Facebook I wonder if you are a blessing or a curse?
People Sharing their pictures and videos of their best and worst.
Clever sayings, obscenities, prays and vulgarity.
Show up on your pages with some form of regularity.
You will find people you have seen or haven’t seen for years.
Laughing one minute and then shedding a river of tears.
Selfies of woman showing what God has given them to cherish
Proudly displaying themselves when they should be embarrassed.
Religion and Politics is a good way to stir the emotional pot.
Both thinking their right when you know for sure they’re not.
You can share your likes, dislikes and give a comment or two
But be careful not to be too honest or you might just be removed.
Games of every kind you will find here for your pleasures delight
Sending requests to people even when they don’t want your invite.
Facebook is a place people display their everyday life with others
Making statements that could hurt or showing love for your mother.
Facebook is not the one I should blame for what it shows on its feed
It’s just an empty space to fill with life’s true nature for others to read.
So before you post your thoughts and feelings in this open space
Ask yourself would this be something I would be willing to share face to face?
Inspired by another poem by another poet---------just for fun
Oh, I didn't know that cowboys
weren't respected and revered
John Wayne, when he passed away
Brought me close to tears
But now I know that people
Think we're all just trailer trash
So I've taken of my boots
And tossing out my hats
There's no more eating beans
upon these dirty plates
And movin' from this trailer park
Oh brother I can wait
But, putting cars on blocks
Oil changes in the yard
Stopping those activities
I swear it will be hard
Beer cans won't get piled high
In a pyramid, way out back
My pit bulls won't be barkin'
Always ready to attack
Soon I'll trade-in my pick-up
For a brand new SUV
And I'll become more citified
For the whole dang world to see
I won't mistreat my woman
And call her an old cow
And I won't let my kid's
Ride a bull, or catch a sow
Oh, I didn't know that cowboys
Were just lazy and no good
So we're moving from the country
Right to your neighborhood
Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
One of Life’s indisputable facts:
Government reserves the right to tax;
And tho’ they waste far more than they should,
It’s supposedly done “for the common good.”
Economists use the word “propensity,”
Just a fancy word for “odds”, you see:
The odds you’ll save, the odds you’ll spend,
And how many Tax Dollars those odds will rend.
The basis for U.S. government budgets is “Total Tax Dollars Collected”;
And any overtures to reduce those collections are summarily rejected;
And should a source of taxes have declined or dissipated,
Other taxes are increased and/or new taxes are created.
Many, if not most, of these taxes are “regressive”.
That means their actual impact on income is “progressive”...
But “progressive” in a very negative way.
Relatively speaking, the Less you make, the More you pay.
Whether you make it or sell it, need it or want it, Congress will tax it;
And, once a tax is on the books, Congress has zero “propensity” to relax it.
Congresses, Federal and State, love to tax Luxury and Sin;
Smoking Sinners have had their taxes raised again and again and again.
Cigarette taxes are frequently raised, the “claim” is to drive users to quit;
But Truth is measured in Billions in taxes, so we know supporters are “full of it.”
Meantime, Non-smokers reap many benefits, while Smokers foot the bill;
And if that should change, Non-smokers would taste a financially “bitter pill.”
Taxed and taxed and taxed some more, but not yet into submission,
Smokers could shift their tax burden to Non-smokers…without their permission.
Yes, what if one Fateful day, those Smoking Sinners, Each and Every one,
Just put them down and said, “I quit.”; said en masse, “We’re done!”
Congresses would be clamoring to derive Billions in Taxes elsewhere,
At first, Non-smokers may not realize the impact they’re about to bear.
When an industry dies, businesses and people’s jobs are lost…it’s true;
But all those Tax Dollars must come from somewhere...the likes of me and you.
So righteous, whining Non-smokers maintained their hue and cry.
Ever pushing Congresses to tax those Smoking Sinners… tax them ‘til they die;
But after quitting, Ex-Smokers would pay less, while Non-Smokers would pay more.
Guess Non-smokers didn’t think far enough ahead, didn’t really know the score.
All those dreary anti-smoking ads, many of which falsified the cause,
Would disappear. And what about all the useless anti-smoking laws?
Instead of Non-smokers not liking Smokers, Ex-Smokers would serve instead.
"The bastards are costing me money. I wish they had smoked 'til they were dead."
So, Ex-smokers would be getting healthier and spending far less;
And may be cause for some Non-smokers’ financial distress.
While they ruefully pay more, Ex-smokers' pocket books will attest
By reminding Non-smokers daily......the Last Laugh is Best.
A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
I do not know?
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.
Written 7 March 2014
Bruce and Jennie, both were 10,
Had been playmates all their lives.
One day, Bruce proclaimed,
“Jennie… most good men have wives.”
He professed his love for her.
Jennie said she loved him too.
They decided that getting married
Was ‘the right thing’ to do.
So, Bruce went to speak to her father,
Who was doing yard work at the time.
“May I speak to you, Mr. Johnson?”
“Sure, Bruce. What’s on your mind?”
“Sir, I love your Jennie;
And Jennie, she loves me;
But we need your permission
To be married… to be “We.”
Impressed by Bruce’s courage,
He knew this confrontation must be tough.
He smiled and asked, “Bruce, are you sure
You love my daughter enough?”
Bruce’s face became stern, he said,
“Mr. Johnson, let me tell you…
I love Jennie so much…and she loves me.
We’re both sure it’s the right thing to do.”
He was moved by Bruce’s ardor,
But permission was not his to give.
So, quick as flash, he responded,
“But Bruce…where will you live?”
“Sir, I measured her room;
Then I measured mine.
Hers is 40 percent bigger.
We’ll live there. We’ll be fine.
If we have extra stuff,
We’ll keep that in my room.
We’ll keep our places neat and tidy.
You won’t even need a broom.
And both our parents can save money
On babysitters too.
Even if you do things on the same night,
You’ll only need one sitter, not two.”
Mr. Johnson was impressed with his logic,
But this marriage idea was no longer funny.
He smiled and said, “That’s good thinking, Bruce;
But what are you gonna do for money?
“Why, Mr. Johnson, I get twelve-fifty a week allowance;
And let me remind you, Jennie also gets ten.
Throw in our birthdays and Christmas cash….
Why, we might even have money to lend.”
Desperate now, he thought,
“Next, I guess they’ll want a car.”
Then he asked, “But Bruce, what if you have kids?”
"Aawww," blushed Bruce... “We’ve been lucky so far.”
P aranoia permeates, etching itself into your fractured face,
A cacophony of constant pressure; life remains a stressful race,
N othing to hope for, no positives like promotion in the workplace,
I nability to love, relationships lift anchor and set sail without chase,
C hildren crushing dreams under mortgages; age grows with disgrace
You sculpt the clay of my life
With your rigid hands,
Shouting your high commands through morning alarms.
As you collect your daily payment of attention.
When I find myself savoring life’s sweetness,
You sprint behind my back.
And when pain drops my heart from my chest,
You linger, rubbernecking from the wall.
You enclose the whole of my life
In that circular frame,
Ever spinning in your infinite math,
Drunk with power!
I can take no more of your tyranny!
I can afford no more of your triple A battery lunches-
I am afraid you’ve run out of time.
So keep your hands out of my business, I’m sleeping in today.
Jacob Reinhardt 09/05/2013
Star Trek Rules!
It was time for: Comic Con! Comic Con! Dragon wanted to come, too!
But then so did everyone else at Troll Lake… Hey, now, wouldn’t you?
We made some really cool costumes… for the costume show, my Dear.
You can guess, ‘Star Trek Rules!’ It couldn’t be anything less, you hear.
Our favorite nighttime popcorn show, would truly now, become a part of our lives!
The penguins got permission from the zoo; to go… great publicity, so very wise.
McRacoon had his Las Vegas Dragons get us, and a mock saucer, there, all on time.
Naturally pre-registered and in costume, we strutted in! Hi there! Began the playtime!
Man we were really cool, as the guest actors ask for OUR autographs. For Real!
Pictures were snapped, and a poster made, to be signed by everyone, so cheerful.
It’s highest bid, given to charity, would be a nice touch, for everyone in our crew.
The costume show was set outside, where all the dragons, could fly in, or out, too.
And a small mock, star ship was landed on stage, so we could enter with more flare.
Lord a mercy! Look at us! We’d never be like this, again! We were like stars, I swear!
Grandpa Troll, became Mr. Spock, naturally, because he was so, very clever and wise.
Our neighbor witch, was Uhura, due to her great ability to, protect everyone’s’ lives.
Borp the Frog became Sulu, so he could take us up to Borp speed, with laser effects!
Hubby was Scotty, with the Tinker Trolls in engineering, for special effects, so perfect!
The penguins were the beloved crewmembers, running with lasers, all over the place.
The powder puff tribbles, got wet, so yes, became the ‘Trouble with Dribbles’, in space.
The Mary River Turtles wanted to be Checkov. What a groovy, exciting, security team.
Dragon wanted to be Captain Kirk, you know, like totally, in command… At the scene!
All agreed, I’d be a great Dr. McCoy, since I always get to, kiss the Boo- Boo’s away.
The Weird Frogs were the Aliens, chasing everyone mindlessly, around, the set, that day.
And the Las Vegas Dragons, became attacking star ships, over which our lasers won!
The crowds went wild, and we won first place in their hearts, as well as, in their minds!
Everyone had, such a good time, so the Trek continued, well after, when we got home.
That year Comic Con made the National news, and of course, nobody, was surprised!
As the residents of Troll Lake and Acorn Falls… continue to Trek on… every day!
By Mike and Carol Eastman…
She was a tappin' to the tunes...
of those Mississippi blues...
step-pin' out, in her white...
We were a watchin' her a prancin',
all through the kitchen, dancin'...
for she was so...hot & sizzlin'...
hummin' to those Mississippi tunes...
Funny curlers too, upon...
her head...for a new... Hair dew,...
she was, a swirlin'-in that bakers apron,
when her head...star-ted a bobbin' to...
those Mississip-pi blues,
'Pots were a knockin'...
Grandma a sockin' down all she brews,
while that kettle there was whistlin',
in har-mo-ny, with them good ole...
good ole...mississip-pi moves,'
That floor there, was a bouncin'
holdin' hands we were a jumpin',
an-a hoppin' In the kitchen, to those...
Where Grandma's feet were a stompin',
In her new...New-white-sexy-pat-en-
The Soul is the Beautiful Light of Love
Shining like the sun through the
As the reader, I’m going to have to cut you off there.
Here’s a metaphor for you…
Reading is ****ing.
And your words hit our auditory canals
Like a hotdog down a hallway.
As an experienced reader, I’m after
The virgin vernacular
The aphrodisiac aphorism
You know- the big… black words
You feel me?
Because a line is a flashlight, exposing the world’s nudity-
And we’ll never get anywhere shining it in the same spot.
So kiss me with classy couplets
Smack my assonance!
Bring me to the climax-
And we’ll share a smoke together,
Warm beside the fire of your Three Inch Clichés.
I'm a clinical psychologist,
Specialising in narcissism within hyperspace,
Where it's all about the first-person narrative:
Where the photographer is the sitter;
Where the smirking cat points at their litter..
The preemptive future-proof memory cache:
The show and tell.
But am I here,
Where my asymmetric self-portraits hatch?
Is the view only real through the unsleeping lens?
Is anxiousness the motor of this super-saturated-self?
Is our interior long and gone chained inside the always-on Panopticon?
The contra-flow confluence -
Everyone a million points of light.
Most walk the glass-click-down in stop-gap time,
Dappled in the shimmering gloom, skin-tight.
Flex with the nearest vat of wine.
Yeah, see, I'm looking fine..
You could delete that one, though,
I'll delete one too if you..
Remind me: how the hell am I again?
How old am I?
I wonder: how old should I be - here?
The performer steals themselves for the cage.
Tag the sage.
Disconnect to share and engage -
It's the only way.
Watch the you-and-them.
Everyone with earphones on.
And all the eyes peel down the sounds leaking silence.
eat say day date data dated rate
careful addictive sizzle
The Smile Sink -
There's a lot to study in the meta of me-think.
In the liminal smog pools the dawn patrols subject their objects -
Take the tamarind hit from the gloaming ersatz.
I'm a clinical psychologist,
Specialising in narcissism within hyperspace,
Where the photographer is the sitter.
You can follow me on Twitter.
No, we weren't a couple one expected.
"What could she be thinking", one reflected.
Yet we held an undefined attraction;
Some subconscious neuron interaction.
After weeks we gathered our composure
Time to face my parents' first exposure.
True, your looks were just a bit off kelter(sic).
Poets often live at homeless shelters.
Mother stiffened, held her throat, and gasped.
Father never moved, in shock perhaps.
Then we vowed to do what we must do.
Freight trains leave at seven, ten and two.
I Spy Something Lumpy (or what I learned on the web today)
Somewhere in the Poconos
A lady was arrested
Her hiding place for heroin
Let’s say was double breasted
170 little bags
Somehow she did hide
For those of you math challenged
That’s 85 per side
Now I’m no fashionista
But even I can tell
85 bags of anything
And a bra will surely swell
So when cops pulled her over
She didn’t stand a chance
She might not have been so busted
Had she hid them in her pants
Time does our earth presence sever
But the post office is clever
And offers for sale
For its eternal mail
A stamp that is good forever
Author's note: The idea that anything associated with this planet will be consumed "forever" is peculiar and laughable. It is also destructive in that business holds the truth in shadows.
To Dine, To Die;
While thunderous eyes
Grasp concepts to recycle.
Constant debt crisis
A political paradox
Grating social devices
Over the sorting of socks.
An endless groan
The debate grants no throne.
Over a roast
Potatoes won't listen
To who talks the most.
"That point is so interesting"
The floor is open for chat
"What is real?" not a thing
"Meow" adds the cat.
For those of you who may see this post and sigh,
I’d like to understand your reaction by asking why.
It's ok that a cat smiling in despair
or a clip art picture with a reference to back hair
can fill ones screen in a feverous hurry?
While someone displays their creativity needs worry,
that some will ridicule their work with disdain.
When all must see your views based in fear, or the nuts who claim
end of times are so near, sorry your scared.
I‘m proud to see words of wisdom or recorded skills shared.
From those willing to ignore all the remarks
sent by said friends degrading your very creative spark.
Just know there’s people who really enjoy
each endeavor taken to express the things that give joy.
Now that I’ve seen ten things pass by I won’t bake,
Another request for a game I don’t play, let me take
this final couplet to now finally say.
I miss you my love as I do every night your away.
I walk into door frames, I trip up the stairs.
I rant on about stuff, when nobody cares.
I say all the wrong things, and freak people out.
It's just theres no filter, from my brain, to my mouth.
I'm socially awkward, and horribly shy.
I barely say hello, and never say goodbye.
I'm one of those people, who tends to just stare.
Then complain about you, forgetting you're there.
I'm sullen and mean, as barbed as wire fence.
I'm so insecure, it's a form of defense.
I'm bad at making friends, but when I do.
I make it for life, my friendship is true.
When I walk anywhere, i stare at the ground.
That's why I accidentally knock people down.
I laugh at bad jokes, and all the wrong times.
I take it too far, misinterpret the signs.
When i talk and I'm nervous, it makes me talk faster.
I might as well face it, I'm a social disaster!
I post on my wall when I’m Happy.
I post on my wall when I’m sad.
I post on my wall for no reason at all,
and upload snaps of food I’ve just had.
I’m ever so popular on facebook.
I’ve got nine-hundred-and-eighty best friends.
What? – no, of course I’ve not met them all!
That’s a custom our deep-bond transcends.
SPRING IN AIR, LOVE ONLINE 20/02/13
Nowadays , life is so unpalatable and stoic.
So unnecessarily busy and eventfully hectic.
Young folks thus gather in a shadowy discotheque, to kill,
The retreating winter shedding its last chill.
The chirps of the departing migratory,
With massacred green in a concrete urban factory,
Welcomes the spring breeze, and the cuckoo melody tune,
That too so rare,
For a short term vacation, in a vanity fair.
Some emotional fools and roaming vagabond,
Can feel the spring air and reminiscences their fond,
And cry for the past and the long lost love bonds.
Beside them no one dares to mingle,
Their soul with the colour of butterfly twinkle.
No one cares to see the young green boughs,
Dancing in a frolic of crispy air that jingle.
All is there, in the air, except love my dear,
‘Cause love is now confined,
In another little world so secure.
Where there’s no hasty rushing,
No meaningless blushing,
No hassled waiting, no worrying restriction.
Love is just a ready-made parcel,
At a press of a small button.
Love messages, e mails , tweets, face books ,web cyberspace and profile update,
Takes all the bothering responsibility, does all the necessary tete-a-tete.
No need for time taking arguments,
No need for extra commitments.
Sometimes, meetings could be arranged, but
Oh! Never in public park or in a hopeless garden.
It could be in a shopping mall or a cool coffee den.
The gorgeous and the grotty,
All gather at a V-day party.
Those who are privileged,
Share their love with diamonds and wine.
But for others, not a single grape,
Is sour in a vine.
Everything is taken for granted,
Just simple and fine.
‘Cause love can also be shared,
Simply free of cost on line.
Food in Oslo
Before pizza ruined Scandinavian cuisine it was wholesome,
nourishing and tasted good. Ok, so it was plain and it didn´t
have mysterious spices, the meat you ate tasted like meat or if
a fish dish of fish, you know what you were eating. Food used
to be a simple science about feeding people good food, this is
no longer so as we are full, need not eat the usual to survive,
that is why food has become degeneration an entertainment
for the rich who do no longer see food as survival for the hard
working but as a sort of enjoyment for the jaded palate.
But I was walking around Oslo´s bleak streets I came across
a place called “Bondeheimen” they had meat cakes with boiled
potatoes and gravy and I knew good food will always prevail.
Bondeheimen: “farmer´s home”
We know we are right and we will fight
If you dare appose us we will bite
When good doers think they have a chance
We take their idea and we do the dance
We are the law that makes the choice
And no one can keep their face in a good poise
Because we will smack them with a hammer
As we see them we will make them stammer
Just because we are justice
And we try to do some odd practice
Now we will get back on track
We the people take charge and attack
Wait, what are we attacking? the people that are not right
Oh! thats just my brothers and sisters oh! they are a sight
Now look here, we, we the people makes laws
It doesn't matter how many people open their jaws
I'm all confused, we are the people, did we not choose?
We are, but certain people are just to loose
Fine, this is what the new law we want to appose
Why? because we are confused about what we chose
Using we as a word is to many
It takes all of us even granny
So this is what we want to do, is put I and you separate
And the other that we are to choose to elaborate
I am going to say this, we are to many individuals
So we separate the ones who are good doers
That does not make sense
To put all the yous and I's in a group, it's just dense
Are you with me? no I am with myself in this
I am going to rub it in your face and be in a bliss
So I will do the justice myself, and you has decide to disobey
This is what I mean to do, and it will be O.K.
Debating myself is some what kinda weird
You need to be by my side because we make choices better
So this time you and I will just make justice a letter
The clue is what we do that is some what true
It's funny when words play a game to argue the virtue
When I mean I, I mean I, and when I say you, it is you
When I say we, it is us, and that is what my argument is all about, too.
Fifty, fifty is what the Dragon Slayer is saying, it becomes no greater nor smaller
We are all at fault and our decisions that we have made is for all of us to stand taller
Even when it is wrong and we do things to put down the strong
And our arguments become pointless and long
Our justice is when we started to put it on paper and making it a law that stand
So all of us, in the long run will simply decide to band
I'm on a roll, I just can't help myself
there's ads to the left 'n' ads to the right
there's ladies cooing "buy it" for health
I'm filling my cart with goods of delight
There's clothing in a myriad of colors
there's electronics for cars and for home
clicked a half-dozen and two for my brother
and got some software from Adobe to Chrome
I've ordered a Strad - a Steinway too,
'n' gettin a Picasso 'n' givin' it to you
they advertised a sale on NY bridges
'n' the Congressional library, unabridged
I'm tempted to click on it all you know
I love crossin' 'n' readin' 'n' spendin' dough
buyin' online just rocks my emotion 'n'
free shipping's included when buying an ocean
A new car, a new wife, maybe a new kid too!
I'm clickin' hard and shoppin' for life!
that hollowed out feeling I used to feel brew
is all but gone now and I'm cheerfully blithe
don't know if they know it but I'm buyin' their greed
I'm buyin' their lives 'cause I'm fillin' their need
they always seem happy when I get my confirmation
if it'd keep 'em happy, hell, I'd buy the damn nation
it's not that I need it, or can use it, or anything
I'm just clickin' it for the happiness it brings!
© Goode Guy 2013-08-22
My Clone Got No Soul
My clone, it seems, came out with no soul,
I guess it got lost, in the petri dish bowl.
In the mirror, a face like me would come through,
But that’s where it ended,
He was more like Deep Blue.
He never did find that “happy” place,
He never belonged, to the whole human race.
I wanted to console my clone with no soul,
But which part was actually there to console?
His head, his heart, his hand or his foot,
That’s a soulless sole, with no spiritual root.
He tried yoga, and diet, and Zen meditation,
But the chakras weren’t there for his elevation,
And soon he came down with “no motivation.”
I gave him the novel, that old Frankenstein,
He was all Shelly and shell shocked,
And out of his mind.
He took to drink, his gourd to console,
He even packed up, a nice little bowl.
I guess any change of mind will do,
When you’re trapped in your ego,
All cornered and blue.
So I bought him a TV,
With a satellite dish,
But it didn’t satisfy, not one single wish.
“Too many reruns,” he said with a stare,
“Heather’s cheating on Alex, but what do I care.”
I’ve got more problems that are troubling me,
All existential and twisted, to the nth degree,
My guanine, and cytosine, none of them blessed,
My adenine, thymine, just like the rest,
All of them sequenced, in neat little clips,
Here comes the four horsemen,
Of my apocalypse.
I felt sorry for him, so sorry you see,
It was not his decision, to be all you can be,
Or not to be, that is a question, posed
with Shakespearan glee,
He couldn’t read the fine print, you see
With no eye’s you see. Oh say can you see?
My clone passed a man with a pamphlet to read,
Jesus saves my dear boy, that’s all that you need,
this contract you sign, will grant you God speed.
“I’m soulless and homeless,” said my clone with a smirk,
I haven’t had time, to be a real jerk,
I’ve been in a fog, an unfortunate haze,
I’ve been only alive for a couple of days.”
.My clone moved around on the physical earth,
With no hope of redemption, release, or rebirth,
“If love won’t release me, it’s hate I will breed,”
I‘m a terrible spawn, from a terrible seed.
In a losing game, I have to concede.”
(Now I never thought a twitch, to put him on a shelf,
But when we sat together, he was beside himself.)
My clone on his birthday sighed a terrible sigh,
That he wanted to, “just lay me down and die,”
His desire for this, was so total and blind,
His own DNA began to unwind,
I called up the Church, the Lab, and the State,
That my clone was dying at a terrible rate.
“Your call is extremely important to us”,
As long as you don’t raise, or kick up a fuss.
He died on a cold night on old Halloween,
Alone and frightened at the terrible scene.
And there, I laid my clone to rest,
But alas, he had no soul to bless.
I took a walk, to kick my heart rate,
And was grateful,
that I had a different fate.
And if your neighbor greets you,
with a blank full of stare,
I hope he’s just tired,
and someone’s in there.
But don’t call the Church the Lab or the State,
They usually arrive just a little too late.
I do not know?
Illegitimi non carborundum ;-)
...Staggering, my vision cloudy,
I fall to the hard ground.
when life’s sharp left-jab leaves my face bloody,
and all that surrounds me, is the desolation of loss I feel all around.
I see myself slipping,
down the abyss to where nothingness exists,
still, I cling on, groping for a foothold,
for my will to stay persists.
I clamber up, I stand my ground, though battered and bruised I may be,
my curtain is not falling yet, I have some fight still left in me.
It is then, in the pit of despair, when all seems bleak and painful and dull,
I summon the strength from deep within,
I rise, slowly, to face the day,
I refuse to sink,
to wallow, to surrender, to throw in the towel,
for I am stronger now,
indeed I am, after all the years, and all the battles,
I stand, bruised and bloody,
I refuse, to sink, to drown,
for they can try, to punish me some more,
but I shall not allow them to grind me down…
They speak like politicians
And hold a great ambition.
They think they are right
And same speech they recite.
They always gather for a bite
Deciding who should start the fight.
All have their own stations
To be the victims of cremation.
They gather their own crowd
Who cheer and clap to any sound.
They think they are right
Only here for a bite.
They speak like Aristo
And act like Montecristo!
They smoke big cigars
And all drive tinted cars.
They dress in glitter
And all have Twitter.
They act so polite
But hardly can write.
Always in action
Only during the election.
To make a collection
Or a connection.
O What a time you feel like
Committing a crime.
For a brief background about this poem, pls, read the poem (Beirut).
Brandon’s lawyer phone him up
he said “I’ll make it quick.
a big indictment’s coming down
they want to make it stick
they’ve been on you since ‘82
got evidence in piles
witnesses and wiretaps
and photographs and files
Every law upon the books
you’ve broken and maligned
with every bill upon the hill
still waiting to be signed
all of God’s commandments
and those he just implied
even laws of nature
you’ve left them all defied
Guilty of everything
guilty of everything
‘til you’re proven innocent
Ever since the dawn of time
not once in history
has a man been charged
with EVERY crime
it’s plain to see
there must be some technicality”.
So after the acquittal
he gave some interviews
no one ever saw a man
so worthy of the news
and as for Brandon’s lawyer
the accomplice to the crime
with new laws written everyday
he’s working overtime