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Long poem by Darryl Ashton | Details |

THE RETURN OF PETER PAN 2014

THE RETURN OF PETER PAN…2014  

And Introducing 
The arch enemy:
((Political Correctness and Health and Safety))

Ladies and Gentlemen: boys and girls. Peter Pan is set to strike again.

 
A sequel to J.M. Barrie’s classic tale will be published in the very near future, in which Tinkerbell will be replaced by a male fairy named Firefly, the Darling little children are all grown up, Neverland is blighted by pollution and Nana the dog, is sadly dead. 

Darryl Ashton has obtained this exclusive interview with Peter Pan to find out what went wrong. Peter says: “What has the world come to when someone like me is no longer allowed in children’s bedrooms? OK, so at first inspection things don’t sound too great.
I am someone who climbs secretly through children’s  bedroom windows. I have a friend called Tinkerbell who is, yes, a ‘Fairy’. The two of us tell the little Darlings’ to forget about their parents and come away with us on a big adventure to Neverland. But relax, will you! 
Looking’ back I guess my problems really began when I started planning this return trip to Britain after some 100 years. Do you know how hard it is for a guy like me to get the paper work together? By the time Childcare Agencies, Social Services and The Criminal Records Bureau had vetted me, the magic was wearing pretty thin, I can tell you.

Was I self – employed? Or were Tinkerbell and I in a VAT – registered partnership? Did I have a pilot’s licence, which met all compliance standards? Did I have the relevant Visa for tourists from Non – EU countries? Questions, questions! Don’t all these regulations get you down? Anyway, as Tinks and I soon came to discover, Britain has changed beyond all recognition in the years we have been away.
Our first discovery, much to our horror, was Wendy, and her brothers John and Michael, were some time ago taken into foster care. We learnt that their parents, who were in the habit of leaving them in the care of Nana the dog, had been stripped of access to the children.

TV crews chased Mr and Mrs Darling down the street and a police guard had to be placed outside their door to prevent vigilante gangs from attacking them. Well, that was all too much for Nana the dog who was carted off to an RSPCA hospital, where she was soon being seen by a strange Australian man with a beard and a didgeridoo, who said he could make her a star, on, Animal Hospital.  

Nana said she’d rather be put down, so after a quick call to an assisted suicide group called Dognitas, the old dear’s now pushing up the daises next to Shep in Blue Peter’s garden. Such a waste, she’d been trained by Norland, you know. 
But I don’t suppose that means much these days.

Unsurprisingly, the Darling children went rapidly down hill from there. Shunted from one foster home to another, they fell in with the wrong crowd. Before long, Michael was wearing a hoodie and worse, hanging out with Prince Harry’s lot. As for little John, without any proper father figure to look after him, he found solace in a new faith, changed his name to Sinbad, and was last heard of heading for the Afghan hills for a spiritual vacation. Which is why Wendy got back in touch with yours truly.

So with no one else left to help her, Wendy closed her eyes tight and sent a wish to her old mate Peter Pan. I must confess, when her message first popped up on my Blackberry, I winced. Is there nowhere the office can’t reach me these days? Even Neverland? So I made a few calls, and whaddya know? Hookie agreed to help me out. Yes, I know he’s a rogue and bounder who has polluted the whole of Neverland, after swapping the Jolly Roger for a fleet of turbo charged jet skis. 

Big mistake. We’d scarcely set foot in London before the anti – terrorism squad and Hookie was carted off to Belmarsh. You should have heard him shouting when they took him away! “I am Hook, one time bosom to Blackbeard. The only man to send a shiver up the wooden stump of, Long John Silver. The only consolation for the poor Captain was that the crocodile never made it through the security checks at Neverland Airport”. The other passengers heard that clock ticking in its belly and said they would not travel unless the croc was chucked off the flight.

As for Tinkerbell, no sooner had she returned to her old haunts than a gay rights group called Stonewall said it was totally unacceptable for her old name to be retained. When asked for an explanation, they just threw their eyebrows to the ceiling, sucked in their lips like lemon quarters and gasped: Firely was so much more ‘now’. They even wanted Tinks to change her gender, but we’re still negotiating on that. The Elf’s trade union is pretty sticky on that sort of alteration.

The fairy costumes had to go too, something to do with stereotyping. But when I showed Tinks her new thong, her little pilot light went out altogether, and I’m afraid no amount of Polish plumbers can get it started again. So now I’m stranded and alone, with only my shadow for company. Even Wendy has cut off contact after getting a six – figure deal to appear on a Celebrity show---get me out of here! All of this I can tell you, is incredibly upsetting.

What has happened to Britain these days? I know Neverlands not perfect, but it’s a place where time stands still – and innocence is preserved and I like it that way. Today’s inspectors and officials all say that they’re only interested in protecting children. But by imagining the worst of people they are only wrecking the very innocence they presume to defend.

As I was telling the tooth fairy the other day: “You know Gums, sometimes I wonder if childhood itself is vanishing”. And do you know what she said in reply: “Sorry Pete, I’ve gone private. If you want a consultation, you’ll have to pay up front”.
How about ‘Pay – as – you – go? Sorry Pete, it’ll Neverland!


BY
DARRYL ASHTON                                                      

                                        


Long poem by Darryl Ashton | Details |

WELCOME TO COALITION AIRWAYS

WELCOME TO COALITION AIRWAYS!


(After being treated to a flight on Air Force One recently, the Prime Minister could be tempted to order his own official plane. But he’d have to work hard to get the Lib Dems on board. So what might a flight on Coalition Airways be like?)

Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, not forgetting members of the Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender community. This is Captain Cameron speaking, but you can call me Dave.

Please allow me to apologise for the lengthy delay in our boarding process, caused by unforeseen technical glitches with our state-of-the-art automated retina recognition scheme and the arrest of several passengers for alleged racist remarks while passing through security.

We also apologise for any inconvenience caused by our new seating allocation system, which is based on proportional representation and is designed to ensure equality of access to all sections of the aircraft.

I am also very proud to announce that in keeping with our fairness agenda, passengers earning less than £10,000 a year fly free on Coalition Airways. This is being paid for by a 50 per cent surcharge on passengers in Tycoon Class.

Flying duties today are being shared between the Captain and Co-Pilot Clegg. Please don’t be alarmed if the aircraft experiences sudden changes in direction. Your safety and your comfort is our number one priority.

Would all passengers being extradited to America please keep their handcuffs and shackles fastened at all times and remember to wear the special orange sleep-suits provided. 
Passengers fitted with electronic ankle tags are asked to switch them off for take-off and landing as they could interfere with our navigation equipment.

Our purser, Mr Osborne, will be passing among you collecting airline duty, carbon taxes, mansion taxes and VAT at 20 per cent. In our efforts to keep costs down, we regret to announce that full-fare passengers in the higher-rate tax bracket are not entitled to free children’s meals.

Alcoholic beverages will be available, priced at a minimum 50p per unit ABV. Sales of intoxicating drinks will be tightly restricted to prevent anyone going berserk in the Strangers Cabin and head – butting other passengers.

I would like to take this opportunity to welcome aboard those couples embarking on same-sex honeymoons. They will receive unlimited complimentary champagne for the duration of our flight. Cabin crew will also be distributing landing cards, which must be completed in full. I would remind you that the terms ‘husband’, ‘wife’, ‘mother’ and ‘father’ are now illegal and should not be used on any official documentation. The correct term is either ‘partner/spouse’ or ‘progenitor’. Failure to comply will result in arrest by our air-marshals, a fine of £10,000 and six months in prison.

Those of you planning to connect to onward flights to Scotland will have to complete separate customs and immigration forms and produce your passport at border control. We do hope all the passengers enjoy our in-flight meal service, which is being freshly prepared in the galley on the top-of-the-range barbecue presented to the Captain on his recent visit to America.

We try to source as much as possible from reputable British companies. All the crockery in Tycoon Class has been supplied by Royal Doulton, from its factories in Indonesia, and our cutlery is forged from the finest Sheffield steel, in India. 

It is also our policy to feature a selection of traditional British dishes. Today we are offering a vegetable lasagne, prepared by the gourmet chef Ed Balls-Cooper in his subsidised second  home kitchen. Unfortunately, the steak and kidney is not available, as Mr Pickles, the chief steward in our Community Class cabin, ate all the pies.

We also pride ourselves on the stringent security measures taken for your safety and convenience. In the unlikely event of you spotting a fellow passenger trying to explode his underpants, please alert a member of the cabin crew. There is no cause for alarm. It may simply be a case of mid-air turbulence caused by Chef Balls-Cooper’s vegetable lasagne. 

The hacking of mobile phones in flight is not permitted. Smoking is strictly forbidden anywhere on the aircraft, including the washrooms. Dogging and cottaging are allowed, once we are airborne, but we would kindly request that no more than four passengers use a single washroom at the same time.

Given the need for budgetary restraint, this aircraft has been designed to perform a joint civilian  and military role. Consequently, we will be diverting via Syria to bomb Damascus and descending to 3,000 feet to allow members of our special forces to deploy their parachutes.  

During this time, we may experience some anti-aircraft fire, so all passengers will be asked to fasten their seat belts and assume the brace position. Ladies and gentlemen, I do apologise for the continuing delay. I have just heard from our ground crew that our flight today will have to be postponed.

Even if we do manage to get airborne, there is a possibility that Co-Pilot Clegg and several members of the cabin crew will abandon the aircraft and parachute to earth in an attempt to save themselves, in clear breach of both health and safety guidelines and the Coalition Airways Agreement.

So I’m afraid I must ask you to deplane in an orderly fashion and take all your belongings and rubbish with you. As part of our ongoing commitment to combating climate change, we intend to empty the bins on this aircraft only once a fortnight.

Thank you for choosing Coalition Airways. Normal service will be resumed in 2015.

Here endeth the flight.

THE END


BY
DARRYL ASHTON   

      


Long poem by S.Jagathsimhan Nair | Details |

The story of history

The Story of History  

Beyond those beaten days’ depleted daylight
Beyond the bathos of a pandemic bondage
With  the resurrected  sashay’s charmed night
Down in the dumps   at the pretentious  proscenium
A  shy  orchestration sans bark and bite
Afloat in  the  air  of inarticulate mind games

Intuitive rains,  first ever, like the touch of Midas 
Informed  dense minds  and filled  their dented bowls
Birthing the quartet of Vedas and similar works
There was this epic, longest ever , they say
Bales and bales of tales in miscible moral wraps 
With a natal nugget, on  tall righteous props
The Mahabharata with the Gita, like Mata,  Pita

And its transcendental twin  revered more
For  a daily hosanna..the Ramayana with a deep lore
Banish-evil-battle-cries, confronting  blasted minds
Search lights, self’s  unfoldment  and its kind

Her  children  made but never did dig history
But loved digging up its bedraggled mystery
To find bone dry drains, history’s torn veins
Below multi layered mud and muddled bricks

Twisted  and labored logic on  tensile testaments
Sites that suffered blights thru unknowable nights
To find the four  battens , the debacle, to follow
Someone on the way labeled it  Harappa .

All the while Light ruled, but rigours too brewed
Calling often for a reordering of ways  so crude
Then there were slices of truce..
 The Buddha..Shankara..

Of  collapsed  black holes the horizon  was full
Faded for once their  gravitational  pulls 
Exploding back as eternal stars ..
Kalidasa, Aryabhata…

Alongside kings ruled and kingdoms rolled
‘ Ruler’-coaster-rides  on thrones and thorns followed
Till bandit chieftains erased the all important lines
To the dance of dust from an advancing west
 Battling  to drop anchors on motherly chest.

Bare-faced brigands. Among their odious offspring
Some stood out to shine with a stupendous ring
Either putting up   statecraft’s show pieces
Or  scripting  epitaphs in  eponymous edifices

Till dissipated and deterred they too heard
The trenchant  call of folks  come from far  to trade
That would spell , in time, your damnation
In manacles of measured manipulations.

Against  its prolonged , protracted reticulation
Rose legit  gripes from  gregarious  formations
That would coalesce under the one and only Gandhi
Into  their momentous waking into life and freedom

Split up, as it were, into  two bickering fragments
To play fitfully, for ever, their petulant fiddles
Averse to complement under demagogic detours
Falsely comfy under the convenience of  inheritance

                               -2-

Six decades of self rule on, your children feel conned
Not for failed hopes, but for the disharmony that haunts.

An  one- sport -nation fixated  with a fixing -fame-game
Movie-obsessed , and with  its TV 
Blank beyond trivia and brand names.


Money and food are no problem  for many
But, for too many, they are; vehicles are plenty
But roads aren’t ;  laws are varied and abundant
Some redundant , but every  pervert who counts
Interprets them different and funnily  implements.


Health care wears a five star halo sans humaneness.
It never frees a dying adult or kid from its kinky tubes
Nor permit  the company of kin to them  for one last time
Ignores the terminally and  unmovably sick stuck at home.

Agriculture does well, but farmers don’t ,.. and kill themselves
Petty  retailers  are swell making a killing, selling farm produce.

Stupidity grows muscles to muzzle humanity 
Hunks grow on  vitamins, video games and vanity
 Freed millions  press after pelf and power, plays hell
With the  weak and  the women , their perennial fair game

Profiteering,  covert, overt, and  across the board
The sick, the student, the seeker after any service  
Any  victim or one with a gripe being its victims
That’s by the very cream , no less, all the same
 Media scream with scam and spam all the time
Even the ones,( that’s about all), with their own aims
The combined  do’s of brash bravado and venality 
A  rash on governance   and a blot on name.
Effete ethics  and moribund morals, seniors mumble..

‘Equality before law’  means ’ Advantage to the outlaw’
Freedom for the grabs means  restraints to many
Succour  often hard-to -reach and  reaching-too-late
Louts and lousy offices dot street corners and roads

Governance press after  targets  too disparate 
To cohere or collaborate towards  a  wholesome goal,
Leaving holes for private or pet agendas to infiltrate.

Front-end-folks or  prickly pears?
Menace, malice, avarice,  lies, police…
Unrestrained delight in deliberate discourtesies.
Why -dad-anyway-Why- not- call-him-uncle-attitudes…

What does not tempt is in for contempt,
Being irreverent to the important, and indifferent
To the different,  is the norm and the trend.

Democracy could well slip into demonocracy  
Like when “Two wolves and a goat vote to decide dinner”**
In the absence of the Will to lift it to meritocracy?


PS:  This poem ( 100 lines, 777 words, as it turned about to be ) is about INDIA, my country.
*”Mata, Pita ‘  mean   Mother, Father
** Based on a quote seen somewhere.

S.Jagathsimhan Nair,  26 May 2013,

For Cyndi  MacMillan’s contest.


Long poem by Thomas Mansfield | Details |

When Three Cousins Played

Three cousins played a “game’ of war
A map of Europe spread across the floor
No adults there to keep the score
As each of them wanted more and more

Three of four empires lay upon that map
As they played and ‘warred’ and they did clap
For them it was so much fun
The Tsar, the King and the Kaiser Hun

Their brightly painted toy soldiers there
Horses, cannon and ships to spare
Fields of green, mountains so high
And winding rivers flowing by

They chatted, laughed - each did deride
No malice here - no need to chide
“I’ll take that while you have this”
“And you can have the rest” said with a hiss

The little prince was not too happy
Didn’t like being the youngest chappy
Scattered toys with a vicious kick
“One day, you watch, your wounds you’ll lick”

But then they laughed and had some tea
(Cakes and scones stop the fighting, see)
Then the boisterous cousins resumed once more
Horses and soldiers were flung against the door

Cannon crashed and sabres slashed
Lances lunged and bayonets flashed
Horses fell amid broken carts
These small boys played in fits and starts

The clock rolled on relentlessly
Who knew then what would come to be
These boys now grown to Emperors
Played with real life and caused real wars

No longer soldiers made of lead
These soldiers breathed and fought and bled
And now the grown children fought for real
With a rancour fuelled by their ardent zeal

The call to arms was swift and sure
Decrees brought nations to their war
Men and women joined the cause
Volunteered without let or pause
On land and sea and in the air
The raw recruits signed up everywhere
Landlord, docker, farmer, daughter
Leapt like lemmings to the slaughter

Knowing not that they were pawns
In this “family” feud, so filled with scorn
Becoming airman, sailor, soldier, wren
Many would never see their land again

Their women joined as well, of course
And filled the factories, making guns and gauze
Toiled and sweated, fabricating bombs
As the cousins watched with such detached aplomb

The First World War: “War to end all wars”
Was the Emperors’ legacy to ours and yours
They took their subjects from far-flung lands
Pulled them from forest, dale and Raj and sand.

The Emperors vied each other viciously
Ego and spat sparred ominously
It was another’s war but they refused to see
The brutal costs of this calamity

War declared and fought  - millions died
While these three cousins sat on their thrones and sighed
Just like the children with the map
They battled hard but now they didn’t clap

The cost of war was a heavy one
Ypres, Verdun, Mons, the Somme
Paschendale just to name a few
The blood rivers flowed and grew and grew

Four years of war and carnage
Ravaged Europe’s lands
While those three wretched cousins
Stood and wrung their hands

One Emperor imprisoned by his very own
Would soon be killed and there no more throne
Another forced to abdicate
Death in a foreign land was his fate

The third had played a different card
Had visited men and women so battle scarred
Had he foreseen the masses plight
Had he “joined’ in their fight?
Yet not even he was spared
As the masses had seen, had felt, had heard
That no more will a king decide
Their fate, the deaths, the genocide

One of those three cousins and his family
Was cruelly murdered ignominiously
After centuries the hated, despotic Tsar
Made way to the Bolshevik commissar

The second cousin haughty, proud
Was chased away by a defeated crowd
Languished in the land of dyke and dam
Helplessly watched blitzkrieg from a sure madman

The third cousin watched this sullenly
His health was racked for all to see
Perhaps he reflected and recalled the days
When as boys those three cousins had played

Republics sprung up everywhere
The spoils of war the people’s share
Though kings were replaced by presidents
Again war would follow. Again Europe rent

In an aside, as the map was shred
Europe torn apart as the Empires bled
The fourth Empire also crumbled
Started it all – now meekly humbled

The proud Hapsburgs also dethroned
Austro-Hungarian Empire creaked and groaned
Then splintered and shattered like crystal glass
As Europe fell to the common mass

Three young cousins with the lead/tin toys
Had played and warred when they were boys
What frightful shameful fact
When, as men, they again did act

When Emperors played with human lives
Unheeded the senseless sacrifice
Aided by ruthless men of state
That threw Europe to a dreadful fate

A bygone age; a noble past
Had been replaced. The die was cast
Let’s not place on them the singular blame
When politicians and tyrants did the same

Three young cousins played a game
The map of Europe, then the same
But they would live to see the end result
For throwing the world into blind tumult


Long poem by Vee Bdosa | Details |

LIPOMA

        LIPOMA
There did they go into the cyberspace
where none but the great of heart
have ever gone before
and they did find great pleasure unto the night
for it was a time of love and understanding
and she did say it is good.
And when they did awake unto the dawn
then he did see a mass onto his shoulder
that had not ever been there before
and he was sore afraid.
Then he did say unto his mate, whose name is Mae,
what is it that has aflicted me in the night
and bonded itself onto the very body of me?
And she did reply unto her husband,
I know not.
And so they did consider the mass
and it was firm and round as a gooses egg,
yet it was of the mass that was thrice the size.
So she did lay her hands onto the mass
and did say,
is it now with pain, for I have given it a great charge?
But he did reply, nae, I feel it not.
And so they did go with the coming day,
even as the sun was high, unto his physician,
who counseled with some of his own, as to the matter.
And they did touch, and poke, and wonder
at the mass, and then they did say
it is a lipoma, and it is nothing more.
But one of physicians did ask
of what great need do you have of this arm,
and the man did reply, it is not the one
with which I write my name.
And the husband, whose name is Fred, did inquire
as to how this mass ever came to be
and so has attached itself onto me?
And there it sits, as if bad things to come.
Then his physicians did reply and say
nae, it is naught to worry about
but we can remove it if you have the desire.
And the wife did say unto the physicians,
who were with great skill in the matter,
this he does have,
so the husband did say, it is so my desire,
I have great needs that it be gone.
But the physicians did reply
it shall be taken away in twelve days,
for that is the only time
that is not already spoken for.
And so they did agree.
Now when the night came and he did lay again with his wife,
there came a great trembling from deep within
his body, and he did shake to his very toes.
And she did say, husband, why is it that you shake?
And what is it that maketh your body wet all over,
as if a rain has fallen on the very place you lay?
And he did reply, I know not.
But he was with great fear and did wonder
as to what the mass could be.
And his wife did then say,
it is a lipoma, and it is nothing more.
But he did think on the matter and then did say,
this must surely be as unto a sign from the maker
that my time is at hand.
Surely my life has been filled with goodness
but has brought me unto this very day.
And she did say,
it is a lipoma, and it is nothing more.
And as the day grew near,
but was even the second day unto the removal,
the husband did worry and say some more,
my life is at an end
for the very inside of me does now quake
and my hands tremble at the sight of the mass.
Yea, mine eyes cannot bear to gaze upon it
and it has become an abomination unto my sight.
But his wife did say,
it is a lipoma, and it is nothing more.
Then there came onto the tube, as if an omen
and a sign unto its own,
that a man had a mass and surely it had taken him away,
as if a robber had come in the night.
And he did grieve, for the day was almost at hand,
but did go unto his physicians and did say,
see how my body is wet and trembles at its' sight?
How is it that this thing has come unto me?
And what are the tingles unto my skin
is it what cometh from a lipoma?
But the physicians did shake their heads
and then they did say
you have the stress.
And so he did wonder at what they did tell him,
and when he looked, the mass was still there.
But the physicians did say,
it is a lipoma, and it is nothing more.
And one of the physicians said
if it is not a lipoma, the betting is off.
And then the man did return to his home
but trembled in the night.
Now when the morning did come
and the woman reached for her husband,
she found his space to be empty
and wet where he had layed.
and she did say, husband,
where is it you have gone?
But she heard not a reply.
And so she did go into the bottom of the house
where she did see him hanging from a beam
and then she did cry.
And so the constable did come, along with the scribes,
but the wife was with great grief
and did say o! that my life has such dismay
because of the lump that has taken him away.
What manner of thing has fallen to me?
And the scribe, who was to tell of the matter,
asked of her, what is it that has made you grieve?
And then the constable did say
is it the mass, that has made your husband
to end his life?
And she did say, it was a lipoma,
and it was nothing more.
....© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet


Long poem by Robert Nehls | Details |

LIFE'S STORIES

His eyes are dark, but, there's still a spark. 
There are canyons in his face.
His lungs are gone and it won't be long,
'Till his heart can't keep the pace.
He's lived three lives, had his share of wives.
The decades have been nine.
There's a soul to bare, with a joy to share.
And he always says, "I'm fine."

He's a wise old man and the whole damn clan,
Likes to hear him tell his tales.
He remembers when as a boy of ten,
He was raising up the sails,
Of his father's boat and he'll always gloat,
"It was hard work for a boy."
"Hell, it was hard for men, but I'd go again,
Just to feel that youthful joy."

With dreams to follow and pride to swallow,
He reached for life with lust.
Following his heart, met his first sweetheart,
On the street he calls, "False Trust."
After one short week, they were heard to speak,
"Until death do us part."
Then, the next two years, thunder, lightning, tears.
And she left with his torn heart.

Lost in grief a while, it was hard to smile.
And he wore his armor well.
Heartless, hurt and laden, but a fair young maiden
Put him under her sweet spell.
Speaking of her dreams, and the gold dust streams
Sparkled in her clear blue eyes.
Making his blood stir, and he followed her 
To the land of pastel skies.

Bitter cold up there, but he didn't care.
She could make the hard ice melt.
Then his heart returned, and a fire burned.
True love was what he felt.
She could feel it to and the fever grew,
Like the child in her womb.
But, a family was not meant to be.
And her corpse became it's tomb.

His whole world shattered and nothing mattered.
Streams and canyons echoed pain.
Cursing God and man for the evil plan,
That was driving him insane.
Wandering aimlessly in the open sea,
Of demented souls that quit.
Two long years go by, and he can't deny,
He remembers none of it.

Then at twenty five, well, he comes alive,
And decides to live once more.
Like a broken spell, he walks out of hell,
Passing through life's open door.
Everyone there knows where the story goes,
And the old man kind of grins.
With a little wink, he begins to think,
This is where my life begins.

There was gold out there and he didn't care,
What it took to make it his.
"I'll be rich one day," he was heard to say,
"And that's just the way it is."
Well, he mucked and slaved but he never caved,
So the gold gave up the fight.
There were nuggets found measured by the pound;
Bringing golden dreams in sight.

Just a vagabond who was rich beyond,
The means of any king.
He was young with health and he bathed in wealth,
As the girls began to cling.
Well, he played the field, but he wouldn't yield,
To the pressures of the heart.
There were memories, love was some disease,
That could tear a soul apart.

He was rich it's true, but he also knew,
That you can't buy happiness.
So, he headed down to his old home town,
To what? He could only guess.
It was strange to see the old filigree,
Pressed in frames upon the wall.
Faces lost somehow to the years that now,
Drift into his heart's recall.

Seven years had passed since his father last,
Took a breath upon this earth.
Mother held him tight and to his delight,
He began to feel his worth.
No conditions there, love was everywhere,
Riches far beyond the gold.
So, he bought some land, and he took the hand,
Of fate with a life to mold.

Was a big barn dance, when another chance,
At true love was brought his way.
With her skin so fair, and her golden hair,
He was drawn to Jenny Mae.
Dancing close all night and to his delight,
She allowed a little kiss. 
When he dreamed of her, the thought would occur.
There was too much there to miss.

He was ready then, his heart soared again,
And he longed to tie the knot.
Down upon his knee with a marriage plea,
A sweet wife was what he got.
Life brought so much joy when their baby boy,
Had been born out on the farm.
And eventually it was them plus three.
Fate had swung it's loving arm.

There were ups and downs, but the world goes round,
With reunions every year.
And he swells with pride as he holds his bride,
Sitting next to him it's clear,
That we may grow old, but there's always gold,
To share when love abounds.
Laughter all about, life that seems to shout,
Love's the greatest of all sounds.

Tell us more, they say, right up 'till today;
He's reminded where they were.
He includes them all in his tale as tall,
As an ancient Douglas fir.
Jenny holds his hand, ah, this life's so grand.
And the old man kind of grins.
With a little wink, he begins to think.
This is where my life begins.


Long poem by Prince Rage | Details |

Oppressor and the oppressed

Oppressor and the oppressed.

Who is the oppressed and who is the oppressor?
Who has the right to beat a random person on the street?
Who has the right when to pronounce a person guilty or to see that they is the victim?
Who has the jurisdiction to carry a gun and to unload on a random person because of the way they is playing life's game?

There is a president but he has a nation that needs to be run, there is a mayor but he or she needs to govern protection and education for every man,woman, and child. There is those who vote and those who do not, there is those who KILL for a FEE and those who KILL to protect those who threaten and attempt to poison their feed. 

In the Crayola box there is over 8 colors and how many of them do you see fighting to maintain a piece of land that doesn't even have their name? These colors have managed to get along but why has us as artist slander there good name? 

You may agree we should be free, others may agree to lock them away, the third party may vote that we should have a Hunger Game and declare a winner from each district and let them be reminded by name and plaque.

Will it not be funnier if things went back to being the same before the post-Europeans, before the ice age, before slavery, before time itself? Before evolution, before the industrial revolution, do you believe it will solve the conflict of today? Do you believe it will create a new name of a newer society that is under a different system?

The enforcers enforce a punishment that themselves would not want to see happen to people of there kind, the victim sometimes is the guilted, the drugs may make a person a bit deranged or even appearance may look strange. But deep within their brain hides another person who has experienced a pain that became so unbearable so they hid behind a false name. Drinking, smoking, feeling of looking at trees in 3-D is all the same when you are being called a different name, but let it not change you into something that you did not dream of to be. 

Look at me, I am me, you may see prince, others may see another black person, another person may ask me name and they may read my palms and tell me that I carry. Both a Spanish and African name that I was originally given to from birth. But hey life is a curse. You can argue with what happened in the past but will that change the date of today's oncoming past!

But the most funniest thing about our past is how much we cherish it and pray for its ways to be continued on today. But look around you what do you see... I won't say any name for my name is not even copyrighted, BUT EVERYBODY WANTS TO START A RIOT! I look at the people around me and I think how can you say that we need to bring change when your thinking and doing the same as the person who once stabbed you in the back?

I'm not saying don't hate the Man, I'm not saying say **** THE POLICE, I'm not saying that the president is part of some dummy corporation, I'm not saying that their isn't a war that has begun, but if you choose to believe what you hear than you will get what you perceive to be your reality!

I'm not saying don't go to school, I'm not saying don't drink, smoke weed, or snort yayo, I'm not saying that you have to rob and be branded a theft, I'm not saying that you shouldn't give love a chance, but everything is up to thee on how thou wants to perceive the world.

I'm not saying that if you close your eyes you will dream, I'm not saying that if you smoke crack you will become a fiend, I'm not saying that THERE IS NO DEMONS ONLY REASONS, I'm not saying that if youse look into the mirror you will see another person in your eyes, I'm not saying that the soul lies behind the eyes. But if you believe the lies you will think that when the truth is told you will think that, that is the lie.

There is a oppressor and there is there oppressed. There is the depressed and there is the depression that we all feel. There is two eyes but they act as one. Nobody asked to be POOR, nobody asked to have WEALTH,nobody asked to have POOR HEALTH, nobody asked to be born with ways that needs to confine to limited space.
But hey the more you believe the lies. The more that you have to believe you will be confined Into thinking that this life is a lie. 

There will be battles, but instead of battling and slandering. Why don't we make our voices be heard like that over a beat slapped with claps and a set of drums. Kicking the  inside of ears.

Let us prevent the internal bleeding of our heart that is beating (BREATHING)!

Fin! 


Long poem by Louis Borgo | Details |

Why Question No Question Question Is Now

I was born on death of arrival on birth.7:01 Am,  one of the coldest days  to record,
I battle for my life for every beat to every breath I was born premature.

Being born premature I was born with learning and mental illness and despite 
Of the disadvantage I broke barriers of stereotypies and prejudices that would follow.

Why Question that it is a recession does it mean mental illness rise? 
No Question the research from
ashbournenewstelegraph co ukHomeRecession worst, blog.atoshealthcaretagof
recession on mental health, thefiscaltimes, RecessionsSilent Mental Health... would include That facts does not lie, 
Question is now who is listening. (those R website just without dot coms) 

Why Question in the headline it’s the mental ill that’s making headlines
 No Question they all ask for help put the system ignored or failure report those demeanor read between the lines…
 Question is now could that have been your family or friends so why make fun of the mental ill to feel inferior? 

Why Question they say that people with too much education is at a higher risk of become mental ill? 
No Question they say that mental ill can’t have weapons if so then why is it 1.5 million roughly in the military that has sometime mental ill with weapons? 
 Question is now that Bill Clinton stated on Cnn that gun laws will never go away because (forgive me if I miss quoted)  the voters don't hold the people they voted in office to there word to do so.

Why Question that a person got to do a violent act before you determine that there mental ill and if that is so why do we have prisoner that could be mental ill
 or, is it one in same being and state from a television host “to do violence you must be some type of mental ill” it would be simply, if he ask the first question I stated then fumble with his words No question my doctor said if you are depression more then three day then in there book a person is mental ill 
Question is now why have smoking been written in constitution or some states and you know what type of smoking I’m talking about so who is to blame.

Why Question that the medicine they give us that can make you aggressive, more violent and sometime even suicidal but when go to sue them it was not enough evidence to prove but ten years later you can’t sue because the statue of limitation but time has ran out
No Question a comedian made a joke about the same thing was it a joke or was it a movement you tell me much luv to him! 
Question is now is if a person life is more valuable  then a buck if not why is  manufaction  a G over one prescription not knowing all side effects.

Why Question what is the debt ceiling as well as the glass ceiling seems to be something to keep minority from stepping in the next class because it all revolved around money and who is usually get short stick? (the poor) 
 No Question food stamps being cut, health care require and we have been in a war or wars since I been born I guess my generation was a victim of society the Lost Generation indeed,
no wonder inmates believe government own them. Now question does this facts lie? act lies if so why is history books rewritten in college every semester? Question it now

Why Question in the bible it speaks to the effects things will never be heard or seen would happen
(1 st Corinthians 2: 9)  I paraphrase that….. No question Jeremiah 8-9 once again paraphrasing  the people that became of power and knowledge used it in the wrong way and god later destroy the city
 Now question god spoke lyrically and God creation us in his own imagine and I have research that a person can come out of depression naturally but does the doctor tell you that? 

Once again it is a small percent of mental ill that does violence and most time they are the victims. I have giving my life to science I have giving my blood for 10 years and im only 25 years old my doctor told me by year 2020 it should be cure for my disease being born which such a disability may you know I gave my life to science so child like me will never know of harass words to endure.....

I will probably die before 30 or 40 because of malpractice and my disease Why question, No Question, Question is Now what is the definition of crazy and that of mental ill? 
My last statement is, I am the not only person that speak out for mental illness October is mental ill awareness would you like to say you spoke for reason? better yet chance.... 
(a poet and still running)


Long poem by Ravindra K Kapoor | Details |

Pink Pink Pink


Pink- Pink- Pink- Every peak has its own attractions, Like the mountains, The mounts of a woman, Have always remained, Her pride possessions. 01 It has the charms, More intoxicating than wine, As it reveals the beauty, Of a woman's alluring binds. 02 These mounts gives, The wings of imagination and colors, In the mind of an artist, And they arise the passion, In lovers mind.03 Their rise and fall, Has shaken great empires, Under their cool and peaceful shade, The dreams of a child form shapes. 04 Its serenity has given birth, To most pious and holy figures on Earth, And their warmth have shaped the dreams, Of many powerful kingdoms on Earth.05 They feed life giving milk, To every new born light, Every time they laugh and cry, These lofty mounts, Help in forming shapes, When the child begins its story. 06 But these pride possessions, Of a woman, These lofty inspirations, Of Poets, Writers and Artists, These magical charms Which often become more attractive, Than the face of a woman, Are facing, A wide spread pollution,* Which is the unwanted gift of Modern living and They are also the gifts, Of worst living habits, Adopted by thousands, and millions of woman, As they fall prey, Before the charms, And shows of modern generation. 07 Many such wonderful women, Who are in the grip of this pollution,* Have brought this curse on them, Mostly because, Of their own follies and errors. 08 Many such suffering women, Can really get rid of, From the curse of this pollution,* If only they can show, The courage to adopt, The natural way, Of living and breathing, Possible under the boon like shade, Of real Yoga. 09 The reasons, Of the distortions,* Of their pink pink ribbons, Are mainly the results, Of their own creations, And these results, Are not something, For which, One should blame, The destiny or God every time. 10 Some of the serious reasons are, Not caring rightly, For one’s own pride possessions, And the lack of, Physical manipulations. Not keeping, A cool and calm mind, And eating, From morning till night, All the junk foods and wine. 11 And working, Beyond all time limits, While stressing, your peaceful mind. 12 Running and more running To catch others, So that you may not leg behind. 13 And madly crying, For more and more wealth, Even if you have sufficient, For your life time. 14 Are the reasons, Which invite the pollution,* To sow its rotten seeds, To spoil, The enchanting valley, Which exists, Amid the mounts of, Pink pink flowers. 15 The pollution,* Can still be derived out, With the little practice of Yoga, But it remains untouched, And unsung about, By most of the modern women. 16 These otherwise elegant women, Regularly face the problems, Of distress, Lack of peace, And sound sleep. Which ultimately take away, Their happiness, And coolness of mind, Resulting in strengthening more, The un sprouted seeds of pollution.* 17 Still it is not too late, If they can only change, Their life styles, Their eating and drinking habits, And adopt from today, The way of natural living, By adopting, The boon like Yoga. 18 As the practice of Yoga, Not only add years to your life, But life to your years, as well. 19 Ravindra Kanpur India 15th Nov. 2012 *Pollution- The other name of Cancer. Those who want to share their views on My above Poem may write to me on my yahoo mail id: kapoor_skk@yahoo.com I would welcome your brief comments and if possible I will reply you. Thanking you in anticipation. Ravindra K Kapoor Inspired by Poet Destroyer I am dedicating this Poem to all those women of the world, who are facing any such problem of Pollution* And to those also who are not facing it, so that their life my feel the joy of living under the blessings of Yoga. Ravindra
TO OVERCOME OR TO TAKE PRECAUTION ON THIS PROBLEM UP TO SOME EXTENT- ONE CAN START WITH ANY ONE OR TWO OR THREE OR ALL FIVE OF THE SIMPLE YOGA EXERCISES I HAVE GIVEN IN MY ‘YOGA IN POEM’ SERIES 1 TO 5 ON POETRY SOUP IT- SELF. YOUR COMMENTS WOULD BE HIGHLY APPRECIATED. http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=490745 IMPORTANT NOTE: The best effects of Yoga can only be obtained if it includes the main exercises of essential ‘PRANAYAMA’ otherwise it wouldn’t yield the desired results and PRANYAM should be learn properly first. Ravindra K Kapoor


Long poem by Rob Tierney | Details |

Comparisons

COMPARISONS

I sit here now back on my bed
Bandaged and still quite sore
I think back to my Mum and Dad
And all they both endured

My Dad he died of cancer
My Mum of MND
Both were unpleasant ways to go
Distressing all and me

My Dad he said the whole way through
That such things were quite shit
“It's not the hand that you get dealt”
“But how you play with it”

He played his days, diagnosis on
With courage and true grit
He even kept his old jumper
Into which he once had fit

In his last days his breath grew weak
He just slept more and more
No longer looked like my dear Dad
Not like he'd looked before

I wasn't with him in the end
When he drew his last breath
I wished I'd been to hold his hand
And hold him as he left

My Mum was strong for all of us
Who were then left behind
We tried to not upset her heart
She's say she didn't mind

We spoke of Dad and often laughed
But sometimes we just cried
It cuts us all when we all thought
Of just the way he died




Bereft of hope, robbed of his strength
Left just an empty shell
Locked up tight inside his frame
He must have gone through hell

Then comes my Mum, my guiding light
She strode right to the fore
She grasped the lead and stood up tall
And led us all once more

For 10 years plus she moved right on
Taking all in her stride
You could tell she missed my Dad
Some things you cannot hide

She too grew ill, and felt real weak
They couldn't find out why
When told that she was terminal
I just sat down and cried

“Why was this all happening now?”
“This all seems so unfair!”
My Mum just smiled, said “C'est la vie”
And sat back in her chair

We visited Mum alternate nights
Myself and partner Lynn
Some days we did a double shift
Although it did us in

I too got ill, not bad of course
But I could not visit
Aware of just how ill Mum was
But I could not risk it

Xmas '11 was an awful time
It really was so sad
Advancing days, time growing short
Not knowing how long we had

My Mum was now in her last days
She knew it too as well
It was just like a crap repeat
Of my Dads sheer hell

Her last day came, I got the call
As I put down the phone
I realised now straight away
I felt now so alone

An old orphan, a silly thought
No Dad and now no Mum
I waited for it all to stop
But no release would come

My world just stopped, the sun still shone
The world just turned each day
My heart was black, devoid of love
“I want to run away”

But that is not the man I am
I buckle but I do not fall
I'm bruised, and bashed and bloodied
But I am walking tall

I feel I am my fathers son
Much more now than before
For those having a real nightmare
I really do implore

Do not give up, do not back down
Stand up for what you feel
Don't be part of the machine
Do all that makes you real

Break down and cry and shout and swear
If its what gets you through
Who gives a damn what others think
Just be true to you

I didn't think I'd get over
Losing my dear old Mum
But now it's over 2 years on
And rarely I am glum

All I do is sit right down
And shut my eyes real tight
And I am back with Mum and Dad
And everything feels right

Whoever said the age old phrase
“Out of sight is out of mind”
Please send this silly sod to me
I'll boot their big behind

My Mum and Dad, live evermore
In cells and blood and mind
And through their kids and legacy
They both have left behind

Still here on earth not visible
Most of the time it's true
But I still sit and talk to them
As I would talk to you

I talk to them, you'll think I'm mad
I simply do not care
It just makes me feel really safe
To know that they're still there

So now I sit down in my room
Upon my empty bed
They both reside down here with me
Even though both are long dead

There's more to life than physical
Of this you can be sure
There's spirits, aura's genetics too
And feelings too are pure

So when I think of Dad and Mum
I sit down with a smile
And shut my eyes to be with them
For just a little while

I feel their warmth, deep in my soul
Just like a summers day
It brightens up my darkest times
And chases them away

I'll leave you now to close my eyes
And see them both again
I'll tell them that I spoke of them
With love and peace my friends
----------XXX---------


Long Poems