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Details | Rights Poem | |

Common Man


The traveler reeked of weariness,
His companion was Fatigue
Wear upon his clothes suggest
He'd come a million league.

Gaunt were eyes deep set and brown
Above his cheekbones high
His being was pure somnolence
And I heard his silent cry.

Hard roads had been his travel
The pains chiseled on his face
In lines of furrows on his brow
Permanently enlaced

Around I saw no motion there, then ...
His head began to rise
Finally he looked at me ...
Suffering in his eyes.

So quietly I attended
And with a heavy heart
I wanted so to speak to him ...
But knew not how to start

Within his labored breathing
He then began to speak
His words, when finally spoken
Were truthful and unique

His lips worked to form the words -
Then said; "My name is: Common Man,
I'm a father; I've worked hard;
' always done the best I can.

"The road's become uphill and steep with
Burdens I can't propel
I've tried to move on forward -
But, I stumbled here - and fell.

"There are others on me
Who so do depend
I must keep moving forward,
This mustn't be my end.

"Now I must reach out to you
'Cause before I've never failed
I'm turning now to you
'Fore on hardships I'm impaled". 

A calloused hand then extended
Toward my outstretched hand
And I want to heed the call
For this Common Man.

But, Greed and Avarice have won
And assistance can't be lent -
Wall Street, you see, owns me now:
I'm Your Government.

Details | Rights Poem | |

PLAGIARIZE

You see,
I don't know what I want till you have it
I don't know what to say till you share it
I don't know how to feel till you express it
I'm a monster in the Soup you have to feed it!

I take words from your head
Leave you compromised 
I steal your best thoughts
Then I get recognized

As a thief, not a writer
Is where I specialize
I'm clever in my plans
Cheat, lie, and plagiarize 

But,
I don't know what to write till you print it
I don't know how to think till you think it
I don't know how to heal till you hate it
I'm the poison in the Soup do you sip it?

I take words from your head
Leave you compromised 
I steal your best thoughts
Then I get recognized

As a thief, not a writer
Is where I specialize
I'm clever in my plans
Cheat, lie, and plagiarize 

*Skat's poem on the same topic was my inspiration

Contest: Skat's "Any Old Poem Will Do"

Details | Rights Poem | |

INJUSTICE, BOMAYE

These words leave my tongue as 1 million elephants feet pummeling as an authentic voice that has tasted these bitters... These versus left without intention of harming with open arms, both ways. They left knowing a baton is anxious, they left in tears before tear gas, and gambling to be Garner's sequel. They leave with pheromones enhancing the olfactory senses to taste what this shit really smells like. A secret grand jury with fist budded, domesticated unto injustice, overrules voices in.just.us. They're the head with blind eyes looking down micromanaging justice's allowance. Riot gear tailored officers are the arms in arms versus picket-signs peacefully protesting... A paradox fuse looking for a lighter. Law and Legislature are legs this system strolls on, resisting a rest sleeping like an horse. The torso is civilians who pay taxes, which these metaphoric limbs are attached. From thee outside, this mulatto of mayhem doesn't appear to be concupiscent, planning to screw someone out of their life. Truth is, no one stands in the middle of Justice's scale, it tips harder with privatized thoughts. In order to convey and display, an autopsy is being preformed... Flipping injustice's body inside out. The blue bloods remain in vains, no signs of organ failure, while Eric's esophagus is obstructed with alphabets in a ball just below his Adam's Apple. They're the last plea he attempted to utter, "I Can't Breathe". We all seen that. This is where the olfactory senses are needed. As the officer assault this man over legalized tobacco, slowly killing him, while the other Protect and Serve advocates assist, civilians just walked by without rights to stop this wrong, that ain't rights. Injustice, Bomaye!!! v I don't believe there could ever be Justice on stolen land.... Eric Garner, WAS NOT selling single cigarettes the day he was killed. Drug dealers get probation and retain their lives, loosies get the Death Penalty!

Details | Rights Poem | |

Not Too Late for Tears- Girl Rising

She held her mother’s hand
As tears made their way
Down the face called
“Exquisite, beautiful, charming”…
The face that had been her comfort

She could not absorb the pain in her words
“Nothing…I feel...nothing
If I could only feel a little of what my friends describe
That feeling of”…she sighed
“Of….of giddiness…
They say it’s like…like…
The beating of a drum..faint at first and then
Beating louder and louder until…
Until you want to explode with the strength
of the vibrations
Tingling all over”…
She covered her face with her hands
“Instead…I try to imagine it as we lie together…
Hoping I can please, can satisfy…
Your father.”

Talking about private matters
Was difficult in her culture
Now, home on semester break
She heard her mother share
The horror of that night
When as a child they held her
Kicking and screaming
Exposing her most private parts
Cutting away the center of desire
The essence of her womanhood
That had been cloistered
In the folds of safety
Leaving her….scarred
 
She squeezed her mother’s hand
This woman whose every move
Made men stare
Exuding sexual charm
She was the epitome
Of every womanly grace….
Yet...unable to feel the fluttering
That some time ago
Had slowly awakened in her own frame
Mysterious sensations

Her mother’s tears
Now fell from her own eyes
She bowed her head in shame
Wanting to blame
Her grandparents for following
The stupid traditions of their world…
Thinking it was best…

Her mother enfolded her in an embrace
And rocked her
“Shhh….don’t cry…
It’s too late for tears now"…

“I’m so so sorry, Mama,” she whispered,
Pulling away
Her mother reached out to wipe her tears
“Feel sorry for your father
I see the pain in his eyes…
Knowing that I cannot feel what he feels…
Often, he won't approach me, but I entice him
I dance for him”…
She smiled…caressing a memory
“He stole my heart
The moment he looked at me with those eyes
How I wish he could see, the fire of his eyes
Burning in mine." 

It that moment, it took shape
The career that had remained
Unborn…in the womb of her mind
She would be the voice…of every little girl
Who had ever screamed in pain...in shame
She’d speak…
For the little girl her mother used to be
For all the others that were to come
So they wouldn't have to grow up
With eyes that reflected pain instead of passion
The pain she now witnessed
…in her mother’s eyes!
No, it was not too late to cry…
Her tears now would be tomorrow’s tears
Of some woman’s tender and sweet release

Details | Rights Poem | |

One Courageous Lady

The lady was brave as she could be
And she went down in history
As one who stood up for her race
The whites said she should know her place

She boarded the bus like all the rest
Not knowing she'd be put to the test
The bus driver yelled back with a frown
"Get up you four,let this man sit down"

The driver and man were white of course
But Rosa refused to respond to force
She knew in her heart that she had a right
So she quietly sat there prepared for the fight

Rosa Parks knew what this would cause
To boldly ignore the Jim Crow laws
Thus a city bus boycott began
Martin Luther King Jr. became her fan

In Montgomery,Jim Crow's called unfair
Some think the rights movement began there
When a lady courageous remained in her seat
Refusing to give herself up to defeat

And so in December of fifty five
The civil rights movement became alive
When Rosa and all the other brave souls
Would go down in the history rolls




* for Carolyn and James's "History " contest


Details | Rights Poem | |

Bill of Rights for Husbands

That’s not my elephant, this here’s Ella my wife
She claims the extra pounds came with her change of life

She now takes ballet, but watching her dance in tights
Sends chills down my spine and gives second graders frights

Her plate’s piled high with lasagna and spaghetti
Chowing down on our drive to the Serengeti

I think every husband should have a bill of rights
“Euthanasia,” I’ll plead, when they read her last rites

Details | Rights Poem | |

A Declaration On Independence Day

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


Dean Walker

Details | Rights Poem | |

Devils favorite things

How can people want rights but they aren't right
While working in the daylight with souls bright as night
The creator shall judge the judges, The evil deserves evil
Good people will get what is equal to their actions
And immoral skin passions have fatal lessons 
God has a scale where He weighs & sits 
Because everything has equal opposite
We selfish to others but hold our nose when they sell theirs
And not giving pardons while expecting God’s cares
And blessings while leaving others with our bee stings
Now turn to your devil’s favorite things
Praying to join the heavenly choir 
But with an evil song you desire 
So retire before you join the hell fire.

To be right there's no wrong, the righteous are morally strong
You need more than calcium to be the back bone of society
While society breaks you, to makes you. Surprisingly,
The able are ignorant and unstable 
Unable to add-up in the moral table
Telling fables of multiplication while being divided
Trying to add reasoning in facts provided
Their individualism is subtracting from the fold
Being percentages of a percentage, losing the strong hold
False foundation told about a “Doomed Youth”
While the witty wise horde the fake truth
As the truly righteous shake their head and sings
Go ahead with the devil’s favorite things
Praying to join the heavenly choir 
But with an evil song you desire 
So retire before you join the hell fire.

The battle of truth lies in the beheading of lies
The Righteous must write us 
For justice to be just to us and right us
Bleeding thoughts to think, words to ink
Carving insight to push sanity to the brink
Punching Intel, in mind, for knowledge to sink
Unfold stories consoled foretell tails told
Today's prophets profit profits with souls they forfeit
Crumbling towers with warped foundations
Ripping families but cursed lives they’re facin’
Losing the troubleshooting; uprooting with a booting
Bearing false fruits flawed brings
Now play with your devil’s favorite things 
Praying to join the heavenly choir 
But with an evil song you desire 
So retire before you join the hell fire.

Details | Rights Poem | |

I am a Child- Poem written for Restore a Child Organization

I am a child
Like the one you tuck in bed
The one you kiss on the head
The one who gets loved instead
The one who is so well fed
I am a child

I am a child
Like the one who gives you joy
Your pretty girl and fine boy
The one who gets every toy
The one who none dares annoy
I am a child

I am a child
With no home to call my own
The cold reaching to my bone
Hunger pangs, all that I’ve known
In tattered clothes, I have grown
I am a child

I am a child
The pavement my only bed
Dreaming of a piece of bread
With a small heart full of dread
My life hanging from a thread
I am a child

I am a child
With no gifts beneath the tree
With no hope to be set free
Wanting like YOUR child to be
Why, oh, why, can’t you love ME?

I am a child
I am YOUR child
I am GOD’s child
Remember me this Christmas….

Eileen Manassian Ghali

I'm privileged that Norma Nashid, founder of Restore a Child, has asked me to be an ambassador for the organization to help raise awareness of the plight of less fortunate children around the world. She asked me to write a poem for their newsletter, and I am sharing her FB post regarding it here with you.

(The poem below was written by Eileen Manassian Ghali, a professor of English at Middle East University in Beirut, Lebanon. She dedicated her poem this Christmas to Restore a Child. Her mother, Angel Dikran Manassian was my favorite teacher and my first teacher in school. Now I get the honor of enjoying the beautiful writing of her daughter, Eileen.--Norma Nashed)


If you are interested in finding out more about this humanitarian organization, please look them up on FB. I will be writing an article soon to highlight the plight of Syrian Refugee children in Lebanon. I hope my Mama would be proud of me!

restoreachild.org
http://ymlp.com/zMiueR (latest newsletter)
https://www.facebook.com/RestoreAChild

My poem will be published in the next edition

Details | Rights Poem | |

mine and white collars in crime

to change the charter of rights , to make claims and take from victims white collar criminals secrets lies against ones that entrusted them hateful actions and words these men shared for reasons of secondary gains losses of ours are placed in ther trust and no one will act against them terrorized and destitute , wrongfully done gangs criminals not right or allow them to do this to act against all rules and laws charters dscrimiaion hatred prejudices , soon to take over secrets and lies if they can take point and blame you too may be next in line happened to me without rights and hated and lost and lied to no rights what is ours and rights insurances proerties all taken an used in this lawyers own legal fees , and lies about the actual amount believe in god and have faith one day their actions will be transarent and all wil see how this can not bring us back to the days before human rights the the charter of rights right and wrong above the laws ca not be done by these lawyers or any man we all have to respect and believe in god , and in justice system. for all every man woman and child . and not treated like i had died.
disclaimer

Details | Rights Poem | |

HomoSexEquality

I breathe to succeed intelligence.

Even I am astonished by my benevolence.

My deep rooted spiritual elegance.

My keen disgrace by prejudice.

How people twist what God really said to us.

How people lust to discover how the Big Bang busts.

What a disgust that we can't even be free to discuss.

The must. The need to be emancipated.

Enough of our situations have been degraded.

We have made it. We've claimed the now to redefine history.

To become part of the evolution that it was written to be.

You see? That's why you refuse, defuse, cause you're confused by me.

Your laws I am to abide, but your laws deny me. Deprive me.

Of the freedom I was born into. Sworn to. I celebrate my independence in July just like you.

We have rights. Rights to the constitution as day is to night. And when we fight.

We do it like a feather floating out of the sky. Clever?

Very, because silence has never been involved in your endeavors. Never.

Strategically beating you like pollen during calm weather. Severed.

Separated from the rest of the world because of difference.

Erased from existence. You haven't said it blatantly, but these were your intentions.

But I still revolt. They can do it to you, but my rights they won't revoke.

I don't hope. Cause they can't deny us what's ours for long, this I know.

They may have control. But we have the power, the knowledge, the will to overthrow.

It's not a show. It's our right to fight, To be HOMO!!


Details | Rights Poem | |

You know my torment you hear my cry

Watching the television
Reading the news
I ask not for your views
your case for war is farcical
Your indifference to human suffering is immoral
Yet you call yourselves men of faith and children
Of the clothe
You place your anger on vests of death and drop
Your bombs from birds like rain you kill and maim
And say its in his holy name
To feed your never-ending thirst for greed
You cut the green from the equators belt and clear
The forest to add more wealth
You leave me no clean air to smell
And then you persecute my life and so deprive me
Of my rights and when I rebel and demonstrate
You steal my vote
And filled with hate you lock me up behind
Eelectric gates
And when the continents of ice tell their story
Of immanent demise
You show no concern as winter begs for something cold 
and summer has no layer to hold Its scorching heat 
now uncontrolled
You know my torment you hear my cry
Deliver us from lying lips deceitful tongues and
Genocide
But you turn your sightless gaze aside
The winds though hear my plea and come with
Vengeance as they blow and the rains fall torrential
As they go
And twisters twirl in lands they do not know
The seas lash out with anger in its waters rising
flow
And the earth trembles as the mountains rumble
And fire comes from deep below
Your buildings now come crashing down
The land erodes to only rock and cost you billions
To put them back
And caged in temples of your conceit
You sit and wonder why
And Mother Nature smiles in the aftermath
Of your demise


Earl S. Jackson
Aug 2006



Copyright © 2006 Earl S. Jackson, all rights reserved.


Details | Rights Poem | |

my promise land

to have and have not
is reason lent to logic
and reality left to disspare

to my heart oh, not where?
the place of peace not there
then where can the weary traverse
where the dreams are not night mares
loud noises not explosions
loud voices not fights
and darkness a place to sleep
rather than a place to hide

who is it that insist
on our depravity
whilst we are not in captivity
fleeced of menial freedoms
by a monsoon of unjust laws

furious my psyche can deduce
that i am not wanted here
in the midst of all the false advertisement
one country can give 
about how much blood was
spilled to make them free

do we dare to think
that this excludes me
have not i been knitted into
the matrix of this thing
called freedom

have my dreams deceived me
about the land of the free
are not rights given in duplicity
and these ideals; do they not 
come from God

to have and have not
the rights of men
and the peace there in
belonging to every citizen

Details | Rights Poem | |

Dragon of the Night

Dragon of the Night, O'Winged One Lost in Flight,
Shattered dreams and scattered leaves blown in sight,
Whispers of smoke and fiery stroke lofted on midnight
air,
Tales of wonder and loneliness cast upon a creature so
rare.

Cast in cave for a crime it did not commit or foresee,
Hunted by humans, elves, and other beasts from foreign
land to sea,
Driven by hounds frothing and foaming at the mouth,
Dragon of the Night looks for refuge in the Valley of
Bones South.

This creature with scales of rubies and diamonds
crawls for safe haven,
While knights on horseback ride after him for the crow
doth craven,
Mysteries of the deep beckon this beast of the night,
Persecuted for his past deeds and tales of wondrous
delight.

"Why me?" cries the tormented fiend in full fledgling
flight,
Why am I alone, why am I so afraid, why do you drive
me from sight?"
"All I ask for is some food, some water, and a place
to ply my weary head,"
"But now I'm pursued and plundered until the watery
deeps turn red!"

The Dragon of the Night doth encounters a dead end at
the Valley of Bones,
Ghostly ghouls and demons compete for the loudest of
moans,
Knights have all gathered to surround the beast to cut
off all that is safe,
The Final Battle begins with not strident call but a
low crying Wraith.

The Wraith offers comfort to the Dragon of the Night
in midst of danger,
"Come stay with me for I am definitely no cast upon
stranger,"
"Be comforted in the knowledge that the end will come
quick,"
"So that you may dwell in my lovely Garden of the Dead
no trick."

So as the Dragon of the Night rested with no care to
his dismay,
Unfolded his wings and rested his weary limbs on that
momentous day,
Spears and arrows may have once torn the cries from
his flamed throat,
Finally, the Dragon of the Night had found the
Peaceful Moat.

Dragon of the Night tho you died while surrounded by
the Enemy of Fright,
Your spirit will live in the hearts of children by
tender candlelight.
© Copyright 2006 starryknight1999@yahoo.com (UN:
wolfie1968 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved. 
starryknight1999@yahoo.com has granted Writing.Com,
its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to
display this work


Always Walk The Path of Light,
Christopher:)

Details | Rights Poem | |

Bladder Problems in Class

Numbers on 
White board…names written hori-
zontally

Students ask
To go pee…right when class starts – 
THAT’S just wrong…

Bathroom line
Of students who have bladder
Problems – WOW!

People are
Not using lunchtime to do 
Their business 

No one knows
When to do their duties – SER-
IOUSLY?

Details | Rights Poem | |

What Is This Church All About

What Is This Church All About?

Is this church meant for people like me?
Is this where God really wants me to be?

They claim to be filled with God’s spirit.
When it comes to HIS truth...  Can they give it?

I’m sure there’s many who come and attend
It’s more than “church on Sunday,” that we must spend!

We must reach out to the lost and the oppressed!
After all, Christ gave us his very best!

May we all preach the gospel and God’s holiness!
And strive to seek his awesome righteousness!

Living for Jesus must be a daily walk and experience!
Not simply based on our “ambitious self appearance.”

God isn’t interested in a denomination or a title…
He wants to know…  Do we really believe the Bible?

He’s not interested in the money put in the offering plate.
He wants to know; “Are you ready
 to enter heaven’s gate?”

May we strive to serve Jesus with a zeal and passion!
And be filled with his holiness and compassion!

May we serve Jesus from a heart of humbled confession!
And making our commitment to him,
 our #1 possession!

“Unless the Lord builds the house.”  
They labor in vain that build it!
Let’s seek the power of God! 
May his presence completely fill it!!

By Jim Pemberton    


Details | Rights Poem | |

BIG BIG SLAM TO RACISM

Eating, bathing, grooming, defecating and sleeping All these are activities of daily living We are breathing same air Combing everyday our own hair Warmed and darkened by same sun Sleeping after a whole day is done Shot or cut; black and blues we can have Different type but our hearts same. It beats with blood! One time or another we feel sad and glad! You love games and fun. And I,too, is same! Walk, run, talk, smile, cry: all we can do unless for some exemptions Wholeheartedly without hesitations and inhibitions... Captain on our own ships Generals on our own everyday battles Prima ballerina on our own life dance Managers on our own businesses Teachers on our own examples and words Leaders on our own small or big ways Builders and engineers of our own dreams And much much more than we can imagine... But... What are those frowns? Why are those arched eyebrows? What are those questioning belittling look? What and why are those foul remarks? Different skin; different creed Different names, different race Different status; different styles Different lands, different tongues _ The bottomline is God made me and God made you Respect me and I will respect you That we ought to do No need for clue nor cue DO RESPECT BECAUSE IT IS DUE We are equal of dignity Each and everyone possess a deal of integrity All are blessed All are gifted with talents Capable of enhancing a potential And discovering any other grace Explore! Taste the spice! Speak humbly and be nice! You maybe surprise!?! How each and one can entice! Therefore, you! You who are racists! CUT! CRACK! SLAM THAT RACISM CRAP! Take a stand and make it grand! No need for plans! Hand and hand let's make this earth a better land!
(C) Olive Eloisa 12:55am June 11, 2014 * This a terrible truth that still in this modern world we are in RACISM is still present as cruel as it was before.

Details | Rights Poem | |

My Dad

My Dad was Chicagoan.
He would light up a room just like my Mom. 
He loved to fish ! He loved his beer .
He also designed a Octagon home in the 70's 
Built custom by hand . I was very proud of Dad .

Alcohol hit our Family , a curse .
He left my Mom when I was 14 in Illinois.
To renew in California , leaving a trail of tears .
Meeting my step mom , my sisters age .
My 2 sisters they were accepted in her world . 

Not I , I looked too much Like Mom . Told this all my Life . 
She a petite Beauty , RN , real estate Broker .
I did not see why it was wrong to be like mom ?

I moved in with Dad, His new Wife , and 2 sisters 
eventually . All three women were competing for my Father .
I was kicked out at 16 yrs.

Years do pass , you try and accept people places and things .
At the end of Dads life , he was calling me once a week .
I ordered a Engraved Clock for the Fathers day coming.
This was a issue for the Wife and sisters , never invited to his new home , 2 Decades ~My little Brother & I , never wanted .

Dad passed suddenly one sad Spring Day . Not one word from his wife , all 3rd party,  how and when,  Dad Died . being denied the right to his address , even to say goodbye .
Not being able to send my engraved clock . 

 "Dad Passed " received call  from sister whom just stayed a week with me ,  I took her all around the sites here . "1st day I get call , you should come , 2nd Day after , Dad's been cremated already . " It was a lie.

I went anyway , finding the funeral home, the Funeral Director was appalled at the denial displayed.

He insisted I was given 10 minutes alone with Dad , my Birthright to say Goodbye , he was in dismay over the Hostility towards a daughter ~

I get to this room of mean relative's. His sisters , Mine, angry looks , hearing from a Aunt "What is she doing Here ! " I can't give nor reason or rhyme. 

 Shame to you and all that participated that wicked day.
 Are you Glorified with Power?  Denied the right to grieve , 

 Left with no sane answers to give in hatred received by Blood . Some , just Spouses , telling me I had no right to Say Goodbye to my own Father , My DAD .

My Dad wanted me there , I know he did . I love Him and will never forget , his youngest girl whom looked like Mom . I know in my heart and dreams he speaks. 
 We all see when we leave . May God not allow any Son or Daughter to go through such Evil.

Thank-you Poetry Soup for returning my voice .

Details | Rights Poem | |

he is leaving home

                            
                  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 ? "

                






Details | Rights Poem | |

The Rotten

Analysis read—and wronged—and pulled
Lulled into our idealistic mess
Words no longer ours but hung distress
Farced in carnality—they are ruled

Soundness remains what we will believe 
And all else is but tethered nonsense
Clinched tightly in unfriendly absence
Overcome in overwrought relief

The judges judge on behalf of tongue
When ears and eyes close achingly tight
And perhaps in woe we find them right
For witches sought and bound must be hung!

Lower than the softened dirt that cures
Where worms in halves blindly come to eat
The higher crush with tormented feat
And the suns scorch what is left of hers

Answers never tried—and cured to hide
They look to superior sources
The rotten are the strongest forces
Ripened and toughened with bequeathed pride

-Iambic Tetrameter
Contest: Metrical verse
Sponsor: Giorgio Veneto
Laura Breidenthal

Details | Rights Poem | |

The Choices We Make

Walking down the hallway,
Seeing all the doorways,
And all the choices in life,
Making it difficult to choose,
The right room from all the other rooms,
Bringing you the wisdom and truth,
For the imperfection is within us all,
Which makes us all crawl at times,
On our hands and knees in the dark,
To discover what is right and survive,
In life as long as we can accept,
What life brings to us in our hearts,
Which we patiently accept the pleasures,
And push away the sacrifices much in our lives,
Yet, to correct our flaws we have,
Which causes most our struggles,
Till we open our eyes,
And see what we have and must believe,
That our lives are greater than we ever know,
Cause God created it all for us,
But the choices are ours to make,
To find the happiness,
Which is ours to be found and kept.

Details | Rights Poem | |

Fleeting Freedoms

Elderly man’s fishing net hangs in his shed
The fish he caught in his backyard stream multiply
Net use was banned; he couldn’t afford a pole
Joy and sustenance gone, a tear falls from his eye

House Bill 875 would ban backyard farms
Forcing vegetable growers to invest cash
In overpriced produce on supermarket shelves
Uncle Sam flexes his muscle, makes his whip lash

The right to freely worship is endangered
As prayer is prohibited in public schools
Government intrusion invades all our lives
Public pleas are not heard by those who make rules

Freedom to choose our doctors is now threatened
Socialized medicine diminishes choice
Speech censorship? Just ask the Smothers Brothers
Who canceled their own show with a stifled voice

As crime escalates, look to the constitution
The NRA spends billions to protect Americans' rights
To bear arms against oppressors while thieves laugh
And sue owners of homes invaded in the night

Can this be what our forefathers had in mind
When they sought to escape a king’s tyranny?
Our rights are being limited more each day
In a nation spawned to promote liberty

Natural disasters prelude Judgment Day
Eerie escalation – tsunamis, earthquakes
But perhaps when the dust finally settles
Those who survive will learn from our past mistakes

Governments will form only to preserve peace
Not to strip away rights ancestors pursued
Don’t blink!  Precious freedoms are now endangered
By those who feel they’re elected to intrude

Details | Rights Poem | |

Happiness in a Wrong way

Happiness in a Wrong way – Zamreen Zarook

In the notion of seeking happiness,
I thought of stepping in to nonsense,
I dream I could find success,
But I had only little access.

Every attempt that I lend,
It was an utter failure at the end,
My life was full of difficult bend,
But God is always there as a good friend.

My deeds travel in various ways,
Some times in subways,
Or in times it goes in highways,
But I had the belief, God is there always.

North and south families surrounded,
East and west friends are rounded,
Every time fear on death soughed,
I am trapped, and my merits are loaded.

Details | Rights Poem | |

The pen is mightier than the sword

The pen is mightier than the sword

What is it about some people?
Have they no minds of all
To me their puppets on a string
As they follow all the rules
Whether they make sense at all
That’s all beside the point
They believe all that their leaders say
When it comes to the simple joint!

Our leaders they have called the shots
On this and all that matters
They come to us on the TV set
And I hear their foolish chatter
Our premier with pigeon mind
Was heard to say one day
That cannabis is a killer drug
Or almost any way.

Now I have smoked for forty years
And not once have I ever
Suffered from this gentle weed
These leaders might be clever
Or think they are, through their position
But to me they’re simply fools
But they give me cause to laugh out loud
They’re so damned comical.

23 July 2013 @ 1133hrs.


Details | Rights Poem | |

Why tread on me

We hold these truths people secure above all                                                                We the people evidence mounts around us                                                                    To contrary for some in order are rights                                                                    Altered by greed