124.
But At Least
But at least I've just witnessed
That you have changed
You've tried to be fair
To those in despair
You've shown impartiality
To an enemy
Somehow my toils – suicidal, insane
Didn't fully fall in vain
There's no need to worry
Proofs never existed in me
And my “boom” party-protection
Just mere propaganda & opinion
Out of addiction
To watching television
No more reason to arrest nor abduct
No more bother to kill nor destruct
Time to close your Wako-Wako eyes
Time for both of us to rise
Though for me I'm still a Kapuso
My respect & trust are back to 2.
-05/23/2012
(Dumarao)
*My Painful Poems Collection
Organ donation is... to abduct the offspring of the heedless world..
An Ice Fishing House, Abandoned, in Need of Repair
That same shed waits
by the trees.
Waits on its skids
for the lake to freeze,
and the for the creaking
joints of bickering
stoop-shouldered men
as they push it out to the center
of a pool of glass.
It houses the stories of fishing
in winter, pulling sustenance,
wriggling, through chiseled
portals into another realm.
Old men would wait
like death, slow,
their breath
turning to steam
until they could abduct
their prey from the world below.
Trout would flop
with the thickness of a muscled fist,
striking ice like distillery rage unhinged.
They would twist and corkscrew,
mottled black and silver slapping
the frozen pane of the lake,
waiting for suffocation to take them,
as the old men drifted up in
the steam of twice-warmed coffee,
and the willow-the-wisp exhalations
of ribald stories, retold, and finally forgotten.
On Mars, where skies are always red,
We dine on rocks and bake sunbread.
Our cows don’t moo, they hum a tune,
And we milk them straight by the light of the moon.
Our cities float on lakes of dust,
Our cars run on stardust (because they must!).
The traffic’s slow when comets swoop,
And UFOs stop for Martian soup.
Our dogs have wings; they bark in flight,
Chasing moons on a starry night.
Cats wear boots (it’s all the rage),
And read the news from a solar page.
We’ve no Mondays, only fun-days,
Work is banned; it’s all Sundaes.
Our clocks go backward, it’s a breeze,
Time is whatever we please!
So, Earthlings, visit, don’t delay,
We promise not to abduct today.
Just bring a laugh, no need for gold—
On Mars, it’s joy that makes us bold.
Johnny, Johnny Johnson,
Where have you gone, son?
I've looked all over the housing estate,
Come back little man, it's getting late.
But still, you haven't returned home,
Tell me boy are you alone?
I've worried for you lad, what with all the news
Of those evil men, who abduct and abuse
Both little girls and little boys,
Then they break their bodies like you break your toys.
Are you warm my son? Are you well?
Are you cold little one? Please won't you tell,
It's been three weeks now since you went away,
The police fear the worst, and that there'll come a day
When they'll find your body in a shallow grave,
Far too late for life, too late to save
I'll never give up, Johnny Johnson
You will always be your daddy's number one.
Today our world is threatened by,
An evil that should make us cry.
It’s vicious as a tidal wave,
And involves men who trade in slaves.
Their victims are young girls and boys,
whom they abduct and sell as toys,
to clients who are pedophiles,
Who makes them live in constant dread.
The number of these chaste child slaves,
is more than those who crossed the waves,
in ships with men crammed in the hold
destined to be bought and then sold.
Why is there, not a great outrage,
Against this evil of the age?
Is it because powerful men,
use these children in their playpens?
The God who loves them hears their cries,
Their plight is painful to His eyes.
Those who hurt them are fit to die,
by drowning when the tide is high.
Let all of us join in the fight,
To rid the world of this black blight.
Support the ones who risk the grave,
for every child, they try to save.
We need to let these perverts know,
That we would fight them toe to toe.
Let’s shout it loud, tell without fail,
That God’s children are not for sale.
The raft of life with chartered dreams,
through currents of storms and anguish;
the voyage tears apart our seams,
holding back our fears we languish,
with oars of hope,
struggling to cope.
Whirlpools abduct our course with might.
Pools of serenity and peace,
a horizon beyond the fight.
Where challenges begin to cease;
stronger from strife,
renewed, in life.
Date: June 11, 2022
For: Posie Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
Syllables verified on howmanysyllables.com
Rhymes verified on rhymezone.com
Villain in cape of black
slipping through dark of night
hooded eyes peer about
searching for a dark somewhere
evil he would have afoot
dark deeds in deep of night
perhaps a damsel to abduct
carrying screaming to his lair
heroes he would undo
trapping them in his snare
as they seek the damsel fair
their noble quest he would foil
yet there is no place for him
no stories where he could fit in
only goodness is about
no place for evil can be found
slipping off into the night
darkness does he gather around
in the shadows he does await
for a chance to evil do
Sylvester was about to abduct Tweety
But Gran pinched his cheeks and called him sweety.
She put him on her lap, he reluctantly purred
While he kept his beady eyes on that yellow bird.
He leapt from her lap as she started to snooze.
"Now's my moment! How could I lose?"
But he disrupted Grans sleep when his face hit the mat.
Tweety exclaimed, "I saw a naughty cat!"
Written 31st August 2021
When everyone live to abduct one's joy,
And the surrounding is filled with sobs and cry,
No shoulder is found on which I can rely,
Then why to hold tears and keep eyes dry ?
When the light depart with a grief sigh,
And warm embrace of the nature,is suddenly destroyed,
Journey of miles becomes a blunderous lie ,
Then why to hold tears and keep eyes dry?
When the life itself stops me to try,
And senses ditch me alone to die,
But I still have a faithful heart,who is not sly,
Then I have to keep eyes arid ,and try not to cry!
Song Night
Black & White
What do we do?
Hah hah curious furious
We talk we stalk
We abduct we knock
We are bad boys
Your worst nightmare kid
We bribe we kidnap
We hit we slap
We are bad boys
We torture we harass
We stop we loot
We threat we shoot.
Note.It takes all sorts of People to make the underworld. Donald Marquis.
Sarkari hackers work as government employees
They get paid for it
This is what they do
They feed the Ego of their agency officers
They use their skills to control their subjects
They push them around
They bend them to their will
Some of them work as secret agents
They facilitate
They duplicate
They manipulate
They track
They attack.
Note.In the name of country God knows what they do to missing persons.
Lesson.Wonderland is for Alice not for us.
With a smooth cut,
I cut sweetly
the silence...
The word to be extracted
with precise technique ...
The poem per se
it doesn't sprout or bleed,
excise surgery is necessary
to abduct it from the shadows
Broken People
How ruffled a people we are, crinkled and cracked under the weight of economic hardship. Yet we attempt to grin and greet.
From their killer smoking barrels, innocent lives are snuffed away.
In the dark of the night, they abduct, rob, and brutalise. Did you say law enforcement? Tufiakwa! Like Nazgûl, they are agents of death.
SARS, FSARS, SWAT, no matter the rebaptism, this brutality must end. Justice must be done. Someone must be held accountable.
ominous clouds
abduct full moon's warmth~
earth's lavender
of onlookers
3/19/2021
17 syllables
Poetry Contest: Lets Get Creative With Haiku.
Sponsored by: Constance La France
1. One NEW Non-Traditonal Haiku in seventeen syllables or LESS
with a turn in direction on the final line or word, *very important*
2. Nature only, no humanity so, NO . . . I, me, or we
3. Written "in the moment" so, NO past tense, such as was.
4. No capitalization(INCLUDING TITLE), or unnecessary punctuation.
Sub Categories
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