Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Social Journey Poems | Social Poems About Journey

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

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Rhyme | |

One World

Love is not a color,
No hue, neither a race.
All of our blood is the same, 
That runs deep within our veins.

If we could lift up each other,
And know that we all care.
If we help our sisters and brothers,
There's a bond that we'll share.








©2013 Honestly JT


Details | Rhyme | |

Thoughts and Dreams

So many dreams, so many thoughts 
Going through my mind
Although it seems, I may have lots
I still need to find

A way to put these dreams,
These thoughts into motion
Because sometimes is seems, 
I just make a commotion

About the good that could be done
About how I should act
About the direction I could run
About how I should react
To each and every one

But what good are my thoughts
What good are my dreams
Unless I find the means
To make them a reality
Unless I find a way
To make them part
Of each and every day

So I won’t just think about
And then right away doubt
The good that could be done
The way I could act
The direction I could run
The way I could react
To each and everyone
The victory that could be won

Instead when I see
The part I could play
I won’t doubt but believe
That there is a way 
To put these dreams
These thoughts, into action
Because now it seems
It might give me satisfaction

To be the person, to be the one, 
Who doesn’t just dream
About the direction he could run
Who doesn’t just think
About the victory. that could be won
But does the things,
 the thoughts and dreams
That have long been, left undone


Details | Free verse | |

Generic Minds

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them


Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Return

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!


Details | Personification | |

Puzzle Piece

A puzzle piece you are to me 
Like a vine without any leaves. 
Your heart is pure your soul is 
Gold, the sweetest thing I'll 
ever hold! A miracle in my eyes 
it seemed, knowing they said 
no babies for me! Always a 
surprise you seem to be just 
like a puzzle piece! At 9 months 
you walked but not until 4 did 
you first talk! Always a terror 
making a beautiful mess always 
a surprise that has yet to be 
met! The twists and turns I 
know we will see will seem 
somewhat like a roller coaster 
to me! The milestones and 
special gifts you bring will make 
my life seem Like a dream, my 
special boy I have always said 
How special I knew not till 
Aspergers they said! The 
journey will be trying the 
journey will seem long! But 
with our family together we will 
chug along! My special boy I 
love you so and cannot wait to 
see you mature and grow! Now 
we have a goal we have our 
dream you see to make you the 
perfect fitting puzzle piece!! 


Written by: Christina Kirks 
McCullouch 04/05/2012 For 
Jonathan S McCullouch Jr 
Mommy loves you to eternity 
and beyond! Forever and 
always!



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 | Acrostic | |

Reflections: Midlife Crisis

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
!!


Details | Narrative | |

Healing Words

My mother, my grandmother before has always held a place in my heart.
My father, and my grandfather before has the same part.
I was young and very active with unwillingness to listen fully to what they had to say.
I had a problem, never could be solved without my parents and grandparents till today.
With patience they all come to my aid when I fall on my face.
With little dishonor I listen to them and what they had to say, I embrace.
Over the years I go to them with no doubt a feeling of no dismay.
Over the years I go to them and they help me solve problems that to me is O.K.
Now I am getting a bit more aware of what had happen to me when I was growing.
Now I remember how the ride was in my beginning: it was a trial of not knowing.
With the guided words of my parents and grandparents I survive through them all.
With it some being a problem that I remember I recall.
My mother and my grandmother always said to be patient and it will be easy to solve.
My father and my grandfather always knew that I would grow and evolve.
I could wonder everyday what if my parents and grandparents was not in my life.
I could just think that would be fatal like a stab with a knife.
With knowledge that they had past on to me of what they had experience.
With their proof of teachings they had past on to me is their self existence.
Over the years I grew with life so full of happiness that was because of my families love.
Over the years it showed me the path that led me to all the above.
Now cherish those words that help me through my troubles in my new family.
Now I listen to my parents healing words of wisdom and except them gladly.


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 | 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 | Acrostic | |

Jesus

Judas betrayed Jesus’s whereabouts
End, was near
Son of God, knew this
Universe of the Son of the Divine Father, restored
Sins of man forgiven, Prince of our Universal domain, alive in the hearts of his children


Details | I do not know? | |

The Women



The Women



(for the countless women, names unknown, who bore the brunt of Apartheid, and who fought the racist system at great cost to themselves and their families, and for my mother, Zubeida Moolla)



Pregnant, your husband on the run,
your daughter, a child, a few years old,

they hauled you in, these brutish men,
into the bowels of Apartheid's racist hell.



They wanted information, you gave them nothing,
these savage men, who skin happened to be lighter,

and white was right in South Africa back then,

but, you did not cower, you stood resolute,

you, my mother, faced them down, their power,
their 'racial superiority', their taunts, their threats.



You, my mother, would not, could not break,

You stood firm, you stood tall.

You, like the countless mothers did not break, did not fall.



You told me many things, of the pains, the struggles,

the scraping for scraps, the desolation of separation
from your beloved Tasneem and your beloved Azad,

my elder sister and brother, whom I could not grow
up with, your beloved children separated by time, by place,

by monstrous Apartheid, by brutish men,
whose skin just happened to be lighter.



You told me many things, as I grew older,
of the years in exile, of the winters that grew ever colder.

You were a fighter, for a just cause,
like countless other South African women,

you sacrificed much, you suffered the pangs,
of memories that cut into your bone, your marrow,

you resisted a system, an ideology, brutal and callous and narrow.



Yes, you lived to see freedom arrive, yet you suffered still,
a family torn apart, and struggling to rebuild a life,

all the while, nursing a void, that nothing could ever fill.



I salute you, mother, as I salute the nameless mothers,

the countless sisters, daughters, women of this land,
who fought, sacrificing it all for taking a moral stand.



I salute you, my mother, and though you have passed,
your body interred in your beloved South African soil,

you shall remain, within me, an ever-present reminder,

of the cost of freedom, the struggles, the hunger, the toil.


I salute you!



(for the brave women of South Africa, of all colours,
who fought against racial discrimination and Apartheid)






Details | Verse | |

Right Now

In the exact moment that I am right now
I stand in a sea of vulnerability;
susceptible to the effects of causes around me
and since I am fully aware, 
I own my surroundings
I am one with sounds and vibrations
resonating from the earth;
I am that pulse of the drum beat 
thats been thrashing 
inside me since birth

Right now, I am exactly as I am
deeply flawed and misjudged
used, victimized and persecuted
Right now I am you in the absolute

Right now, I am exactly as I am
balanced, whole and complete
attracting abundance and certainty  
Right now I am peace - still you
 
Right now, I am exactly as I am
You


Details | Acrostic | |

Easter

Earths people, it is time to wake up, the ‘Prince’ is alive! 
Ascension available, access through your heart 
Seek and you shall find! 
Time is short, personally unite, connect as one
Eternity given
Rise to the occasion, celebrate the gift of life, bond, with ‘our lord Jesus’ and ‘our Universal Father in heaven, building a bridge, experiencing kinship, between human and spirit

                     ***Happy Easter Everyone***


Details | Narrative | |

Diminished

Diminished
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 in “Death OF A Rose” By Nate Spears

A diminishing Rose Bush
With every pedal plucked, beauty is fading away
Losing its essence of greatness
As we proceed to deplete its history
Life flows away,

I remain standing above
Polluted soil
Naked,
Stems are bare and exposed
Vulnerable to the world and its nature
I give woes
I give worries
I give troubles
These are my possibilities
Then the death of a rose and destruction
Hits home

Bare my green,
My DNA shows traces of the best soils
Traced back to my mother’s land
Surrounded by fellow planted gold
Some will never know

Doing well isn’t doing well
We can’t bloom unless we unfold
Reproduce the best again
Stop dying daily for less than a win
There’s nothing we can’t do
That we’ve done once again

The next season will bring new pedals
I will never grow pass go anymore
Next year, beauty will flourish
Next season remains to nourish
Each season we should cherished
In our best moments
Each year is the best one of your life.


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 | Verse | |

Philosophical Poetry Week: Transient Tuesday

I am a misprint,
Ink blot on love,
I remain a maybe
Longing for fact,
No speck of lint,
A hand in glove.
Thunder; a baby
Will only react

When you etch
Parallel clouds,
Whistling on cue
To a dead town.
Dream a sketch
Of silent crowds
Becoming you,
This boiling crown

Chews thought
Into flagellation.
Holes in the walls
To spy through,
Seeking a sort
Of bricked-up sun.
A heaven of halls,
All leaving you.


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 | Concrete | |

Observer

A serpent underneath blue sky,
in shade of man, in twinkle of an eye,
above brick wall, in the structure, at the floor,
venom of white dove; contaminated food, undrinkable water,
misguided youth, pregnant daughter, unfaithful father and hateful son,
mothers do pray while we walk through Babylon;
on teli and in the press, on top shells,
price none the less, in bedroom and at your door..
dawn of a new day seemed to be dark,
after all.


Details | Lyric | |

Just let it go

Is this life just a hidden message?
As I pound these streets, I wonder
As I crawl these walls, I ponder
You left on a cryptic message

Never to return, yet your still out there
Oh so many times, far too many crimes
Gone for good, just like the winter air
You might be missed, as people continue to stare


It’s all in your head now
Just let it go, just let it go


Watching three women pass by, life on the their backs
Where will they go?
All still young, frail and faces full of cracks
On they move, turn and all so low

Watching the people, crowds begin to sway
Analysing their thoughts, following a long day
What’s in store when they get home?
Lost in thought, onwards I roam


It’s all in your head now
Just let it go, just let it go
It was a long time ago
Now go with the flow


                                                                            © Shane Cogan, 2013


Details | Haiku | |

MUSIC - HAIKU

Play The Radio Get Up And Dance All Night Long Music Heals The Soul


Details | Rhyme | |

What Will I Do Where Will I Go

 UNSUPPORTED CODE What Will I Do?   Where Will I Go?

What will I do?  Where will I go?
Which direction I’ll take…  I don’t really know!

In just a moment, I lost all,  that I worked hard to get…
I’m thinking of “letting go.”  
But haven’t done it yet…

The things I held so close...  Have all disappeared.
It happened so fast.  It’s kind of “weird.”

Those I call my friends, don’t really know
 what to say.
Most of them shake their heads, and walk away!

I’ve cried myself to sleep many days and nights.
It’s like someone has “turned off the lights.”

The only one I know, that I can turn to, is Christ alone!
I need him to heal my broken heart and home.

Dear Jesus, will you take some time to help me out?
I know that helping people is what you’re about!

Please help me to pick up the 
pieces that are scattered!
Help me to focus on the things in life
 that really matter!

I need to give you, all of my focus and attention!
I need your word to show me
 some clear direction!

You’re the one that I always need to hold on to!
I need to do this, and to completely trust you!

Thank you Jesus for listening
 and answering my prayer!
I’m thankful that you’re someone who really cares!

Thank you for restoring my life,
 that has been “up-ended.”
With your love, my heart has been
 healed and mended!

By Jim Pemberton


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 | Prose Poetry | |

An End to Aloneness

In my life I often feel I am alone; alone in my thoughts, alone in my musings, alone in my day-to-day movements and unsatisfying activities. I move like a ghost through hallways and down sidewalks, unnoticed and, at times, gratefully so. 
I do not wish to be eternally alone. I long for togetherness. But despite this desire for a real connection, I find myself regularly retreating from that temperamental beast that is human interaction. 

“Come on now, sweetheart. Don’t lower your head. Don’t look away. Look up! Smile at someone! No! Don’t go back into your bedroom. Don’t lock the door! Why are you doing this?” my brain will plea. 

I can’t help myself. Aloneness is comfortable. In being alone, I don’t have to worry about anyone but myself. I don’t have to please anyone else. I can think anything I want, wear anything I want, listen to anything I want, and laugh at anything I want. 

And still there remains that nagging desire to be loved and wanted and needed by somebody. I do not know the feeling of being truly desired. I do not know what it is like for someone to crave my company, my smile, my kiss, or my touch. 

                                                                              But I would like to…

I cannot make someone love me or like me or want me in some primal way. It may hurt, but I cannot make that handsome boy want to hold my hand or brush my hair back behind my ear. I can only struggle on. I can only work within myself. I can only try every God damn day to hold my head up, keep my eyes fixed ahead, a give the world the best smile I have. I and I alone can bring myself out of the safety of my bedroom and into the bright world that lies beyond that locked door. 
	
I often find myself alone with nothing more than my thoughts and the ever-strong glow of a computer screen. But no longer will aloneness be the constant in my life. It is true that never having known the caress of a man’s hand on my thigh doesn't make me any less of a woman, but I fear that if I stay confined within myself much longer I will begin to become less of a human. A flower cannot grow if it retracts its leaves and petals every time it feels the warmth of the sun or the kiss of a gentle spring rain.  
	
And I want to grow. I want to grow so tall and blossom so big and beautifully that every place on earth is touched by my shadow at some point in the day. And I will grow. I will push myself and share myself with the world, and finally
							                                 finally
								                                   finally
know the closeness and comfort of love and honest, unabashed companionship.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Tragedy of the Banished Revolutionaries

The Tragedy of the Banished Revolutionaries.

Epochs apart, yet,
bound by conscience,

Buddha, 
Jesus,
Moses,
Muhammad,
Ram.

Enduring the whispers of time,
through creeds professed,
sermons preached,
and a million sins confessed.

Though,

the essence,
of these banished revolutionaries,
is ceremonially muted by ritual,
and gleefully crushed under,
grandiose edifices,
that serve Religion Inc.

"And the meek shall inherit the earth",
an incendiary thought,
conveniently discarded,
for the pie in the sky that must be sought.

The tragedy of the banished revolutionaries,
stings.
stabs,
whispers still,
for us to hear,
through the din of the cacophony of prayer.

Buddha,
Jesus,
Moses,
Muhammad,
Ram.

The tragedy of the banished revolutionaries,
persists,
each day that we choose,
to shun the meek,
and mouth conscience-salving prayers,

for yet more silver,
and yet more silk.


Details | Verse | |

Our Day Out

Went out today for a drive with a friend
We'll go into the hills up to heaven he said,
Round hairpin bends,o'er hill and dale we sped
When I looked down the drop did I dread.

Through villages we sped, though not too fast,
That we couldn't admire the places we passed.
Then by and by we came up to our first stop,
T'was indeed heavenly, A herbalists shop.

We had peppermint tea and carrot cake,
I even got something  for my earache.
Pano Akourdhalia was where we stopped,
Carolines Garden, the place where we shopped.

Soon this tranquil rest came to an end,
Off to Polis, we sped with our friend.
Lunch time came and found us there,
In a quaint little cafe behind the town square.

At the Art Cafe where Tina Tamamounas, our hostess,
Our hunger did placate with village salad and lasagne.
Finished off with tea and 'man' coffee and my Cyprus brew,
When hungry, it is a place we highly recommend to you. 

The journey home passed without event,
A lovely day out and we all were spent.


Details | Rhyme | |

Please Come Lord Jesus And Hear My Voice



Please Come Lord Jesus,
And Hear My Voice!

Please come Lord Jesus,
and listen to my voice!
In all I do or say, may you
 be my first choice!

Please come dear Jesus, 
and listen to my cry!
Give me your living water,
 that can satisfy!

Please come dear Jesus,
 and renew my mind!
You're so patient, loving
and very kind!

Please come dear Jesus,
and renew my spirit!
Your words of life...
May I daily live it!

Please come dear Jesus,
I need you this hour!
I need your strength,
and your power!

Thank you my Lord, my savior
and friend!
And thanks for answering me...
 Once again!

By Jim Pemberton   


Details | I do not know? | |

For Bruce Springsteen

for bruce springsteen...


it was a rain-swept monsoon day

way back then, so many moons away

when i felt the music strumming in my veins

setting me free like a runaway horse without any reins

you sang of simple truths, 

your verse spoke to people just like me

in my lonely, wasted, and desolately quiet night

as you screamed out tragic human wrongs, and of everyone's plight

'bobby jean' spoke to me

of that girl down the street

glimpses of whom, we as innocents would furtively meet

and 'the river' that flowed through my ever-barren heart

led me down further roads of thunder

when slowly i finally learnt that the hardest part was fighting on

and never to surrender

to the hard-luck dreams that were born to run

while i danced in the dark 

with memories vivid and stark

even as i whined like that dog who for forever lost his howling bark

and then a 'human touch' came along

and 'better days' seemed real, not just words in a song

and still you sang and swayed and spoke straight into my unseeing eyes

as gardens of secrets were opened, and as your fist punched the skies

in an anger that i too felt and in whose cauldron i too burned

as we saw murder get incorporated, while on its wobbly axis, our fragile world apathetically turned

and then suddenly i was told that i was all grown up

working on a highway of scattered ideals

and absolving myself by sprinkling some coins in a waiting cup

well, after all these years of walking along so many a thorny road

with an armour of your verse covering me, even as i hear them taunt me and even as they continue to goad

but now i can feel myself fading away, into the bleakness of this coming night

just like the ghost of that old tom joad...


Details | Free verse | |

Survival Of The Fittest

Dropped out of school
At an early age
Lived on the streets 
Because, I disgusted my mother
She thought I was a poor example
Of true Christian beliefs
At an early age 
She religiously drummed into me
‘blood is thicker than water’
And yet, 
Here I am today confused, lonely and hungry
No one protecting me
No friends
No family
No home to go too
Just, peoples eye for an eye,
tooth for a tooth mentality
Praying for the sun to shine
To feel some warmth again!
Sun rays of hope, lighting me up
To live through this darkness without fear
With a heart full of faith
No matter what happens to me, now!
If only I could drink my salty tears
It would sustain me for a lifetime
Your tears are worth nothing, around here
You’re classed as weak and venerable
Only attracting death
Your life worth nothing!
Save me from myself
I am my best friend
I am my worst enemy
My prayers and dreams
Lost in the wind
Blowing around like autumn leaves
The rain washing them away
Down the drain into the sewage
Rolling with the seasons
Year after year
Survival for the fittest!
Surviving on the love
Hidden, inside me
Being my strength and guide
My personal lifeline
In surviving this crazy world 
We all live in


Details | Free verse | |

Scars of an Inner Child

You are not the man, you want to be
You said you were my Father, till, I discovered different
Enduring, daily beatings
Bashing the living day lights, out of a woman and a child
Repetitive, bad ass attitude, nasty streak
Mean and aggressive!
Fists, knives and guns, your weapons of chose
Out of control, abusive, devious
Relentless, over – bearing!
Breaking me, piece by piece
Confusing a child, with unhealthy love
Hand fed your bullshit, brain washed
Using me as your human, punching bag
This innocent child’s blood, staining your callas hands
My child’s curiosity, asking you one day
“Why do you hurt me and Mum?”
Your retort: “I am not your blood!”
I didn't understand, back then
Now, as an adult, I clearly understand!
Believe me, when I say
There was never a day that went past
That you didn't remind me of that!
My freedom, restrained
My sanity, tested
Caged, like a wild bird in captivity
Behind bars, looking out
 Here, I am today, free from your grip
Nursing, this inner child’s, bleeding love


Details | Free verse | |

Feel The Love

Diving deep, into the void, within
Washing, cleansing, myself clean
Trusting without expectation
Letting go of, what I am familiar with
Allowing the divine, infinite spirit to guide me
Teaching me how to live
Growing inside my heart and mind
Larger than my mind’s ego
As I consciously shed light, upon my self created burdens
Lighting up, my made up fears, my mind has believed, all these years
All the mistakes I have made, now become my greatest blessings
Showing me how to love, without attachment
Discovering, who I truly am


Details | Rhyme | |

Our Silver Anniversary



From the day I promised to be with you forever… It’s now been 25 years together! Through the trials, laughter and many miles We’ve had our share of joy and trials! You’ve been so loving patient with me. My beautiful wife— my lovely sweetie! This anniversary, I am so very proud of you! You’re a wonderful wife! Faithful and true! With you, God has given me the best! My love for you is so hard to express! I Love YOU! Is what I will always say, This very special anniversary day!!! Love, Jim


Details | Rhyme | |

Life's Difficult Situations


Life can bring many difficult situations!
Often, there’s really no explanation!

No matter how smart or how wise,
Things can take us totally by surprise!

We can often find our life off course.
Many times, being driven by a “dark force.”

I know that it’s hard to know what to do.
Especially with what you
 may be going through!

I can’t think of all the right words to say…
To help you make it through another day!

But there’s someone, I can ask you to turn to!
He loves and is most concerned about you!

His name is Jesus!  The almighty God is he!
He’s committed to you now!  And for eternity!

He’s the one that you can trust and lean on!
And is someone that you can
 certainly depend on!

Won’t you give him an opportunity to help you?
He reaches out his hand!  Because he loves you!

He is the source with an eternal heavenly treasure!
He can completely fill you! 
 Beyond measure!

The decision is yours!  A choice to be made!
There’s nothing for Jesus what’s worth the “trade!”

He’s everything that any of us can ever think of!
And can do more for you!  Than you ever dreamed of!

He’s the alpha and omega!  The beginning and the end!
Won’t you allow him to be your
 savior and friend???

By Jim Pemberton


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 | 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 | I do not know? | |

A Simple Wish

a simple wish...

no fancy words
no more clever rhymes
no more slickly crafted verse

just a simple wish
to cherish the moments
in-between the hue and cry of this life

no more the dull-edged jab
no more the anger and the strife

a simple wish
beyond the wasted hours and the days and the blurry fears

a simple wish
of a simpler life

after all the bitterness of the passing years

and so

to retire from the hustle
to flee from the hollow wasted breaths that have been breathed

to bid the emptiness farewell

while

ushering in the new tomorrow

bathed in the soft glow of hope

and kissing adieu to all the hurt and all the doleful sorrow...


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 | Free verse | |

I Am A Spark Of Life

A spark of life
Fire in my belly
Giving what I have
Serving you
Honouring, who I truly am
Loving you, in return


Details | Narrative | |

Why Church called Catholic

Church is a she Bride of Father Christ Church is Catholic Church is people Catholic related to the whole Greek kat’holon Father Christ called Profess whole faith Preserve all Sacraments To administer To proclaim Good News Sent her to all nations (YOUCAT) 4092013


Details | Free verse | |

Ignorance meets Insanity

Seriousness settles in, like an old friend
Seriousness spreads like a disease
Infecting us, accelerating, our aging process 
Our youthfulness, our playfulness, slowly slipping away
Our wonder in life, diminishing
Seriousness leading to rigidness, pathway to small mindedness!

Days and years, rolling into one
Colourless, lifeless, mundane, dull and boring
“What day is it?”
“Don’t smile or your face might crack!”
Judgemental, cantankerous!
Pompous attitudes, of modern day man

Stubbornness and ignorance, clinging to what’s familiar
Seriousness, up tightness, humourless, imagination vanished, pathway to madness!
The mind focused on its self created drama’s
Fears constantly being stimulated, from our outside world
Personal insecurities, constantly being triggered, inside
The past lives on, the present forgotten 
What was once important, now, left on the back burner
Hard headed, victim orientated
Righteous, self absorbed
Emptiness, hollowness, helplessness

Seriousness and ignorance, walk hand in hand
Becoming, our best friends
The vampire suckers of vitality
Sucking the life, out of our personal goals and childhood dreams
Lose of faith, gradually, losing our way
Lost, amongst the thick of it
Not knowing any different
Everything becoming an illusion
Seeing things as it should be
In our own little universe, no one else’s!

Entrapment of the mind
Our, personal intelligence, laying dormant
Body and mind, riddled with dis - ease
Heart beating hard, starving for a substance, we call love
Numb, to the outside
Numb, on the inside
Desensitized!
Going crazy!
Consumed with our own self created loneliness and separation
Ignorance meets insanity!


Details | Rhyme | |

Another Year That Came and Went


This has been another year that came and went!
I often wonder, where has my time been spent?

It  seems like yesterday, we rang in the new year!
But, very quickly, it has all just “disappeared.”

I think about my accomplishments, goals and dreams.
Do they matter anymore?  Do they mean anything?

This life I have, is just but a brief moment in time.
One day, I’ll simply leave everything fast behind!

My relationship with Christ is what really matters!
Everything else in life, is just “empty chatter!”

I pray that as this new year comes and goes…
My relationship with Christ will continue to grow!

The older I get, I’m beginning to see!
I need much more of Jesus, and less of me!

He is what’s needed!  Whatever this year holds!
I need him more, as each year I grow old!

With each year, that comes and passes me by…
I want more of Jesus, until the day I die!

He is my friend, what is certainly needed!
With him in me, my life is completed!

Thank you Lord for this brand new year!
You are the one I’ll hold ever so dear!

By Jim Pemberton   


Details | Light Poetry | |

Kindness is a Virtue

Who are and who is my friends or acquaintances, confusing everyday
but today I have found my self to walk a path that is not so rough
I became so blinded to have friends that it pains me anyway
They take a simple kindness and think that I am not tough
so by deliberately challenging me to act like nothing happens I grow bold
Wake up you! and all the rest, I have something to say
I don't like this feeling of regret or sorrow so please do not take me cold
as a friend you should know to not take advantage of my kindness in away
A storm is blowing inside my soul burning a hole in it so
lightning is striking in methods unknown for in the distance thunder you hear
Some of the greatest warriors fall with great weapons of bow
antics that slaughters such feebleness as cowardices use an unseen spear
To let one know that your feelings are clear do not hesitate
to do so shows fear and that is one thing that can determine your choice
With kindness in your corner you should easily win and that will be great!
In the end you can hold up a drink with friends and smile and rejoice


Details | Rhyme | |

Wonderland

Take me by the hand
Come with me to this far away land.
Where life as we know it comes to an end.let

We journey back in time
To a place that lives only in our minds.
Where the light shines so bright that it blinds.

The feelings of love ignite.
Let your mind lose control and take flight.
Begin this journey with me to Wonderland.

We travel hand in hand,
Without judgement, together we unite,
Without fear, we join for just one night.

The feeling of peace in the air,
Forget about worries,
Life without care.
Let the music take you there.
Move your feet to the rythym of the beat
Lose control for just one night.

Journey with me through Wonderland
A place never to forget.
Wonderland lives on tonight.
In my dreams, 
I close my eyes and look towards the light.


Details | I do not know? | |

I Want to Walk with You

I Want to Walk with You
 
I want to walk with you with our heads held high
Never cowering, never with heads bowed
With our feet on this blessed soil, and our dreams reaching for the sky
 
Dreams of simple joys and of peace and of mirth
For all our fellow travelers on this delightful earth
 
Dreams not of wealth or of positions of high standing or of mighty power
Simple dreams of a walk in the aftermath of a Johannesburg evening rain-shower
 
Dreams of bread and water and dignity and shelter and clothes for all
Dreams where all fellow travelers may together walk this earth proud and tall
 
I want to walk with you, my fellow traveler, with our heads held high
Never pandering to power, never silent in the face of its abuse
Always firm in our convictions that we can all make peace if we only try
 
If we try to stop and think and sometimes not to look the other way
If we practice what our different creeds really teach, we will surely see that day
 
When we all, fellow travelers may walk with our heads held high
Never cowering, never with our heads bowed
With our feet on this blessed soil, and our collective dreams reaching for the sky
 
Call me silly, call me naive, call me hopeless, and if you must, call me weak
But is this not the common good that our different creeds and cultures all seek?
 


Details | I do not know? | |

Illegitimi non Carborundum

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,


to drown,


for I am stronger now,


indeed I am, after all the years, and all the battles,


I stand, bruised and bloody,


still,


I stand,


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…


;-)


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 | 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? | |

She



A sweetly-scented, earthy rain-storm,
she came to me,

thunderously raging with raw emotion,
she came to me,

drenched in the essence of truth,
she came to me,

she touched a chord deep inside,
she strummed away all emptiness,

she came to me,

once...

she comes to me,

still...


a gentle presence filling my life,


she comes to me,


still,

a healing spirit soothing all inner strife.





Details | I do not know? | |

Demolished

I’ve never hit rock bottom so hard.
I got up but it feels like I’m still sitting down.
I’ve never felt pain so bad
To the point where I just can’t function.
The memories I can’t seem to erase
They replay in my head constantly until I’m in tears.
I’ve never had my heart broken so bad
That just picking up the pieces crumbles in my hands.
I’ve never felt so alone.
That even while you hold me
I can’t feel your arms.
I’ve never been so depressed in my life
That even a psychiatrist don’t know my diagnosis.
There is only one way to go but up.
But my ladder keeps sliding down.
I run, jump, skip, hop.
Defeat lays on my breastplate.  


12/23/12


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 | Rhyme | |

Weight of the World

The leaves are falling, the temperature is dropping
My spirit is stalling, my passion is stopping
 
Who can save me from myself?
Who will be there to help?
 
I have fallen down, and the weight of the world is upon me
I cannot lift in on my own, for it is far too heavy
 
Who will come and give me a hand
Who is strong enough to stand?
To carry the human race
To experience His grace
 
For too long now, I have been trying
But slowly my soul has been dying
Because I am not enough on my own
I was not designed to go it alone
 
I cannot be a one man army
So I ask for those with a heart
For a dying and broken world
To join me in a new start
 
Does anyone hear a small hungry child? 
Over the sound of a dinner feast
 
Can anyone hear the roar of a bomber plane?
Over the sound of a new car engine
 
Does anyone feel the hurricanes destruction?
More than the light breeze of the ceiling fan
 
Do rags and tattered clothes grab your attention?
Before you buy a new name brand outfit
 
If you hear and see and feel these things
And it is more important to you than your things
 
Then come with me, let’s go to the broken 
Set the captives free, I am not jokin'
Open your eyes and see
 
There is a world full of trouble
A world full of hurt
So let’s get out of our bubble
And jump in the dirt


Details | Free verse | |

Hope

Holy books says it all
You taught me how to crawl
This will never change
Never ends never fades
Dear God where you are?
Shattered piece of childish dreams
This will never change
Never ends never fades.

I can fight for all my life,
Not broken, not broken inside
Never be so frustrated,
Not going to commit suicide.

Fuc*ing faith will fall,
Mortals will stand tall
Hell and heaven are all the same
Live your life, don't die in vain

Only you and I can make 
A better world for tomorrow
Have faith in yourself
And wipe off the tears of sorrow

Make me scream, Make me cry
I'll never fail to try.
This night's has an end
No pain will remain


Details | Rhyme | |

God Knew Me Before I Was Born

God Knew Me Before I Was Born! God knew me, before I existed! He was there, before my name was listed! Before I was born, he had a divine plan! He was there, before I reached out my hand! Before I knew who I even was, or my name… His life for mine, way why his son came! Before I could put on my shoes and clothes… He had called me! It was I… That he chose! Before I was old enough to make up my own mind… He was there waiting! So patient and kind! Before I became an adult… I refused to believe! Whatever God offered... I didn’t want to receive! Before too long… I had my own family and home. But then family left me... And I was alone! Before God… I came, and cried and repented! The inside of my mind felt confused and tormented! Before I really knew what was actually going on… God reached inside and forgave me of past wrongs! Before the next day was coming about… I found a new love and peace throughout! Before God, I know that he’s changed me! I have found a new life for eternity! Won’t you come before God and accept him too? You’ll never know what he can do for YOU! By Jim Pemberton


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 | I do not know? | |

A Hollow Shell

a hollow shell
of tangled synapses
sparked into gradual madness
which drowns out the truths of the day
as the mind reeks of the rotten sad moments
that swirl in the rancid soup of forgotten dreams
dreams that once traced a gentle path of innocence
dreams that reached for pure love’s tender touch
dreams now paralysed but once vivaciously alive
what became of those fresh dreams and hopes
as they lie mustily on dusty bookshelves
torn into shreds by time’s fine scimitar
devoid of the touch of raw passion
when all that remains of love is
a hollow shell


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 | Free verse | |

True Reality

Why is it
I am always wrong?
Something
I have always done?
Why is it
I am 
Never good enough
In your eyes
In challenging times?

How many times
Do I have to say
“I love You?”
What will it take
To convince
That mind 
And 
Heart 
Of yours?

What can I say
That will ease 
This jealousy
And 
Resentment
You feel towards me
When drinking 
Too much booze
Killing what brain cells
Are left
In that stubborn 
Head of yours!

How long 
Will it take
For you 
To believe in me?
For I know
I am a fool 
Staying here, with you!
Feeling desperate
Lost and lonely
Dreams squashed
Emotionally drained
When ‘we’ need to pull together
In union ship
To make 
This bond strong
Between us!

'Uniting as One’'

'Love Conquering All'

“Well!”
“So, I am told!”

I love you more
Than this
Arguing and fighting!
But 
You refuse to understand
The love I have for you

My head 
Tells me to stay with you
But
My heart knows
I cannot!
For
I have asked you 
To be kind to me
I have asked
You to open up 

Your anger and rage
Continues growing
Out of control
Taking over
Like
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde 
Burning bridges
Being ruthless
Always
Out for the kill!

I need to break away!
I need to clear my head!
I need to experience
Love and longevity
True togetherness
With 
The one’s I love!
My heart needs to experience
‘Healthy Love’
My heart deserves the best!
You now
Belong in my past
I am no longer the person
You once knew me, to be

Your insecurities
Your inner demons 
Far bigger
Than any of the love
You choose to acknowledge 
Or 
Feel from me!

You can believe this 
To be true
If nothing else!

“Love thy self”

Share
Without personal gain
Being 
Your Primary Motive!
Know Love 
Be Love, in Action!

Be honest
Have empathy now
As
I cut these cords
Of emotional bondage
That 
Bind us together 
True Love 
No longer 
Our foundation!

I stand on my own
Knowing
I have learnt the lessons
You have come to teach
I now know
What love isn't!
“I thank you”
For showing me this!

My illusions of love
Blinding me
Colouring my experiences
Revealing
Only what 
'I Wanted Us To Be'
Not
‘True Reality’


Details | Rhyme | |

Are You Addicted With Nowhere to Go

Are You Addicted, With Nowhere to Go? I know that it's easy to get discouraged and upset. Being addicted... But you can't escape "just yet." You've tried "everything." And don't know what else to do? Is there "anyone" who can "help you through?." The things you've done. You’ve wanted to be forgiven! Yet struggle with this Each day your liven! You greet people and wear a "smile." Do you wonder if living is really "worth the while." You may have prayed over and over again. And yet constantly struggle with a stubborn sin. Many times when you've tried to call on Jesus' name. Yet find yourself in "guilt and shame." Jesus is here now! He wants you to know… He can bring satisfaction and Make you WHOLE! Rather than thinking of things done in the past. Come to Jesus now! His love will always LAST! Allow God to bring to your life the needed victory now! He'll make you a brand new person! And HOW! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Rhyme | |

David and Goliath

David and Goliath

When David heard Goliath bring
God’s name disgrace.
He wondered if any man would
challenge him, face to face.

All the men in Israel were scared,
and not this brave.
For if they lost, they’d be
the Philistines’ slave.

King Saul wondered if anyone
would challenge this man.
David accepted—knowing
this was God’s land.

With a small stone he
chose from a river bed,
He faced Goliath, with God placing 
the stone into his head.

Perhaps there’s a GIANT in your
life that’s causing you fits.
Your trust must be in Jesus.
This--you must admit.

Lust, anger, pride—
whatever your giant might be.
Defeating this giant, with God’s help,
will bring you the victory!

By Jim Pemberton


Details | Free verse | |

Once Here Now Dead

Once here
Now dead & gone
“What am I known for, this time round?”
I exist only as a memory now
A memory that fades, over time
“Who will remember me, when I am gone?”

No one knew me
Yet people will say they knew me, so well!
A laugh, how often people think “they are experts”
Yet, really
Know nothing at all!

“How well did you know the inside of me?”
For, if I was to ask...
“What is my favourite colour?”
Or, “what’s my favourite song?”
I listen for answers...none come

“What’s my favourite food to eat?”
Complete silence...
I could hear a pin drop
Round...about...now!
“Do these questions fall upon deaf ears?”
For I ask...

“Who truly knew me?”
“What am I known for?”
“Who will remember me?”
When I am dead & gone


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 | Free verse | |

Soulful Cries

I scream, at the top of my lungs
No sound, comes out
Silent, curdling screams
Is, all I have left, now
I wrestle; I fight, with all, my physical might
While, being forced down 
By the mighty strength, of many men
The pungent smells of dirt, sweat and grime
Embed, in my senses
Their ghastly hot breathes; making me, want to puke!
Their hands, all over me
Constantly grabbing and groping me
Hollering and cheering each other on
Then, someone punches me
Someone, I cannot see
A large man’s hand, covers my nose and mouth
Muffling my soulful cries, terrifying, my insides!

I can’t breathe, now!

Many heavy handed blows, follow
In a blurry haze
I watch, my scarlet red blood splatter
Upon the snow white sheets, that surround
My sacred blood spilled
My salty tears mixed in with sticky men’s semen
My body, a raging torrent of scorching hot lava
Lulling into a translucent, entranced state
Surrendering, to the primal, animalistic frenzy
The men, taking what they want, anyway they want it
Devouring every morsel left ,of my weak and weary body
My body fighting, for its God given right
To live, now!
My life flashes before my eyes
The sounds around me begin to fade
My eyes glaze over, my body goes limp
My body betraying me, when I need her the most!
Silently, I pray for this is not my will, but their own
“Have mercy upon these souls” 
“Please forgive these men, as I do, now
“My love remains with you, heavenly Father”
Blackened tears of jet black mascara
Weave their way down
Through the bloody crevasses, of my black & blued skin
My body used up, a lifeless vessel, totally numb!
My innocence and dignity stripped!
No one, can save me, the worst is done!
Bashed, beaten, worn
I am nothing, no more...


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 | I do not know? | |

Night

night falls
wounded by the days' plight

night consumes
all the hopeful fractured splinters of light

night recedes
into its desolate lair

night extinguishes
the roaring furnace of despair

night hides
from a bubbling desire reaching out to feel

night flees
leaving the jilted to bow down and kneel

night soars
breaking the chains of isolation

night rots
in the cellars of time's vacuum of desolation

night devours
the travails of the day that has past

night mends
the wounds that once were doomed to last

night returns 
faithfully as the day must retire

night settles
the doomed voices that mutter and conspire
night consoles
the weary mind and the restless heart so torn
night placates
knowing that night itself is darkest just before a new dawn

so

night freezes
all snapshots of the passing day

as

night embraces
the new while the old simply fades away


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 | 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 | I do not know? | |

Love, Mania, and Verse

Love, Mania, and Verse

The pendulum swings,
while the mania in my head,
strips me bare and yanks me,
into the cauldron of love.

Once again,
never divining the tea leaves,
knowing, always knowing,
the gnawing knots of unease,
that curl into a fist.

My isolation is a shield,
a suit of armour,
tightly clad around my self,
once worn,
then discarded,
taking its place,
on my barren shelf.

Love, mania and verse,
coalesce, beseeching me,
with timeous forewarning,
not to tread into the quicksand,
that slippery bog of promise.

Yet,
in times past,
in moments present,
tis' that very promise,
that I cling to.

At times I lose,
myself in the crowd,
rebelling in the solitude found there,

at times I claw,
my way back to the now,
aching for the pain that stings,

the buried voice that sings,
dirges to forgotten emotions,

scribbled verse that flings,
the toys out of my cot,

while I wait,
for the mania to stop,

knowing,
always knowing,
that it shall be,

merely a matter of time,
before the other shoe,
must, as always, 
drop.


Details | I do not know? | |

WARNING: Soppy Love Scribble

Walk with me,
in this lonely world,

where hearts are casually broken,
and kind words rarely spoken.

Take my hand,
on this highway of brittle glass,

where love is traded like blue-chip shares,
and bank-balances are coveted as priceless wares.

Smile with me,
as we walk hand in hand,

as the ocean tickles our toes on the cool beach sand.

Smile with me,
and I shall smile too,

we may not have much,

but you will have all of me,

and I will have all of you.


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 | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Something to think about from me to you

SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT.....
				FROM ME TO YOU!


* The Average Woman Would Rather Have Beauty Than Brains 
Because The *
                          Average  Man Can See Better  Than They Can 
Think.


After you read this, you may have  laughed well still  agreeing  
with this statement! 
Men may of had a little  more to add but this would only be 
based on trying not to sound so shallow!
The women on the other hand, either silently agree or may have 
showed a little anger towards this statement  being that one may 
have experienced  similar situations  that brought back 
unpleasant feelings, But would still result in agreeing.
This statement has some truth.   
It  also holds  deeper meaning than what meets the eye! 
“If you have a more appealing outside” 
Is it safe to say that you may  get opportunity  based on how you 
look? 
If that is the case, does one settle?  Do you then do whatever 
needs to be done ?
Would on be smart to  get in where u fit in? 
( We All Know More Or Less Where Or What That Would Be! ) Or 
is it safe to say that knowledge will go over a face and body any 
time? 

One can look at another situation? 
Say you are  good looking with the added blessing: ( Beauty and 
Brains..... )
Would you get a fair go and show that you have a double pack to 
offer? 
Or would your true capability always stay getting overlooked?
 If when shown that you can do a job to the ultimate fullest; You  
may have lost because when exposed that you are not on a hoe 
role you may have made the boss mad and now he does not 
want you either way !  

“His ego got involved”


“WHAT A COLD TWIST.....”


SO WHAT DO WE DO?
 INVEST IN PLASTIC SURGERY AND ALL TO MAKE AN OUTSIDE A 
LIE? OR STILL PUT MORE TOWARDS KNOWLEDGE AND 
EDUCATION? 

“BECAUSE THAT'S GOING TO GET US FAR IN LIFE! “


Details | I do not know? | |

When Tonight Arrives

When Tonight Arrives.

When tonight arrives,
yet another whiskey-soaked, hazy search for absolution commences,
in nameless seedy dives,
where loneliness offers solace,
and self-pity thrives.

Staring at the bottle,
knowing it offers relief,
from the numbing pangs of grief,
while stripping down the edifices,
of trust and belief.

When tonight arrives,
with a million hearts exploding,
casting away loss,
and the comforting sense of foreboding,
I wait my turn at the guillotine,
bereft of peace,
moulting my skin,
as it strips away my clothing.

When tonight arrives,
without ceremony,
all innocence is lost,
my soul bearing the cost,
of tomorrow's pain,
cocooning my heart,
in a shroud of silence,
beneath mountains of frost.


Details | Narrative | |

Final oomph

It seems as if it were like yesterday
when the Latino community made their dwelling
where they used to meet and celebrate on Sundays
at St Paul’s parish, the second home for them.
Their gift of relationships and act of thanksgiving
portrayed in many chapters of their involvements;
their songs, laughters, and humble supplications
reminded me of their belonging to a family of the faithfuls.

Indeed, as I think of what we’ve built and formed
especially in many occasions or sacred celebrations;
I can’t help but recall those mem’ries with inspiration
that our journey must go on with God’s mercy for all.

The genesis of human formation, along with participation,
provides us with a clear understanding of their culture;
it’s a languge of their customs and traditions as God’s people,
lived in an environment where there’s caring and loving.

I cherish the moments when we held the kids’ confirmation,
also, their first communion preceded by their catechetical instructions;
such a milestone that everyone made it to turn up on these events,
like a promise, a homecoming that God awaits us all.

The eucharist that highlights our community gathering,
makes us aware that Christ is always at the center
of every individual’s life and effort for thanksgiving
this sacred meal is fundamental to family sharing.

Well, as our parish merges with the parish of the Assumption
changes, however, enable us to welcome them with openness;
activities, along with the calendar of events  that’s in store for us,
a journey of discovery, a process that will make us grow.


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 | I do not know? | |

Masks

Masks.

Fingers,
clawing at my face,
slipping beneath the facade,

tugging, tearing, flailing,

stripping off the veneer,
exposing the fragmented decay,
cloaked,
under this mask I wear today.

Hands,
groping for another layer,
embroidered on my thin skin,

peeling, rotting, searing,

shaving away the truths,
entwined in a jagged kiss,
revealing,
the vacuum of an emotional abyss.

Fleeing,
from myself yet again,
bound for nothingness,

desolate, cold, empty,

lost on barren pathways,
bruising my heart as I tread,
shuddering,
at the horrors that lie ahead.


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 | I do not know? | |

Pyaasa - Thirsty

pyaasa (thirsty) – for guru dutt

 

i’ll have none of it

the glittering vulgarity on crude display

puffed-up egos wrapped in vacuum-sealed packs

adorning the sterile aisles of shining malls with their endless racks

 

i’ll have none of it

the broken & battered souls swept up in the tide

of holidays by the sea & drinks on the ninth hole of the course

deaf to all cries & whimpers but for the closing bell of the bourse

 

i’ll have none of it

the endless parades of ostentatious pomp & raucous laughter

deadened spirits aspiring for nothing more than an unquenchable greed

haughtily trampling the ‘other’ in the crass pursuit of what next desire to feed

 

i’ll have none of it

the willful silence of the privileged few among the numberless many

so eloquently articulate & quick-witted in hour upon hour of polite chatter

yet mute & shushed by sips of chivas when the raging war outside doesn’t matter

 

i’ll have none of it

none of this nauseating mockery & none of this reeking sham

i’ll have none of it for i was there once & lapped up the vulgarity of it all

i’ll have none of it now, though, so you may as well put me up against the wall

 

i’ll have none of it now for i was there once & soaked in that intoxicating air

i’ll have none of it now, though, so if tonight i sleep forever, i’ll be the last one to care

 

(for guru dutt-saab, 1925 - 1964)


Details | Kyrielle | |

LIFE'S A JOURNEY

With its ups and downs and turning around
Life's a journey ,twenty-four seven;
From newborn to novice,even in high office
Life's a journey ,twenty-four seven;
Trials and temptations,ventures and vexations
Life's a journey ,twenty-four seven;
Learning or yearning,twisting or turning
Life's a journey ,twenty-four seven;
Betrothed to beloved,companion to consort
Life's a journey ,twenty-four seven.