Saw Brecht rolling in his grave
And Weill gasping for air.
And the masterful Brecht rave,
And rant and try to be fair.
(if that is possible for his rage,)
that audience-tested Happy endings
by TV and Hollywood rule the age
and color rosy, these times' being
With gorge rising say, we all love
Those Happy Endings, so addicted
And far into labored joy they shove
Thus, the truth of our lives we ignore
With plenty of joy and sorrow sure,
And lead so willingly by the "corps."
By The River.
At the estuary of the Amazons the water is muddy and shallow and
there are no undercover bosses, pretending to be one of the people
who live in houses on stilts on the small islands where the river
meets the sea, blends and loses its power; for those who have sailed
the oceans no river is big. On the delta, of the great river, live people
who get their income from fishing they are poor yet free from prying
bosses those who buy the river and the sea for exploitation and make
people into low paid worker; destitution without pride.
Every group of houses on the islands have a shop that sells sweets,
cigarettes and Coca Cola, the fisherman smokes, children drink cola,
America´s cultural export reaches every corner of our cerulean orb,
Camel is a brand not an animal, Winston is a night riding cowboy.
This means nothing for the people here, who try to catch the Boto,
(pink river dolphin) which is rich in protein and tastes good.
The smile of a child,trying to climb on his foot,
trusts the mother to hold on ,and that builds his youth.
the child as a youth moves on every possibility
trusting on his teacher and his reliability
Then the life takes the youth to the next level,
challenging his credibility and making him face hell.
Along with experience he learns the legacy,
that trust is more when there is intimacy.
Slowly by pace the trust grows cent by cent
with gradual involvement and engagement.
Then there's a task and a timeline to keep,
and he finds trust works very well in a partnership
And finally the task is achieved and a smile on his lips,
The glory is great ,and such simple is the skill of leadership.
THERE IS NOTHING LIKE A DAME –
and there is no dame like a building society or a bank!
There may be nothing like me, but I assure you
the world would have gone to hell but for organised sex -
if boys and girls were left to nature’s provenance,
a person like me would be nowhere at all.
Oh, I know how to milk attraction
and stabilise what is essentially of short duration:
if boys and girls were left to innocence
there’d be no delighting old men.
If that sounds unfair, I didn’t make the rules -
all this spontaneity leaves everyone very poor,
the Church, the magistrates and the building societies
are all depending on the regulation of love.
It’s the people who won’t smile who bother me,
hard fitted, easy suited, do they think it’s all for free?
(C) Rosemarie Rowley
From IN MEMORY OF HER (2008)
I dedicate this poem to them who are ignorant and making statements on innocent girls that were raped and killed in India.
Disturbance creates crystal ball for heeling flirt.
irresponsibilities perform failure of skills and spreads dirt.
reliabilities of options confirm the intellect of a utilizer,
that runs a system; a person becomes consultant or an advisor,
firms establish a uniform asks young girls to wear a short skirt.
conversation counts in matters also smile draws relationship,
Academic education and experience fails if it takes nudity step,
the system is based on production, progress and growth,
time is value, money is source that never counts someone's hurt.
personal skill counts in an interview to differ a colouring shirt.
caste, colour, religion, language or a boundary that never counts,
if corruption or selfishness profound fails if honesty not in account,
something is different unaffordable that attitudes fail to apply,
we develop injustice, forcible manners in our daily amounts.
TRESPASSERS SHOULD BE SHOT
Your own computer, where they should not go,
'tis your own place, your Heaven or your Hell
All sacred are the words they should not know,
Nor spy upon, some things you'd never tell.
The scum of life know secrets to the lock,
They play among your bits, yes ev'ry byte.
And troubled nights, not sleeping like a rock
You'll laugh it off, as just imagined plight.
But know you well, conspiracies they thrive,
from cyberspace, they bring you false alarm,
Intimidation keeps their cause alive
Their snooping's meant to bring you naught but harm.
If you've uneasy feeling someone's there
Then know you well, they're with us ev'rywhere.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
When I fall sick I found the importance of my sound body.
Otherwise I ignored my practice to live with the hard treatments.
When you punched me I cried with pain and prayer for mercy hints.
Please forgive me oh lord Christ my soul is yours but little moody.
My mind is worshipper of devil. my evil spirit speaks loudly.
I know I run for my benefit never care who is dying thirsty,
I know I killed the appetite of a human open the fire with cursety.
I never thought of your chase I walked fast to hide face with hoody.
So nobody can identify the task that I killed innocence of children.
Raped women for my fun. never encounter that i committed sin.
I'm warrior fighting for my nation got a certificate to exploit others,
I 'll be honoured with these achievements if I harass my brothers.
My actions are appreciable and acknowledged for further study,
A community's progress is based on references you know buddy.
Rare earth materials in cars and phones
help us hear and travel and stay in touch.
Much of human capital is in loans,
funding needs like a societal crutch.
Every device turns over in a year
to support immediate stock deadlines.
Endless mining is what we have to fear.
Endless growth is feeding our fat felines.
Greenland is our next source of rare earth stock.
When Greenland is depleted, where to go?
Antarctic continent at six-o-clock
is next place to mine for capital flow.
Like retired folks, it will not be long
when new generations find it all gone.
The way stretches forward, the infinity path
Every shape well defined, by the certainty of math
Great ferns surround, curved in huge Fibonacci arcs
While trees, gods of forest, are discontinuities in bark
The air is still and it's gentle touch oddly cool
And a visiting writer would lie about a pool
And a nymph. Or a vast Aire kingdom on high:
Beauty's present as the trees, though concealed from the sky
I followed her here, for where else would she dwell
Not hidden away in some black and white cell
The most perfect line, shaping me and my soul
Once my love now my breath, my quest takes a great toll
This cool jungle is our home as I try to define her:
I'm a textbook on the harm of obsession's spur.
THE BLIND IMAGE
Once a beggar was sitting at the edge of the thoroughfare
And many put their soul’s guilt as coins in his bowl,
As his dog lay nearby eying passersby like an owl,
Wagging, whining, whimpering and barking for the fare.
When he passed away, all passersby dropped coins and care
And his kin dared to install his image with dog and a bigger bowl;
They guarded it like dogs, warring, wining and dining out of the bowl.
Soon, there was built a vault with a gazebo; they reigned without care;
Tales were spun on the dog’s tail and myths meandered on the beggar;
Some claimed it was he in Jericho called David’s son to get back sight;
And motley crowds started bowing low, circling the beggar’s image,
In frenzied piety; thus a modern deity was born out of a dog and beggar;
Many, many stories appear on how to curry favor with the pauper’s sight,
And many more tarry in faith day and night burying worries in his image.
From door to door until the light,
players cruise the Porto night.
Endless streams of cat dance haze,
private like their secret stays.
Loose and warm and smooth and sweet,
magic merges into body heat.
Oxana dances on her private stage,
Daniella lures them into her cage.
The Porto river pulls out to sea,
and drains the anger out of me.
The music flows into my ears,
and calms the storm that rages here.
Through these doors I am revealed,
my twisted heart is washed and healed.
First the line/
Next the heavy sinker !
Dealing with Tony is like dealing with a real stinker !
It's so not what you know/
Rather it's in who you blow !
Out cooking the books for Tony/
He'll be the best asset in getting you a loan,
The pool shark Jones had just left the premises/
Out cooking the books for Tony !
Mr. Jones was sleeping around on the misses/
At one time he thought he was some contender ?
Pressed for questions his approach was all wrong/
Out there painting the town then sleeping with the fishes/
Yet couldn't even bother to pay the dinner tab/
Now their cleaning all of the dishes/
Loose lips tend to sink ships when there out numbered/
They may be out tripping along with Rosie The Derivator !
Hence, the line was suddenly drawn in the sand !
Yet too many there be that try to stick it to the man ?
Within time elapse their can come pain/
Like not having you in my arms is driving me insane !
Two Kanucks' came back from The Jersey Shore !
One knew Tone;
While the other schmuck was only half Sicillian ?
Tony took in the first,
The second shortly after when along for some ride ?
Yet if you really knew Tony/
You would have every bit of reason to run away and hide,
He lives to cook the books on the side !
Yet just like he loves his greasy french fries !
Today the mob still rules it's just in a different form/
We have no reason by which to run away and hide,
Only if your a Sicillian !
He is a mechanic
Repairing failed brakes
to help or to worsen
I know not
for many have fallen victims
in his act of mechanikism
the failed brake he repairs
but to second mission it
He wants it second missioned
but the result he reasons not
for life he thinks laughed
The car now bloody
Ahmadinezhad And the Price Of Gas -
(His Name Pron - Ah - mad - in - eh - zhad)
The politics of Promise you unfold
as we approach election twenty-twelve,
and you can bet there's not a promise told
the President to be won't have to shelve!
Their only problem's just to sway us all
and gather votes that count election day
they all can see the writing on the wall
but no one reads the writing anyway!
Could 40 thieves of Persia sway the vote
if someone plays their cards exactly right?
Ahmadinezhad might be someone to note
as we get closer to election night!
Before election day will ever pass
get set to pay a whole lot more for gas.
Where, are we now, is the question at hand.
How are we to feel, upon this lifetime?
Are we to sit, now do nothing or stand?
Up against evil, as well simple crime,
This country became great, not from money.
From doing the right thing, when needed now,
American life not always sunny,
We have become, to greedy for endow.
Our wants, desires, out grew natural needs.
Things have become more important to all.
We have grown much waste, harvested no seeds.
Forgot about love, betrayed natures call.
March forward; bring back our ancestors plan.
Building country stronger, you know we can.
Sponsor Paula Swanson
Contest Name Just poetry
The handy man is always available by my night or day.
I’m being stringent to say my very least to his very best.
All potential clergymen are put through his trickery test
Oh my God at these odds and ends his mind dare weigh.
He is intricately susceptible in light seeking a pardoned way,
He overcomes the homeliest just by his daily authentic quest.
In about a day or two will come his much timely needed rest!
Estranged in a time of several times where his mind did stray.
Caught up in clouds he drifts yet further away slicing thin.
Pondering many thoughts per milliseconds flood his gates.
Consuming ideas overwhelm his deep words drawn within.
He forms heaps of potential until he himself smears slates.
Single handedly he comes with his charts already mapped with my plan!
After all, he is quite elaborate when I exclusively need my Handy Man!
GREAT AMERICAN CRY-BABIES
To fast or feast, both feeding of the soul,
It matters not, so long as there we feed.
Both nourishment, to meet our chosen goal,
to make our lives appear, we're not in need.
But if there's not enough of this or that,
Our crying can be heard around the Hill
And in the White House, if too much of fat,
The Veto pen moves in to make the kill!
There's not one other vote, Obama grins!
But knows within his heart, they're plotting for
Another way to see he never wins,
To change it all may be an act of war!
The crying on Main Street is seldom heard,
Without the veto pen for every word.
Is demonstration a progressive method for normality?
Skills for a good quality are necessary for product,
Nobody wants to pay for wrongs, who can stock useless dirt,
Quality is a demand of us we return the goods if are faulty.
If a worker isn’t responsible who can pay for job royalty?
Responsibility is faith for living and security for a job,
If attitudes are hooliganism who can control a mob,
Principles are for betterment we need to draw formality.
Education and training is for realization so we can faith,
Faith is an actual life, understanding for living standard,
What is hard to follow the rules if we like human growth?
Satisfaction is a root of honesty if labour is n’t bounded,
Care is only a path that can provide benefits to both.
If rules are n’t applicable what is gain of one and hundred?
A business is clever, handsome and polite.
Linguistic, apologetic but tactics are behind.
Mathematically and politically he is honest mind,
Dramatics, gymnastics and generatic bright.
Pleasant, tranquil, psyche psychometrics bite,
The bourgeoisie possessive and proletarian prodigal,
Lucrative, ludicrous, resumable heroics skill,
Personable, arguable and a desirable diet.
Forcible, flexible and fund raiser responsible,
Likeable, sizeable and an unshakeable height,
Referable, preferable and transferable mongrel,
Credible, reproducible and decisionable slight.
Expressible, risible and a sensible detail.
Challengeable, achievable and demonstrable kite.
O happy town, that leaps to life again,
With cars and trucks and people on the go,
You have no need of base complaining men
Who hold your triumph but a hollow show.
Nay, vile they say it is, your tow'ring course,
And must be stricken down for wolves and bears,
And mindless acts of Mother Nature's force;
Yea, mindless----bent design of all their prayers.
Run forward, leap! and higher, stronger, grow;
Exult with pride that you're the best on earth!
Roar out your motors, sing along each street,
Disdain the pits that dare to pull you low
And climb above the clouds with all your worth.
The weekend's past and "born again" is sweet.