I do not know?
I feel the world crashing around me,
my breath fading.
Pain surges through my body.
I fear my hope of life is diminishing.
All is lost I can feel the regret of every lost sole.
I long for relief but all I feel is torture.
When will it all end, when will the last hour be, how will I suffer death?
Copyright © Olivia Brag | Year Posted 2014
You, are water.
I dip my toes, testing,
Should I dive in..?
Will y o u let me sink or swim?
Have you r e a l l y changed?
You, are a lagoon
I float for now
In sweet oblivion...
You, are a shimmering mirage
Of something hoped for…
A fertile oasis in arid land
Giving love unhurt to my heart.
Or, an undulating river
Natural, flowing, dynamic, definite,
Sailing the curves
Taking me places never imagined,
While we're apart...
You, are a flash flood,
White water without warning!
Baptizing both good and evil away.
You are a raging waterfall!
Beautiful in your steep revenge
Threatening to roil
me over the edge.
You are a tsunami!
Born of violent eruption.
Mortifying, underestimated, overwhelming
Growing larger as I let you get closer.
Sweeping me up
Slamming me along
With the rest of your debris.
You are a MAELSTROM!
Dizzying, swallowing, suffocating
K i l l i n g
and sucking me down,
Down through your center
Into your drowning depression.....
Your circular violence h a s n ' t changed.
Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2017
Based on a true story from a television documentary on Human Trafficking...an international crime with participants from a broad spectrum of society...occuring on a daily basis. I have only seen documentaries on the trafficking of young girls between the ages of 5 and above!! Law enforcers, it seems are fighting a losing battle against the men and women who sell and enslave young girls and I have no doubt, young boys as well.
Somewhere this day on planet earth
A Mother-to-be, while in labor, cries
Not so much for the mounting pain
Nor the fear of possible death
So many fears for the future…
“What lies ahead in the coming years?
What “fate” will meet my child?”
And added to all her heightened fears is…
Will she be there to protect her child?
Those dark years have now passed into decades
When Tanya walked the shadowy streets of the city at late night
While kids her age slept peacefully in their beds
They made her dress up so she’d looked twenty one
Days were spent locked in a room, under watchful eyes
She was fed cheap fast food to her young heart’s content
Soon she'd lose all hope of liberation
This was the second man she had been sold to
And after a while she’d adapt to the situation
Still fresh in her mind was that last day at school
In her backpack was her favorite teddy bear
Her Mother had chosen to believe her step-father again
Now that her twelfth birthday would be in a month
As no one cared, she decided to run away
While at the bus station she met this “nice” couple
Who listened to every word she spoke
They promised her a ride to any place she wished
And she’d always wanted to see Disney land
“Maybe, she thought, it’d be a birthday treat”
However, that would be another promise broken
Weeks dragged on and they bought her “stuff”
Although treated well, sometimes she still felt alone
Then one day came the grown up clothes and make up
That night her innocence was stolen once more
Later she’d try to make an escape
Only to be caught and tied to the bed post
‘Make it easy on yourself and accept your “fate”, she was told
That was years ago, although it seems like yesterday,
When arrested by a new officer on the vice squad
Who saw the flaw in the picture before him
The pimp gave no reasonable answer to the simple question
‘Why are you parked late at night on the street corner with a minor?’
Looking back over the years, she came to conclude that “Fate” is just another word, made up to cast aside blame; when we do not want to see the path we’ve chosen which has led us to our present state
When Pilate symbolically washed his hands, though he had power in that moment to act..
When there before him stood truth and innocence,
Yet, he chose to make a comfortable bed for his conscience
Today, Tanya is a college graduate and a Mother who has vowed not to leave anything to “fate”. She’d teach her children to take responsibility for the choices they make…
She would teach them that no one is of lesser value than another..
Male or female; black or white, all hues; rich or poor
All have a God given right to live free!
For: Richard's "Girl Rising" Contest
(3rd Place Win)
Copyright © Annalise Brigham...a.k.a. Audrey Haick | Year Posted 2013
Why am I emerging from the dark
Staring at a bench in City Park.
Breathless air without a bird in song.
So I sit, unknowing, yet belong.
Sudden waves of anguish flood my mind.
Feral, vicious, senseless bursts of time.
Then a calming whisper fills my ear
And my reason now, for being here.
Minutes of my final day proceed.
Mockingbirds and peanut squirrels to feed.
Speckled sun through breezy treetops sway
And two hidden figures inch my way.
Choking arms, a weakness, loss of breath;
Forced behind a thicket to my death.
Off they bolted free without a trace.
Now I'm vengeance. Patiently I wait.
I'm aware each footstep, as they move,
But this peaceful park is where I choose.
Soon they stalk again. I know the place.
Little do they know the wrath they face.
Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014
An icy salt spray begins to tarnish my feathers,
The salt is corroding.
That salt. It’s ingesting my plume, diluting true meaning
Teal turned navy. Crimson now brown.
I had keen pearlescent eyes,
Now clouded, they see nothing, nothing at all.
I can't even step foot behind the silver mirror; it's broken.
Shards of thick glass tease, reflecting,
I’m falling on the other side, no one’s there to catch,
I’ll just be a mess on the floor. A sad grey reflection.
I hid for a while, from the salt.
But I just knew that shelter
Wasn’t for me.
It wasn’t my home.
Cold, salty concrete scraped my dignity away.
It tore my skin, left dirt in my bleeding feathers.
So again I hid. Not from the salt, I can’t hide from the salt.
I’m hiding from me.
I’m hiding from the reflection I can still see.
I chose to linger. I chose this. I didn’t choose this.
I watch as she stretches her magnificent wings wide, takes flight,
Ascending, dancing gaily between wisps of pure white.
I search the bare sky, salt is still in the breeze,
Taunting me; try fly with tarnished feathers.
But glinting, I see the green trees on an endless horizon
They are not a reflection, I tell myself.
So I stretch my broken wings and timidly I take flight,
Away from the salt, back towards myself under a silver moonlight.
Copyright © Victoria Wood | Year Posted 2015
unknown five fingers flipping lives
power based dynamic undermines the dramatic
twist the totalitarian love like lashed fragments
bastard basilisk coiled coolly over calming masks
The hybrid eyes close on hatred
Unveil the universal welcoming smile
Happy's perfect when expecting a party
Happy's perfect when expecting a life
Hate the child
Hate the child
Hate the child
Show it love
ensure enraptured trust and warming embrace
unannounced resurgence of relief and trust
tame the tether and tighten the ropes
warning clouds wane and the day shines
The hybrid eyes close on lust
Unveil the welcoming smile
Happy's perfect when expecting norms
Happy's perfect when expecting trust
Show it love
Hate the child
Hate the child
Show it child
Hate the love
Hate the show
Love the show
Show the child
Copyright © Natalie Barber | Year Posted 2014
I'm so confused,
raised to believe cooperative love overpowers competing fears
about scarcity of time,
and other resources,
and anger about past over- and under-valuing of myself
as a regenerative resource,
raised to believe the Golden Rule
is most effectively applied to all life,
as cooperative ecologically regenerative potential,
I don't see how it could be OK
to run a national political campaign
assuming I will confuse the taking of life for nutritional needs
as less just than the taking of life for punishment and retributive needs,
death-debt owed for death-taken,
as if it were possible to kill
disenculturing clans of terrorists
for each and every innocent life taken
with such unholy cynicism as anti-life hopeless degenerates.
I find this violence-begets-violence nowhere else
in any ecosystem,
anything that could possibly be called a sustainable system,
in any form of nature,
other than humane nature as de-natured humanity.
However, now that I think of it,
perhaps we do see something of its kind
in diseased and over-crowded populations,
literally eating their young.
We often call this "rabidity",
swarming in a monocultural snarl,
turn on each other
begin unprovoked cannibalism,
prey on each other,
perhaps as a form of punishment or retribution
for past angers and fears only these terrorist champions of chaos
a mounting prescient culture of mutual disregard and antipathy,
trending toward Lose-Lose sociopolitical economic and ecological
is it wise to sanction violence to be perpetrated by others
on our behalf,
at any scale,
for any reason?
How is abuse and neglect of death-producing miscreants
for a person who believes in the power of cooperative love
as a more effective Golden Rule
than "Beat Others down before they Win more than you"?
Does this intend to include anything but monocultural AnthroCentric overcrowding, more violence,
trending toward decomposition of all Earth's systems?
Am I to invest
in a competing human race
or a humanizing regenerate space and time?
Or, is it something MidWay between,
sometimes competing anger and fear might be Teachers,
although still not the best choice-makers.
Perhaps we could leave cooperative balancing
of Tipping Point decomposition
and analysis of therapeutic/toxic trends,
within exclusive charge of CoArising Love as Golden Rule choice-making;
choosing whether or not to disinvest in regenerative health potential values of a life,
or a biosystem,
to optimally invest in Earth's regenerating health and vitality.
Yet, Earth does not necessarily
always and at all times,
water humane flowers
to starve the weeds.
More often, weeds starve flowers of water
as Crusading Christians starved diversity of intelligence
through violent ex-communication.
So, if these interdependently organic
between and within individuals,
families of weeds,
tribes of flowers,
nations and planets,
and the ecobalance of co-arising space with time
are what we seem to love,
then why do we suboptimize with Win-Lose economic and political choices
to compete with each other
sense of vocational value,
for power to declare war on each other,
the right to abuse and neglect and ex-communicate each other,
as if Earth's evolutionary journey
is not historically rooted
in cooperative regenerate enculturation,
as any of life's surviving cells
could quickly attest,
even under threat of ex-communication.
It is difficult for me to find any faith
or even hope
in the belief that Earth produced this humanizing race
toward degenerating dissonance
and overly-competitive Win to Lose strategies
of Left-brain cultural and language
and political and economic
It feels less confusing to me
to comprehend we are ecoconsciously co-loving each other
in a rapidly overpopulating monocultural species
with humane researching and incubating
emergently embryonic cooperative aspirations
to optimize WorldWide Win-Win ecosystemic networks,
to balance Left with Right mindbody co-mentoring intelligence,
harmonizing all our bicameral systemic information,
issuing inductive from Heaven's TransParent Cloud
and deductive from Earth's RNA icons
of recreating intelligence,
form with nondual co-arising cooperative function,
noun as verb,
poly-goal as perma-path,
and harmonic-octave frequencies
in 4-square Prime Sequential Relationship,
both Time's co-gravitating with Space's thermodynamic balance,
Yang OVER yin-squared = c-squared ecoconsciousness
of Universal TransParent (0) Metric Light Balance.
Perhaps, then, it is less confusing to me
to think about how to invest more wisely
in non-violent empathy of Basic Attendance
to notice and listen with still-centered mindbody,
empathically absorbing claustrophobic fear and anger
saturating toxic terror that my life,
therefore your life,
has no ego-intrinsic value
because LeftEgo is too dissonantly dominant
over Right EcoEarth Regenerational Analogic
CoEmpathic Arising Function,
so my death, therefore your death,
has no Earth-intrinsic regenerative value or disvalue.
From this position
I cannot see Allah as ReGenerator Power and Flow,
Form with NatureFunction,
Love with Synergetic Intent,
TransParent Empathic Elational Present
Concave HomePlace within Convex healthCulture
through Time's bilaterally co-gravitating eco-normative lens.
How is any directive to starve and/or neglect and/or kill
not what Christians have known as ex-communication
Dissonance struggling against dissonance,
when we could choose to emerge mutually-resonant regenerators,
re-communicative poly-empathic optimizers,
co-mentoring Earth-regenerate soil
reforesting our rivers for clean water,
repurposing mutual immunity
as mutual subsidiarity within
These three held together into perpetuity,
Earth Tribal ReSolution.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015
A kestrel dips into an updraft
thinking he knows the world
through silent valleys
around the earth
through the wind
The creature soars ever higher
in great swoops and dives
the horizon curves as it eludes vision
the stars pulse their siren
but thrill denies
their ambient warning
Gust to gust each fades
quicker than the last
whispers carry the weight of wings
and their soulful song breaches sanity
prayers of rightful good
where petty purple banners
crest twinkling hearts
The last thermal ridden
last lyric dies
as flight’s drone fades
upturned wings alone
the sky empty oblivion
as the sun aligns its beady eye
to the looping path of the bird
Two brittle forms
grapple in light
which blots out the senses
what can never be touched
smites the naive bird
an archangel buried
in a crypt
six feet deep.
Copyright © Avery Swarthout | Year Posted 2015
With beads of sweat on my forehead,
And my arms and legs cramped.
I concealed in a little locker
Away from the horrid mayhem.
Damp and worn; fear and torn
I seldom gasped for breath,
And even tried reciting
Othello, Macbeth and Hamlet.
Alas, all in vain!
Aware with each passing minute,
That I would face the same brutal end
As my tutors and friends.
I heard them moving closer,
I say a silent prayer.
With final memories of my beloved -
I await those crazy monsters.
"Bang, Bang!" I hear them shoot.
But it now sounds so afar.
I drift into a deep slumber,
When the door goes ajar.
Copyright © Radhika Bhangolai | Year Posted 2015
In A Dark, Dark Room
Tormented in a pitch black room--
Smelling the foulness in the ground;
Flickering shadows in the gloom
That feed upon me, all around
Bound hand and foot, with neck exposed,
Tormented in a pitch black room,
I only slept, when coffins closed,
With nightmares of impending doom.
I heard above a muffled boom
My eyes assaulted by the light
Tormented in a pitch black room
Never more will I fear the night
I signed on with Van Helsings Free,
Hunting vampires from tomb to tomb.
I rescue others, lost like me--
Tormented in a pitch black room.
Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2015
Crime Against Humanity
Violence's the human disposition
of last resort
Check the talk, skew the walk,
in the court of popular, Christ wasn't
Lunge at his daughters killer, man
tries to soothe his heart
Of senseless violence, the mass
destruction that is so off
Unhinged sensation in the minds
of feeble men
Lack justification for wantonly
killing our fellow human
Tales of past exploit regale history
And taught in class
The next monster seeps,
already the tear of the family sear deep
Justice they seek
but, the wheel of repeat has dug
and save except a monumental
effort to retrace our step
that bright light of progress will
be bloodied humanity crimes
Copyright © Weston Gregory | Year Posted 2016
Fear recalled; the taste of sweat in retreat, when
one can never seem to run far enough or fast enough.
Remembering the Christian children’s chants of
devil worshiper, atheist; the taunting hell they saw
for those not blessed to be themselves.
The jeer of the crowd for those apart, the mob
mentality of the Christian heart, the damn you if
you’re not me to a girl of eight, defies any amount
of time to heal. Memories are not obliterated.
Breathless behind a hollow-core door, gasping
tears, a heart pounding to the beat of fists on panel;
fear recalled as bile rose; hate thrown, the Jew bated.
This was only an inkling of what Tanta felt.
Nineteen fifty-six, eleven years after the end of WWII,
I saw the numbers burned into my families’ skin,
the ones still alive to show them to a child of eight.
-broken glass nights, crowded trains, death camps
New England was still gripped in a Christian hell,
at eight, at twelve, at eighteen—and every Christmas
in between—don’t speak, don’t tell, don’t let them
know you’re different—different, hated, taunted,
chased, and if possible erased.
Prejudice knows no boundary of time or place, the
fear, the mob, the gang, the chanting group, alive
still in the 21st century. When you kneel, and pray,
even when you say Amen.
First Published by Synchronized Chaos Spring 2015
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2016
Running in the dark I tripped and fell
Copper in the air, all I could smell
Fear and terror touched my head
Hope I wasn't just left for dead
Up ahead was some kind of light
Saw some movement prepared to fight
Thats when I saw the look in his eye
Had to be strong or I knew I would die
He said follow me I know the way
If you want to live you'll do what I say
That's when I saw the horns and the tail
I knew right then I could be only in hell
I turned and ran as fast as I could
My body felt rigid, almost like wood
I could feel heat on the back of my neck
A blow to my head and I hit the deck
As blackness pulled me down in a hole
I knew that my life wasn't all that he stole
As hideous laughter brought me awake
I knew it was over, my soul he would take
What do you want was all I could say
He said with a smirk," You may want to pray "
My mind snapped and I began to squeal
The last thing I heard was " Let's make a deal "
Copyright © Scott Williams | Year Posted 2015
The boots moved slowly,
Crunching sun-baked clay.
A hazy wind down alleyways,
It moves with moans
Then whistles softly,
A child stands in a doorway
Pulling something from his robe.
He keys in certain numbers,
Only doing as he's told.
He waits, then hears a bomb
As it explodes.
A helmet lands and bounces
Near his feet.
He shrugs. then merges with a
Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014
Changing by her bedroom door.
Hair as blonde as gold,
And skin like porcelain and snow.
Turned around just in time,
To see a man with angry eyes.
Outside her window.
But he doesn’t talk,
He only stares.
No harm will come,
is what she thought.
I’ll go to bed,
By morning he’ll be gone.
But when she woke,
He sat on her bed.
Her breathing hitched,
Scared out of her mind,
She doesn’t wish for death.
But instead of death,
He gives her kiss,
But she sends him away,
Says, “Please don’t come again.”
But later that night,
While the moon shines bright,
He comes back,
The only other soul in sight.
Out of the corner of her eye,
She see’s him there.
She grabs her 45
But when she looks back,
He’s out of her sight.
Where did you go?
I could’ve sworn you stood there
Right by my window.
You didn’t knock,
Just stood outside,
In the back of the house,
There was a sound,
Dropping the gun,
There's was nowhere to run.
Is he still here?
Or did he just go?
Why did you come?
You stood by my door,
and just watched the rain pour.
Without a second thought,
She turned to run,
But it’s too late,
He grabbed her arm.
Screaming in pain,
She asks 'What have you done?'
But he puts a knife to her throat,
And her cries are silent.
Where’d you get that knife,
I beg and plead,
Please don’t end my life.
But it’s too late,
He slit her throat.
Blood as red as a rose.
She lays on her bedroom floor,
Without a pulse.
But now there’s no one in the home,
Where’d the psycho go?
There was never a psycho in her home.
Copyright © Jazzlyn Barden | Year Posted 2016
His back meets the cold, wet grass under him,
his eyes meet the blue endless sky hovering over him.
The cigarette from his hand dies out as it meets the sopping grass below
He feels the blood escape his body that now is no longer whole.
As he stares up into the sky,
he thinks of the girl he hated to leave behind.
He thinks of his mother, her tears streaming down,
his father’s proud hand, as it strongly grazed his crown.
He thinks of the men fighting for their life,
He thinks of his enemy, ducking for his life.
He thinks of the reasons war even exists,
Maybe this isn’t the way one should even live.
The sounds of his men approaching feels distant in his ear,
the struggle to save a life is unyielding,
when the bullet cuts through the heart,
there is no weaker feeling.
Slowly the sounds of planes hushes down,
The sounds of gunfire are stifled,
The missiles whistling in the background stop
and all of nature’s sounds just suppress, as they come to a halt.
The men become blurry as his eyes start to freeze,
The body that once fought, now turned to solid ice.
For the last time in his life,
he thinks of the girl he wishes he never left behind.
He thinks of his mother, whose tears will continue to run,
the father’s proud hand, that wont ever touch his son.
In these last few seconds, he does not feel scared,
as he spent this life fighting strongly for his homeland.
Copyright © Jovana Pokrajac | Year Posted 2015
I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country
The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary
These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care
If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear
Father had drank and threatened my mother with a knife
My father lost his job and wife and that was the hardship of life
He stopped my mother from taking off with me in her arm
Hoping that my father would ignore and left me be with no harm
When my father went off to drink one night and came home with rage
My brothers stood by my crib and took a beating that set up the next stage
My father had woken up to three scared children half starved and in pain
His final words as he walk away from the orphanage gate live life do not go insane
I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies
They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies
They starved all the babies because it cost a lot to keep them alive
As a child of that age I could feel the sins and greed that gave out bad vibes
I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle
As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel
They ate each other to keep each other alive in a manner that took me by surprise
In the back round I hear others throwing things with sounds of painful cries
I got very strong at a young age I was able to start pulling myself up over the cage
My feelings were to see my brothers with strong lungs that I cried out of rage
My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib
The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs
As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct
I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct
With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall
I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call
With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart
I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start
I grew stronger everyday but more things came into my life in a manner of dismay
If my brothers stay by my side I could smile and everyday their would be okay
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013
Neither a fable,
Nor a tale,
This is a fact,
A story to tell,
To everyone, female and male.
To generations, younger and frail.
About a threat, a monster from the East,
That struck the world like a beast,
Attacked Europe by cold and mist,
Oceans of horsemen, millions at least,
Ravaged cathedrals, and crucified the priest,
How to cope and fight and face the ghoul?
How to reason with a barbarian, a crazy fool?
How to prevent a suicidal conflict to pacify and cool?
How to save the lore, the patrimony and the living soul?
How to reconcile with the unknown and use the best tool?
That was the question...
That was the wisdom to lead and rule,
The Pope decided to answer in peace,
Then sent Carpini after a blessing..And a kiss,
Advising him to inform...and not to miss,
To meet the Eastern father, son nephew and niece,
To call for salvation and the Chris,
As soon as the monk began to trace,
With a great shock he started to face,
An unusual nation that was in race,
With time, with weather, with the cosmos and space,
No one could classify it, No one could place,
Its barbarity, Nay! its grace,
They consume everything, greens, pulses including rice,
They are carnivorous, they eat mice,
They spare not a single creature, including lice,
All seem to them, healthy and nice,
They worship Shamanism, horses and they play dice,
They conquer for pleasure, and race with the skies,
When Carpini reached the rising sun,
The great Mongol..The supreme Khan,
Who crashed Empires, who enslaved the Han,
Who scared newborn babies, woman and man,
Who, no one refused him, and who dared had to run,
For his life, for his family, for his entire clan,
Then Carpini approached the formal bar,
And addressed himself to the Lord Tatar,
Explaining to him that he came from far,
To preach Christendom not the Latin Lar,
Before the monk finishing his say,
The lord stood up! Angrily, with a reply,
"Go back to your Pope! Before I'll flay,
You" and tell him that the Tatar ray,
Is invincible in a warfare-play,
Fearful, the priest returned deceived,
More than what he saw and what he perceived,
How would he break the news? How would he read?
The powerful message, the humiliating creed!
In the end, he stood on his heart and then he did,
Europe was ready for the Great War,
Nations of the crucifix, thousands and more,
The bells of alarm sounded the lands, and the shore,
To prevent the conquest, that was the heart! And the core!
The call was "fight or flight" or seal your door!
But halfway...they turned blind,
To change plan, they did not mind,
To strike east, and there to find,
A city of lore of rich and kind,
Baghdad the marvel that enlightens the blind,
There! They killed; they mutilated in countless,
There! They burnt libraries that were priceless!
They pillaged, they raped they were heartless,
No mercy, no help, the Baghdadeans were helpless,
To defend themselves against the infidel
No place was spared from vandalism,
Places of worship and mysticism,
Circles of learning and sciolism,
Poetry, literature and euphemism,
All had gone with "Gog and Magog" the cataclysm!
But "Ain Jalout" was the battlefield,
For generations to pick and read,
In history, and faith and heretical creed,
Where all religions had met indeed,
In a bloody war, all had to bleed,
In the end, the Armageddon had to finish,
To slow the spiting dragon and diminish,
Its arrogance, its myth and tarnish,
Its long lasting reputation, had to vanish,
Forever to allow another war and a skirmish.
How would I judge? What would I say?
Was it a truth or was it a lie?
Genghis Khan, and Kublai Khan,
Hulaku, Munghe Khan and low and high,
Were they all barbarians, or were all lasting heroes not to die?
This is the last verse and point to specify.
Copyright © Abder Derradji | Year Posted 2015
Father, oh, father can't you see what you've done.
Your hate has destroyed the lives of everyone.
You treated us bad and cheated on our mom.
Your temper was like trying to disarm a bomb.
Everyone said what they thought you wanted to hear.
Why you were always so angry was never very clear.
When I was four I saw you throw an ashtray at mom's head.
That was the day I new you didn't care if we were all dead.
I had to live with that knowledge my entire life.
It was clear you never should have had kids and a wife.
Once I was surrounded by a gang of street thugs.
Terrified, I talked my way out without throwing a slug.
You were watching in disgust from across the street.
You couldn't wait to get me home to begin your browbeat.
Instead of being happy that I didn't have to fight,
You made me feel worthless, chicken, and anything but alright.
As strange as it sounds I'd like to say thank you.
You were my anti role model as I got older and grew.
You showed me in many ways what not to be or do.
I knew I had to become just the opposite of you.
Here I am many years later, proud of what I've become.
Your lessons of anger and hate I was able to overcome.
Copyright © Scott Williams | Year Posted 2016
They gives a us a voice, but don't want us to speak.
The president's black I bet he doesn't write his own speech.
Words that he speaks come the people that keep in unequal,
D.C. is evil the future is bleak.
Unless among us is a Malcolm X
All for one and together we're stronger than the rest.
My mother strong ,God is our Father
Jesus Piece lays on my chest.
Moment of truth what's left to be said,
word is bond,nothing is worth more than respect.
Which needs to be earned
shots fired so I'm hitting the deck.
Deep in the street cracks is where secrets are kept,
Nikes on the feet of the ones who keep running for checks.
Turnt cheek to the causalities take a deep....
Breath after breath, war between us, love lost into between deaths.
Copyright © Gerald Moise | Year Posted 2015
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
A revolution is much deeper than what the eye can see
An opportunity to rid the land of despotism and tyranny
When any citizen can expose the enemies of the state
Present and judge valid evidence to arrive at a just fate
But that doesn’t happen except in the rarest of the time
Cause mobs want vengeance even if there is no crime
Vindictive mobs will let no one stand in their way
They can only be quieted by making the defeated pay
Once the old regime has been ousted and overthrown
The general populace wants retribution to call its own
Frenzied mobs want allegations of any on which to react
Every accusation is taken as an indisputable fact
Those that are accused of prior regime collaboration
Will be tried and convicted without hesitation
The penalties will vary according to the type of peoples crime
Some will be executed, others sent to prison for a very long time
Those with neighbors or others with differing opines
Will anonymously be accused of treasonable crimes
If man has an attractive wife , coveted for personal roles
He’d be singled out as undermining the revolutions goals
Children would be asked to report on their parents talk
Do they praise the revolution or do they balk
Men don’t gather in the street in idle conversation any more
In fear of being accused of plotting a counter revolutionary war
Investigations of wrong doing will increase as planned
Til every one feels threatened through out the land
Facts and allegations are all treated the same
Anyone accused is certain to shoulder the blame
While the mob applauds the action of a kangaroo court
No one objects to the tactics to which the insurgents resort
The ruling insurgents tell the citizens to prepare for action
An impending attack by the ousted is a simple distraction
The victorious parties purge dissenters from their ranks
The true patriots and heroes that really merit thanks
They will be accused of plotting to sabotage the revolution
Incriminating evidence will surface to prove their collusion
Evidence against them mounts proving a planned conspiracy
Evidence is authenticated but only the accusers can to see
Those tainted members of the original rebellious group
Are sentenced to long terms taking them out of the loop
Members popular with the mobs with no threats to face
Suddenly and mysteriously disappear without leaving a trace
Struggle for power will continue within the victors team
Til the most cold-blooded one dominates every scene
Reigning power is now in hands of an egocentric man
All opposition has been silenced through out the land
Those holding on to opposing views are hunted down
Block teams are established in every city and town
Block directors have spying duties the main is to report
Any suspicious movements or activities to the citizens court
Employment is terminated and the accused sent off to a farm
Where political viewpoints are altered to render no harm
Fear of death and imprisonment is so deeply instilled
Most minds are conquered only the strongest have will
This is the reward for seeking freedom of expression
A psychotic ideologue made this land his personal possession
We surrendered our weapons but mostly our ideas
We’re completely dominated and ruled by insidious fears
Looking back it now seems the regime we overthrew
Wasn’t as bad as we thought, we were always able to make do
Revolutionaries that foment change using the gun
Will still be armed when the fighting is done
Students of history are smug and quick to understand
How this beautiful island was commandeered by one man
So many were mesmerized by his unending glib tongue
Like demons called Stalin, Hitler and Mao tse tung
There are many men like these in each generation
Preying on those feeling or promoting frustration
These villains are lauded til their motives come clear
Their main weapons are terror and bone chilling fear
The masses will demand a plebiscite and new constitution
Not going to happen without a new revolution
The loss of freedom doesn’t happen overnight
It disappears after each uncontested little bite
This is a warning to all that are free
Don’t think little bites can’t happen to thee
One could easily change a few lines and add a few details
And come up with Russia, Venezuela ,China etc. a glib tongue
And a tired public are easy pickings for the egomaniacs
In the world. This is about Cuba, 1959
Copyright © John Arribas | Year Posted 2016
I’m fuelled by compulsion; heed, I plead.
Consumed by hatred, myself, I abhor.
Nothing will stop me: no law, moral, creed.
Watch you, I crave you, your last breath I need;
The first made me sick, alas number four,
I’m fuelled by compulsion; heed, I plead.
I’ll plan, and stalk, knowing all that you read,
Steal some clothing: token for my drawer.
Nothing will stop me: no law, moral, creed.
From the shadows, I’ll emerge, plant the seed,
Lust in your eyes brings me right to your door.
I’m fuelled by compulsion; heed, I plead.
Empowered, I feel, as air I impede,
My hands are squeezing, ’til life is no more.
Nothing will stop me: no law, moral, creed.
Euphoria achieved; tainted by greed,
I’ll move to the next one, then unto more.
I’m fuelled by compulsion; heed, I plead.
Nothing will stop me: no law, moral, creed.
31st July 2016
Contest: Through Their Eyes
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Copyright © Nicola Byrne | Year Posted 2016
I wake up with another tear
for I have again, relived the nightmare
will it ever leave me with any way to see
when will I again be able to see my family
the past is forgiven
so why is it still living
my heart was so broken
but soon after it was frozen
let it lie and the past die
for I have a life to live with
but the past is still being relived
how do I stop this past of torture
so I can find my new future
Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
of the megabyte cavalry
along private roads
on the plasma periphery
on official commands
Stewing a cauldron
a festering foment
from acid-soaked cans
say the oracles
so buying a check
but electing the cavalry
leaves the infantry wet
Copyright © Aron Jacob | Year Posted 2013
Try me, fool, and the semi gon' bang
I'm a big dog, I gotta' let my nuts hang
If I go to jail, best believe I'm bonding out
I always handle beef, that's what I'm all about
I'm not a punk, somebody lied--
I'm bustin' shots, let's get that fixed
Sleep on me, see me in ya' worst nightmares
I'm Hell-raiser, dead fresh in some Nike-Airs
Or in a monkey suit, totin' something with a banana clip
Leave you wet, like dry lips after applying Chap-stick
Ain't talking 'bout a blunt, but I rolled-up
I'm gon' wet these fools, hope they don't mold-up
When it go down, I go ape-shit, bananas
put coward to sleep, without the pajamas
Keep bustin' shots, like pimples on a maturing teen
I do my dirt, but leave the crime scene clean
Stay fresh, but they always call me grimy
They say I'm too gangsta', so they won't sign me
I put in work, man, I'm clockin' in overtime
Haters faces looking sour, like they suckin' on lime
You got beef, well guess what, that's all I eat
I stand my ground, you just sit in your seat
Can't let fools run me over, I'm not a roadkill
Leave you in the streets leakin', looking like an oil spill
You got a problem, I know how'tta' get that solved
Apply pressure, let's not get ya' family involved
Copyright © Arcene Janvier | Year Posted 2013
Unarmed I stood against the beast
Defending what was mine
The theft of my guileless innocence
His most cruel, remorseless crime
Fighting slings and arrows
Words that cut me to the quick
Lifting thin arms in resistance
To his heavy, brutish fists
Sorrow comes in darkness
Arrives without an invite
The moon stares dully at me
No magic will save me tonight
Measured unforgiving blows
He chose where each would land
Dark purple bruises gave away
Where my body had been slammed
With my knack for weak excuses
“I tripped and fell down again”
He sneered that they’re “just love taps”
While I played a game called ‘pretend’
Naked in my bed
Protecting a child yet unborn
Came another beating
From this cur who’d earned my scorn
What cannot be seen in shadows
Can suffocate one’s will
When I reclaimed my spirit
I crawled out of the mouth of hell
Ages have come to pass since then
The fiend at last routed from my life
I’m no longer frightened
Of just being someone’s wife
Copyright © Tess Norton | Year Posted 2014
You think you’ve gone just far enough,
I could smile knowing you’ve gone far enough that you can’t go back again
You think you were careful but,
I’ve caught a glimpse of your true, wretched form
You think you can find a way into my good graces
I’ve seen what you are, monsters with a friendly costume
You can’t deceive me anymore and, I don’t consort with serpents
You think I’m a game to be played but, trust me, you could never win
Don’t underestimate me
You think I’m a joke but, trust me you won’t be laughing
You think I’m just talking myself up but, trust me, you’re the ones going down
My eyes took too long to adjust
Better late than never
It may take a monster to know one but, I promise my teeth are sharper than yours
My first reaction to the hideous revelation that was your form was to weep
Fall to my knees, maybe even wretch my heart from my chest and onto the carpet
Then I thought about the mess it would make
I decided the only blood that will spill, will be your own
I was not weak, but I had a weakness
A heart of soft gold stitched to my sleeve with care
Now my heart is a stone so heavy
I could kill at least two birds at once
Being the nice guy is a thing of the past
Thanks for freeing me of that softness
You thought I was all sunshine and delicate things
When really I had just been swallowing razor blades
Now that sun is setting and I hope you see it was you who were wrong
Can you feel my darkness coming, because it’s eager to hold you
If you thought I was the one who would just stand still or turn to run
Your gonna be the one with tired feet
I’m not sad anymore
Just sick with the plague of your lies
Contagious, and I’m looking for someone to kiss
Even angels can make themselves wicked
When we do, we take no prisoners
Still think I’m a game
This one is just beginning
Copyright © Alexander Schwartz | Year Posted 2013
P andemic parasites of man have spread
A bandoned Angels the skies have shed
N ecromantic necrophiliacs playing with the dead
D emonic desires of witches and warlocks wed
E vil runs rapid in the wasteland of deception
M onuments crumble for the demons reception
O ppression overtakes the mild and the weak
N octurnal neverland of death does reek
I mmense immorals within the blink of an eye
U ltimate destruction till death do us die
M other of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.
Pandemonium-Acrostic - Poetry Contest
By John Hamilton
Copyright © Winged Warrior | Year Posted 2016
Please don't stop me, my love, let me lie down and kiss the ground,
let me taste the taste of freedom on my tongue and remember my
past no more. Let my tears mingle with the sand and the sun
comfort my soul, for the earth has opened up her mouth and
swallowed my past, no more pain, no more fear, only sweet music
shall ring in my ears.
Look down at her, O Lord, look down and see your daughter
weeping in the sand, she ripped out her heart and has casted it
into the sea, she said, "Tomorrow, I will be free."
But the ground where she laid is now drunken with her past,
affliction and confusion. The sea has spew out her heart and
the sun has hidden his face.
I tried to comfort her and said,
"Come, my love, come, for tomorrow is still yet to come,"
but she cannot be comforted, her body's covered with wounds I
cannot see and her words I do not understand.
Night is fallen and my soul grows weak, but I will not leave her,
I will cuddle her in my arms and whisper in her ears,
"Tomorrow, you will be free,
tomorrow, you will be free."
Copyright © Regether Pair | Year Posted 2015
How long I've ached; how deep the sore!
My albino Soul- suffers blisters...
For with myself, I am at War
Run for your lives- Poetic Sisters!
Dodge the bullets; avoid the mines-
Watch the sky for falling bombs!
Oh, worry not, for all is fine-
It's just a little Napalm :)
Hydrogen, he's just a friend-
But atomic at his center
Radiation, Tunguska station-
Do not fear (it's safe to enter...)
The fray; the fight
Fought day and night
Unending battle- forever addled
(And no end in sight!)
Copyright © Just That Archaic Poet | Year Posted 2013