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Long poem by Allyssa Pate | Details |

My Hell

I fall down
deeper and deeper
into oblivion
nothing
only darkness.
the sounds of evil
dripping into my ears
slithering farther
and sliding down into me
filling me with echoes.
terror courses through
my veins
into each cell
turning them against
me
they are no longer mine
they follow another
a stronger being.
icy breezes come
they whisper to me
they say I'm bad
they call me to them
the breezes dance
hug me
covering me
hiding me from the light
shielding me from hope.
falling deeper
only down
my eyes are taunted
I see people
the ones I know
love
they are hurt
hurting
by me
I have betrayed them
left them
I am hurting them
it is me
but I can't stop.
my mind is plagued
sick
new thoughts
 every second
comes a new terror
a cruel joke
all a prank.
only deeper do I fall
light is disappearing
becoming dimmer
fading fast.
all a game
for one person
the puppeteer
the ringmaster
the man in the
mask
the one who is running the show
the show that is me.
he sees me falling
he laughs
I can't see him
but he is there
everywhere
teasing my brain
taunting my senses
he hates me
he wants to hurt me.
he throws it
the knife
I feel the pain
running up my leg
showing my bones
releasing my blood
it is blue
my blood is cold
it splatters my face
sprinkling my features
dotting them with blue
the blue liquid drips
jumping onto my tongue
I taste dirt
my blood is dirt
blue is all I see
blue is all I become
I am blue
blue is me.
a distant shout
who is it?
a cry for help
surely
the sound is mangled
twisted
young
desperate
hopeless
mine
the sound is mine
I shut my mouth
but I still hear it
chilling my blue blood
ringing in my ears
shaking my breathing
jump-starting my heart
then it's over
the scream has ceased
and silence returns
sounding more deadly than ever before.
still falling
only black do I see
the evil
the monsters' playground
the demons' joyride
and someone is hungry
it wants me
my innocence
my purity
it wants to take it
it feeds on people
people like me.
weightlessness
objects hitting me
ghosts' fingers prodding me
as I fall
I fall down
down into this never-ending hole
this abyss
for eternity
restless
empty
yet full
filled with misery
my worst fears
come back
how did he know?
he knows I'm afraid
the darkness
doesn't help me see
I can't see why
how does he do this?
they cut me again
spilling my blood
oh, the blue
I don't even feel it
I am numb
the sound of me
my skin
being sliced
a quick slashing
and they are done
I am cut
my legs
my arms
my stomach
my face
my neck
I can't see my blood
but I can see how evil it must look.
the thoughts that fell
fell down with me
they too
are damned
they talk to me
they tell me what they see
they can see
blue
yes blue
my cold blood
it is everywhere
I am pale
white
I look sick they say
oh, no
they say
oh, no
they see the bottom
be ready
they say
be ready.
I fall faster still
slowing for nothing
for no one
being pulled down
the puppeteer has me
he's got my string
and he's pulling
with no sign of letting go.
now I hear a song
they all sing it
the notes are cruel
unforgiving
they bump into the others
struggling to be heard
with no set order
it is musical chaos
he yells to me
it is beautiful
and he sings along to his song
it's made for me
musical notes are played
they come up to me
they greet me
they jump
right into my cuts
surging into my blood
they search inside me
no mercy
moving faster
the drum
keeping them steady
pounds faster
picking up tempo
searching
searching
until
they found it
they found
my heart
my soul
the music does the talking
it says to hush
hush now
slow down
my heart listens
and I get sleepy
just stop
they say
just stop
the music is evil
played by the man
the man in the mask
my brains sends
a message
one final request
it says to my heart
speed up
it says
speed up, can't you see?
she is dying
it says
you must speed up!
I still fall
with no way up
letting go of hope
why dream?
dreaming of being saved
when I already know
I'll only be dropped.
I smell
something burnt
burning
oh, no
I know what
that smell
it is flesh
not mine
surely
but belongs to someone else
someone close
they too
they smell of dirt
sinners burning
dead
they are nothing to me
they are the stench
in my nose
nothing more
the smell overcomes all
all the other senses
until it becomes me
and I burn too.
even in the dark
the black
I see something
darker
blacker than black
they are shadows
they mock me
they play
they sing
they dance
they laugh
I fill with evil
hatred
a longing to hurt
hurt the ones behind it all
then
without warning
I hear him
laughing
my pain
is his pleasure
oh so dark
it's over
I'm at the bottom
laying on the cold ground
in a small ball
too weak to stand
in a pool
of dark blue blood
I hold myself tight
I can't trust
these creatures
these beasts.
he likes my weakness
he tells me I am small
I am ugly
I am worthless
I am nothing
he laughs when I cry
I thought that
maybe
just maybe
it would be better
down here
instead of up there.
it's not.
hell is not a game.
death is not an
easy way out.
do not try to visit me.
do not try to rescue me.
for I am more lost
than I hope you will
ever be.
now that I am
at my fate
at the entrance to hell
at the bottom of this grave
of my eternity
and if I am truly
here forever,
I'll have plenty of time
to ask myself
why did I jump?


Long poem by Desheya Swaby | Details |

Part 1: Confusion of the muse

The large, bright Winter moon shone it's heavenly light over and out amongst the snow-covered city. The city was large, the city was noisy. It was midnight and the bustling still urged on. People ached for a screaming, gangs clutched for their money, the elderly walked the icy sidewalks alone and or in couples; such a beautiful sight it was. At the very top of the Empire State building, a young-looking woman with ivory, glowing skin slumped her spine up against one of the boxed structures set over, preferably the corners. Her eyes glimmered with a soft red shine in them, her gaze was holding and even dangerous but yet a calmness instilled in her body, instilled in her soul. She was confused, she was.. What was the emotion long forgotten? She pushed her head up against the upper part of the ventilator before closing her eyes lazily, then did she turn her head, watching the moon pester her with it's large size. She rolled her head a moment. "Why do these feelings still exist? Why does unhappiness set the mood? The consecrated belief of this form was for the lovely destiny of being what I am now.." Her long, wavy hair danced with the cold breeze that swept in her direction. She found herself entranced in the lustrous sphere, floating there in the confines of the atramentous skies, dotted with sparkling partners.
As she sighed, her breath came in a swirl of thick fog. She felt no cold, she felt no warmth. She just felt sick.

Suddenly, as if everything stopped in the undeniable present of the moment, the sound of civilization cut off completely. Not a honk was heard, not a gunshot was sounded, not even the wind that whispered to her so dreamily could tell her secrets now. There was a presence. A strong presence, and a voice; a deep, rough voice;
"Child, have you not learned? Have you no shame? Have you no comprehension to the reasons of your being?"
It was a male's voice and it was most familiar out of a lot of voices, she heard it so much that sometimes, she thought herself to lose even her own infernal sanity. If she lost that, all hope was lost for her soul to linger somewhere as it did now. The woman turned around, folding her arms over her breasts as she did so, her eyes set upon a large silhouette that hid within the shadow of one of the large ventilators behind her. The male stepped out from the shadow, staring over her with spine-shattering, shimmering crimson irises. He stood six foot nothing and had long white hair just as she possessed. His jaws were squared out and his chest was large. "I have but more shame than you may know, but, in general, do you know too much.." She frowned. The man smirked only slightly to where it wouldn't even be considered a half smile or any in relation. "You're unhappy. You're dissatisfied. When clearly, you are to be neither. You have been a Devil of Dis for some time now and I think, perhaps, it's time for you to control it."

It was only their voices and behind their voices and words were soft echos. As every city commotion went on down below, as the lights flashed and cars crashed, nothing seemed like reality to her anymore, not even in her moments of thoughts. She was always being watched, no matter what. She couldn't feel shame. She never had that chance. She never had that chance to suffer the right way and die the right way as well. A faded memory of her Mother transitioned into her thoughts. She turned around, her back facing him now. She kept her arms crossed. She said nothing.

He walked up behind her before placing a single, large, talon-tipped hand upon her right shoulder, gripping firmly. His palm was warm. She didn't look up. "You fight with yourself.. Often and you know it all too well, girl." She could feel the gaze of his aura-seething eyes pierce into the back of her head. She parted her pale lips to speak; "I've got to find myself, I suppose. But, underestimate me not. It's harder than I've realized." Her back pushed up against his muscle-bound chest absentmindedly as she leaned into the fiery warmth of his massive form. The pit of her stomach felt as though it would close in on itself at any moment just not too long ago and now, it felt the growing ball of fire that set ablaze to her chest and overwhelming her beating heart. Hot breath caressed her slim jawline as she soon snapped from her flow of thoughts. She closed her eyes, nudging her body into his suddenly when she found herself facing him unexpectedly. Did she move here on her own?.. She let her head rest against his chest, his large hands running over her curved sides and behind, brushing his fingertips along her lower back with almost fervent passion before she tilted her head up, meeting up with his sharp structured face and the demand in his eyes, feeling the same breath brush over her face. The female fiend leaned up, placing her hands upon his broad shoulders and just as she tilted her head, brushing her lips over his own once. He disappeared.

In the same moment, her body posed in the same form just as if he was still there before she stepped back, her large, black wings folding up against her form. His voice rang through the air or her own air even before it entered into her subconscious, acting as such; "Act on your own, for I will be watching you..." And as his words faded into the soft echoes of tomorrow, the shuttering noises of New York followed in from soft to normal volume once again. She stared into the velvet skies, spying a single star that remained larger than the rest of it's comrades. She sighed softly, contemplating this.


Long poem by Demetrios Trifiatis | Details |

ETERNAL RECURRENCE

ETERNAL RECURRENCE*


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 
“I am certain that I have been here as I am now a thousand times before and
 I hope to return a thousand times after.”  GOETHE 
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


1.

Once upon a time, 
The Lord of spiritual consciousness was sitting peacefully on His blissful throne 
Ceaselessly contemplating upon His equilibrium
T’ was the era of no moon, no sun, no stars, no earth, no oceans, no rivers
Just a motionless, timeless and deathless entity it was happy with His existence  

2.

Suddenly the thought of sacred motion was felt deep down in his essence
Seeking the chaos to be stirred from its core outwardly
Consequently separating the light from the darkness and all the other elements 
That constitute the Cosmos
Thus giving birth immediately to old mighty time

3.

When Time: This wizard of celestial art found himself alive
His expert hands stretched in advance, wanting to create
For that the plastic energy he took, that was everywhere around
And skillfully and patiently the Cosmos carved according to the Logos
Creating thus, the nebulae, the galaxies, the stars and all the other planets

4.

Then God looked at times creation and marveled with its beauty
But as there was no life to be seen in all of this creation
The thought of desire was born in God to inhabit every place
For that out of himself he cut myriads blazing souls
Which like shooting stars he sent downwards to animate nature,

5.

In this way, to manifestation’s cosmic sphere, the souls were beamed
Radiating their luminosity to reality’s lower planes  
Bringing with them the sacred principles to denser forms of life 
As they were passing from the spiritual, the mental and the astral
And finally materializing, themselves on the physical solid plane
Where life began on earth, with God’s will and grace!

6.

Each soul an ambassador was and is of God’s will and grace
A ray of divinity, a guardian of the Holy Law 
Each with a specific mission: to learn or rather to remember
How to find the way of return throughout space and time
And with the divine, again, to be seen in perfect equilibrium

7.

The day I was born, as every man alive,
I found my immortal self bound to the wheel of time 
That around eternity’s circumference took me, in very heavy chains
Asking to follow obediently the unswerving path of fate:
This endless trip of return where the only constant thing is change

8.

Since then I have died once and many times after
But death's dark palaces to hold me were unable
As my soul’s perpetual desire to follow my destiny
Brought me back to this ephemeral world of fleeting dreams
With a new body, new hopes, new goals but always with the 
Same desire

9.

Thus I journeyed back and forth the plains of oblivion
Choosing the best conditions I could, according to my karma
Trying to find endlessly the golden middle way 
That unmistakably between the extremes is only to be found
But since from the river of forgetfulness each time I was drinking 
I was obliged, unfortunately, to start over again

10.

So, I was born once a king and another was I born a beggar
And in turns I was born a coward, a hero, a holy man, a vicious man,
A  Christian, a Muslim, an atheist, an idolater a strong man and a woman
And healthy and sick I was born and intelligent and witless
And was I born to love so much the things I once detested
And to hate passionately the things I once held dear

11.

And I was born once to laugh and another just to cry
And I drunk successively from joy’s cup and that of sorrow’s
And was born to make friends out of my enemies 
And enemies out of my brothers
And was born to realize the impossible dreams and fail the very easy  
And I was born to slay and to be slain alternatively for thousands of years

12.

Thus I lived continuously the extremes of both good and evil
Striving to find endlessly the balance in my soul
Through the wisdom that was endowed upon me by the Great Spirit
That like a beacon, luminous, to guide me waits
To my supreme destiny that GOD for me has traced

13.

So, as was passing from life unto death, from darkness unto light
With a speed determined by me, I don’t put on GOD the blame,
All my lessons have I learned through trial and error
Up to the very last reincarnation, in body’s mortal temple

14.

Now free, AT LAST, from all earthly desires and every karmic blame
Radiating with holiness and glowing with grace 
My immortal soul, HER divine wings unfolds and soars upwards the heavens
White light blazing in perfect equilibrium 
And pure now to her glorious creator returns and with 
HIM UNITES! 


©Demetrios Trifiatis
  11 DECEMBER 2013


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“A little while and my longing shall gather dust and foam for another body.
A little while, a moment of rest upon the wind and another woman shall bear me”
KAHLIL GIBRAN
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

* This poem because of its length I was unable to post it in one piece for I was not a
member for life at that time therefore I published it in two parts as: “CREATION” and as “REINCARNATION.” Here is the entire poem as it was originally written.
Now, my friends know that apart from my epigrams I write... long poems as well!    
  


Long poem by Brian Johnston | Details |

A Mom, Three Girls, Two Cigarettes, And A Sparrow

Part I.

Harvest time was winding down, 
I was taking lunch in town, 
After spending six long hours plowing stubble.
Washing up I met a man, 
Guessed he was a harvest hand, 
His combine crew, he said, was fixin’ to move out.
He was wearing dungarees, 
We exchanged some pleasantries, 
His grease stained clothes revealed he’d no fear of trouble
As I left to join the crowd, 
Well, the cafe was quite loud, 
Chose a corner seat where I would not need to shout.

From my new seat had a view
Of the whole room’s retinue, 	
Men and women who make a livin’ from the dirt.
A table seating seven, 	
Which could have held eleven, 
Was where my new acquaintance waited for his lunch.
A young woman with three girls, 
Blonde hair all done up in curls, 
Joked with and teased an older boy with a clean shirt.
The youngest seemed the cutest, 
Still with girls there’s no sure test, 
It was clear that these seven were a charming bunch.
 
Well quite soon our meals arrived, 
As I ate I still contrived, 
To simply take in all the action I could get, 
Even though I felt quite blest, 
How I longed to be their guest, 
What a gift to be their dad, uncle, or brother.
Then, ‘Oh God, ’ there came a shock, 	
And it hit me like a rock, 
As this loving mother smoked her first cigarette.
It was like my best friend died
And deep in my heart I cried
As quietly she lit up and smoked another.

Excuse me if I’m unkind, 
But all this brought back to mind, 
A smoking relative whose life was soon to end.
Her choice couldn’t be undone, 
For her daughter and a son, 
Her addiction's death came too late with no one spared.
God has a lien on my heart, 
He promised we’d never part, 
Required just that I serve Him by being a friend
To others in my pathway, 
(Whether they’re pure bred or stray)           
My most personal assets always to be shared.
 
I felt God’s call to action, 
But doubting words had traction
I had a C-note that I concealed in my hand, 
Walked to the group of seven, 
Prayed all the time to heaven, 
And as a joke said, ‘Are you all on safari? ’
Told them I was a farmer, 
And attempting to charm her, 
Praised her family in some ways I’d fore planned, 
She beamed at the attention	, 
Was surprised when I mentioned, 
That I also had designed games for Atari.

I said, ‘You might think this strange, 
But do you have plans to change
Your smoking habits? You smoked two after eating! ' 
She smiled, ‘Of course I’d like to.
But somehow I never do.’
I opened my hand, ‘It’s yours if you’ll quit today! ’
I knew she could feel the Love, 
With one source, from God above, 
It guided her heart to miraculous meeting.
She looked at my outstretched hand, 
Crying, ‘I don’t understand, 
This can’t be happening to me, there’s just no way! ’
 
She still couldn’t quite believe, 
And with heart out on her sleeve, 
She looked up at me and said, ‘You’re kidding, aren’t you? ’
I answered, ‘Give me your word, 
That these changes have occurred, 
That you will never smoke again, and all is good! ' 
She turned to her three daughters, 
As if to check the waters, 
Asked them, ‘Should Mommy bid her cigarettes adieu? ’
Well the girls all screamed out, ‘Yes! ’
And I really must confess, 
The mother’s smile convinced me she too understood.

She didn’t try to hedge her bets, 
Handed me her cigarettes, 
She took some paper and a pen out of her purse.
I guess I looked kind of blank…
‘Write down who I have to thank, ’
She said, ‘I want to write and tell you how I’m doing.'
As I handed back my name, 
She said, ‘Oh look! They’re the same! ' 
And I found myself rejoicing, ‘I have done worse.’
Fifteen years though now have past, 
Oh, My God, they went so fast, 
There’s been no word, but no doubts am I pursuing.

 
Part II.

On returning to the field, 
My work’s promise was to yield
A speedy death to any green weed still growing.
I have farmed now many years
Know just how to shift the gears
Of a tractor which out-pulls five hundred horses.
Things were going pretty good, 
When, by landing on the hood
A sparrow made a mockery of all knowing.
To start off the hood is hot, 
A place to rest, it is not, 
Yet he seemed quite content as I ran my courses.

Engine’s roar did not phase him, 
Its harsh sound sure was no hymn, 
I was plowing fast over ground that was quite rough.
He’d bounce forward and then aft, 
Even slide in the cross draft, 
But it seemed like the little sparrow did not care.
I thought maybe he is sick, 
Perhaps his brain isn’t quick, 
Then I thought, ‘He likes me, ’ and I stopped feeling gruff.
Some days I serve sea gull schools
Circling my tractor’s dust pools, 
A moving smorgasbord of insects that rise there.
 
My friend wasn’t there for food
Which helped establish a mood
Of brotherhood like I’d felt in the restaurant.
It felt closer to caring, 
Something more than just sharing, 
Though glass stood inbetween, his eyes stayed locked on mine.
If our dance was like a dream, 
No enticement did I scheme, 
The sweet gift of his presence wasn’t meant to taunt.
When at last he shook his head, 
And into the sky he fled, 
I understood, by God, his visit was divine.


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 David William Breidenthal | Details |

My Fruitful Flight During Nightfall

I’m getting tracked down by nightfall
Hear me…hear me…out as I fall…
Hear my call; my heart’s pounding in appall 
I fall down – hear my pleas and answer my call
Don’t hang up on me at all!
I’m losing my head – it’s nothing new…
No one has a clue that I’m feeling blue
Steer me…steer me…Out of darkness and the abyss 
Let us float away from the ebony skies of lies
It’s so spooky in this solitary cave
But, I’ll remain brave…brave…
I’m alone – are you alone?
I’m getting tracked down by nightfall
Hear me…hear me…out as I fall…
Hear my call; my heart’s pounding in appall 
I fall down – hear my pleas and answer my call
Don’t hang up on me at all!
I’m walking in the woods with no one by my side as usual
I’m sleeping on the branch of a giant tree…
Hear my lament in this song of sadness and slight content
Things could be worse today – 
I sway like the wind…so free and gay
You put a spell on me like a Disney movie…
You are my treasure to discover under the wild, blue sea
Feeling shady and rather terrible today
I’m getting tracked down by nightfall
Hear me…hear me…out as I fall…
Hear my call; my heart’s pounding in appall 
I fall down – hear my pleas and answer my call
Don’t hang up on me at all!
Friends cheer me up all the way all day long – yay! 
Let’s have a magical duel! That would be cewl!
I have outlandish, yet epic pals, 
Filled up with passionate and eccentric fuel! 
They have answered my many calls!
I sing with so much heart and soul – I sang with effort and pride!
Confidence has leaded me along the way – don’t swallow me up, sorrow tide!
You are my emerald compass…
Not leading me astray…
Filling my heart up to the brim with cheerfulness and hopefulness
I’m getting tracked down by nightfall
Hear me…hear me…out as I fall…
Hear my call; my heart’s pounding in appall 
I fall down – hear my pleas and answer my call
Don’t hang up on me at all!
I pray I would remain happy forever and ever – I want you to stay!
I want you to stay and motivate me to push forward
I know, dear child – sometimes, I can act awkward! 
The spotlight is staring me down like a hawk, looking for prey day and night
I pray…I earnestly pray 
That I sing well! Might as well take divine flight
However, I’m getting tracked down by nightfall
Hear me…hear me…out as I fall…don’t kick me around like a ball!
Hear my call; my heart’s pounding in appall! 
I will remain as robust and firm like a wall 
I will not fall down anymore – I will not give in to you
Hear my pleas and answer my call! Healing from the love flu
Sick with the love flu still…and you still don’t get the clue, do you?
I love you…but I’m lost in the maze of bewilderment…
I throw a fit like a 2-year-old infant! I must be bold and be made whole with content 
I hate being in my skin – I’d rather be in someone else’s shoes
Don’t hang up on me at all!
I pray…that you would stay and not stray!
Do not stray…obey and go this way!
My flight during nightfall
Is extraordinary – I must stand tall and give it my all! 
I must stand tall and give it my all
I must stand my ground and give it my all…
Don’t make me feel invisible…
You’re so irresistible…irreplaceable!
Walk with confidence
Let gladness and joyousness enter your heart 
Be optimistic and take fantastic flight with me! Perlease? 
Take action and the chaos will cease…you have heard my pleas!
You have heard my pleas at least! 
It feels that the atmosphere is negative 50 degrees…
You caught my dreamy gaze
Your friendship is a priceless deal
Your maze – I would gratefully graze!
I wish you would emotionally heal
Conceal the sorrow and reveal your high hopes in Tomorrow! ~
What are you waiting for? Explore the Joyous Island with me, please?
We used to roam the fields of innocence 
We’re just a few minutes from Home – am I of any significance? 
I have memorized your face like the lyrics to my favorite song 
Do you have enough energy to finish the race?
I can tell you’re putting effort into your work by the sweat of your brow…I long…
To see you at the finish line! You and I aren’t left without a trace!
Where’s the finish line? You’re looking fine and I feel like I truly, sincerely belong!
Your glory is what I envy, but you and I can share vast grace
The many shimmering stars start to align
You and I…you and I can shine on…we unveil a secret, harmonious sign
I don’t know why… I don’t know why I cry tears of anguish…
Goodbyes afflict my soul…overwhelming me with lament…I wish!
I wish! I wish! I can shine on like a gem in my solitary cave
I don’t want to succumb to my fretful fate – leading me to my death…my misery grave
We can both glisten in the moonlight
We’re flying so high in the aqua-blue sky – I’m not afraid at all!
I must not stumble or fall! David, stand tall! I must give it my all!
I must get a grip and take fervor-flavored, fantastic flight…
You placed me on Cloud 7! Wish me luck in my fruitful flight during nightfall!


Long poem by Peter Duggan | Details |

In memory of Bob

In memory of Bob
A true story.

It was in spring of two thousand when I first saw Bob. I’d just started working at Perth Dental hospital, and in fact it was my first day there. I walked up to the front door of this building, but it wasn’t yet opened. So I turned around and went to sit in the bus shelter which was just outside the building. As I went to sit down I noted a dark skinned gentleman sitting there with a happy, benign look on his face. He was about five feet eight give or take a little, and he was rather a thickset man who looked like he’d done his fair share of hard work in his sixty years or more.

     There was something about this Gentleman that I could not quite put my finger on. He had a certain charisma about him; not the phony kind of charisma that one seen in the car salesman or the philanderer who messes with women’s heads, no, Bob had a kind of friendly smile for everyone that he met, and he seemed to draw people into him with his love, and gigantic heart. I knew as soon as I met him that Bob was most definitely for me.

      As Bob looked at me and smiled, the whole world seemed to open up. He said “Ow ya  going mate” in a loud ebullient manner, then we started to chat. Bob was like myself, a thinker, and straight away we started philosophizing about this, that, and the other, and it was like we had known each other forever. Then all of a sudden I found Bob talking about death, and the difference in the way the Maori people faced death, compared to the rather the silly way us white folk look at the subject with great fear in our hearts. Now this had always interested me, and  somehow it just seemed natural to talk to this Maori gentlemen on this subject, and we spoke about it till the doors opened and it was time to work.

      I don’t think anything happens just by chance, and I definitely have this feeling that Bob and I were meant to meet, and I really think this was a major destiny thing. I have found during the course of my life,  that as I am aging, I can feel something pushing me into a certain direction, and I always felt that Bob was part of all this; and I had much to learn from him. Although I have never believed in organized religion, and never followed one I have always felt deeply spiritual, and I have met many people who I learned from, and Bob was most definitely one of them with all his great wisdom and patience. As I came to know Bob, we had many dialogues together, on many subjects. Bob used to love music and could always have time to plonk away on his guitar. He used to come round to my place and we would play songs together, though both he and I were no Eric Clapton’s, I would bang around on my guitar and play the harp, while we would both take out turns at singing. We’d have a smoke or a beer or two, and we’d play songs all day long,  ahhh, I remember those days well, the memories are so strong.

     Bob was one hell of a man, I could tell that he had been a wild one in his youth,
But when I knew him in his sixties he was an icon of wisdom and virtue; he had a kind word for everyone, and gave all his time to anybody who needed him, always.
He used to hear me waffling on like an idiot, trying to make him like me [as I always did] but never once did he tell me how foolish I was, he would just smile knowingly at me. He used to stand there at the window for hours, just drinking in the trees, or the clouds in the sky, and yet he was so aware, I used to try to sneak up on him; it couldn’t be done. His awareness was incredible.

     Then one day Bob fell ill with terminal cancer, and he knew that he had very little time left on this Earth. He lay there sick for days in intolerable pain,  but you never heard one complaint from him, even when he only had days to live, he was still worrying about the welfare of others. When the day finally come for Bob to leave his shell; he was lying there in deep sleep, when all of a sudden he woke up, with a smile on his face. His children asked him ‘Dad, do you want some pain killers” Bob laughed, compassion written all over his face, and he said to them ‘Not one of you has a clue, have you’ and he died with a big smile on his face.

   His daughter got in touch with me, and told me about his death, and also told me that his last wish was to have me watch his soul leave his body. I felt very honored about this and went and sat with his body [as Maoris do]. I got the most peaceful feeling come to me [which I presume was his spirit leaving his body] as I watched his silent body, a Mari war stick and a beautiful rose lay across his chest. I still see it, and I feel blessed by it. He was my Maori warrior, and I adored the man.
 


Long poem by Timothy Hicks | Details |

The Truth is Still the Truth

I'm searching far and wide for the facts, getting my hands dirty in the process
When we conquer nations, I say bloodshed and they say progress
I have no desire to be burned at the stake
Simply practicing freedom of speech for Pete's sake
I know it's gonna hurt like none else when I reveal these secrets
But in this case ignorance ain't bliss, so I'm keeping true with no regrets
I've learned way too much and dug too deep to pretend I didn't see what I saw
I get disgusted when they tell me to keep quiet
cause I might just break some obscure law
They call me disrespectful and unpatriotic when I display any kind of negativity
But aren't they equally so when they throw me in a cell when I simply don't agree?
Cause at the end of the day, when all is said and done, the truth is still the truth
And I know when I say that I run the risk of hanging from a noose
But if you don't speak up, for fear of ridicule, either way you're gonna lose
It doesn't really matter if I offend the way you think
All I wanna do is offer you my hand, I don't want you to sink
in the sea of lies, those people behind the scenes are so proud of
The time for silence is finally over, the world has had quite enough
We aren't sheep in line waiting for the slaughter
We are brothers, sisters, sons and daughters!
And don't get me wrong I support the troops, just not the war
Does anyone honestly know what we're fighting for?
Stop hacking at the branches of evil, and grab at the roots
When the truth lies ahead, it's worth getting mud on your boots
I wanna let you know that your heart might shatter when I say this
I know you might be calling me crazy or disturbed, but I accept that risk
I'd like to honor the victims of 9/11 - but the investigation was a sick joke
If you're eating while reading this, for the love of God, don't choke
I need you to spread the word and really ask the hard questions
Any race and any nation is capable of performing crimes too foul to mention
Even our own (though reputedly god-blessed) is no exception
The building fell six seconds flat, from an illogical jet fuel blast
The fact it wasn't hot enough for fuel to explode, no one bothered to explain that
The kamikaze Arabs that flew the plane, a few are still alive, living in their home country
Just give 'em a ring and and say how's it going, oh and by the way,
"How did you defy your own mortality?"
Did you know a cool 60 mil was spent on digging into Clinton's love life?
Yet only a fraction of that was spent trying to figure out
who ordered the extermination of over a thousand lives...
Seems to me some poor sap is getting paid big bucks to drink the Kool Aid
Seems to me someone's laughing their head off while the rest of are getting played
Don't take my word it, I'm just one person after all, start your own research
All I'm asking is for you to think for yourself, and don't get too cozy on your perch
Pay close attention when they advance two steps only to jump back one
And when you notice you gotta catch them in the act, not after its already done
This isn't political opinion; the loss of human life is just something I don't condone
Life is just way too precious to be debating the humaneness of drones
Yeah, I support our brave troops, so for once do what's right and send 'em back home!



NOTE: I didn't write this for creative purposes, for this is no laughing matter, but a serious issue. What happened on the day of 9/11 was one of the most appalling crimes in recent history - please, don't listen to the basic news stations and take it for absolute truth. There are over a hundred contradictions in the "official story" they give out. What I mentioned in this rap is just bread crumbs compared to the whole story. The majority of people won't even consider the slightest possibility that 9/11 was an inside job (even when countless facts and holes in their story, lead one to believe that's exactly what it was). It is an absolute disgrace to the victims of 9/11, to leave the investigation in such obscurity and unanswered questions. This is not politics here... these are human beings we are talking about. I beg of you to not just take my word for it, but start your own research. There are several very thorough documentaries on the subject, that were put together by small groups of people eager to find the truth. Loose Change is a good one.


Long poem by Evan Perkins | Details |

Thankfulness


Thankfulness: the opposite of complaining
This isn’t going to come easily, it will take a little training
It’s the concept of being content with all that we own
And being grateful for all the love that God has shown
We so often think that our lives are so rough
Because we are so focused on getting, because we think we don’t have enough
But stop and take a look around
You’re sitting alive in luxury safe and sound
We really don’t understand how fortunate we are
We have food, water, a house, and usually more than one car
There are millions upon millions of people less fortunate
People that we don’t share our fortune with
There are people out there who have absolutely nothing
And this is for real, I’m not bluffing
They’re not sure where they are going to get their next meal
Take a minute and imagine how that must feel
C’mon, let that sink in
And that’s only one place I can begin
So many people are completely broke, struggling to survive, have failing health, live in way, and have nowhere to live
And you’re trying to say that YOU have nothing to give?
We sit here in our beautiful homes, brand new clothes, full of food, iphone in hand
While there are people out there who are too sick and weak to stand
Now to this, how are we going to react? Cause this sure isn’t fiction, it’s 100% fact
Are we going to ignore this and just sit around?
Are we comfortable just sitting in the background?
I say as children of God we need to take action
We need to get out there, not being swayed by every little distraction
Serving and giving generously to others doesn’t follow “The American Dream”
But maybe that’s not the right way to live, as though it may seem
I say it’s time for us to lay down our pride
Are you going to serve? It’s your turn to decide
We are all one body, we all have the same worth
That’s true for all the people here on earth
By Jesus we are called to love and not just sit around
Cause when we die, we don’t want to be just another corpse in the ground
In James chapter one we are called to serve the orphans and widows in their distress
We know exactly what to do, we don’t need to guess
Now this subject I really want to address
And my feelings, I want to express
If we were really thankful for all that we own
We would be OK to step out of our comfort zone
And if we are truly grateful
We would serve others in any way we are able
By doing this, we express our care for those who need it
That we can go out and DO something, we actually believe it
I may have just rambled on, but I wanted to make a point
But now you know my personal viewpoint
Now I’m not just talking to you, this also applies to me
So often I don’t fill the role I was called to be
But I believe that thankfulness isn’t just an emotion, it requires action to make it true
So now here’s the big question, what are you going to do?
Are you going to get out there or continue to stand on the sideline?
Are you going to be absolutely thankful or continue to whine?
You can try to convince yourself that people are fine
But think about it while on that $50 meal you dine
You can help change a life for pennies a day
That’s right, only one dollar a month you have to pay
“Dollar for the Poor” is an organization that’s making a change
Only one dollar a month? That just sounds strange
But it’s true, they’re making an impact
What if we all heard this and could properly react? One dollar a month and you can change a life
For that little donation, you can save someone from a cycle of strife
But it’s not just about money, it’s also about giving your time
This is real talk, not just a pantomime
There are so many things we aren’t thankful for every day
What if all of it was suddenly stripped away? Could we still be thankful and love God without all our stuff?
Will his constant love and providing actually be enough?
Our thankfulness shouldn’t be based off our prosperity or wealth
We so often blame God when loved ones have failing health
We should be thankful for the lives that we already live
Because God’s perfect gift of salvation is the best anyone can give
So don’t forget today, offer God your true thanks for life and your daily bread
Because apart from him, we would be left for dead


Long poem by oluwatomiwo Akinyemi | Details |

3

Waiting waitng...... 
For the all-mighty godot 
godot godot.....I ask myself 
Where are you? 

I have searched the 
tempestuous seas 
I have toiled the arid desert 
All to no avail 
I have defiled timidity into the 
treshold of darkness 
Searching searching..... 
Without the sight of you... 

The angst I am feeling knows 
no bound 
Who will restore this toothless 
lion 
To its old state 
Who will shatter the plagues of 
poverty,corruption,unemploym
ent and these eels 
That denies us peace 

The young is no more getting 
younger 
The old is no more getting 
older 
Our end-less wait is drawing 
us closer 
To the long hand of the great 
striker 
Who converts at the sniff of a 
loop-hole 

Waiting...... 
Is a bane to my soul 
Who will deliver this fatherland 
From baby-land 
The oppressors without 
Have handed us over to the 
oppressors within 
Who have become our 
suppressors 
Who have turned out to be 
more brutal-ic in nature 

godot.. godot.... 
Where are you? 
Sometimes I doubt your 
existence 
But you are the chosen one 
sent to douse our exist-tense 
The blind leadeth those who 
have eyes 
Making those with sight 
question-in the validity of their 
optics 

Several pretend godots have 
come 
Promising the promises of the 
promise 
Of leading us to the promised 
land 
They conceal their aim 
Illusioning and indoctrinating 
our minds 
Into believing they have our 
interests at heart 
Our trust is stolen 
Just like the devil 
their main aim is brought to 
light 
We are all enslaved in the 
boss-om of corrupt-nation 

godot........ 
Where are you? 
Restore the pride and dignity 
of the blackest continent in the 
world 

They despised the colour of 
my skin 
Like the "esu-laa-lu" himself 
Who comes for nothing else 
But to kill,steal and annihilate 
us 
My broth-hel has enslaved me 
*Inn* a more calamitous way 
My anger is burn-ing up 
My body has turned into a 
worth-less one 

Because I have no educate-
nation 
They feel I do not deserve the 
freed-sodom 
And enjoyment of life 

Godot........ 
Where are you? 
If you exist show yourself 
Deliver us from these 
supplanters 
Who know nothing about 
father-hood 
These idiotic baboons and 
destructively greedy agents 
have been leading us 

To think mug-gabe fought for 
zimba--bwes independence 
And still holding on to power is 
so disheartening 
He ought to be thinking of his 
last days 
Not oppress you till I die 
Its hightime we continued 
chasing this gad-dafis,mob-
baraks,abi-idin sed ali out of 
power 

If it will take hero-ism 
Heroes we will be 

I thought I found the godot in 
my nation finally 
But you bring bad-luck than 
jonah 
You are so dumb like dumb 
asses behave like dummies 
You are weaker than the 
weakest weakling that was 
ever weak 
My brothers are being bombed 
by the bomber-men who are 
my supposed brothers 
They are so psycho-pathic in 
nature and character 
Fighting a stupid ideology.... 
They say "western education is 
a sin" 
Yet they are so dumb 
to know there weapon of 
destruction is westernized 
Bad-luck jonah you are no 
different 
From this haram-bees who are 
hell-bent 
On self-destruct-nation 
*A nothing* means of suicidal 
act 
Badluck jonah....awake from 
your sleep 
And go to your nineveh 
*Asuun* strike has been 
keeping stu-dent at home for 
months 
Like a death sentence 
Dent-in and becoming dent-tri-
mental to lifes 
The criminals you have on the 
street 
Are they not enough? 
Quit savage-ing the future of 
this young guns 

Godot....... 
Come forth if you are alive 
Like lazarus 
And deliver us from this sick-
ly* bond-age of *opp-rest-
less-nation* 

Godot.......am still keeping 
faith in you 
Don't let me die before your 
arrival 
Come and breathe life into our 
exist-tense
And destroy these forces of 
destruct-nation 
That is *threaten-in* this 
exist-tense of mine 
Gogot godot godot....... 
Come forth and rescue my 
nation 
If your existence is not an 
illusion.


Long Poems