in reverence to a god or a nation
holy aren't thy waters, baptizing an armada of Spanish creation
For every 95 Thesis, must we have a 100 Year War
October bled Stalin's revolution, a red epitaph of Leningrad lore
Blame pernicious leaders, for cajoling fear and hate
yet whose firm handshake slits the throat, of civilized debate
A Ukrainian famine, a Jewish holocaust, a Japanese city eerily still
the killing fields are always fertile, beneath the city on a hill
Ignorance and greed, gorge a leviathan corpulent and crowned
cannibalism is its creed, its ruddy chains writhing unbound
How many voices were silenced, that sixth day of June
history too often forgets, to seal a tyrant's tomb
We are blessed with reason, the ability to discern
is life not a precious gift, impossible to return
Could you steal the last breath, from your child's loving kiss
would a god give you a righteous sword, to kill one of his


Details | Rhyme | |

Lost Pride.

Chickasaw warrior…Apache brave
Chimed echo from recent pasts
Rawhide clad of bow and stave
Our iconic figure now cast

Roaming prairies open plains
Selfless equal within nature
A simple life of a people proud
Societies of ancient stature

Cherokee warrior…Arapaho brave
Awakened into midnight battle
Blue eyes aim down the thunder sticks
Reaping from cavalry saddles

Shunned showpieces of society
Called examples of a savage pride
Crushed of tyrannical booted propriety
In the federal wastes to reside

Tillamook warrior…Shoshone brave
Hunted through the very last stand
Forced to the brink of identity lost
Imprisoned in fenced desert sands

Allow the great spirits to soar the skies
A birthright given back anew
This aspiration for the tribes we hold
Sadly realized by consciences few

Indian warriors…fighters brave
Truest peace I offer my hand
Headdress upon the shadowy brow
Those great tribes once roaming the lands.


Details | I do not know? | |

Corona Discharges

…spectral in the buzzing of it,
the fracturing of molecules,
splitting of sub-atoms,
snap-click of ozone,
particles of atmospheric implosion…

…and in the decimation of motes,
the microwaves of favour,
flavoured with limeade and salt,
decomposed tomato and crisp razor glass,
splat and drawl on slate…

…cracklin’ roses time slide,
juddering frames – red to purple to black – 
ain’t no turning back,
animal souls in fear of dying,
the scream of pigs in slaughter yards…

…hangs the zeitgeist of tortured hamburger,
flesh wired to bolts and voltage,
membranes of drums resonate
to corona discharges of white noise,
rhythm loops of fragmented morality…

…reassemble as a sexual mockery,
finger-cock of scoundrel refuge,
fabricating the new religions,
in sundown saloons the west becomes
the thing it hates…

…in deep concrete and cages,
killing the thing it loves,
nostalgia ghouls drool and guffaw,
Vietnam, boy, we had ears for souvenirs
now we got pitchers…y’all…


Details | Burlesque | |

LIVING LAVISHLY OR SPARINGLY

Rich people can afford to live lavishly,
squandenring money like it werent a commodity;
ordinary folks must make ends meet,
even worrying about the food they eat!

Wealth moguls like Trump or Gates
can purchase the Empire State Building,
and see their names in the Entrepreneur or Money magazine...
while we dispute those outrageous credit card rates!
 
Since Caesar imposed taxes on the Roman Empire,
freedom to spend,at will, has been reduced by desire;
now Uncle Sam is the new emperor demanding his tribute,
woe to us if we declared ourselves immune!  

Republicans and Democrats are divided on one issue:
the Iraq's war on terrorism and its credibility not so true;
while Bush's voice echoes throughout the White House' walls..
a President's courage shown in formidable ways!

The music and art world are giving in frivolity,
creating works that are insignificant and full of obscenity;
can the Human Race excel as it did yesterday...
who will step forward and stop all this insanity?

Living lavishly is only shared by the lucky ones 
who are defined by abundance and inheritance,
but living sparingly is based on sacrifice and endurance...  
learning those thrifty tactics and live within limits!
         


Details | Ballad | |

' Legendary ... ' ( Part 4 (of) 4)

‘ Legendary …’  ( Part  4 (of) 4 ) 



Now, that the Maiden was Unaided, Quickly, ‘He’ Located, Her Craftily
Beth, was in A Flurry, Too Much in a Hurry to Hear Turning of A Key 
Alas’ … The Happenstance of Harm, at the Bower, twas’ Done Most Foully !
Alas’ … The Happenstance of Alarm, Maid twas’ Undone for Shameful Villainy!

 * * *  The Maid so Afraid, for The Earl Waylaid – Her, to His Infamy
He Ravaged and Damaged The Maid … and Took Her Innocency …

And She, in Her Distress and Mental-Regress and Misery
Sat Horrified-Aloof, Sitting in Soiled Proof, of Her Plundered Chastity
There Could Nay be Gathered, Her Tattered-Wits twere’ Shattered, even for Modesty
As The Earl snidely Chuckled, and Boastingly Buckled His Belt, Smirking Heinously

Yea, The Earl had Sated His Dissipated Lust and Gloated – Gleefully
Went Back to The Masque-Ball and Unmasked and Called and Mocked Maliciously
Impugned Beth, to One and All, of Her Downfall from Grace to Impropriety
The Earl Made Sure … The Stunned Knight Would Overhear, The Indecency …

But Much to The Earl’s Chagrin and also Akin to Cowardice and Incredulity
… The Knight Spoke Nay a Word, Only The Hissing of His Sword, Struck Accordingly
The Last Look, The Earl Saw Was … Rage and The Fraught-Gaze of  Insanity !
Yea, The Knight, Smote The Gloat off The Face of the Vile Earl, Most Deservedly …

* * *

Thence, The Knight, in Their Sight, Became Legend That Night as He Fought Mightily
He Escaped Royal Guards, His Heart was Beating Hard, as He made it to The Bowery
And by the Window, He could see by Melted Tallow, a piece of cloth hung Raggedly
caught Wherefore Beth … had jumped to Her Death … and Lay Below Crookedly …

* * *

Now, Tis’ Sad To Recite … They Hung The Poor Knight,  tis’ Further Travesty
For The Earl, tho’ Highborn, wast’ a Cur to Be Scorned … a Monstrosity !
Alas’ …  and Aghast, the hope of Lovers Together at Last, Turned into Tragedy
Fie’ and Fain, lest’ we Forget, this be A Story and yet… couldst’ be Reality …

Yea, Fie’ and Fain, lest’ We Forget, …  Why The Earl, His End Met … 

                        … This Too Was Vanity …   Eccl. 1: 14

‘ … Sweet Wine On My Lips … Drip In Ecstasy
Sweet Touch On My Hips … Smooth as Warm Honey
Sweet Love of My Soul … Last An Eternity
Sweetheart, Be Thy Bold in Bravery …
… and if Sweet Talk, Be A Token
And Language Be Spoken …
Be Legendary … Be Thou Legendary ! ‘

                               The End


Details | Sonnet | |

Darfur

If you should go there ask for old Amin
Who shared with us the same belief of sin
See if he will forgive us again coming late
Here alien seeds were sown, he reaped the hate

If you should go there in the scant of tent
Where sallow skin is carved on children's bones
See the drooping breast, flagged and penitent
Muttering manic syllables in suffering's tones

Pick up the trail of steel from rich shores sent
The relic riffles, the fractured armament 
Of bullets and beliefs, the vain gospel of aid
Seeking market structures in the masquerade

If you go there where Amin in sand dunes
Sleeps, pray for me, the sorrow of the ruins


Details | I do not know? | |

What is religion?

Religion 
A God gift
A message from creator
On the name of his creation.
But it seems to me
A permit on the name of God
To exploit others
Who has no faith in their preaching,
To control them
Who has their different method
In worshipping,
Why I think that
Over the centuries
My ancestors
Are divided into different castes?
Raped and killed innocently,
Were burnt alive
Their babies are on sale,
Because they were banned
By a religion on the name of God
Not to get education
To stop their progress
Economically, physically and mentally,
Islam ruled over them 
Thousand years
But failed to introduce a policy
Of an equal opportunity,
Christian ruled over them 
for hundred years,
Failed to introduce a legislation
To remove injustice of untouchability,
To establish fare justice system
to remove their down trodden status,
But the religion believer belief that
God only has some special for them
Because they hear his message
So they deserve to control them
They are not the part of their preaching
As Hindu treated Dalits
Over the centuries
But no religion open their mouth
To condemn that
God has no free gift
Or special service for anybody
as they think,
Caste is their God Gift,
If we all are brothers and sisters
Then
Why we has such difference?


Details | Rhyme | |

Looking Glass

We looked through the looking glass
to see what we could see
We looked at mankind's history past
and of the promised future        that's to be
 
We studied the pain and suffering
and of all the things we brake
of what peace on earth will bring
the paradise of      which you spake
 
We have contemplated lives entwined with ours
upon their hearts and thought
the lack of tender childhood find
and the painful life that       it has brought
 
We have listened to all the stories 
and paid attention to lessons laid
considered all virtuous glories
and the commands of Love      you bade
 
Even still with all we've sought
perfection in ourselves we do not find
instead we this accursed lot
that affects our hearts            and mind
 
Seems no matter how hard we strive
it is imperfection we all do
we find the law of sin alive
the impossibility of          faultess true
 
We sought out wisdom     and foolishness
found pleasure    and stabbing pain
our education is oft lost on us
our own stupidity           in mind takes reign
 
Only one example has shown the Light
of what a faultless man could be
in every instance his judgment right
displayed an understanding        we could see
 
If ever there was beauty to be found within a man
someone must have witnessed it and showed a divine plan
nothing in mankind's history has overcome his lust for war
its beyond our imagination     to die for Love our overture
 
A majestic character and personality
you have sought to teach
with human stories with their understanding
each ones heart                have sought to reach 
 
James 1:22-25
 
 
COPYRIGHT © 2012 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC


Details | Ballad | |

' Legendary ... ' ( Part 3 (of) 4 )

‘ Legendary …’  ( Part  3 (of) 4 ) 



… Now, The Earl, had Spies, to keep Intruding Eyes On The Tryst of Secrecy
Beth’s Tresses, like Raven Wings and Eyes Emerald-Green, Became His Fantasies
Yea, He erstwhile Plotted, for He wast’ Besotted with the Cobbler’s Daughter’s Beauty
All to no Avail … for Beth Knew Well,  Twere’ None, More Wretched, than He !

So, She didst’ Spurn his Declaration and Protestations of Undying Fidelity
She didst’ Return, His Portrait and String of Pearls and His Poems, Peremptorily
Forasmuch, and twas’ this and such, She Rebuffed all His Pleasantries
In Favor of Her Knight, she Reserved This Right, which Enraged, Their Enemy
 - - - - - - -
Now, Twas’ but an Instant, of Insistent Cajoling, that Beth Pleaded Prettily
To Part with Her Swain, til’ Their Hearts Came, to be Joined For Perpetuity
To Compose Herself, for Their Nuptial-Heft, She twould  Prepare Hastily
And Rendezvous for His View, stating … ‘ I  twould’ Look, My Best for Thee!’

And as She left His side, She was Singing Most Merrily …

‘ …  Carry Me in Thine Arms, to Our Beloved Balcony
To a Bed of Blushing-Rose-Petals and Wild-Tossed-Peonies
A Bed Lover’s Designed … Draped in Damask and Brocade -Satiny
And let Moon-Glow, from Yon’ Window, Bathe Us Both Bodily … ‘

… and The Handsomely Styled, Smitten Knight Smiled, as He Heard Her Warm Gaiety …

… Sweet Wine On My Lips … Drip In Ecstasy
Sweet Touch On My Hips … Smooth as Warm Honey
Sweet Love of My Soul … Last An Eternity
Sweetheart, Be Thy Bold in Bravery …
… and if Sweet Talk, Be A Token
And Language Be Spoken …
Be Legendary … Be Thou Legendary !

                                  ( Part 3 (of) 4 )


Details | I do not know? | |

The Price Of Oil

Aghast, blood has been shed
The shedder is a westerner who sleeps in his bed

While his minions patrol blindly for fear of retribution
But deep in their heart regret their contribution

Georgey Pordgey pudding pot
Ran some oil and made it rot

He tried what he could but still he fail
So he turned to the desert to help him bail

Now he’s won and things couldn’t be brighter
He’s on fire no help from a lighter

As he rows his boat and then drops anchor
Up the bank there comes a stranger

He hops in and starts to speaking
They shake hands then end the meeting

Stranger leaves and he is all alone
So he rows back from hence he come

He goes back to la maison blanche
Has a meeting to announce a missile launch

Against an old friend who is friend no more
And 4 years later he’s hung on a cord

And he parades as if all is well
But the truth not hidden we all can tell

As sons and brothers mothers and daughters
Have not come back from trips with fathers

The nights alone become longer
While the price of oil seems to go higher

It was all for not for we have accomplished none
It is time to leave, I said it and it shall be done.


Details | Free verse | |

Easter 1963

Every fragile flower
Weaves a different sense of power
But the old gardener 
His hands and fingers soil stained
Wears the same disguise
Over his disdain for the poor and trodden mass
The beleagured hair in relentless hands
The squirming bodies bruised and broken
The trying cross of love despised
They gathered the ignorant and stygmatized
And while sun glinted on shiny coffles
The wine cup is poured
To feast the figment of a frazzled mind.


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

TERRORISM: It's Not A New Word

terrorism has been going on for thousands of years
not just in the Middle East, but in America right here
Black folks have been terrorized for many years and in many ways
with lynchings, cross burnings and the destruction of the churches where we pray
we've been treated worse than dumb cattle
at one time they even referred to us as chattel
we've been beaten, whipped, forced and sold
taken from Africa, our motherland
brought over on slave ships 
to become the property of an unrighteous man
for over 400 years we have been treated 
no better than common dirt
but our faith in God has been the only constant 
enabling us to deal with the hurt
to Black Americans terrorism is not a new word
and for anyone to say as much seems completely absurd


Details | Rhyme | |

Blood on Emeralds

The blood of Emeralds
In Northern Ireland's streets
Where sides detest
Victims they seek
 
Religious divide
Neighbours slain
For the life of me
What to gain
 
These troubled times
Historic sores
Deep rooted pasts
Now to the fore
 
IRA
UDA
Many guns came out to play
Both sides fell, as they murderously slay
During the week, even Sundays
 
The Belfast agreement of 1998
This Land of Emeralds, in peaceful state
Neighbours safe to talk again
Never allow the blood, on the Emeralds stain

" Dedicated to all Ireland - The Emerald Isle "


Details | Cowboy | |

A Cowboy Remembers 9/11

Two proud peaks rise up from the range,
Like a dream we all have of heaven—
They soar above white clouds and sky—
A remembrance of 9/11. 

New York’s a far piece to ride to,
But folks all know what happened that day—
When those twin towers both came down
And there wasn’t much left then to say.

There’s always some that mean you harm,
Out on the range or down by the creek—
And there’s a time to take a stand
And not to just turn the other cheek.

There are those that only want talk—
And those that say we should cut and run—
But that ain’t my America—
Americans always get things done!

A strong purple haze is rising
From the plains and cities of the earth—
It’s called American spirit—
It now reclaims the rights of our birth.  

Two proud peaks rise up from the range,
Like a dream we all have of heaven—
They soar above white clouds and sky—
A remembrance of 9/11. 


Details | I do not know? | |

He Sees Everything

The Lord is everywhere,
He sees everything
Through His' Angels' eyes.
Those stories in the Bible
Could just be metaphors
Of other important things.

If only unbelievers
Would think that He exists
And that the words of The Bible
Are only there to teach us...

(This Earth could possible already be "Hell"...)
May sinners not be condemned by Him,
But rather, let them learn from
Their own personal consequences
From committing gluttony, lust and pride.
A person who is gluttonous
Will only achieve nothing but bad health.
A person who is lustful
Will only be chasing after disease.

And a person with very much pride
Yet is also very selfish
Will not be liked (perhaps loved but not like) by others.

God sees everything,
He has allowed all to have free will,
Therefore you make the choices,
As you suffer from doing wrong,
He will help you, He will "discipline" you.
He is there to give you choices
And the opportunities to change.


Details | Bio | |

racial memories

tome in this orkney beachstead
Warm in the touch of rotting tip heat
splitskinning addies onto  top cook rock
smart eyes closed to stinking smoke
feet still wet from tidepool trapsets
Wondering when will weather break
tothers snore beneath the cook smoke
eagle dreams of summer soarings
when will I earn my right to salt
the cook rock's sate with addies left
splitem and fishwall the fire
t' gae doon sweet in morn
the gut sack's full to bait the pool
time t'wash and dream and drool


translation
at home in this Orkney beach stead
warmed by composting garbage and buried green cut grasses
cleaning fish to smoke
feet wet from tending tidal pool traps
wondering when the storm will end
while the rest sleep in the clearer below smoke
dreaming of summer eagles
looking  to gain tribe rights
the flat hot rock above the fire is full
gut the remainder and stack them
to cook around the fire
to taste good in the morning
the grass wove rock sack is full of guts
to rebait the pool trap
it's time to wash and dream of breakfast


Details | Narrative | |

THE TRAVELS OF THE DEPRIVED MEN

Some have never felt the need
to sail on...far beyond their boundaries;
they had comfort and a good life
and enjoyed delectable banquets,
but others had to struggle for a loaf of bread,
and survive in the mist of poverty!!!

Those were the travels of the deprived men,
leaving, with the deepest regret, their own country
to face hardships,unacceptance and bigotry;
and from the offspring of these misunderstood men,
were born individuals who would shake and change society!!!

They worked long hours in mines
trying to catch a breath beneath those dusty caverns,
and when they came out they only saw a thousands of stars;
many built skycrapers, tunnels and bridges:
getting burned by an inclement sun, and through persistance,
they  had the honor and joy to see them shine!!!

Some have taken for granted everything
they were provided for...
not striving to get ahead in life;
living comfortly in their cosy homes and mansions,
standing by and ignoring the pains of the laborers       
along with the evils of their world;
they did not speak on their behalf...
feeling they were more powerful!!! 

And will God, open His arms of eternity,
look down on them and have a bit of mercy...
when they are approaching His gate?
We all came from two perfect parents 
who were as sinsless as angels,
but did not obey and fell from grace...
are we making that same,incorrigible mistake?

The travels of the deprived men,
left their intact trails where they went;
if some deny this fact to themselves,
is because they refuse to knowledge
they walked tall or existed at all...
and brought  a greatness so unimaginable!!! 


 


Details | Acrostic | |

Complacent Desires

Courage and boldness we have forgotten in these days.
Our ancestors had only future expectations to live for.
Maybe, we have slaughtered the ideas; they had in a way.
People relaxed and comfortable, nothing new in store,
Laziness of no dreams or desires; we have it all today.
Anxious not for any changes, let us keep it the same.
Centuries of ruins would not exist, if they had no fire.
Expressing nothing that we have now, without a game,
Now think; where we would be, without their simple desire,
Trapped with no mechanics, science, or exploration aim,


Dreams are what made us, this so-called great nation.
Everyone wants to fight progress, save the past notion.
Salvation of our ancestor’s greatness is in information.
I want to preserve historic ideas, creations in contemplation.
Relics, continued treasure, do not forget about expansion.
Events from the past show we are full of personification.
Secure the now, and then stand firm for forward motion. 


Details | Concrete | |

Stay in school

Life is so much better
If you are so clever
Get your books out in 
School
Please don’t be a fool
To miss an opportunely
.to go to moon
Pay attention make good grades
Then at the age of 30 you be paid
In the shade
See if you miss this opportunely
You might end up a raccoons
Scrounge around at night like a
Fool
Taken other people possesses.
Please stay in school
Having a degree in any thing is
Very cool…


Details | Rhyme | |

past

Lost in my life
everything is a myestery
i can not describe
what is happening in history

for life is not pain
going insane
when people have life
then the time perscribes a wife

when world comes to an end
then everything goes stright down the drain
so time is just a bend
for all the soul of the experments of the lain

for everyone trys
and everyone dies
when time just slows down
then i hit the ground

for everwhere i go
i just went really want to show
and things will not pass
as i go now in the grass


Details | Free verse | |

First Dance (Circa 1957)

Crinkling crinolines creating
  a ballooning circle rising
    out from my shins.  
      They are itching.
        Socks neatly rolled into new maryjanes that
          are stiff and hurt my big toe.

Afternoon spent at the salon
   smelling of perm,
     the radio blaring Diana
       and Wake Up Little Suzie.

My corsage cold from
  the fridge pinned to a
    two-tight bodice.  
    This skirt tilts up precariously
        when I sit down.
           Three crinkling crinolines
              creating a balloon.

Waiting now for the red-headed boy
  with sweat wilting my curled hair.
    Only men sweat you say?  ....women perspire?
      My perspiring upper lip ruining
        newly applied
          lip stick.

The clock's ticking is the only way
  to know times passing.
    At last!  The red-headed boy rings
      the door to be met by my father
        who humphs and parumps before
          we walk out into the cool
             carressing night with all the
                crinkling crinolines swaying.


Details | Ballad | |

Master of War

He pauses for effect and pretends to listen and hear,
then proceeds anyway and gives the order to conquer.
Though far is his reach he is really very near,
causing destruction, he brings chaos and fear.

Silhouettes and shadows dance all over the wall
but he heeds not the warning of the impending toll.
From across the ocean he kills, maims and attacks,
he arrests and he tortures, he insults and he mocks.

He drops bombs, launches cruise missiles and planes,
he fires cannons, sends troops on ships and trains.
He barks orders, he wiretaps and he spies,
he fundraises, he schemes and he lies.

He does not hesitate to place fighting men in harm’s way,
yet years ago, when put to the test, he scampered away.
He’s brave and he’s fearless he will do whatever it takes
as long as it’s not his sorry life at stake.

His nation’s best come home in cold, flag-draped coffins,
but not to worry, just statistics, save the cost of morphines.
For the good times roll for the dumb warrior and his base
since November 2000 and it has always been the case.

He turns wives into widows, innocent kids into orphans,
sowing deaths on thousands of daughters and sons.
He cries crocodile tears, even tries hard to appear he’s sorry
in front of cameras for the headlines of the day.

He never fails to attend service with his wife every Sunday,
a black sheep once but claims the Lord showed him the way.
Yet nothing will stop him from character assassination
for his party and, believe you me, in the name of his nation!

We’re spreading democracy, the little boy warrior says,
in press conferences he holds on some occasional days.
While his weary war machine stutters and cranks,
his rich cronies laugh all the way to the bank.

Yes, the Decider smiles, he surveys and he conquers,
he pretends to listen though he does not really hear.
Shame on the whole world, the UN, shame on us all,
for not reining in this evil man and just taking the fall.
 


Details | Quatrain | |

CHANGING TIMES IN AMERICA

Women are quickly adjusting to modern times
by being more liberal and independent of men;
gone is the housewife, mother and wife,
who stayed home and took care of her children...



On the other hand, men seem to have lost their power
as breadwinners by becoming less caring and loving husbands;
families rarely gather at dinner to discuss matters, 
and this daily celebration pleased their Creator...



Martin Luther was assassinated and John F. Kennedy followed him,
so did his brother Robert and America watched and mourned;
these were, indeed, difficult times that changed the image of a nation,
and the innocent blood spilled by hatred spread more indignation...



Unexpectedly, something marvelous happened which brought awareness;
and soon after the American astronauts landed on the barren and grey moon,
everyone wanted to declare their rights as abiding and loyal citizens
of a country that suppressed freedom and created unneccessary choas and gloom...

   

This teen was powerless and horrified witnessed these events that changed America,
peace, justice and fairness were far cries from reality, more needed to be done; and mama
didn't want to lose me when the Vietnam War started and hippies refused to pick up arms;
and their peaceful songs are a  reminder of a youth spared by God for His great purpose...
 

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


Details | Narrative | |

WHAT WE LOST...

An attack of this magnitude
was completely unforeseeable;
and who thought that an unguarded city
had to feel that sense of solitude...
through an urealistic exodus so undiscernible,
and later reclaim its struck territory!

What we lost...is not the superb Twin Towers: 
the pride of the wealthiest nation on earth,
towers that can be rebuilt in years;
it's those lives that enmity cut short!
And they tried to disorientate us,
and disrupt our ingenuous and lively living
by spreading unrest and choas
with absurd and infernal thinking!

This infamy is so ineffaceable
from the mind of the unfoolish,
fair and reasoning man with greater intellect...
that it becomes so inexplicable;
a shameful act not condoned by civilization,
confirmed by unsympathetic sentiments!

What we lost ...is truly irreplaceable
by every imaginable remedy:
its the worth, the comfort  and the unbroken joy, 
which dazzled in the NewYorkers' eyes...
making their days so livable! 
What we lost...is eternally
carved out into those shining stones:
bearing glorious names to withstand time itself1

 


Details | Free verse | |

A SAFE, MONASTERY LIFE

With a world increasing in knowledge, not discernment,
science expands its universe in space;
you will encounter a few whom the Lord will send...
to seek a safe,monastery life! 
The Middle Ages were a great escape
from the vandals that invaded their land;
and thus,many geniuses brought new thought to light,
and civilization was saved by these courageous monks!

Why are the prisons being overcrowded by the minute,
are we losing touch with conscience,
and is guilt excluded from the senses?
Some don't even feel the sense of guilt,
unremorsefully in front of judges who deplore...
and the offenders ludicrously defy justice;
are we becoming a society of lawless ingrates,
or are we going back to the Dark Ages?

Chaos seems stunning nowdays...
if it surfaces without notice,
all that we built and its splendor
can turn into ashes like charcoal;
the events, unfolding before our faces,
will be more catasthrophic...  
compared to what occurred,over
the centuries, throughout those lands
plagued by deadly diseases!

Choosing a safe, monastery life
is not only precocious, but wise;
if your calling is truly spiritual:
be the sagest of the sage...
not consumating a self-image; 
devotion is a not a demise of the faithful!


Details | Lyric | |

Who You Are, America

Red, White, and Blue,
are the colors that represent you.
All your stripes and all your stars,
has made our freedom come this far.

We listen to your pledge,
as your flag flaps on the ledge:
"O'say can you see,"
and, "the land of the free."

In every American's Pride,
you will find a soldier inside.
There's nothin we won't do,
for you, we will always remain true.

From the Revolutionary War to the War in Iraq,
we'll fight for you and never look back.
No matter the reason, no matter the cause,
we will stand up for you until the last man falls.


Details | Free verse | |

Help one another!

Encourage one another
and promote each others work;
help them if they're struggling
nurture all their worth.
Advocate or contribute,
stimulate their minds;
Recommend a sponsor,
to assist, support or sign.
Foster them or forward them;
publicize and popularize,
all will help to plug;
every piece that warrants it,

returned with such a hug!


Details | Lyric | |

My Home Sweet Home

As we pledge our allegiance to the flag
Together in gratitude, let us join in prayer,
For the millions before us who gave their lives
Defending our privilege to breathe Liberty’s air.

Oh say can you see the blessings we share
‘Neath purple mountains and spacious skies?
For our amber waves of grain grow in soil tinted red
By the blood of Patriots who laid down their lives.

My country, ‘tis of thee my heart sings
And upon whom God has shed His Grace.
My country, ‘tis to thee I pray you will always
Sing as one voice for our future children’s sake.

You’re a grand old flag; you’re our Star Spangled Banner
And I salute the virtues o’er which you are wavin’.
You fly proudly as a Beacon of Hope and assurance
For the tired and weak who flee to you for safe haven.

If tomorrow all the things were gone
For which we’ve toiled for over 200 years,
May we one day look into the face of our God
With no regrets for our efforts, blood, sweat and tears.

And, when in the course of human events
It becomes necessary to defend Liberty and Justice for all.
May we hold strong as brothers and sisters under one Father
Or together, we will most certainly fall.

God bless our leaders both here and abroad
May their souls be confirmed in self-control.
And God Bless us all with the wisdom to support the defense
Of Freedom and Democracy for all.

Our Father who art in Heaven,
I’d like to teach the world to sing,
A song that knows no language barriers
A song of love and peace and harmony.

From the mountains, to the prairies,
To the oceans, white foam,
Happy Birthday, dear America,
You are my home, sweet home.


Details | Sonnet | |

Preparation for a Portrait

To wear precious jewels night + day
To be swathed in fine fabrics work or play
Her portrait hangs painted in oils
Her complexion captured time cannot spoil
Photographs we cherish and keep in our pockets
Prior cameras minature paintings kept in lockets.
The oil portrait outlasts a photograph by far
Personal prestige denotes how important we are.
What is your portrait..how do you wish to be viewed?
My sitters are prompted to be embellished in gems
If none are at hand we shall superimpose them.
Diamonds,rubies,emerals,pearls and sapphires
Oil paint manifests all the elements I desire.
Such velvets and Satins even Rembrant would approve. 


Details | Free verse | |

DIFFERENT MISSIONS

As real as our concepts seem, 
not one of us is alike in thoughts,
in ways of doing things...  
or even creating an impressive masterpiece;
billions of minds shaped by their own inventiveness!

Different missions
demand a greater effort
to be as cunning as an artist;
desirous of knowing the odd,
the obivious or strange
when confronting a poker face,
which we rather dispose of...
or are we able to hit it with our fist?

Our thoughts are similar 
to the celestial bodies without lucidity,
shining in our mysterious Universe...
planets revolving about their sun;
and while we navigate further into it,
we discover others in our course!
What force,so powerful, keeps them
from colliding with each other,
and not cause a catastrophe so immeasurable...
enough to arouse our interest in the Divinity!

No mission is too insignificant or worthless,
our different missions accomplish 
what the human mind can only imagine:
breaking down barriers, unblocking fear;
renewing an imponderable wish...
to replenish the valor of intentions!
  
We erect statues and monuments
for our fallen heroes or famous individuals,
but ignore others with different missions:
ordinary people who made a difference;
let's honor them too, and display their rare jewels
that are hidden from everybody's eyes!


Details | I do not know? | |

Rumors of Communication

In searching for inspiration I found sadness
And despair
And hatred
And desperation
Frustration and guilt and anger

Realize that not everything in this beautiful world is beautiful
No matter how much you wish it was


Details | Narrative | |

Complex (2005)

Yes we are complex and have millions of layers up on layers 
No one knows us apart from us we are our life’s players
Everything has a reason and no one can see
None except me 
Misunderstood and never returned 
Life goes on and some never learned 
We are complex creates do not forget
Everyday is another layer, another layer that they won’t ever get


Details | I do not know? | |

Fear For Man's State

Fear for Man's State,
His condition;
Words ever late,
War's negation.
Men's Hearts must shout,
Free and purposed;
That Peace will out
Is Pre-supposed.
Deny,if must,
Love's angry twin;
Progress will rust,
The greater sin.


Details | Narrative | |

Courtly Love

Submissive squire on his foot 
Helping his best knight, to put
On the weapons o’ not so cute 

Beautified horses galloping,
The sharpen swords clanging, 
And wooden poles jousting,

While this beauty, mocks by tear,
Huddling, silently, in her own fear
Because of her one and only dear

For her love,
She prays of-
“Use the speed o’ thy eyes, oh knight o’ mine
For a love to dwell, forever, in arms o’ thine!”


Details | Quatrain | |

Destroying the Hypnobox

Torrents of opinion replacing fact
Barons control all that scrolls on that crawl
Silicon graphics--deceitful contract
Prometheus stealing fire from all

Tools of alarm promote profit-sharing
Octopus minds plot for us to keep less
Credulous masses need a good scaring
Agendas provoked by careful duress

Flirtatious hosts with no care for this world
Reading the script that our owners have planned
Digital mugging while flags are unfurled
Send kids to die in some far-away land

Empire building requires complicity
They seek to captivate delicate minds
Trust funds abound to buy publicity
To grease-up the wheel till the war mill grinds

Editors selling their duty for spin
Get their grim orders from round table groups
Twin tower fright proves a useful linchpin
Raising the false-flag to sign up more troops

Follow the money, their plan becomes clear
Domination fuels their crusade for more
Pipelines of oil cutting through the frontier
Hide wealth behind the hoax of holy war

Resist the program that boxes us in
See the real world with a clear set of eyes
Trust the brave soul that resides in your skin
And watch the bright flame of liberty rise


Details | Free verse | |

Untitled #124 / The Framework

The framework of the Framers is framed
high in the halls of Academia
now it is obscured by flags and colors


Details | Couplet | |

General Lee

“Let us cross the river and rest in the shade of trees”
Converse like gentlemen, with our bayonets at ease
We were once brothers, declaring independence for these lands 
Now we murder one another, for the right to shackle two hands

Where were the voices, emancipating your values from skin
Taking the glory from generals, immortalized by crimson sin
Lives were railroaded, as Kansas bled into a Missouri stream
Bodies buried in the compromise, of a transcontinental dream

Was it a War of Secession, or a rebellion of recourse
Fire-eaters scorching, an abolitionist’s civil discourse
600,000 lost, tangled in the matted wool of the rancid free
One Bloody Shirt cleansed, by Sherman’s March to the Sea

Do you still hear their viscid screams, clinging to the charred air
Mottled faces crying, broken by artillery soaked fields of despair
Gettysburg shook, as corpses crumbled under death’s rolling gait
The tide had turned, but war only recognizes one ephemeral state

I have heard of leaders, speaking on the residue of tyranny’s grave
Reconstructing a widow's faith, eulogizing the sacrifice of the brave
So why do we proudly remember, how you outmaneuvered harm
Stonewalling the Constitution, before sadly losing your "right arm"

**NOTE**  The first line of the poem is a quote from Confederate General 
Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson, as he lay dying from a mortal wound at the battle 
of Chancellorsville. Upon learning of his greatest commander's death, General 
Robert E. Lee somberly responded that it was as if he lost his "right arm".


Details | Verse | |

Sandanista

Waltzing on bracken and shingle,
Dirt scuffed and spun in the air,
As the blood and the dust devils mingle,
Drying, infused with despair.
The crackling twigs in the campfires
Spat out the legends of old;
The wind blew the ash of those campfires
Until all those ashes grew cold.
Whispered in tongues of black humour,
Polemics of demons and dread,
And freedom became but a rumour, 
Butchered dreams in a dead man’s head.


Details | Burlesque | |

Geronimo

Me, me, Geonimo...
Don't know what way...
White man go...

Smoke'em signals...
Smoke'em pipe....
You run us off,
You kill squaw wife,

Steal our land,
Kill great Buffalo for fun,
We gott'em little chance,
Arrow against gun

Some day we get
Revenge real good,
Mak'em casino
In our hood....

You los'em shirt,
You los'em wife,
You los'em bet
Who win in this life.


Details | Free verse | |

November

Knowing this, spastic
ancient films of Dallas, 
November 1963, move
silently as we clasp hands
backwards in recognition 
to quiet realization
of grassy knoll reality.

Paint drops of leaves
splatter sidewalks.  There are
no things but in things—
the turtle shell of words,
cocoons of verbiage
chambering our adjectives,
activating final syncopations
of magic bullets 
and mortality.

November rain 
does not care—
autumn leaves, 
like brain matter
shuffle past.

We stare into silver emptiness,
a cold, carnal awareness—
a glancing touch 
of sky’s silken casket.


Details | Free verse | |

You Promised me a Blessing

Lord, were is my blessing

Well, I now pick a lot of 
cotton and baled a lot of hay

You keep a roof over my head, and 
I just continue to pray

You know, after they freed 
them slaves, they promised 
us forty acres and a mule

You promised me a blessing

Well, I didn’t know I was sitting
on Mr. Gilmore’s property


Details | Verse | |

Severance

Tolled the bell, lichen scarred and
green ingrained the brass
clanging out of key and jarred
when severance came to pass.
Rocked the pulse, neurosis slowed and
pounded sly and weak,
untruthful psalms died on the road
disinheriting the meek.
Fired the treason signal flare and
cobalt turned to grey,
to earth it fell without a care,
it burned out far away.
Picking up the pieces and 
a blue dismembered child,
the anger soured the thesis
of an innocence defiled.
Tolled the bell, cracked with doom and
discord shook the scene;
ethnic cleansing drove the broom
and swept the graveyard clean.


Details | Lanterne | |

DRESSED TO WILL

Just
a casket
of clothing-
helped girls become
wives.


Inspiration :
Filles a l cassette-sent by the Missisippi Compant in the 1700's to marry French 
settles in Luisiana.


Details | Acrostic | |

Fleeting Power

Look who is trembling in the corner, helpless
As a dog that has lost its fearful bark and bite;
Man of  the moment he used to be, merciless,
Endlessly going after perceived rivals in sight.

Driven by greed for power and devoid of civility,
Undoing old statutes to fit his crazed ideology,
Cast from the throne, a sorry image of a man,
King of the hill, king of clowns, is now all done.


Details | Free verse | |

School

Assembly. 
  Disassembly. 
    Reassembly.

When the bell tolls 
  it tolls for me. 
Alone I walk in crowded 
  concrete corridors; 
    feet, doom-laden, 
      slapping thermoplastic 
floors.

Years we will do this. 
  Years we will be taught. 
    Years we all will walk in 
concrete corridors.

Walking unto the light, 
  freedom's light; 
    walking unto the world of 
women and men. 
Armed with bestowed knowledge 
  that two and two makes four, 
    the Battle of Hastings was fought in 1066, 
      energy can neither be created nor destroyed... 
wandering lonely as clouds... 

Freedom fighters, 
  guerrilla's armed with this 
    potency 
and so much more.

The echo of the concrete, 
  of slapdash feet on thermoplastic, 
    may well reverberate, 
      reaffirming their message of 
doom.
Yet that is further away than 
  the eye can see. 
Now is sweet honeydew Summer, 
  the best years of a life 
    yet to come.

Assembly. 
  Disassembly. 
    Reassembly.

Man, 
are we up the 
Swanee. 
And though we know it 
  now is not 
    the time 
      to 
care...


Details | I do not know? | |

waxing and waning poetic

To help a man be what he is
alone in all his glory
The old Druidic Elven way
'fore ever words were writ
with rhythym and rhyme
to help us see 
the shape and taste
and need indeed
of apples yet unbit
To know what's right
and use his right
of individual freedom
druids' suggested story rhyme
painting words of admiration
to hold the beauty of our time
in constant view to help us see
the shape and taste
the need in deeds
As apples yet unbitten


Details | Verse | |

Link (Bones 1)

in the skeletal belly of the whale
i sat in awe and reverence,
there hung the fishy tale
of how we came to be

in the skeletal belly of the whale
i dreamed a void of severence
from winds that charged the sail
upon the thriving sea

in the skeletal belly of the whale
primeval shards of relevance
turned my lustre pale
and cut my spirit free

in the skeletal belly of the whale
i bowed my head in penitence
and all to no avail 
became as one with me


Details | Verse | |

President Manifest

Crackling sparks flew in diatribe hatred,
  Jaw-snapping vitriol, hyena raised hackles,
Secure insecurity giggled inanely,
  Bared yellow-bone, fangs of jackals.
Mouth that yawns trapdoor premonitions,
  Pandora’s box fixed in cold shark eyes,
Releasing the bats, sick and plague stricken,
  Bubonic repugnance meets ego despise.
Dull, dumbbell dense, thick as molasses,
  Xenophobe hairstyle caps petrified brow,
Crow’s feet cracks frame sunken-in sockets,
  The president manifest, down we bow.
Hailing void frequency, wild and unfocussed,
  Harpy-shrill cackles in brain dead bazaars,
Nothing breeds nothing but death and ambition,
  Light eating blackness, black as dead stars.


Details | I do not know? | |

RIDING TO APPOMATTOX

Old Traveler steps out mighty proud
As we watch him paw and prance.
His rider, sitting poker straight,
Casts not a sideward glance.
                                    
In uniform immaculate 
And saber at his side,
Old Bobby Lee looks every inch
Virginia's joy and pride.
                                    
We seasoned soldiers along the way
Send up our bravest cheers,
Although our hearts are sagging
And our eyes are dimmed with tears.
                                    
We followed him to hell and gone,                 
Through battles, lose and win.
And even now, without a word,
We'd follow him again.
                                       
For four long years we bled and died,
And cursed, and killed, and burned,
But now we've reached the bitter end,
Humiliation learned.
                                    
Our rifles, shocked like autumn corn,
Await the boys in blue.
We sons of Dixie gave our all;
There's nothing left to do.
                                    
Now Lee, he rides to meet with Grant,
On this black, April day;           	   
To offer up his shining sword     
And sign the South away.


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Steel

Steel that fills the skies,
Steel that supplants the mighty ocean
Steel casted hearts of bravery...
These are our guardians,
Our navy, which sets a new standard,
Our Air-Forces,
That can cover the skies
of any spot on earth...
Our men, stout of heart,
Gun at the ready....
Their buddies reason enough...
To face any odds, to take
any risk...to face any death...
So their buddies survive...
This is a small sampling of the Steel
of America...
We take our time...
We try so hard...
Not to hurt innocents...
Some take this for weakness...
But that is their's...
This country is ringed by steel,
It exports its steel bite
Whereever, and whenever,
It should choose...
Think carefully,
Save a foolish,
Hasty act....
Should show you,
And those you love,
The valley of death
Is where you have wandered.






Details | I do not know? | |

Jew's Harp Lamentation

Again,I hear the chords being strummed
  of the Jew's Harp Lamentation.
As many demand they dig their own dead,
  Holocaust's eternal self-exhumation.
How have six million shot,gassed,and burned
  become a lesson they alone must study?
Yes,I know,many would be impassioned and
  quick to accuse my intentions as muddy,
Yet,can they not hear nations united calling
  for the Lamentation's tune,again?
As though all's been cleansed by the waters
  of the St.Lawrence,Thames,Rhine,and Seine.
I'm left to wonder whether they could bear 
  such scorn without voicing a moan,
Too often I've seen too many stand in idle
  silence as a child throws a stone.
What right has any assembly to suggest 
  that threats should then equate
That ponderous suffering must then
  give way to a separate state?
Which other nation and people would they
  scorn with such guns to their head?
Have they not also watched as Jews collect
  their dead and the blood bled?
Enough!For now must every nation unite 
  in true Absolution's negotiations,
All Humanity then must learn the chords
  and join the Jew's Harp Lamentation. 
  


Details | Free verse | |

Fake my death

I will be reborn again
but hide me from the government
those at my wake will come to know the new loop
and those who walk by the suffering will know nothing
until I am reborn
and i Will be martyred to die again
to fake my death
in another strategic way
like way back when in the kingdom of values and hippocracy
we will live it
we will play it out and love the lesson
so fake my death
and I will be reborn again
shaking hands
and passing smiles
nodding gently with my new haircut and different style to blend into the 
camaflouge

fake my death
and look innocent to see
I never woke up
how many times have you burried me?
how many times have i crawled from the secret passage of the tomb?
how many times have my neighbors heard me scream in pain?
how many oracle shave i left behind
of games and hauntings
to slide into the new matrix of existence
where we do it again
and i am reborn
and together we live in secrecy until i fake my death!

let me rise to this occasion
so you can have your surprise holiday
allow me to tear the wool off the wolf
to the wars you have lost
i am full of fear and it costs nine lives and spells 
chants
second chances romances and historical renegades of desire
so let's fake my death
remember the fire and know
no one will ever do that again
maybe he actually did die
maybe he was an excuse to be exercised from demons

maybe he was a hero a martyr inspired by the bible
so fake e my death
im going under
back into the tombs
to crawl out of yesterday
to die for the living
and be reborn into another tragedy
of the innocent on death row
who needs to be set free
because if i didn't die
the truth is in some ones hands
nine lives and one major plan of death rows vengeance of martyred hit men
so fake my death

come to my wake
close casket
see whats at stake
burn the bridge
and sell me into tomorrow
today this life i was a poet
tomorrow unknown
I am a new beginning
a legendary mess of preachings of satanic prevention
who will fake his death in search of saints and reason 
fake my death and remember
i might be alive 
i might be dead
but somewhere im asking
what would Jesus do
or is it what have i done to Jesus?


Details | Rhyme | |

Scandalous Thoughts

A party in 1863
A girl about to wonder
A young naïve unruly thing
Scandalously ponders.

Weaving in and out of sight of contemplations weary light
A sort of fun majestic flight that sooths the hungry appetite

Allowing such a naughty thing
Would surely be a bandit
Too much fun would spoil the rules
An exercise too candid.

She sings and starts a merry dance to wondrous a circumstance
It’s miracle a dazzling trance to tempting to a rigid stance

Imagine old and grumpy men
All standing in a circle
Too proud to take a lady’s hand
Would surely be a Mir’cle

Beyond the real she soon collides within a societal divide
To let the morays soon subside a feeling they won’t soon deny

They gasp in their deliverance
To see a lady sway
Too devious to behold
Too hard to look away

But now is not the time for this a memory they would soon dismiss
This sort of ‘havior can’t exist you’ll have to settle for a kiss.

So there you have it as it was
Before we all were born
Today a girl can dance all day
And barely be adorned.


Details | Blank verse | |

Empty Complacency

Blood pools in the streets in splatters
Another bomb, an embassy perhaps
Exhausted in it’s method leaving 
Nothing but bodies.

A floating miracle in pink
Surrounded by a bag of trash
A beautifully horrid image casts
A newborn tossed aside wrapped in irony.

A picture of disrespect reflects
How little we now care about others
A religious explosion with a much deserved
Outcome, however drastic it may seem.

The outcries from a strip of land
Forced to leave their home 
In a land that they were given
By their own people, trying to make peace.

A war with an oily subplot
A criminal is captured for the wrong reasons
Leaving a country in collapse all for the
Good of the world beyond it’s borders. 

A heartfelt desperation as a ship arrives from the Sea
With waving happy survivors, and a father stands alone
On the shore watching and waiting for a son, 
That will never arrive.

She flicks the channel, and watches
Scenes unfold without a happy ending
Leaving her feeling numb and empty in her cozy slippers
Complaining to herself that there’s no good news anymore.

She turns it off.


Details | Free verse | |

In Feudal Times.

In Feudal times when there were Lords,Ladies and serfs
Where would you stand? With your head held high or your
eyes lowered not daring to meet the gaze of a Masters
lest to offend them.
Would you be a person of fine cloth or one of coarse
fabric? 
Would your hands be soft and well manicured or rough
from hard labor?
Would you be idling the hours of the day away preening,
bathing and preparing for morning tea or would you
have no time for yourself,exhausted from working at the
end of the day?
Oh how we have evolved from the old Medieval Feudal days.
Where the clothes that you wore and your title determined 
how you were treated.


Details | Name | |

A Challenge

Is my passport not enough for an ID?
Why a language, religion and colour,
Race and Caste comes with a name,
What did a person want to solve?

So many complicated issues appears
When a person would like to introduce,
A personal existence that he knows,
But system treats this all as a criminal.

Religion is a personal belief not a matter,
Language is a way of expression not a matter,
Colour and Race is natural not a matter,
Caste is a matter that is a sign of humiliation.

Intelligent people always are trying to keep,
A wide range of knowledge about someone,
So they can deliver justice to use proper ID,
But crime is still a challenge for peace.

A Religion, Language, Colour, Caste and Race,
All failed to change a nature of criminals,
A Language helped them in killing and raping,
Justice is on sale; a person who pays; gets it.


Details | Verse | |

Goth

In the bleeding shadows threading queer and deft
Along and above corridors painted white and green,
Fluorescents flickered in their moth-brushed bowls,
And the madness and sweet anguish seethed unseen.
It was felt in the bones of the new and the old,
The creeping electric bristle of marrow and moss,
Sucking like leeches on the calcium and the blood,
Until the ligaments and plasma were nocturnal candyfloss.
Stole by the winds, the whisperings of the grave,
Uttered earthen verses, muttered fever of neurosis,
And the crowbars in the eyeballs of those who slept unsound
Soon let them dream again in a crystal meth psychosis.
Asylum gargoyles spewed their eternal gushing rain
From out of mouths wide open and torrentially agape,
Until the drains were flooding with the sewage of despair
And the land beyond the walls held only death as an escape.
In the clinic by the lamp a needle glinted in the light,
Hypodermic glowing amber, loaded with paraldehyde,
And the king of all insanity, now driven mad by ghosts,
Shot it up until the death, until by his own hand he died.


Details | Narrative | |

ODER

ODER 
Oder 

A narrative poem in the charlax stYle 
  

Benjamine: he hath an oder oh mye qyeen 

  

Qyeen: yes he smells just like my camels butt 

  

Benjamine: eye meanteth 

He has a poet in toe 

  

Qyeen: eye have a blister in toe it is on my left foot 

  

Benjamine: the poet in TOW is the bard 

  

Qyeen: a splinter from a board why are you so hard today to understandeth 

  

Benjamine: he brings the bard in tow to proselytize to readeth prose and poetry 

  

Qyeen: why would he carry the board that the splinter came from to show me his 
toe would sufficeth 

  

Benjamine: confusion reigns today 

  

Qyeen: He is my Asian cousine. 




Details | I do not know? | |

Seasons of Change

You told me you cried when Kennedy was shot,
Mourning with most of the world 
That twenty-second day of November, 1963.

Mama tell me what it was like
To touch Malcolm's hand,
To feel his smile and know his soul.

Where were you Mama when that bullet rang?
When a gentleman named King was struck
For the last time.

Mama tell me about these seasons of change.
Why do cowards kill and what makes a man?
Why did you cry when Kennedy was shot?


Details | I do not know? | |

If it were so?

This country we all call home, 

where many have laid down their lives in the 

name of freedom and justice for all...

Where Pilgrims did land on Plymouth 

Rock and declared this land America!. 

A place where it was written by the Forefathers that every man is 

created equal in the eyes of God. 

Where justice is declared to be blind to the law... 

Where everyone can have a piece of the American dream

and a plot of land to plant his seeds...

Where everyone is entitled to 

vote on Election Day... If this country be so great? 

Then why does my color keep my children out 

of the same schools as yours?  My child dream no dreams of

ever sitting in the White House one day? They only dream of avoiding 

the jails or the jobs that don’t pay!

Jay Andrew Anderson-Taylor 

Copyright ©1997 Jay Andrew Anderson-Taylor 


Details | Rhyme | |

News


People believe in doing evil things 
As long as they don't get caught 
What a piece of mentality just to think 
They can get away with more than they can chew 

Everyday and everywhere people do crimes 
They don't care to do later time 
Killing, raping,stealing,and who knows what more 
They do it all with evil intent, and cause so much pain 

Some of us are just so tired 
Of observing and hearing only bad news 
Wars,poverty and the homeless,people hurting one another 
Good news would be nice for a change, they're long overdue! 



Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2004-2008


December,10,2008


Details | Verse | |

Millennium City 2000

The century has died like some aged love-starved whore,
Spread-eagled and oblivious, a burned-out paramour,
And passing with one ultimately orgiastic moan,
Screamed suddenly to silence, disappearing all alone.
Next day upon the dawning of the century to come,
The skies pissed on the pavements, raining ad-infinitum,
In the garbage of waste paper, cans and fading party hats
Seethes the celebratory wreckage of a zillion graveyard rats.
And the day crept on the city, limping bleak and grey and cold,
Disappointment hung hangovers on the streets not paved with gold;
Expectations of a miracle ripped up and blown to shreds,
Only disillusioned, dehydrated, empty aching heads.
In the malls and concrete arteries the winter spectres prowl,
Stray dogs with fractured ribcages raise up their jaws and howl
Some lament for what has died a death, a sob of loss and shame,
In realisation choked in finding everything the same.
Millennium City shuts its eyes, collapses back to bed,
A year of wasted budgets, all accounts lost in the red;
And the citizens, they fooled themselves with dreams that called collect,
To find the world has stayed the same, so what did you expect?


Details | Ode | |

The Black Breed

I see a people...
a people in whose vein flow
a crimson of stream of noble blood;
whose minds house a vast well of creativity,
fountains of inspiration,tactflness,
unquenchable zest and passion for survival.

A people whose voice thunder emulates;
whose heights the trees envies;
whose color the brightest of lights cannot hide;
whose steps quake the earth;
who farts and clouds gather,rages and mountains erupt.

A people too beautiful to psych,dudes and dames alike;
whose due has the strenght of a legion;
chests,broad enough to house a billboard;
eyes,bright enough to see through the dark.
courageous enough to take a whole city,
and brave enough to woo Her Majesty!

I know this people...
they're the sons and daughters of a kind,
the special specie that spices up creation
designed by nature.
A rare breed,the black breed.
I wish I could be like them.
Maybe I'm like them,maybe I'm them.


Details | I do not know?, I do not know? | |

Liverpool

The first smell of rain hitting city walls
Before slipping down into guttery streams
Heavy drops splattering layers of ashes and dirt
Causing clouds to clot in noses of newly wet children
Wet soot snots that run so black  memories keep coming back
Like scabs on bare and dirty knees
Or fog enveloping  invading nostrils
Condensing eyelids blinding sight
Muffling sound and squeezing light
Hiding the world in the wetness 
Of a cloud too heavy to fly
Carrying smells of sea salt and tar
Smoke of smouldering coal fires
Rolls off  wet tile rooftops to mingle
With the soapy smell of Monday 


Details | Verse | |

Let Them Have It

"Let him have it!" - bang! 
The blackguard ought to hang. 
Protests were made 
and hands were wrung, 
but, consequently, Mr. Bentley 
swung and swung and swung. 

Yet still it was proclaimed 
with national pride inflamed 
that British justice, 
it's grand flag unfurled, 
is incidentally, Mr. Bentley, 
the best in the whole bloody world. 

Now we twelve stood accused, 
not guilty but confused. 
Rough justice engaged 
the wheels within wheels, 
and coincidentally, Mr. Bentley, 
we now know how it feels. 


Details | Verse | |

My first Love

Years ago,
When first time,
You were smiled at me.
I were smiled also and heard,
You has asked to your nephew, ‘
Who is your neighour?
Your point was very clear,
That was my time.
I never forget,
Those moments,
That I spent in your waiting.
I always realised you,
When I embraced to my wife,
I ever think,
You were my first love. 


Details | Free verse | |

cycle's of continuation

relate  , don't hate
don't hate , relate

evolution , not revolution
attitude will determine our fate .

our decisions will eventually
become , either , 
our defining moment , or ,
our defiling moment .

rise and fall of empire's
only destined to continue repeating .

history as we know it 
just does'nt repeat itself ,
it becomes more dynamic.........

so nothing really ever changes.......

we only imagine the illusion of change.........


Details | Free verse | |

FREE FORM

Free form; what is it? 
From where does it exist?
Freedom of thought;
Search inside; what is free?
Answers without questions;
Derive more problems 
For lives that are lived
Can answer no question;
No subtleties,
No equations,
Or anything that logics taught


Forgotten voices;
Horace spoke so clear,
Da Vinci lived, 
Roentgen made history
And Einstein could not resist;
Atomic bliss
Free form exists

Admitting too the unknown,
Socrates did 
Plato, showed the ingenious in this
Xenophone followed it,
The apology went to death
Free form exists.

The stolen oath of Hippocrates; 
From; freeing Rome of the plague
To pharmaceutical companies,
Creating chemically dependent slaves
Hippocrates turns in the grave
Free form exists

Morrison a tormented soul,
Victimized in his own sins
A song write, a poet;
The Great Spirit spoke within
A world too young, for this greatness,
The devil stole; drugs ate his soul
Free form exists

Free of form; is the meaning too exist
Shared value amongst many great soul
But with a gift of purity; pain and struggle;
Debts  in double, tragedy is inevitable 
Truth in it’s despair, a curse, with attributes 
 

  








Details | Free verse | |

snails pace

insistent perversion of civil conversion
massive revision of a confused vision
constant migration without true progression
simple submission to cruel oppressions

political sciences becoming less reliant
governing systems aggressivley intolerant
from emperors and kings , time still stings
oligarchy , monarchy , their orchestra rings
loud bells , a reminder , of continued changing
of the guards at hand , with whistles to blow
single file is the motion , directive we go
safe in their judgement , confident they know

unsure are the masses , trudging like molasses
oblivious to incesstant remarks harrasing
world history has proven our given illusion
self inflicted pain with streaming delusions
we are taught this reality to accept cruelty
to bow and grovel to a scheme so novel

time will only tell if all goes well
until then we'll remain as snails in a shell .


Details | Verse | |

Past And Future

I once was as you are now, 
(You once were as I am now), 
As I am now you are to be; 
(As you are now, so I will be), 
You are the page, blank innocence, 
(I am unwritten and untouched), 
I am the tome of history. 
(You are the author writing me). 
What you see I too have seen, 
(I will see what you have seen), 
What you are I long to be; 
(Your dreams defined in honesty); 
But age has made me as I am, 
(I am blessed as young as Spring), 
Bright promise of longevity. 
(A future rendered perfectly). 
You look forward, I look back, 
(I look forward, you look back), 
I look at you, you look at me; 
(I look to you instinctively); 
With dimming eyes I drink your flame, 
(I know your warmth and will of faith), 
And hold your love so desperately. 
(Your love bequeathed so selflessly). 
I once was as you are now, 
(You once were as I am now), 
As I am now you are to be, 
(As you are now so I will be); 
Across the length and breadth of time; 
(Across the gulf of air and space), 
We are each other's destiny. 


Details | Lyric | |

Let Freedom Ring

I Have a dream, his words echoed round the world
that one day every little boy and every little girl
would walk together hand in hand
As brothers and sisters in a colourless land

A dream that one day this proud nation
Would finally eradicate segrigation
that no one will be judged by the colour of their skin
instead on the chracter that lies within

Let freedom Ring from stone mountain in georgia
Ring from the peaks of california
Ring from the land of the pilgrims pride
Ring from every hill and every mountainside

A dream that the state of mississippi
Will one day understand the true equality
and live and work for the greater good
and treat each other like we know we should

A dream that we stand side by side
Hold on to our dignity and cultural pride
and walk together to a positive end
I have a dream today my friend

Let freedom Ring from stone mountain in georgia
Ring from the peaks of california
Ring from the land of the pilgrims pride
Ring from every hill and mountainside


Details | Rhyme | |

leaf

looking at the water
i look at this leaf
as it gets hotter
wonder what's underneth

like the leaf falls from the trees
i fall now on my own
as i go now to my knees
the time of life is shown

people say the today of life
is nothing but a strain
i am way too stifled
right now to complain

so as i walk 
i see the leaf
and as i talk
about what's beneth

i sit and i wonder
about what is worth
as i feel the thunder
that was delt with my birth

sorry it burns
the way that it does
no wonder the urns
called my name cuse

it all hurts so badly
and i dont want to leave
but just like the leaf sadly
ive got somthing to achieve


Details | Rhyme | |

At the Ball

Some danced,
Some would just watch,
Some had champagne,
Some a coffee klatsch,

Wall flower,
Still has it's beauty
Colorful essence,
Stem does its duty

Swirling dancers,
Trick the eye,
Motion's chances,
Does belie

Shifting colors,
Like shifting needs,
Shifting wants,
Like wind tossed seeds..

Some will have their
Cup of punch,
Some no clue,
Some a hunch

The Dutchess waltzes by,
The prince does smile,
For only he,
Has the means to try,
To steal her away,
To his castle cold,
And if he feels,
A need that bold,

The Duke can wither
On his own,
For he dare not threaten,
The all powerful throne.





Details | Free verse | |

Sunlight

The darkness begins
and truth is sacrificed
for expediency.
Wihout sunlight
lies become the norm.
Tell us the mushroom cloud is coming,
in the dark we will not see
as cackling laughter
echoes down the halls of deceit.
And then, just apologize
drawing the shades ever tighter.
Institutions of corruption
ever saying ... sorry
ever saying ... don't worry
Uncle Sam won't deny
your inalienable right
to sunlight.


Details | Free verse | |

Ode to MaryJane - 1963

To be high
aaah
what a joy!
To float
on cotton candy clouds,
speak with fairies,
laugh with elves ...
laughing babies.

To be high
aaah
its alright if their high
is not your high.
Action on skis
up a hill,
jazz climbs
into muscles
voices are loose
(not uptight).
Solitude becomes
beauty
to create.

To be high
aaah
what a joy!
To float forever and ever
and never
become
no more nothing
but
high.


Details | Blank verse | |

Welcome To Blood City

That day
Concrete skies
Sang siren harmony
The metal spear upsurge pierced the clouds
That rain with crimson dust
Down poured catastrophe,
Fire charred the steel and brickwork graves
In their unfeasibly twisted sprawl.

And those people,
Their flesh
Rag doll ripped
In splayed defile of innocence, like nothing,
Sacrificed to some black hole creed,
Wasted by fanatical sons,
Who care not for the sanctity,
Nor precious yield of life.

Once more, 
The vultures
Of neo-corruption
Ply their pig-sick violence and murderous trade,
This necrotic afterbirth of Babylon’s whore,
Craven abominate filth, cancer
On the scarred face
Of a world they never made.

Welcome to
Blood City
Then,
But beware, you jackals that slope slyly,
Hyenas sniffing carrion in the dark harbours,
The sea of human souls in
These streets, these squares, these pavilions
Will drown you.

Welcome to
A lesson in
History,
Bear witness to the handiwork of adversity,
The outcome of the politics of terror,
For true humanity always unites to repulse,
Unifies in synchronised visions of faith and hope,
Resolves…you lose. 


Details | Blank verse | |

Longer

Start to sound like nothing at all: 
When their back’s are up against the wall, 
And the Empire’s fortress starts to fall. 
I hear there’s a concert for grieving; 
Down at Altamount; 
Surmon on the Mount; 
There is a gospel for the good: 
Misappropriated, misunderstood. 
Come on! Give us a reason, 
Instead of an act of treason, 
Against your collective self. 
This abandoned nation, sometime, somewhere, 
Left its very heart on the shelf. 


Details | Fibonacci | |

FLOTSAM & JETSAM

In
our
landfull 
sites today-
tomorrow's treasures
that will amaze in future hands.


Details | Narrative | |

Chernobyl

Over a bottle of Stolichnaya vodka
And slices of kalbasa…. and cold breeze 
Of first September, you proudly spoke to me 
Of Lenin; we sat beneath the apple tree.

I disagreed not, with your thoughts
Neither, I agreed. It’s just I had no time 
To argue, nor speak about him right now, 
For my mind was fixated. A green apple

Teasingly, hanging above our heads; 
Come on, discussions…later, I childishly beg
As I kept lusting for the sweet juice of temptation; 
Tempted I was, it took me only one jump, for 

The fruit of my fleeting desire; 
Still, you refused to stop, talking 
About the great proletariat, who cares? 
Me? Hmm, nope, this green apple’s juicier 

Than what you’re telling; I wiped the thin dust off 
With my long-back shirt. Then, I opened my mouth 
To bite it; But, a passing, scraggy Babushka yelled:
“If you eat that apple, my son, you will die!”

Without asking her why? I threw it. 
Then, my friend Ruslanchik said: 
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,
We’re only 100 km away from our black history!”



Details | Rhyme | |

Warpath

The time that set the teeth on edges 
Clamped to grit the whip-cracked jaws, 
Sprung the trap on mice and man, 
Drove a stake and honed the claws 
Of greed fatigue in Trojan wars. 

The net sinks deep, it slowly dredges 
Through the silt of basal bed, 
No choice of kill, kill what you can 
As cardboard fairground targets bled 
A visual plasma of the dead. 

Dumbly striking knell of dying 
In the fields where culling gagged 
With reek of pig swill and disease, 
Hours slithered, daylight dragged 
When toes were tagged and bodies bagged. 

Midnight mass was nought but sighing, 
Silence reigned when voices died 
And fires flickered in the trees, 
The road was raised and opened wide, 
The eyes of heaven cracked and cried.


Details | Bio | |

ome

In Knotty Ash where magic lived
The trolley runs all day
The pillbox on the corner stands
Five flagstone from the bus stop
Outside the News and sweetshop door
The start of Eaton Road
The next left down East Prescot Road
Woodbourne winds around the back
An’ up above the nex las shop
Was where we ‘ad ar flat
The front door opened to the street
then straight up stair at that
With a landin’ an’ two bedrooms
With winders to the street
But if y’stepped two steps straight on
Past the bathroom door
You’d be in the famly
Dinin’ Livin’ Parlor Room
We called ar ‘appy ‘ome
With not much left but kitchinette
An’ veranda to stair down
The back garden had  a shelter
Left over from the war
And three brick walls for climbin’ on
With  a big door for the tea shop
And a single that was ar’s
Lookin’ back it was n’ much
But back then it was ‘eaven


Details | I do not know? | |

Three Years

Even though its been three years
Our wounds are still being healed
It hurts our hearts to remember this day
A day that I must say
Was the most terrifying in my life
To know thousands lost their lives
And to find out Bin-Ladin was behind it from the start
Fells like being shot with a deadly dart
What has this world turn out to be
When others believe their misson is to kill people like me
Why did the Towers have to fall
Why did the destruction have to happen at all
Every year it brings back memories
About September 11ths tragedies
Even though its been three years
MY wouds are still being healed


Details | Free verse | |

Tenement Lot

A spot
On the urban blight
Where once stood
A faded five
Story hovel
For the poorest of
the poor

Fallen in
final decay
Victim of time
Neglect, hopeless
poverty
Political impotence

No flowers,
No ripe tomatoes
Not even marajuana
Just the weeds
Of poverty
Smashed, broken
glass of dreams
Dead in their infancy

When reality set in
No cucumbers, no lilies,
A few times
An unplanted corpse
Of this weeks murder


An unholy offering
To the Devil,
Janitor, custodian,
And owner of
this concentrated
bastion of hell

No meadow views,
No gardens of wonder,
No horses running free
No freshly painted red barns

No fluffy clouds
No visions of wonder
No hope on the horizon
No chance to escape

Doomed to poverty
Doomed to crime
Doomed to a life
Wandering without point

Sure, there are
Places of wonder
Places of beauty.
But not here.
Not anywhere near here

And these people
Have no hope
Of laying on
a grassy meadow.
There is no Glen
of wonder here
There are no castles
on the East River.

This is the realm of despair.
Where drug laced
Zombies walk the streets
Infected hookers
guard their turf.
Where no hope 
does dwell 
in what is
Naught but hell.


Details | I do not know? | |

Living who's Life?

Constellations of no account,
About swimming in nonexistent.
Conceived from thought into breath,
Birth.
Only to live to die all in one stage scene lifetime.
And what obtains the living into reality?
Many things.
Wondering of one,
The idea set from the hearts of numberless.
Stream-flow of the walking average;
Breathe,
Eat,
Work,
Pay taxes,
Cable minded,
Dreaming to tread water,
Never determined to challenge the ordinary.
And final destination,
The path-journey to the realm to a close, 
Earth-existing.
Norm of the influenced world calling this 'the unique way.'
Nevertheless,
 Why do souls quarrel daily in the silent mist against this current-voyage?
Questioning,"Is this it!"
Knowing the theory of de-evolution is true & lives.
From human bowing to less.
O' how dreamers die still living in,
A society declining of fate that seems to never-end.