Long poem by
Terry O'Leary | Details |
Though still within our infancy,
we strive and thrive, but woefully
we flash and flaunt our 'primacy',
display our trophies pridefully.
Our terra firma ecstasy
destroys the planet's harmony,
lays waste to life within the sea,
and all in name of vanity.
Who dares our spheroid's symmetry
by doubting Nature's regnancy
defying laws, like gravity,
affirms a fatal fallacy…
for, centered on the 'world of we',
we feed our vain insanity
on thoughts beyond eternity -
seems strange when looked at cosmically.
Perchance there is no remedy
for those in shadow's prophecy -
unless we handle skillfully,
as clay we'll pay the penalty.
The Moguls rule with cruel decree,
control the crowds like puppetry,
pursuing greed addictively
with no accountability.
The winds, they reek of Royalty
(that's bathed in suds of treachery)
and blow across the peasantry
left gasping in their pungency.
The Queen, so steeped in snobbery,
sits, preening proud Her pedigree,
on throne of ash and ebony
while sipping Sekt immodestly;
to sate Her Regal Majesty,
a caviar clad canapé
is served with golden cutlery
by maidens bent submissively.
The King is bailed from bankruptcy
by Knaves who hoodwink artfully
the down-and-outer evictee
who wallows in their lenity.
Forsooth, the Money Monarchy
ordains the dollar dynasty
portending highway robbery
by Peacocks plumed in finery,
for Jesters and the Fools agree
to dabble in duplicity
while stripping masses witlessly.
Long live the peon's penury!
To justify the oddity
that one plus one is sometimes three,
one reaches to theodicy,
takes paths of circularity.
In bygone trials of travesty
the doubters, draped in blasphemy,
endured the pain and agony
inflicted by the papacy.
Inspired by the Trinity
fanatics bent cosmology
in geocentric fantasy
while Bruno burned for heresy;
and aged women, fruitlessly
(while racked and wrenched), begged clemency
from justice framed in infamy,
but set ablaze for witchery.
That epoch of credulity
(when savants fostered sorcery
and practiced ancient alchemy)
arose in dark age quackery
as clerics dripping piety
(while raging, raving rabidly)
pervaded thralled society
with callous inhumanity;
'repent', they bellowed, 'verily,
forsake the world's iniquity,
live lives of want and chastity,
and give your gelt to God through me'
The Masters make a mockery
of freedom and democracy
by holding down the uppity,
released from shackled slavery,
now fettered in a factory
else strewn across the Bowery,
still chained in bonds of bigotry,
immersed in seas of poverty.
And colliers, tapping balefully
in sunken-mine solemnity,
yet thrum a mournful monody
some call the digger's elegy.
To children, pale and raggedy
(behind a day of drudgery),
the boss man, oh so gallantly,
presents a penny, niggardly;
though some are fed (belatedly),
their eyes recede in apathy
while bellies swell, inflatedly,
with mothers watching, wretchedly.
When met with health adversity
or broken bone infirmity,
the pauper dangles helplessly
with no insurance policy;
and those engulfed in lunacy
are ailing blobs left floating free
through psycho-dream obscurity -
a dire death row odyssey.
Forgetting mankind's unity,
our rich and poor dichotomy
breeds empty doomed finality,
Just as in days of chivalry,
wild warriors fighting forcefully
bring freedom neath the gallows tree
while blending blood and burgundy
to toast the slaughtered enemy,
or else convince the colony
to cede with smile on bended knee
and yield her diamonds, silk and tea.
At first they call the cavalry
and then again the infantry,
so proudly primped in panoply,
and armed from finest armory
(embraced in hands so tenderly),
inflict benign atrocity -
but soon atomic weaponry
will cancel our posterity.
Misusing high technology
(to feed the face of gluttony)
depletes our Rock of energy,
now slowly dying thermally.
Our gadgets breathing CFC
fuel ozone holes' immensity
while cloud bursts, raining acidly,
wilt woods in their entirety,
and rivers, tainted chemically,
refill our cups methodically
and drown our souls organically.
Adjusting genes mechanically
may well blot out the bumble bee
annulling fruits' fecundity,
but brings big bucks reliably.
We wager perpetuity
to revel momentarily
in shadow-like obscurity
ignoring the futility,
but if we bet unknowingly
on fickle fate's contingency
and thereby act haphazardly
we're doomed to lose the lottery.
The mildly mad bureaucracy
so often lacks coherency
when raping rules abundantly
but offers no apology.
They paint the past in reverie
when, slyly comes the tendency
to take away our privacy
which paves the way to tyranny.
With earlobes lurking furtively
that listen surreptitiously,
and eyeballs peering doggedly,
we've lost our mental sovereignty,
and those who dare to disagree
must hide away in secrecy
else perch in penitentiary
with water board anxiety.
Yes, sans responsibility,
our marble in this galaxy
will crumble in catastrophe
ere ever reaching puberty…
Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
Poetryof Providence | Details |
A thousand myriad voices scattered on the wind
decry the human suffering questions will it end
tents in desert dustbowls waiting upon the rain
lives molded in emptiness how long can they sustain
Pandemic the diseases a viral biology
man himself constructed in tubes technology
outpouring chemicals no plant life can escape
pillaging our resources our planets incumbent rape
The corporations interest aim profits in their greed
a force it must maintain your pocket book exceed
desires that are mercenary have plans to you expunge
trash outstrips the landfills the poor in countries plunge
The maintenance of property with empty homes in rot
homeless children hungry sleep in a parking lot
media insinuates you need be owning more
earning of the dollar the dream you're living for
I have seen starvation exists a different kind
a famine of affection to others needs be blind
hedonistic pleasures force decisions to ignore
repercussions down the road contaminates hardcore
The disappearing species on land and in the sea
ones we've not discovered may know them never be
chem. caused deformities in humans also plants
cancer causing agents saturating our advance
Facilities explosions toxic substances are spread
how much can nature take before our planets dead
we all have mankind's mind we know where this will end
to destruct this machine on man we can't depend
Aspartame and PCB's nitrites not a few
pollution of the food supply detriments not new
the really scary thing as this accumulates
greater will its impact be if prevention waits
As mans wars continue a plan for our demise
we barely see the surface that our governments disguise
there's a conspiracy our morality to drown
if you hold to virtue their aim to take you down
In streaming videos what's immoral implant
willingly absorb them its profession is extant
the onslaught overwhelming the pressure to conform
if you don't run with them you aren't considered norm
The barrage of information to absorb your time
new gaming now is free to keep your mind online
even I use this tool to reach inside your thought
every truth you hear is seeking to be caught
here little there little every piece in place
to clean up our planet must destructive thought replace
errors inclination mans programming like a map
where is the intervention to spring us from this trap
COPYRIGHT © 2012 C Michael Miller
Via Duboff Law Group LLC
Copyright © Poetryof Providence | Year Posted 2014
Long poem by
Moji Agha | Details |
By: Moji Agha -- June 24, 2016 -- Tucson, Arizona
Last dusk at a small Tucson park,
my 3-year-old dear friend, Rafi,
insisted unhesitatingly on imitating,
no, actually embodying, a baby dog.
REALLY! As real is Trump's candidacy.
It was as if he was saying this to Donald Trump:
"HAY! You finally convinced me,
to finally give up on being human."
"If humanity has been reduced to Trumpicity,
I'd rather be civilized in the dog-eat-dog world."
"Do you, the Trumpet of Ultimate Ignorance,
understand the significance of my giving up
on humanicity at my adorably tender age?"
"Do you even give a damn?
I highly doubt it."
O' and of course we all know
how perfectly our fellow 3-year-old humans
know the art of insisting;
Much like Donald Trump knows
how to perfect the art of being an insistent ass.
In the mean time,
I insistently wonder why Rafi
(who insisted on factually being leashed
and be physically walked,
in part by myself--leash in hand)
manifested so perfectly at yesterday's sunset
an unbelievably adorable actually barking "doggie"
that did not poop.
Yupp! You heard it right!
did NOT poop!
So again I wonder insistently,
if his trans-species dog and pony show
(I played the pony, I suppose)
at its profoundest level of canine contemplation,
to symbolically show authentic poop-less solidarity
with those evolved dogs
who don't poop the world;
perhaps to differentiate themselves
from the words that insist on pouring out
of Donald Trump's ass-imitating mouth,
further polluting our wounded Mother Earth.
And no doubt,
Rafi and I have persistently no doubt,
on these Trumpian days
of sickening surreality,
that our Mother Earth must be insistently asking herself
agonizing existential questions like these:
"O' my God:
How the hell did I end up giving birth
to an insistently white, yet
persistently steamy pile of shit,
How did this orange-hued artificially hairy tragedy happen?
Whose fault is it?
How should this grotesque Trumpesque pollution be cleansed,
wherein the narcissistic shit
and the exhibitionistic asshole
are of the same socio-psychotic DNA?"
O' my God:
How on Earth can THIS kind of ass be wiped?
Hoping for some answers
(before it's too late),
will our civilizing 3-year-old Rafi,
now a proud poop-less citizen
of the dog-eat-dog world,
come back as some kind of a Doggie Super-Hero
to rescue humanity,
making our Mother Earth "GREAT AGAIN?"
Copyright © Moji Agha | Year Posted 2016
Long poem by
Dave Collins | Details |
I stopped to stool siphon sip on a cool blue
circumstance in the means between the in
times loath listening to complacent
poetic prostitutional practice of stir my friends
ego echoes doing the same f. u. c. k. e. d.
favor dance for me whenever my I/ego envy enter
exists your contra content littered with
manic moronic mentaloronic maladies
of entrance entrocities. Lining words
pentamhextamater, of rich rhyme, cleaveage crotch
clearance, colic c.u.n.t. coffure
frantic fascist frames, abounding with
wok out at me sillo sounds
composite of cruel crisp compound
cumulo capsules of I, me, mine
mousy miniscules in dreamy drop
lovelorn lostlusts learned
limitations lauded longevity in living
linguistic liquidlovelorn light
leaking lanterns, which bequeath spewing
in bitch broth biscuted breveties catching
lucid laminated word wornwastes
catagorical crass. Leave wail/wall
wallet inadequacies enough alone any analog yet tackless
trash white talent to ergo the less a nominal negress and opt for a
sporadic spittle spindle of annotated attack seeing a new personal
your poor prowess less than dodah duh, Po a tree? Nimnul junk gite.
So, my wordful children of BS, when writing yr so called pitypoetry,
devoid of dream dance diminutives coinciding correctly with wrenching wraps
of prostitutional ponder relentelessingly revealing a rapture
of vast vile emoelements of comprosotory
composites of fecalfroughtfrightfolly of fantasies in
poet emeritus of urineyourns a 3 way stretch non nobel poetlorietsupreme
goodfistingluckwiththatcrap;therefore u either play the game or
risk reside in the zombie aperature camera obsecura word death orbit; therefore
Assimilitate before u ass umulate,
Build before u bridge buldge
Concentrate before u cumulo capsulate
Decide before u dildo dick tate
Engulf before u evo enevelop
Fragment before u fracture fantasize
Grasp before u geno germinate
Hallucinate before u hasty hippocrate
Initialize before u initiate
Jackulate before u Jillulasm
Literate before u laud luminate
Mentor before u mirror menstruate
Nurtuate before u neuro negate
Obliviate before u oogle obligate
Postulate before u priest present
Question before u quotionent quest
Recreate before u radical resonnate
Saturate before u semen sacrlidge
Tintalate before u trick translate
Utilize before u usurp ugly
Victory before u vile vanquish
Want before u willful waste
X-turn right @ W follow the X signs
Yuletides before u yell yeildtides
Zeusotide before u zonk zerozilchotones.
Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2013
Long poem by
Quincy Mac | Details |
But it’s show time, word genius making a fuss within ya brain hemispheres,
I’m rear in all the ages, pages outdating your solar systems burning spheres,
I leave ya mind scared with the truth, scared of what you will lose,
These writings are like hip hop and blues, blowing your mental fuse,
Your used, abused by your ignorance, cant advance from ya current mind stance,
With plans upon this planet, over running ruins, within ya delusions, ya say plans?
You ran away from your divine land, residing instead blind following lies,
Firmly as earning spiritual advice, nice and nicely played out well,
As you fell I tell a real story of glory of the real history with fury,
Furious but word notorious, worry about these things, they are nearly near,
Yeah bearing witness to those that stumble and don’t get up, find ya wings,
Hear the voices singing songs, lethal sequels seeking ears to hear,
Fear the mighty word warrior, steer your vessel, bless you from the summit, right up there,
But I don’t care, I steer a mind behind the vessel, as I wrestle good and evil,
Always climbing levels…. Depart devils, be gone please, ya don’t stand a chance,
One glance of these words puts you in a trance of stagnant brain operation,
Change up ya station,
Excellent, your seeds growing,
Into a plant with enhanced reception,
Tuning in, dismantle the stress,
Confess your ruining ya perception,
In the life of Mass Deception!!!
The completion is to reach them, all of them,
Mindfully seen through intervened letters to them,
Them? Who’s them? Remnants of the mighty men of old?
The Chosen few… come on I don’t know….
So I can’t just follow in blind faith,
Distasteful foul ways of the fools,
Who are schooled within disgraceful enslaved schools,
Check ya schedule, Like King Saul you will fall,
Slayed by your own sword and missed out on the reward,
Plagued by an evil spirit, devils mindset absorbed,
Records show a man that didn’t grow so jumped overboard,
Absorb these words, sort what distorts and delete,
Don’t retreat and be defeated in this heated war of good and evil,
Find your tranquil place and be seated, meet the inner self,
Where the real help resides, inside your house, your temple,
Disassemble and reassemble yourself, resemble principles possible,
Irreversible when awake!!!
date written: 5.12.2015
Copyright © Quincy Mac | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
Andrea Rose | Details |
Oh well here I go again,
wishin for a dream that I could be wrapped in,
torn away from addiction,
destroy the tele…
vision they strive to force upon you,
its all false but you know I’m true.
They will not protect you when you scream your broken cries,
they are merely evil faces of masked men behind illuminati eyes
with which they hypnotize,
brainwash you with their lies.
I've got those deep thoughts pouring in,
all the roads I've traveled down
conditions I have traveled in
here in my pretty town,
the 910 deserves a crown.
East Coast I'm representing,
I promise you I am not venting.
High on that purple haze,
And still haven't slept for days,
excuse these bloodshot eyes
with a krispy kreme glaze,
some will try to say its just a silly phase...
My mind is so graphic,
use words like special tactics,
unmistakable like D'Jango,
or a peace signs' angle,
destroy the crave for war and struggle,
no need to explain all the trouble,
with places burstin’ into rubble,
Rebel! Rebel! We’ll show ‘em hell!
I’ll be fightin’ when I'm dead,
kick and scream till my blood is shed,
let authorities know the message will be spread!
Put on a show with a little bit of passion
or the bad things will continue to happen.
Get the love through your head,
all this hatred should be dead,
what I'm saying must be said,
before the gauge goes into red.
With vocabulary this brilliant makes a female more vigilant,
like brothers boston what I speak
my words alone will make you weak, make you faint,
Like blood spilled by hands of a vigilante saint,
trust me lifes too short,
you dont have the time my young cohort,
wait until your words make an enemy
cause their threatened by the uncertainty
that you will make it this far
make a point unlike this war
next thing you know you see ‘em sweat
words fresh like paint drippin with purpose,
makin ‘em wet.
I finger paint a master piece with a just simple rhyme,
just don't pull your piece on me just let me speak, my mind,
while I unwind, rewind all this blasphemy,
I may have to beg and plead so that my boys can rest in peace
sorry for the interruption,
don’t blame me for the corruption,
for now I'll put my words at ease,
hope you told someone you loved them today and that it wasn't a white lie,
just a tease.
Copyright © Andrea Rose | Year Posted 2013
Long poem by
Quincy Mac | Details |
Common sense putting dents in ya system,
Upon Zen, forgotten Presidents and Christians,
Yeah I dismiss them, I’m a contender, defender of my realm,
Surrender ya pretender, center of reality? Fallibly conceptualized,
Here ya find my rhymes, a society offender, wanted dead or alive,
The Five O, Oh no, fed by the rendering of greed to survive,
Sore eyes because I can’t deny this life, Never baptized into Christian Lies,
But I gotta be truthful, unfruitful untruthful powerful ties arise,
A man made image in the sky? The garment is the disguise,
This worlds plan is damaged in an age as time perceived flies by,
I thrive like a Pharaoh, said to bleed the same blood, go hide,
I’m designing this rhyme, its time, the tide is coming in,
Spinning in sin as ya spin, just a pinch and now ya spun,
This writing is just for fun! I’m the Sun, and here’s what I’ve done,
Run run yo, all yall and all you hoes, from these flows, you can’t see,
You need be seen, obscene scenes of the future to come and be,
Dreams of the unseen, glistening beings seeing nothing collectively,
Seems no one has been effectively feeling this negativity,
Paranormal activity activated, dealing fear or revealing,
Your normal state of mind concealing what it means to have feelings,
I’m dealing out light within the spectrum of human beings,
Beings being beings but not seeing or hearing the language of the world,
Our consciousness continues to be hurled, jumbled thoughts as we tumble,
Stupid and killing all the bumble bees, confess we are a mess, can’t be handled,
Am I just a word vandal? Well rooted, prevailing pleasing with ease and increased,
Knowledge as I stand still, wounded human code decoded into unwanted stimuli,
Artistically using art and its rules, founded and announced beautifully,
But can’t you let me be, I need to see sanity within this world of fools,
Foolishness is proclaimed by the foolish, dishing wool over the eyes with distracting tools,
Infinity to nil, instilling skills to rebuild what’s lacking, so hear the drill,
You need to head uphill and fulfill ya purpose before ya mind is killed,
Distilled information into common sense well spent and surviving,
Exercise well emphasized advice, otherwise you will never be spiritually wise.
date written: 4.12.2015
Copyright © Quincy Mac | Year Posted 2015
Long poem by
Rich Metzger | Details |
Doctors getting exposed like popes,
Caught pulling the rope a dope,
Falling down the entropic slope,
No integrity - can't cope,
Seats of power to dethrone,
Why don't y'all extradite your own?
If ya catch a sleeper near ya,
Take that tommy peeper,
To the nearest theatre,
And expose that creature,
Its the latest greatest feature,
In reality media,
Put it on wikipedia,
We like, "Dawg, we hear ya!"
Stuff ain't black and white,
So let's punk these zebras,
Walkin' 'round like libras,
How 'bout we take their medicine,
To debilitate libidos,
Of ghouls in tuxedos,
Now let's stop the peep show.
We gon' Murder, lazy suckers in art,
Not in the streets, are you a stinking sweet tart?
Be smart, avoid Agents Provocateurs,
Lessons learned from disturbed dealings with nerds,
I'm jealous of every one of you free punks,
Livin' lux' cuz you learned math and redux,
Methodology, just watchin' the flux,
Making rational decisions and earning big bucks,
Sucks to me be me cuz I'm a sensitive nut,
Driving the short bus right into a rut,
I once thought I was a cut above the rest,
But when putting faith to the test,
I found a lot of hex, and now maybe I'm vexed,
I realized my faith wasn't in myself,
It was in the rest,
So I went on a quest to discover why I felt,
And my feelings lead me straight to hell.
Would ya get a load of these sheepish creatures?
Could ya set a tone of leaner demeanor?
Should ya live by the vote of some evil geezers?
I'm gettin' at the throat of some evil deeds,
I'm pullin' out weeds like, "who planted these?"
Some GMO seeds, like, "do we really need these?"
These things we see have an invisible leash,
I breath, I eat, I sleep, I compete,
I discriminate based on character for real,
No Little Bo Peep gon' convince me,
That skin means stink,
Look sir, I'm free,
To use intuition to see into you,
Sleuthin' through the politics that consume you,
Communistic who's who protruding through all the doo-doo,
You know this, Excentrix is super glue sticky dude.
Copyright © Rich Metzger | Year Posted 2016
Long poem by
OLUWATOBILOBA OLANIPEKUN | Details |
I hear things that make my dear heart lose its composure.
The news of Earthquakes,cyclones,and tornadoes have brought my rigid heart to a fracture.
Our lands have felt them,even the air,the waters and those high places that have the mountains as their enclosure.
My tears cant help but roll down my eyelids commisure.
Who will answer the question that our hearts conjure?
"Who is at fault?"
The weather?,mother earth or grandmother nature??.
Rather,i think they should fault us for our torture.
Which we effortlessly and so quickly have dealt to them in immeasurable measure.
I think we would have stopped this if we had thought of even our own future.
But presently in our minds,it's more exploitatory mechanisms that we conjure.
So we can defile their resources intricately till they become impure.
Imagine the wastes and damages we have made her procure.
Just for the treasures we greedily want to procure.
The pleasures we temporarily want to enjoy.
And for the landscapes and structures we want to see in our pictures.
We forget all the fractures she painlessly endure.
Despite our hand-made breakages and fissures.
how many prohibitions and restrictions did she actually adjure?.
Yet we have engineered diverse machines and given them fear-imputing features.
And it's her crust that our machines puncture,when we ride them recklessly like men on stupor.
We have access to her materials for sure,and from them get our own beautiful infrastructures.
But we fill her waters with things that her impure,and our day to day activities disfigure her once beautiful structure.
Though we see the havocs that we have caused to rupture.
we still take our stand and claim our actions are just for our comfort and culture.
Oh!! These tears are for the environment,mother earth and grand mother nature.
For they are caught up with destroyers in this dangerous venture.
If only our actions from now are unto them like a cure.
Then there will be hope to take a picture one day,and what you will see in them are wonderful eden-features.
Copyright © OLUWATOBILOBA OLANIPEKUN | Year Posted 2016
Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |
I'm not out to change my world
but I do believe we are in this world together
to refine our collective regenerate health status,
to resolve our climate therapies
for healthier economies
and politics of mind and body ecologies.
I am thinking of not even being in any more
for those who only have a yearn for climate change,
as this is too ambiguous for me.
I need commitments for and to cooperative healthy change,
not just any pathological change,
not just competing changes
but revisions of the unraveling health
that is our shared EarthBirth Right.
Keep your stupid rites of change, please.
Show me some smart cooperative ecopolitical health choices and plans
for more therapeutic landscapes,
internal and external,
not more escalating climate change
but revolutionary resonant refinements of climate enculturing health;
not more Business as Usual rabid-paranoid-terrorizing climate sickness.
I'm not out to change the world;
I am totally in for and with a renewed therapeutic Earth
of and for all.
Earth's multicultural interdependent Tribes and Species,
elements and systems and networks
and regenerative healthy life principles
of resonant balance and resolving harmonies.
I'm too old for more mindless change
and yet never too young for more mindful ecoconsciousness
of healthy ecopolitics.
I'm not out to change you or me
but I'm in for refining relationships with you,
our shared blue-green Home.
Don't talk to me about change
until you show me how you have managed your carbon footprint
for your economic and political campaigns
as evidence of how our future together
might thrive a more global (0) carbon footprint
as a healthy regenerative species,
instead of an overpopulating degenerative falling apart race toward hate.
We're an evolving teapot
long and thin.
Egos are our handle
while Earth is our spout.
That is our ecology spiraling out.
When we get all steamed up
LeftEgo's brain shouts out
while Tipping Points recover
health's abundant love flows out.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016