I do not want to die
Like each virgin you bed
When you have ravished her
It's off with pretty head
I do not want to die
But…Oh to be with you!
The supreme ruler, KING
So handsome, yet so cruel
You wanted your revenge
On woman who betrayed
The one who broke YOUR heart
So you must have them slayed
But what am I to do
When brought before the throne?
When you have had your fill
You’ll bow to oath you’ve sworn
And here I am tonight
The Vizier's flesh and blood
My beauty may not save
So knowledge I impart
A story sweet I weave
As in peace you recline
On cushions of damask
In scented room divine
You’re lost in what I say
Your interest...at its height
And there I stop the tale
To be spared on this night
You ask to lie with me
Demurely, I refuse
I promise you delights
When I'm no longer Muse
And so you let me leave
The richness of your bed
Wanting to know the end
My tale plays in your head
Each night I leave undone
The story on my lips
And wantonly you beg
While grasping shapely hips
One thousand nights have passed
I stand before you now
With no tale left to give
Will love suffice somehow?
You come and touch my cheek
I look up in your eyes
"I've come to love you now
You are my love, my prize."
And so my life is spared
You whisper, "Sweetest Dove!"
My stories all forgot
You've fallen for my love
You tell me through the night
Your own love story fine
And now I let you taste
My flowing luscious wine
No virgin girl…now Queen
My love has set you free
And now Arabian nights
Are filled with ecstasy!
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015
I did not mean to snatch your heart
Like with the claw of a vorocious bird of pray
You fell into my unset trap
Speared yourself upon my harpoon
Which had only been hanging on the wall
You threw yourself into my way
stole my arrows and brandishing them with cupids blood
Punctured your heart without a thought
Other than the whisper of my name
You claim that I'm a siren
I've led you to your death
But it was the birds i sang to
Your name did not leave my unforgiving lips
With swollen eyes from crying
Filled with swirling colors of obsession
You beg to me and plead with me
Blaming me and cursing me
Claiming that i drug you here
Forgetting it was you who snuck in through my balcony
To watch me in the fountains
And listen to my voice
To see how the animals follow me
And witness how the moon becomes my robes
And the stars become my eyes
How the setting sun remains all night
Within the silk of my hair
how roses color my cheeks
In the darkness of the cold
And the world surrounds me
And the beauty of the light i behold
Where in this story did i bewitch you
Where did i make you call my name
Did i once respond or invite you to play a game
you claim i did this to you
When you only did it to yourself
did you enjoy your gaze upon the child of Cerynian
Did you think I'd become your obediant wife
When did i claim i loved you
How quickly you think of these blasphemous lies
Your not in love you simpleminded mortal
Your infatuated and in lust and your lust is a lie
Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2012
A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
In great respect of the band I grew up listening to
as sure as Mom passed down Saturday Chores
for I had been chosen to scrub bathroom floors `
Yet a familiar sound would bring me to keep scrubbing
The red album, The blue album , The White album
Then .. Abbey Road , always remembering the sad look on
Ringo's face , something hard to understand underneath~
I get it now, what you were saying all those years ago ,
the many sad lonely tears , secret tears , secret fears
For Maxwell's Hammer was a real one . It wanted silence
Going back ..remembering when John Lennon died
I was in Arkansas saddened with the world .
Then seeing his face saying " Drag isn't it "
No .. this was not my hero in music and song .
he was a stand in hired William , he filled his shoes
bringing diversity to create so much beautiful music from loss
One left standing , alone;; grief struck on back cover ~
The other identity hidden, tried to be part of ..coming together
his world of secrets
He to suffers today , in fear , Faul~
Too many years gone by .let us tell the Truth. Let us be free
The very sad long and winding Road ~
Let us Bury our real Paul.
No more " Mystery tour "
No more fear
Let him be in peace ~
Inspired by " The Last Testament of George Harrison , Is Paul Dead ? "
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
Look at the 1st quarter moon of the 7th
Day of the 7th month in the naked sky.
There! The two stars Vega and Altair
Blinded by love like Yaksha & his beloved
In the Bard Kalidas’s epic poem Meghdootam.
Vega neglecting her weaving and
Altair allowed the cows to stray.
So did lovelorn Yaksha in his duties to Kubera.
Dereliction in each case infuriated the kings.
Vega and Altair separated by the Milky Way
And Yaksha from Alkapuri in the Himalayas to Ramgiri.
Yaksha expurgated by separation for a year.
Vega succeeded in arousing the sympathy
Was allowed to meet Altair once in a year
Provided no rain on the eve of seventh
To unite in the milky way-Scorpion region
On the bank of Amanogawa river.
Prospero proved wiser expiating Ferdinand
By his log bearing as ‘trials of thy love’.
Reducing Miranda as ‘rich gift’ or ‘acquisition’
Forever as compensation to Ferdinand’s pains?
For contest : your best poem
Explanations of foreign words in the poem:
Japanese “Tana” means a shelf in English and “bata” is a transformation of “hata” which
means a loom
"weaving with the loom (bata) placed on the shelf (tana)",
One popular Tanabata custom is to write one's wishes on a piece of paper, and hang that
piece of paper on a specially erected bamboo tree, in the hope that the wishes become true.
According to a Chinese legend, the two stars Altair and Vega,
Yakshas : name of the Kubera’s servant
Meghdootam: Megh (rainy clouds and Dootam means messenger)An epic poem written in
Sanskrit in the year 400 A.D. by the great Indian Bard Kalidas – meaning cloud messenger
Ramgiri ; a hill near Nagpur in Central India
Alka: the name of the city in Himalayan region also known as Alkapuri
Kubera: the God of Wealth in the Hindu mythology
the Amanogawa (River of Heaven),
Prospero, Ferdinand and Miranda- the character in Shakespeare’s The Tempest.
Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2010
To thee I sing O’ muse of verse,
Of our world that the Gods do curse.
For what Gods are these who cruelly play,
Their wicked games, for which humans pay.
Not content with a world of joy & love
They spite us all from Olympus above.
To try us all & break our backs,
As this is drama their world lacks.
For even Achilles was to die,
Yet his name lives on as time goes by.
So let me sing to you of a Great man,
Who’s name too lives on, after his sands have ran.
Charlie his name a heart so pure,
Full of love & passion, & courage sure.
Strode in he did to save poor souls,
One loving lady & her three foals.
‘Tis true his anger at times did boil,
But his effort was not mere toil.
‘Coz though the fires sometimes burned,
He & the foals soon were learned,
That in peace & harmony, joyous times were had,
A man found proud to call Dad.
With he at their side those foals matured,
& They to his nature became inured.
His fair traits & wit passed down,
Championer of rights, humour of renown.
But alas the Gods were not appeased,
Their unending anger had not eased,
So Zeus sent down his violent bolt
& struck Charlie down, what was his fault?
Who knows but they I shall not dwell,
‘Tis but part of the story that I do tell.
For when he passed on & spirit released,
His body slowed & heart was ceased,
He left himself without a sound
& found himself to Olympus bound.
As he soared high like the dove
To the mount of the Gods high above,
He smiled to us all & sent a kiss
To all the people that he’ll miss.
& miss him back so we will,
That emptiness which we know can’t fill.
But hush your mourning & your sadness,
As he wished it show your gladness
That Charlie came & he all did touch,
Be thankful that we have that much.
So as I close this verse I do sing,
Aphrodite’s love & the fire Hephaestus does bring.
I say to thee be angry not at the Gods,
At Hera’s scheming & Zeus’s vile rods.
For they too bow to the fates,
Who plan our loves & plot our hates.
I thank thee all for your time,
For listening to my Ode to Charlie; my idle rhyme.
How I wish though, the outcome I could reverse,
I sing to thee, O’ muse of verse.
Copyright © Matt Riley | Year Posted 2007
Incineration of Love God Madan (Cupid) 15
Originally written in Hindi by my late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
1899 to 1994. The work was written in Hindi somewhere around 1965-70.
Editing and English version by Ravindra K Kapoor.
Hindi Title ‘Madan Dahan’ 15
Proud entered in Cupid's mind
Cupid would remain unsatisfied,
With world’s sensuous pleasures,
Passion had brought him here,
On the evil path of destruction.
Deprived Cupid* could not bear,
This lonely meditation,
Far from the common reach,
Amid the high snow peaks.
Thoughts emerging in Shanker's mind
How his weak human beings,
Would be able to save the society,
And respect and honor in life,
From the degraded sin provokers.
Kanpur India 6th May 2012.
Protected under the copy write provisions of Poetry Soup as per US laws.
Cupid* Madan- The Indian name of Cupid.
Shanker*- Other name of Lord Shiva.
Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2012
Incineration of Indian Love God Madan (Cupid) 7
Originally written in Hindi by my late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
1899 to 1994
English version by Ravindra K Kapoor.
Prelude to this epic.
According to Indian mythology Madan the Love God or Cupid was asked to divert the attention of Lord Shiva*, the supreme God of Hindus, who was lost in deep meditation, so that Lord Shiva may be requested to help the Gods from the attacks of the demon supreme immortal Tarakasur. However, when Madan disturbed Him in meditation Shiva became too furious and opened His third eye. Madan the Cupid God got burnt by the fire of the anger of his third eye. This epic reveals many interesting incidents about this story later in this series…..
Hindi name ‘Madan Dahan’ 07
Buds were all smiling to bloom and
To welcome the Lord of the day,
By opening their pretty mouths
To absorb the dew bubbles kissing their faces.
The living and even the lifeless too,
Were all fascinated by the charms of Nature,
Madan* entered in such an intoxicating arena,
And became mad with the flowing passion.
But finding Shiva* in deep meditation,
He thought about his domination,
And its influence on the entire living being,
Which exists on this pretty Earth.
Kanpur India 27th April 2012
Protected under the copy write provisions of Poetry Soup as per US laws.
Madan*- Hindi name of the Love God Cupid
Shiva*- The Lord of destruction and creation as per Indian mythology.
Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2012
Alligator with fierce but captivating eyes sometimes red glare
The Man with a title given by the High Priest of his Tribe
A man gifted at Birth for the World to be entertained by.
Though much more then the Entertainer inside ~
This Man a poet , a man of wisdom and power
Playing his cordless accordion or Guitar on the tiny Bar
Powerful stares , people dancing crazy underneath a moonlit sky
His trance , a spell on others , not to be denied
A Force stronger then you will know , be dared to reckon with
His name was given at birth for a reason , A Scorpio
Legacy throughout Europe and deep woods in the Bayou
Alligator loved by many , playing Jimmy Hendrix to Zydeco
Alligator , the man on fire , women can not help but desire
In Monterey Bay, California, he plays , magical surprise
be warned if you go with date to see him "Alligator "
At the end of your dancing to Zydeco and blues
your date will be in Trance , one glare into his eyes
she will be wanting He at the end of the night , your demise.
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
Hi everybody. I just posted a blog about finally getting my book published.
It has 176 pages and it titled it "POLISHED STONES". I designed the cover which is dark red with a silver ribbon around the edge and it looks just amazing to my tired eyes.
Just wanted to share this news and thank each one of you who have been part of this journey with me.
If you want to take a peek at it you will find it at - authorhouse.com - and to the right of their name is a square to type in the title with my name which should bring it up.
Thanks again to all who have been so faithful and encouraging with comments; you have helped make it all possible.
Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2012
In the summer of 2007, God received an angel.
The Angels name was Katie.
Katie was sweet & Katie was good
But I guess God wanted sweet old Katie
Out of the hood.
She did all she could, she gave all she had
But never in her life treated anyone bad.
Jesus, I know that she’s good
I know that she is great
But sometimes I just hate,
Hate that she is gone
Hate that she is away
I think about her everyday.
Everyone & Everything is changing
Family is falling apart,
Oh why it’s breaking my heart.
Tearing the house down acting like pure clowns
God you got a gift
But sometimes I wish,
Wish you hadn’t took my Angel
Wish you would have let her stay a little longer.
God received an Angel.
The Angels name was Katie
I hope Katie is with me daily
Until I die & visit her in the sky
House is up wholesale, everyone thinking
“WHAT THE HELL”
Angels, Angels, Angels
Angels flying here, Angels flying there
Angels are flying around just about any & everywhere
You took a couple of my families angels in strange ways
I get up in the morning wondering when is my day
& who will be next to depart us.
My heart was broken when you took my Angel
Oh, why did you have to take her,
Her out of all people
She followed the rules and the laws
But I am wondering is that all.
Copyright © Sharika Sellman | Year Posted 2012
Oh Flora, Choral Beauty
The Sun Rises With You
Out of An Abyss of Chaos, Yet No Piece of Beauty Is Lost
I Can't Grant You Nobility, But Our Love's Vitality
Will Last Till The Gates
of Hades's Halls
They Will Push, They Will Pull, And Their Power Will Grow
Just To Have A Piece
of Our Love's Immortality
For It They Cannot Wait
Subdued By Desperation's Phantom
But I Will Always Be One of Them
So, My Dear, Please Understand
I'm Just A Chevalier Drenched With My Sins
The Hope Will Fade
The Rose Will Turn Black
The Promise Was Just I Lie, Though I Forbade
I Will Just Be Another Empty Heart, Slain
By Your Loosening Grip On My Sanity
I Will Die, You Will Be Free
Believe - It's The Way Things Must Be
My Dear, Just Understand
Copyright © Wyatt Loethen | Year Posted 2012
Long, long ago and longer
When I was but a child
I read of Doctor Livingstone
Who ventured in the wild.
Dr. David had no fear
He went where few had gone.
This missionary and explorer
To Africa was drawn.
The unsophisticated natives
Didn’t know the wealth they had
Allowed Livingstone to name their falls
When he shouted out “Egad.
I’ve found what no white man has seen
I name it ‘Victoria Falls’”.
When back in England he was touted.
But lack of adventure palls.
He was sent back to Africa
To find source of the Nile.
He traveled around that continent
And became lost for a while.
Henry Morton Stanley when he found him, said
“Mr Livingstone I presume?”
He died in the heart of Africa.
Westminster Abbey holds his tomb.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2012
I stand solo, aloof in the snow, a precipitation
of words cascading from a nebulous eye
Fathoms wide, forever dripping like wax onto
a punctured paper serving a Sanskrit sky,
and spreading into sibilant sentences swiftly
sliding from syllable sorcery to soulful serenades
so silent in the shunting shout of white. Poetry
fills a churning void where novels cannot wade,
Phrases solidifying into idolisation of emotion
itself, isolation of the isometric individuality that so
Crushes my keeling cavern of thought, ever
careering from caustic career path to another new low,
Which so seems to crumble into crazy paving’s
counterpart. In this first freeze-frame we can all grasp
A fraction of the familiar, oh so fractured by the
fumbling nature of enforced form. Freed by the gasp
Of a photo-opportunity glowing phosphorescent
with firsts, I am no longer framed by the festering
Constraints of non-fiction, and folding my fond
farewells carefully, I hesitantly face a vision pestering
Me, fearing the fiend that would open maw and
gnaw beneath my feet, evoking an avalanche of the
Vernacular, but I am further past this unfed
existence now, loosened from the fickle friendship of a
Winter thaw. Focus not your gaze on the grinding
gauze of the greats, for the pressing pestilence of
Perishable poetry is elsewhere pondering its parallels
in posturing and post-modern pining for forlorn love.
Praise no other; I am poetry.
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
Here lies too great gentlemen, father and son.
Named after Edgar Alan Poe, so great a man was he.
But now, alas! They are now where Poe is,
There spirits having returned to God until that Glorious Day.
Copyright © Rainbow Promise | Year Posted 2015
here we are comming up on St. Patricks Day
and by some miracle of God
i am forced to write about
some saint named Declan
no, you don't know his name
i did'nt either
but God has a way
of making the unknown known
they say He does'nt share His glory
but that's a lie. God does give glory
or i would'nt be writing about
this fellow Declan
people talk about St.Patrick
but he was'nt the first
to bring christianity to Ireland
15 years before St. Patrick arrived
Declan brought Irelands first christian
settlement in Ardmore
with a monastary that spread
christianity through Ireland.
but the one thing that impressed me
about St. Declan the most was
that he has a stone named after him
a stone that after a prayer
crossed an ocean to retrieve a bell
and on another occassion
guided a boat to safty
they say that the stone still sits
on a somewhat less impressive beach
i'm writing this because
by mistake i thought Declan
was code for "the klan"
which we all know is not so impresive
in the united states
and as an apology
i was wrong
but a little light from God
replaced a bulb that had went out
and the name Declan has a shiny new coat
to wear this St.Patricks Day
Copyright © The Situation | Year Posted 2012
Elite few for their political reasons & scheming
in deception drew many feeble fellows with a tint of religious emotion
Men who do evil in the name of good and serve the devil in the name of God
Wonder why we would worship deities if we have to protect them and defend their cause
and their feeble faithfuls faithfully fan a false cause
You claimed to be anti western education
But you are pro western technology & ammunition
fruits of a failed marriage, the abomination of amalgamation
Men of customized violence & signature blood shed
Lo you've turned a green land red
survivors who once bled are now dead
You claimed your problem was the government
But you bombed the unarmed and innocent
I know of a place you'll never raze or dent
Too many Mosquitoes standing untouched and fat
Yet you set ablaze a moving Church rat
Which heavens do you connect from your mat
Some Say you are fanatical and political
Others say your cause is unrealistic, cannibalistic & tribalistic
Whatever the case, I loathe your bloody passion & fashion
You smoked to ashes mother and child
and returned untimely to dust a groom and his bride
Yet some keep mum, others speak in tongues tender and mild
You double the woes of the Niger-area
and in your folly, threw stones at the market square
You've lost some of your own and soon to be deserted alone
Imagine the opportunities lost at a senseless cost
In my mother-tongue, I bid you to end this wrong
I have had this burden borne like a laden camel
it is true our beliefs differ in Isaac and Ishmael
Yet i entreat you in the name of our father Abraham
Let folks flock in your pastures without fear of harm
For infected with dirge is my song that is sung
True we do not share a common tongue
But its crystal clear we share a common skin
The victims of your transferred aggression ask,'What is our sin?'
are we the government or the western education so forbidden?
Sheath your explosive swords and let words detonate from your mouth
Remember the support and base of every North is a supplying South
C'emeka Mbah 9:50am 19/05/2012
Copyright © Chukwuemeka Mbah | Year Posted 2012
Oh lonely Inevitable Bear,
Padding claws, death in white
Sorrow in recurring nightmare
Instinct’s test; fight or flight?
Camouflage against the fence,
A challenge; my subconscious fear
Ominous slowly moving silence,
“Let me in, there’s a bear out here!”
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
What is our purpose?
Why are we here?
Why are we here left in fear shedding all these tears
starring at this demond in this mirrior
blinded by everything I see so clear
where am i going after this life? and is it near?
people always always saying swagga shut up stupid clowns
I see all you frowning behind that fake smile
I can help all im spreading the word around my town
to make you turn that frown upside down
they have you in the palm of there hands cant you see it?
If it wasnt for them we wouldnt be asking all these bulls*** questions
and not to mention who are you to be asking me who im reppin
you should get hit in the mouth but
before all that idiotic violence let me talk to you.....
they got you all so corrupt but yall dont know so you dont give a f***
they have you like a trout with a kook caught in its mouth some slip and get
away there the lucky ones who can actually say
I have truly been saved
I have to be brave and put up a fight till the end of my days
they say im headed in the wrong direction but thats the governement
there just like a nasy infection
theyll always be here picking at your brain saying all the answers are in this certain section
always saying dont use Jesus's name in vain but every king has his rain
all loss through out years to come its people like me that will put your name to shame
am i satanic NO these are just my devilsh thoughts
theres turning back im self sustained put in this hell knowing very well that i shall rise above all these brainless people that are stuck in this hell get out of that brainwashed shell
to escape this long life lasting jail not knowing you are rotting in this cell
I really do care about my people
the government they dont there the true definition of evil
they work for lucifer so they do what they have to, to get thier share
piece the puzzle and you will find it
Jesus Christ is luccifer he has all you misguided he himself and his dominions where all behind it.
Copyright © Ray Padilla | Year Posted 2012
I do not know?
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...
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013
(Another Name for Gen Y(My Generation)
Beer goggles and Whiskey Rivers,
Pain numbing remedies that exude depression,
Marijuana oxygen and pain killer shivers,
Innocent faces with devilish expression,
Blood red eyes with cocaine explanations,
White lies, cooked up in haste,
For the aforementioned, sell your feelings for a taste!
Young lady, young lady, impossible to find,
What has become of “Daddy’s Little Girl?”
Grew up as billboard, all body and no mind,
Succumbed to degradation just to fit in this world,
Princess? No More!
With bitter wounds and sans support,
Responds to “bxxch” labeled as “whore”
Sex for poison and sex for sport!
Young man, young man, could you bear to walk alone?
With choreographed legs and clay molded spine?
Quoting the majority, speaking with your friends’ tone,
Holding onto shirttails while blindly disregarding lines,
Unprotected sex just to help you feel alive,
Forced to buy diapers with the pennies you have earned,
From one into intoxicated night you did not want to be deprived,
Came a baby by a girl whose name you had to learn!
Young lady, Young man, both working like a slave,
To provide for a family that neither wished to know,
They scream as their dreams get sealed within a grave,
Essential sacrifices because the baby has to grow,
A self-destructive generation, corrupted and vexed,
Generation Y, is Generation XXX
Copyright © Audonus Taylor | Year Posted 2011
Cold nights in darkness
In darkness I lay
Tossing and turning
Waiting for the day
My mind is sleepless
Never stopping to rest
My mind won't have sleep
As a regular guest
I walked in bright forests
On an old beaten trail
When out of nowhere
Out walked a snail
"Well, good day sir.
My name is Chance."
I must be sleeping
Or in some sweet trance
Me and this snail walked
Down that old beaten trail
When we stumbled upon
A quiet green vale
With no path down
No path to descend
Mr. Chance left me
He was no good friend
I climbed down great rocks
Small ledges and crags
When out of thin air
Appeared a man in rags
"Hello dear boy,
quite a climb, is it not?"
Am I dreaming?
Or maybe I'm shot
This old man was odd
Not a normal old man
He was quite muscular
With a dark olive tan
His name was Grandpa
Not a grandpa of mine
He told me I'd make it
And that I'd do fine
I must be wigging
Or at least I am ill
Or maybe, just maybe
I took a great spill
This dream is too great
For it to be real
I think I like it
I hope I don't heal
So where was I?
Talking to the old man
When I reached the bottom
He giggled and ran
I followed his footsteps
Along a cool bright stream
When suddenly I was
Ejected from my dream
Morning has come
Too early I'd say
I'd like to dream more
But my dream cannot stay
Copyright © Kyle Perkins | Year Posted 2008
Lend me a listen
And hear this tale of woe
The life and times
Of a man 'called' Joe
Keep still, keep quiet
Hush, listen to the sound
The silent footsteps of a man
As he walks his native ground
Joe was born long, long ago
Across the waters blue
In a land of plenty
There, Joe the babe grew
Five generations deep
A lifetime of needs supplied
Hard work, respect for self
Full of heritage and pride
Now, Joe's given name was 'Shakka'
A father, a husband, a strong man
One day while hunting
Was snatched from the 'Motherland'
In a ship made of wood
With white sails full mast
Joe and fellow countrymen
Were in the deep below casted
Please, listen a little longer
Can you hear the pain
The fear, the confusion
The frustration of chains
Landing on the auction block
Stripped of humanity and pride
There, Shakka's name was lost
And all his rights deprived
The years were hard, the master cruel
In a strange and foreign land
With obstacles to suppress
Still Shakka (called Joe) remained a man
The whip couldn't break that freedom spirit
Held deep within his soul
Joe vowed that freedom dream
His people someday restore
Listen, can you hear the silence
As his people struggle on
Keep still? ...Keep quiet?
Has all the work been done?
Prison doors closing
Refusing the back
A borrowed ear, Joe's tale's been told
Yet the struggle remains
Speak Out! Shout Loud! the time has come
Total freedom we must regain
Copyright © Hattye Jones | Year Posted 2006
Was not every one a child?
Joy to their mother and father
And growing up as a kid
With wonder and laughter
Then they go to school
Playing games having fun
And become a voice for others
When they don’t have one
Then some give hope to the people
Giving speeches from their tower
Then commits inhumane atrocities
When they get the taste of power
Today the worlds are full of hate
An evil that has no end
While many starves to death
For war money are spend
Men like Adolph Hitler, Robert Mugabe
George bush Jr, tony Blair, ayatollah Khomeini
Kim jong ll, idi amin, Benjamin Netanyahu
Just to name a few criminals of humanity
Pol pot murders millions in Cambodia
And the world close their eyes
The unspeakable crimes in Rwanda
Where over 500.000 people dies
I guess if the country had oil
They would have been alive today
But if you are poor nation
The United Nations looks the other way
Some kill in the name of religion
Some kills to steal your land
Some are kill by drones for just
Attending a wedding function
Hundreds of innocent are killed
By drones that they can’t see
But they are just collateral damage
But not those at Benghazi
North Korea says we have
weapons of destruction's right here
But they went to search in Iraq
Kill millions but find it nowhere
The evils of war will continue
Many more bad days still to past
More war criminals to be born
And be children playing on the grass
Many choose to cover their eyes
If it doesn't affect them, they don’t care
So while sit here writing this poem
I can’t help it but shed a tear
Copyright © kasim ishmael | Year Posted 2012
When I think of the time
Called January 2011
I think about the people
Who had gone to Heaven?
Just before Me
To greet the Father and the
With full disclosure
Of the Spirit
With a total dispensation
They left this World
They left for a new start
Leaving me behind
In the hands' of the Lord
Fore the Saviors' Kingdom
Where Restoration was part
Only due to the restoration
Restoration of the Heart....
In memory they must leave
The life and all of their love
That which was there....
In the Name of GOD
In the hands of loved one's
Many of whom...WHICH
I didn't understand
Gone to be with Jesus'
Who is waiting there?
Where we shall all meet
And we all shall be there
And when it is time....
The time for Judgement
Then it is time for Judgement
At the 'Cross Roads'
Where Life first begun..
And let Thy Will be done
In the name of the Father
And the Son
And the Holy Ghost....
Copyright © Gary Fields | Year Posted 2012
for Thodti trailing barefeet his dried coconut-stick broom on cracked macadam
in the gutter festering oozing fresh month-old drying turds urine remains of fed-up banana-leaves skins withered jasmine garlands drained motor-oil from scooter-taxis overfed flies lean stray kids fowl cows
all that was wonder from afar
magic mythic mystery the lingo of gods on earth
the brahmin vegetarian clattering-pans over order shouting eating-hotels
as though the heavens deigned to camp down on his doorstep
derailed on their celestial inter-galactic circuit
his mind if he cared to exercise one was of little use to him
nor were they to his ancestors
called upon only to clean the bottoms off those who
shat upon his forefathers for ages
his only use for his intelligence
is to know his place
minus the alphabet
minus the patinenkilkkanakku
minus the grandold Vedic mystic gods and rishis
minus the right to think for himself
only the dullard’s right to die daft dull damned
and be reborn in the womb of ignorance
So much for your Godly advice Charioteer Krishna
For don’t Gods only talk to Gods on Earth
Detach yourself first then
Do not feel for those you kill
For what lofty ideal the Mahabharatha
pitted mythically gambling polyandrous cousins
Is India today a magical-realist myth
or a cranking up Indo-Pak Armageddon
Sattva Rajas Tamas
Sattva Rajas Thodti
Sattva: pure intelligence and goodness
Rajas: impure mental energy and restless passion
Tamas: dullness and inertia
Blodok or belodok (also beluduh): Malay for large-eyed goby, found in tropical or
equatorial muddy flats
Gopuram: the tiered, sculptured towers over the main entrances to Hindu temples
Kannagi: heroine of the medieval Tamil epic Cilappatikaram
Kolusu: ornamental anklet chains with bells worn by Tamil women
Kunkumam: saffron ( yellow or red) powder serving as adornment marks of
auspiciousness on women’s faces
Patinenkilkkannakku: the traditionally collective name for eighteen Tamil classical
Tali: usually gold chains worn by married Tamil women round the neck or tumeric-
stained cords in lieu of
Thodti: a caste name for Night Soil Men
© T.Wignesan May 26/27, 1997 Revised June 2002 Paris From the sequence/collection: “Words for a Lost Sub-Continent”.
Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2012
Hardened by indecision
True conviction's at odd
Recompense beyond belief
Some-time's it get's
To play the part
From death do us part
From the truth until the
Dawn morning early light
In the heat of the night
We wrangle with the Devil
To win the fight
Treed by disease
With pain and strief
We vowel to move on
Fore we are vested
For this very life
Fore they killed our
Our only Son
His name was Christ
For this ye must pay
We travel there where thou'
Art not travel
Where evil may be
As wide as the mountain
But, as deep as the sea
Thee repave's of tragedy
Our Legion's are many
Heveanly hath no furry
Well, we have got plenty
We must submit to the Will
The Will to be free
That thou shall be done
On Earth for eternalty
Our legion's are one
To the commitment of
His new kingdom of one
Proclaimed to be
Under the jurisdiction
Of the Lord and His Holy Son
Till the brink of eternity
In the name of the Lord
And the Holy One
Till such that day
That the Kingdom has come
In the name of the Father
And the Holy Ghost
The Lord beseech you too....meet you at the Rapture...let it define you...
Copyright © Gary Fields | Year Posted 2011
I do not know?
My name is little Jonathan, I am old 4 years old
My daddy never loved me; my mummy’s hugs are cold
My sister is always screaming, she sometimes don’t come home
When mummy and daddy both go out, I’m left here on my own
My name is little Jonathan, I’m 7 years old today
My skin has purple blotches, that won’t go away
Daddy is always angry; he comes home late at night
I hear mummy and daddy rowing, that then turns to a fight
My name is little Jonathan and now I’m almost eight
My body is so scrawny, because I haven’t ate
The kids at school make fun of me, because of my dirty clothes
I’m use to taking the punches now; I’m use to blocking the blows
My name is little Jonathan, and soon I will be nine
A lady came to my school one day and said it will be fine
I do not live with mummy now, I live with someone new
I have some really lovely clothes, my body’s better too
I’m told what mummy and daddy done, was wrong, Thiers no excuse
A child cannot defend themselves, defend themself from child abuse
Copyright © simon nixon | Year Posted 2012
Will you burn the earth`s skin to glass?.
Yet, right there , in Harmony of `69
I bent in adoration
before the dusky pearl of your forehead
the soft slopes of your never-ending body
shifting under a sea of blankets
Oh! treasure of treasures !
in the inner-sanctum of the
tent-temple of my emerald heart,
filling it with that attar fragrance ,
that compassionate smile,
that yearning voice,
quieting my storm
to swim your sultry sea.
How could the world ever be the same again ?
rooted like stark brood of the Black stone ,
rocks parried thuddingly the capricious charge of waves
and subdued the swell and swirl of a dark ,disturbed sea.
The summer night was short
cleaved to you like a calf to its mother.
Your dark-eyed nipples breasted the blanket ,
occulting the coarseness of Harmony .
We rocked to cradle the peace in the galaxy,
with love milking the way
to the morning star .
Winking over the mount,
Venus caught us intertwined ,
drooling like babes,
I, summer cloud paramour of
you Landie ,
altar of my sensuous sacrifice
sweet naos forever
compassionate cosmic essence
for a gallant stripling
starving for affirmation.
i nested in mouths
now strident symphonies,
keen enough to split
into mutual opposites
that grappled , grinded and finally clashed ,
giving birth to a higher union.
I tattoo your name , Landie, on the stretched skin of the earth.
I pullulate the waves in your name
sackbutting the syllables
till tremolo breaks it breathlessly to foam
on the glistening beach of your belly
Wrinkles I didgeridoo into the dark blanket of our night,
stringing out your diadem of stars
I spiral you stately across my deep.
from the tug of your knees
i trolled our anchor through love`s flow
girding it close to my wound-up heart.
"Go now love….spare me a thought "
Your voice and a gentle seabreeze wafted me out.
Diving at dawn with a whale of love
between waking dunes
capped by sourfigs , bleary-eyed revellers,
the blue-blue sky warbled
“one and one and one is three
One thing you got know ,is you got to be free
Come together, right now , over me.”
Copyright © Neil Mcdonald | Year Posted 2011
if poop could be named anything what would you name it? id name it bob and id make him sit on a log in a bog and say get out of here you hog that looks like fog from a bog thats near a log with bob sitting on it who attacked the wacking wackers with all his heart and shattered, he fell to the floor. dont name your poop bob because then youll have tears in your heart.
Copyright © Matt Poopenheimer | Year Posted 2012