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ABC Political Poems | ABC Poems About Political

These ABC Political poems are examples of ABC poems about Political. These are the best examples of ABC Political poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | ABC |


Africa my beloved continent
Beautiful and attractive, many
Came as visitors yet their aim was to
Dig gold and platinum
Everyday they dug to reach her belly and they
Flee back to feed their own blood and sold us her the remains
Gold jewelry, we buy from them. Question is
Have we done enough to protect our mineral resources
Instead of preserving them 
Jealousy and greed overcrowded our judgments
Knocked each other for blood money, in exchange for what?
Lavish lifestyle our colonial had to offer, we
Moved from Ubuntu our African core value
New dawn sets but we failed to see the light because
Oppression impaired our vision
Pain we suffered taught us nothing for we did not
Quit selling our minerals in exchange for ammunitions
Re-unite Africa and fulfil the dream of African reminiscence
Shun greed, slavery mentality. In solidarity let me and you fight to
Tone down corruption and 
Undo damages implanted by our colonial
Viva African renaissance viva
Winning this battle calls for unity and mental strength
Xenophobia and racism will not be chronic diseases any longer, i'm
Yearning to see a better Africa for all human race, with
Zest I shall wait in anticipation for Africa's 're birth.

Copyright © Bongani Zungu | Year Posted 2015

Details | ABC |

Period Of Emotions

A period of emotions - I'm a command I'm an order
I'm right there at the end of the border.
I don't have an identity of my own
A character that you give, is what I borne.

I carry much anger, much frustration
Sometimes I'm used to deliver news of devastation.
I carry tears from the war of treachery
And at times I carry screams of political mockery.

I'm not happy even though I'm never alone
Incomplete statements are accompanied by my clones.

I'm the verdict, I'm the decision
I'm the king , the ruler of precision.

I'm dark at times, and at times I'm grey
I'm as sharp as the sun's ray.
I've meanings as deep as the oceans
I'm not just a period, I'm a period of emotions.

Copyright © Srujana Satyavada | Year Posted 2015

Details | ABC |


Cuba…Mamma Mia…like most of the Caribbean; part of the 1492 slam…
Slavery, sugar plantations… invasions, upheaval, independence…
Then the American kisses; with a slight twist…who initiated the ’disses’…?
Was it Blaine…is he insane…?
Was it Marti…the heart of the party…?
Or Teller…many say he was the real speller…
Or Estrada Palma…could he have been the calmer…?
Was it San Martin…any questions of his parting…?
Or was it Batista…is he the real twister…?
With his interwove of expansion…then stagnation and dissatisfaction…
Coupled with his increased economic regulation plan…
Was this the spike for the revolution…?
Enter Castro; was he the real maestro…his thoughts, his plans; communize the land…?
Centralize, non-democratize…ostracize, reorganize…
The politics…were they laden in tricks…?
The CIA; not here to stay… but what role did they play…?
When they realize the RAF size…what will they emphasize…?
With great plans to defeat…did they end in retreat…?
Now with Eisenhower…speculations of a great shower…
But after only months…fixation shift to ouster hunts…
Severed diplomatic relations…the new sensation…
Impositions of trade embargo…the ‘Fargo’ in my cargo…?
The ‘Bay of Pigs’…will you understand the gigs…?
The ‘Cuban Missile Crisis’…what was this Tri-fit…?
The military games…were these substances in flames…?
For a superpower war…or the everlasting scars…?
Of suppression, political persecution…migration, and interventions…
In Angola, and Ethiopia…from Nicaragua to North Africa…
To the Congo…to some say; ‘Jah Mek Yah’…?
Cooperation with Russia…was this the real crusher…?
The mid-eighties…the beginning of their ending gaiety’s…?
The dissolving of the Soviet Union…continuation of the country’s isolations…
Reduced rations…the new fashion…
Unpainted buildings…now the in-thing…
Old vehicles with limited repairs…any scares…?
Lack of electricity…did it colour the ethnicity…?
A country on the verge…is there a new urge…?
Tourist attraction…one logical concoction…
Amidst the flow…of system many Cubans know…
The US now attests…it is in the country’s interest…
Cuba has withstood the test…put the embargo to rest…?

Copyright © Michael Robertson | Year Posted 2015

Details | ABC |

Green People

I see green people
They tell me they come in peace 
But they are showing me the roots to all evil
I see green people
They try to disguise their intentions 
But their actions are so see through
I see green people
They are the true world leaders
There are no free actions or thoughts
You do or think what they want you to
I see green people
They manipulated all of our history
So if we were to find the truth
It doesn't matter because their is no proof
I see green people
As their head grow larger 
I continue to have distant dreams of me being considered a equal
I see green people
They told me to worship them or die
Close my eyes and look through the lies
Because without them 
There is no chance to walk among the Gods
I see green people 
And there is no doubt about it
They truly show me the roots to all evil

Copyright © Andre Sanders | Year Posted 2012

Details | ABC |

Death Mad and Blind

Dot-matrix monotony beasts,
Bring endless agonies and fake archetypes,
To drown the silent scream of nothing inside.
I know now why you turn up the noise.

Hide your ears, as they pound on the drum of sadism.
Because I howl the song of terror.
And now we both become batteries.  
You the positive, I the negative,
Existing purely to give power to the another.

Their box of lights bleeds our minds.
With a thousand meaningless babbles,
Like over-zealous wasps.
Senselessly knotting round and around.
Constricting mind, body and soul.

Under this monochrome sky,
In this thick, wet, air,
They are almost tangible.
Tasted, smelt, but never heard
Cartoon wraiths flitting at the periphery.

Not waiting, not feeling.  
Blind mechanical bats.
Without voice or form.
They feed my failings,
Fattening me for the feast.

But they hold no malice,
Just a circuit with terror as it’s current.
They no more hate my soul, 
Than the fox hates the rabbit.

Fearing these surrogate pulses, 
I pull a blackened hide over my shoulders,
And with snakes for eyes, I pull on chainmail gloves.
The metal cuts my skin, the rotting hide constricts
 My last breath bears a spirit,
Which eats the sky like a rusty knife.

Copyright © Danny Stockton | Year Posted 2015

Details | ABC |

Mr. "Somebody"

"Inside a world that changes every day,
Inside a world that nobody remembers the day after,
Mr. "Somebody" tries to learn the values and principles of life
in reading mythologies and fairytales.

I am so sorry Mr. "Somebody"
You will find no happily ever after."

Copyright Constantinos Grigoriadis © All rights reserved

Copyright © Constantinos Grigoriadis | Year Posted 2008

Details | ABC |

Hope in the balance

Almost by chance
direction emerges
for generating harmonious inclusivity
Judge kindly
lest man’s nature
opens past’s quickly resolved struggles
to unite vengeful warring xenophobes
yielding zeal

Copyright © Nigel Fawcett | Year Posted 2008

Details | ABC |



I knew they were wrong
In the northern region
When their eyes cried a river
When their feet stumbled the rocky ground
When hands feeble couldn’t carry a spoon

I knew they were wrong
In the dumpy smelly streets
When she dropped the baby from between her legs
The glue sweet on her mouth
Her eyes so red, her mind out of this world

I knew they were wrong
That day long I watched the reports
My ears longed for a positive message
But deaths, wars, hunger and crimes majored their words
Why do they sit in the big house of sweet baked rich cake?

I knew they were wrong 
When I saw the big cars
Oh it was election time begging time again
Its been five calendars gone since I last saw them
Today their boots are full, handsome pockets for charity

I’ll say it now, coz tomorrow might never be
We have leant it the hard and easy ways
We know their tricks, like the back of our hands
An A we would all score, on their subjects paper
We know their wrongs, its time they made them right.

Copyright © ESTHER MUCHAI | Year Posted 2014

Details | ABC |


(A refuge of Lies) Some men claim, to their own shame, to know the American Constitution. Then, oddly prefer, and wicked Judges concur, in the innocent babies exclusion. Yet, our inalienable right; the first one in sight, is to life, that God has rendered. Liberty, then happiness follow in process: deny the first, and all are tendered. Some men, of late, divide Church and State, while religious humanism gains inclusion. I fail to see, for the life of me, how they can reach this conclusion. The Constitutional intent was totally meant, as a curb on Federal power taking. And, lest we forget, all other power yet, was reserved for states and people's making. The pact don't mandate separation of Church and state: that was culled from Jefferson's private letter. So, don't claim, as some, that it came from, the Constitution, - for we know better. Pride - the father of sin, bade this evil come in, and twisted the truth into a lie. I pray God awaken some for the battle to come; that America's promise will not die. Forgive this wicked sin, bid us to come in, to a most Holy reformation. Lord, let us see thy work in that decree, and turn us from national ruination. See Constitution, Declaration of Independence,and Bill of Rights. Lionel

Copyright © Lionel Ledbetter | Year Posted 2011

Details | ABC |

Dogma Delivery

An allotted announcement;
Ben’s brother balances
Carefully, carrying containers
Designated “Dogma Delivery.”
Eventually, everyone 
Finds frog-gy feelings for
Generously generated
Hair-raising hijinks.
Incoherent ideas incur. 
Jeremiah jumps, jolting,
Kicking kleptomaniacs,
Lashing lawlessness.
Money monkeys make
Notorious nincompoops. 
Obscure obligations often 
Poisons pathetic passion!
Quarantining qualified
Shrivels support,
Transforming truth-
Unilaterally, unfairly
Vexing vicariously.
While we want 
Yokels yield
Zion’s zenith

Copyright © Virginia Mitchell | Year Posted 2010

Details | ABC |

My Father Corn mill

Standing in the center of my father’s village
Is a mysterious corn mill
Which produces the worst of flour
Even when served with the best of corns of the land
So in hunger, his offspring always weep

Across the coast off my father’s village
Lies this giant but old corn mill
Which receives grains from father’s fields
To produce flour, honey and milk
To serve and fill the mouths of its offspring
Sometimes to the benefit of those not his offspring

So why should the corn mill of my father breed the worst?
Without a lesson from him that mills across the coast
While the children of the land grow pale and frail
The pawpaw’s bridegroom dances and waves
Is it the chorus of the tunes that spreads loud from its wings?
Or it’s a heritage that needs to be preserved to appease the gods

So when would the miseries of my siblings come to rest
Should I send spies to the corn mill we were once forced to build
Or awake the doors of the gods with a penny
To discover the corn mill and my father’s destiny

Copyright © Prince Assandoh-Mensah | Year Posted 2014

Details | ABC |

The Wounded Underdog

All bourgeios crime disgusted Eddie, for geared-up hopefuls, interested juveniles, know learned mindful negotiators offering powerful quotations rectify suffering that underdogs valiantly weather: xanthoid yearly zings.

*I know this is more of a random sentence than a poem, but this is the hardest form I have ever come across, and I promise to write more of this type later and thus make them better.  The original version of the poem is below.  Which do you prefer?*

All beastly crime disgusted Eddie, for geared-up hopefuls, interested juveniles, know learned mindful negotiators offer peaceful queries resolving scrapes that uakari, victims, weathered xanthously, yearly, ziplipped.

*I personally think that it makes more sense now...*

Copyright © Grace Williams | Year Posted 2011

Details | ABC |

The Council Of My Motherland

Strike the masses, with hopes in prose
To earn their trust, and thumbs in folds

Kneel to the masses, to be put to council
Chosen by the masses, to be their council

Steal the masses’ offering, when put in council
To flee their own, only from hassle

To thee the council of the motherland
Why do you cause pain bitter than labour
Poverty strikes masses like thunder
Indigenes molested like prisoners
Strangled by the strings of hunger
Whiles awaiting your promise to better the land

To the mighty above, they are left to pray
To sustain them without a pay
For the day the fire shall turn red
The evergreen’s scalp shall turn bald

Copyright © Prince Assandoh-Mensah | Year Posted 2014

Details | ABC |


Mr. President, it was in your political manifesto,
That we shall have milk taps by our backyards,
And with milk flowing from the government treasury,
Mr. President, what do you have to say of that now?

Mr. President, it was in your political agenda,
That our gardens shall be free of the public weeds,
And each crop to access the free national atmosphere,
Mr. President, what’s your word on that now?

Mr. President, it was in your political vision,
That the curtain in the government shall be torn,
And transparency be the core of our nation,
Mr. President, what’s your take on that now?

Mr. President, it was in your political promises,
That the red carpet shall stretch to our homes,
And our streets be roaded with gold,
Mr. President, what’s your view on that now?

Mr. President, we know you want another one,
That you shall provide wings for each citizen,
And the horizon shall no longer be the limit,
Mr. President, what’s the truth about that, now?

Copyright © Alfonce Choi | Year Posted 2015

Details | ABC |

The American Dream

              The American Dream?    
2014 is here its time to file  again,         
as the federal government awaits our hard 
earned dollars rolling in.         
I can only speak for myself  
but I'm sure others feel my pain,        
wondering where their money went        
and in what way did we gain? 
Once upon a time I believed  in the 
American way,  
and I didn't mind paying it forward
molding a future for my children 
one day.        
My labored contributions mean        
nothing anymore, 
my faith in our countries leadership        
has fallen short for sure.
I once had health insurance  before 
Obama Care, 
a penalty was cheaper  a burden my 
company would graciously bare.   
So now I have to pay premiums 
I cannot begin to afford, 
and if I do refuse,
I'll be punished even more. 
Yes I admit I'm angry but more so I'm 
I have no retirement plan and live only for 
All because the American dream my 
forefathers fought to defend,
have been twisted and distorted
by democrats and republicians
we watch on CNN.
 Written By Kathy J Parenteau        
 Copyright © Feb 2014
 All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Kathy Parenteau | Year Posted 2014

Details | ABC |


We are down on a sandy beach
And our legs dug deep in the sand of pain
Left stranded in the sea of sadness
The night of destruction falling on us with extreme darkness
Hovering on us the venom of evil
With rain drops of blood on our land
The storm getting heavier by the day
The flame of hope blown away by wind of wickedness
We live in a country where no one is safe
Where death darken the sky like an imminent doom 
Where the majority live in ardent poverty
A land where corruption is at its peak
Our leaders the master chef to all our miseries
With eyes of blind spot to the need of the people
Deaf ears to the cry of the innocent
Blind eyes to the sufferings of the poor
The beat of political madness stirs in the air
With sound wave of pain to all the citizen of the land
Human lives valued only for a couple of coins and a few naira note
Innocent blood shed all in the name of political game
The taste of power and excessive desire for wealth
Sum with their selfish and political greed
Puts our dear nation in a state of unrest 
Children of innocent souls being tortured through burning knife of evil
Leaving the youths to live their lives in fear
Our girls are no longer safe to go to school
Terrorism the bad sweet smell polluting our atmosphere
With it effect on us an horrible scar
People being nurtured to the highest point of hatred
With every of their road leading to violence and terrorism 
Little by little we are losing our national pride
Our economy dropping faster than the speed of sound
Our leaders failing in every good sense of leadership
With the interest of the people far from their mind
From the cry of the rejected and abused children
To the tears of the suffering and confused adult
Same questions comes to the mind of every nigerian
Why do we have to suffer this much?
Are our leaders so blind to see that the nation is on a downhill of destruction?
How long will it take for them to hear our cry?
And what will it take for everything to change for good?
I guess only God has the answers to all this questions
And the golden key to our freedom
All will have to do is to keep praying
And keep hold of our little flame of hope
Cos one day I believe everything will change for good

Copyright © stanley oguh | Year Posted 2014

Details | ABC |

The VA- Hell In Disguise


Us Veterans know the deal, the rhetoric that thanks the VET for
	his/her service to the good ole US of A and promises to
	take care of us until death comes your way
Is nothing but words, watch out, the Vaseline is not far behind.
They will screw you and make it hurt, keep watching for the
	blood from your butt each and every day
And it becomes hard to control what you were taught and to
	look deep in your soul to find
The peace that war took away from you.

There are some that care at the VA, but they are far and very
	few and very hard to find,
Taking care of the VET is their number one priority is at the
	front door of every VA in this country,
The lie is blatant the soul of the VA is to hang around until
	the pension comes, until then we are commanded 
	to kiss their behind
And even if you die, that is not on us, in fact they keep score
	and remind us daily that they will be free
To add another Veteran to their list.

Reid J. Lewis

Copyright © Reid Lewis | Year Posted 2015

Details | ABC |

only the strong will survive

Nobody is immune to be a victim of circumstances
where dreams are destroyed by hindrance

Oppressive slavery breaks the spirit and the soul for many
some live and some die without a penny

you either work with your back or work with your mind
without a skill or education
you will fall behind
life has many devices, political power, communistic control
if one doesn't have a higher purpose, 
the dreams or talent don't matter or fit a goal

losers will be scorned, taunted rejected
and projected as mentally ill perpetrators
life is mean spirited and a jungle with prejudice, discrimination and bigotry among people haters

life is ungodly without morals and values in our twenty first century
there is a lack of respect, understanding, love,and acceptance
as everyone is fighting, controlling,and  competing for money

Copyright © jennifer spase | Year Posted 2016

Details | ABC |

Maranao Poem - Inungka Rogo rogod

Sunday | 07 | February | 2016 | 07:32 PM |
~ inungka rogo-rogod ~
Inongka rogo-rogod ?
i ng-gogodn ta so Btad
ka bamailay so Pasad
o datu miyangimasad
ko ompiya ini btad ...
Inungka rogo-rogod
A inungkaan so btad
O thetho so miphaPasad
Ka ba badn miyapasad
Na ompiya da mibtad ...
Inongka rogo rogod?
i daa suwatang ko pd
Ka phasad sa dimapasad
Na laabotn ka a klid
Ka skadn i Songklid...
Inungka rogo-rogod
Ka da sarig ko sabaad
Ka odi maphpangunod
Na dii ithoman sa pasad
Ko ompiya a phitukid...
Inungka an so Ingd
a tikayan on so sempad
A Rogo-rogod ko btad
Na nduyogn ta mapasad
Ka antano di khaKilid ...
~ Ditadawayen Sa Ranao| Khadaffy D. Mangondato

Copyright © Khadaffy D. Mangondato | Year Posted 2016

Details | ABC |

Diamond Dance

Villages crushed, by shiny rocks, 
Demolished while, the profits shot, 
Sapper gets nought, from shards in sand, 
His life and yours, in wicked hands [

Twist in it’s dance, 
You are entranced 
Until the last. 

The king’s cup flows, over with blood, 
You know you think, money is love, 
Giving nothing, they steal your trust, 
Binding you with, aesthetic lust. 

You can’t break the, hardest substance, 
Your body twists, in diamond dance, 
Would you save a, million lives, 
Or get lost in, it’s twinkling eye? 

Puppets in the diamond dance, 
Mankind lost in, the wicked trance, 
If you mistake, waste for romance, 
You won’t have an-ything that lasts. 

Purest glass light, that grows in earth, 
Heaven from soil, the land gave birth, 
But it won’t feed, humanity 
Your mindless greed, their agony 

Copyright © Danny Stockton | Year Posted 2015

Details | ABC |


Murderous methods of medieval minds
Continue to pollute the political landscape of our planet
Vitriol nests in the hearts' of greedy politicians
Keep the common-folk ignorant
And poor
We shall rule
Goes the anthem of the ruling class
Corruption ensues
A common practice
Both in the developing world
And other lands
Year 2016
The common assumption was
That enlightenment was extrapolated
How wrong were we the enlightened
The light does not emit in linear rays
But bends and gets distorted liked fluid in a  vortex
Our time will come again
Therefore, we shall protest
Until we reclaim what is left good of this planet.

Copyright © YASEMIN BALANDI | Year Posted 2016

Details | ABC |


I am not a politician I have very little interest for politics Reminiscing on Diddy’s vote or die campaign Rallying behind Senator John Kerry Wishing I were old enough to vote My how things have changed Obama’s groundbreaking history was scarecrow No brainer enticed me/I had to cast a ballot I am still not a politician/I have very little interest for politics Ruled by Caucasian Republicans and house niggas Who don’t care about helping the poor Or restoring a nation/ That seen the horrors of 9/11 Troops who went to war and never returned home An economy that has knocked down Some who were atop the financial ladder To paper or plastic/Cheese with that whopper Foodstamps and free Medicare benefits Naive in a way when it comes to our leaders presidency But I’ve seen the effort Healthcare among other bills Met by Congress with resilience A potential government shutdown that threatened To send us to a modern day great depression Insults being thrown at the first lady/Quicker than Randy Johnson’s fastball But hey I’m still not a politician/I have very little interest for politics Politics that haven’t seem to get past/ Obamas brown skin The fact that the man be balling/Like he Jim Jones Tinted lips from blazing Newport cigarettes and herbs Im sure He is too much of a nigga /And they hate that shit But what I think they hate the most/Is he's a polished nigga With a Harvard degree, articulates well And as Katt Williams so eloquently put it/He has no baby mama drama He deserves the respect of his colleagues **** it that he's swagged out like ya favorite rapper Wears skinny suits and has a strut/ That puts Eva, Tyra, and Naomi to shame He's a boss, Rick Ross See this is why Im not a politician I have very little interest for politics/Rather Im politically correct Or politically incorrect/Never said I was a politician My interest for politics lies in the lines of this poem/ Swaggarack capturing America's #1 terrorist Left him deceased/On that Donald Trump they wanna see a death certificate Spoof video, you wasn’t messing with Barack's Dougie No way can I be interested in corrupt politics Stomaching politicians with no morals Reiterating again I will never be a politician And despite my rundown of unjust riddles I still have very little interest for politics

Copyright © Senea Moody | Year Posted 2012

Details | ABC |

The Worship Of Man's Reason

(Let no trust be vested in men, but bind them 
down with the chains of the Constitution)

The wave of the future for disaffected man;
such a noble experiment, our revolutionary plan.
World wide in scope, humanity’s salvation;
workers paradise, we’ll bring to every nation.

Utopia we’ll build, making all things new,
From the ash-heap of Capitalism and Monarchy too.
A socialist world is our humanist creed;
Securing the future, fulfilling all need.

That, opiate of the people, religion, must go.
Materialism shall prevail, all we atheists know.
From each, his abilities, to each one his need;
we’ve charted the course, the masses we lead.

Yet, the masses are dumb, they don’t understand,
so we use the whip, as we lead by the hand.
The firing squad too, for those who equivocate,
to insure a better tomorrow, we also learn to hate.

Counter-revolutionaries - we had to do them in;
required men to inform, even on their next of kin.
Mass killing for the cause, the end justifies the means;
starvation and deprivation to insure our lofty dreams.

Our collapse came too soon, we didn’t have the time,
to perfect our glorious system - punish every crime.
The proletariats were unthankful, tho’ for them we did it all.
Now, we find approval only in the western academic hall.


Prov. 16:25 “ There is a way that seemeth right to a man, 
but the end thereof is the way of death.”

Copyright © Lionel Ledbetter | Year Posted 2011

Details | ABC |

Crazy World

Crazy World

It’s funny how
The universities are still in business
Of producing graduates
That speak funny English
And hardly make invention
And the stock market falls
Down street tumbles
That lets people buy
And make profit
Like grandpa used to say,
True intellectualism died
In the year 1929
With the rise in acumen inflation
It was then that
This Federal Reserve of Ignorance
The true villain of this quandary
Traces its genesis
Hope that explains succinct
This universal impotence

Copyright © pat pakla | Year Posted 2012

Details | ABC |

Ode To Everything We Take For Granted

We all know what living is
We all had our lives given to us.
On a silver platter, a road for life mapped out for us,
but we aren't always serious
about the people near and dear to us,
because we're usually delirious about the life we take for granted.

When we have roofs over our heads
and sheets on our bed 
then how come on the streets people
are frozen with defeat and have to compete for some food.

How can we watch people's lives fall when they stand against a wall with a sign?
No use at all, praying to god as their pride crumbles.

We watch them stumble with their heads down low and nowhere to go and I think,
Where is the kindness planted?
Why do we take our lives for granted?

How could we stoop so low while we live in houses they have nowhere to go
- couldn't we lend them something...
Oh no, one person could make a difference if they spoke out loud
show their faces to the crowd.
A difference could be made
all of us could be of aid.

So dear reader I hope you see
the message that coming from me
and as I've gone on and almost ranted
Why do we take our lives for granted?!

Copyright © Ella Marley | Year Posted 2008

Details | ABC |

Guitars Of War

When men of fame do meet discord,
They find a way to prove their point.
Then it is, they think of the art,
And call to play artists of doom.
The artists too, who know their art,
Would play the strings from their guitars,
Releasing pleasant   sounds   of   doom
That   leave   men gasping   for   breaths   of   air.
Babies wail, toddlers weep;
Their mothers too have felt the sounds
Taking rise   from the guitars of war,
And lay by them with gaping eyes.
Young boys leave, all on their heels,
And flee without their closest ones,
Fear oozing out of every pore
That yet has not been blocked by blood.
Sounds of horror fill the misty air:
Bombshells cracking open, ‘leasing doom,
Creaking sounds from shattered houses
Under attack by massive arson,
Rhythmic thuds of bodies to the ground
From mortal tones that vade the air,
The agonised screams of innocence,
Dwarfed only by the dreadful cannonade.
Screams of little girls, barely grown,
Receiving men they’ve never known,
Left alone in shattered raiment
To brood and lick their bleeding wounds.
Tender   ones, better off dead,
Trudge along, barely standing,
With sunken cheeks and pointed ribs
Peeping   from   transparent   chests.
They’d give their leaf-thick fleshy parts
Just to lay their hands on flour,
Before the next artistic blast takes them unawares.
What a sharp contrast they are
To all their mates that live with fame.
The day is dead, the show is off,
The artists then return to base
To meet females with smiling kids
That know not what their fathers do.
All is well, their lives are good,
As pay bags do weigh higher.
Victory is here, but for whom?
The hundreds   that hushed the thousand?
Fellow men, what have you done?
Composed your master piece i guess!

Copyright © Karl Nkecha Safindah | Year Posted 2013

Details | ABC |

Herculean we need,achievement proceed

In this life,one has to choose the best we need not the best he wants. He needs to read between the line and walk with time. Like they said,"A very moment is a chance." Truely,life is not by chance but by fate. Live your life like everyday is last and make that day a history. 

Lightup,Herculean we need,achievement proceed.

Time shall come,when that day will be immemorial and your children's children,will not forget it. The best will always come at last. The last is your result. The end justifies the means. Your past may not be good enough,don't let it be a burden,cause tomorrow may see us better. As the sun shines and gives life to the trees,flowers and leaves of the earth. 

Light up,Herculean we need,achievement proceed. 

Far comes the destiny,what can we do with the one's near. In the kitchen come's the chimney,what about the heaven's cloud clear? I speak with one voice,it sounds different to so many ears. To some,it looks like noise,cause that lies their fears. Promises lies in the lips of some,all we get is just but none. So fast grows the trees of corn,when cut down,the life is all gone. 

Light up,Herculean we need,achievement proceed.

Copyright © michael Chinaecherem | Year Posted 2013

Details | ABC |

to the dogs

…to the dogs

He stared at the damp chilly night 
and marveled in frustration
seeing nothing at all -
except the black night

So many years ruined dancing to the same tune
days and night overlapping into an endless timeless space

Indigence, parched throats, empty ragged pockets…
guns persist as unflawed blood flows into the filthy cesspools
maggie dogs, scavenger, urchins all blend into one
all in a split race for the a place in the bins

At first light 
blurred images flash past his eyes 
cheese and butter, wines, champagne, music and festivals
laughter and smiles
- the taste of a gone era

Flashy cars with tinted windows speed by
on the highway 
towards the glass towers and 
the affluence beyond the mind’s eyes

Numerous gaps along the road 
shattered dreams, tattered bridges
dyed-in -the-wool banal lip services

A curse from the bowels of the earth or 
is it a monster 
from our flesh and bones 
or both?

Copyright © James Mwando | Year Posted 2012

Details | ABC |

Sod is in the T.V.

Their trying to tell you something,
It’s being shown on the screen,
It’s being told in music, ding ding,
But you were indoctrinated by thirteen.

Mtv shows you Masonic ritual,
Flashing symbols in your third eye,
Leave you in crisis, needing spiritual hospital,
You’ve had an overdose of an intoxicating lie!

It’s time to break the spell, turn off the T.V.
With all its degrading, intoxicated role models,
How anyone finds this acceptable for children, spent on me,
Maybe this is why society is fuelled by self gratifying morals.

Copyright © Lance Lawlor | Year Posted 2009

Details | ABC |


On that eleventh bloody day
The clock of three hundred years of freedom
Was quickly reversed.
On that ninth bloody month
One hundred and forty years of peace
Were foolishly wasted.

The tallest walls of the strongest pillars of earth
Were smashed into rubbles.
The military brain of the most powerful
Was bitterly shaken and moved
And its economic might seriously humbled.

The unthinkable indeed became a reality
When the days of the crusades and jihad, 
Were almost repeated
When that radical arm of that religio – political society,
Penetrated the defences of that well defended country

Copyright © Cromwell Mpinganjira | Year Posted 2011