Nations, like tides, rise and fall with the numbers,
A swelling crowd is a promise and a peril.
In youth, the many are labor and armies;
In age, they are a weight upon the state.
Leaders count heads, not lives,
Calculating strength in the aggregate.
A vast populace fuels markets,
Fills the factories, swells the tax rolls.
Policy bows to the short-term reward,
Blind to the slow erosion beneath.
Food, water, shelter—finite and frail—
Are treated as inexhaustible myths.
Yet the wheel turns,
And the balance sheet of nature
Will one day collect its debt.
By then, the architects may be gone,
But their legacy will stand—
An empire too heavy to sustain.
I am no where near
that great Cicada
comback moment.
Much like a comet,
or the invasion of Grenada,
I'll have to watch a YouTube vid
to asertain the gist of it;
why so short lived,
why so loud?
The mating call aroused,
a trillion Magicicada*
live then die enmasse,
and we are blessed
to have witnessed this,
nature's orchestrated symphony
*magicicada: From Ancient Greek mágos, “magician” + Latin cicada.
The male [magicicadas] aggregate in chorus centers and call there to attract mates. Mated females lay eggs in the stems of woody plants. Within two months of the original emergence, the life cycle is complete and the adult cicadas die. Later in that same summer, the eggs hatch and the new nymphs burrow underground to develop for the next 13 or 17 years. ~Wikipedia
Funny we idolize, admire, imitate
Stars, politicians, elitists aggregate
Living in their hollow lavish luxury
As demonic robotic cultic zombies
Chasing the next pleasurematic high
Regardless soul depravation deprive
Sold out to their life utter perversion
Hiding from true light truth aversion
All the while remaining silent passe
Allowing the masses to be led astray
Feigning strength and superiority
Cowering to their lifestyle sorority
Afraid to say what's right n powerless
Living a secretive lie of cowardice
The lyric deft and yet bereft, its logic baldly doffed:
an heir in err, a progeny ‘twas not untimely off’d.
In aggregate, the follicles that sprout the facial hair,
protrude a plain that’s primed for pain, as microbes nestle there.
To mow the glade with steely blade creates a field of woe;
the pain-free knight, his own mote smites, so mites midst hair might grow.
Mutter is an aggregate requisite to glimpse the truth.
Potential suspicions may dwell on a bitter deception.
Each zillion times a single syllable is pronounced.
If this was the case, that term is doomed to extinction.
With regards to objectivity, it's each of the stratagems.
There is obviously evidence to support this allegation.
Everybody gets duped in some way, shape, or form.
Since there is no such thing as the truth of revelation.
Written: April 26, 2022
submitted to "Our Truth" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Unseeking Seeker
if what you say
does not create any value,
if you shut up you will not recreate
aggregate devalue !
A poem lovely as a flower! How could one not be moved
By a blossoming beauty in celestial contours grooved
A flower is grace and elegance incarnate
It is fragrance and loveliness- aggregate
Burning in flame, bedecking hills and vales,
Some bloom to die unnoticed in lonely isles!
Nodding in glee with the gentle touch of winds
They remain bees’ and butterflies’ bosom friends
In beautiful parlors, they proudly reside
Over the freshly dug up graves, they sadly preside
Like stars in the firmament, on Earth they shine
Who else other than God, their beauteous form design?
Entered for Brian Strand's Structured
Poetry Contest
Placed First
March. 3.2022
A Poem Lovely as A Poetry Contest
Sponsor-Margarita Lillico
"Keep talking till your last breath"
These are words of wisdom shadowing death.
A bird will sing until he smacks that window pane,
And a corona victim will utter hope until there is no more to gain.
A worship hall will aggregate prayers for those fighting for life,
They'll pierce the sound barrier just like a knife.
But noises we utter is way more than sound,
it's a lifetime of fulfillment that we found.
So cry, chant, yelp and howl,
Be one with nature, as we found.
Our lungs are the engine of our desire,
and to the last breath will speak like fire.
For close to us are ones that we hold dear,
And to the final hour, they'll be our ears.
Thursday, November 4, 2021
Your Own Philosophy Statement Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Writing is a messy feast
where crumbs fall to the floor
to aggregate and congregate
to hide and form and spore
Left alone and thrown away
these remnants take new life
invading what you fear the most
on dark and stormy nights
They creep inside your cleanest lines
to weaken and distract
what memory long has cast aside
now rising from the cracks
And latching on while holding tight
they make you speak their name
those orphaned crumbs your table cleared
—in sweeping lost disdain
(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)
Today
By: Tom Wright
Today,
Is paramount,
If the aggregate
Of tomorrow's expectations,
Are to become
Treasured memories
Of yesterday.
For without the key of today,
The lock of tomorrow,
Never opens.
rise,
upward, cumulative
ascending, climbing, levitating
surge, crescendo, nosedive, slump
plummeting, dropping, sinking
plunge, descent
fall
full,
total, whole
jam-packing, loading, extending
entirety, aggregate, cavity, nothingness
draining, unloading, purging
void, abyss
empty
Date written: 06/16/2021
I see everything from an emptiness point of view
I hear silent cries and whispers falling on deaf ears
I smell an avarice of a fomented Revolution
I savor the approaching sense of a pandemic Renaissance
I feel we are born-still on a very very very long journey to an enlightenment
I mind those impermanent treasures leading to a Dharma stream of
not-self collectedness of thought trained Wisdoms
Anubis knows the time
inside each molecule.
Imperceptivity different moments
tick-on in each atom.
The aggregate length,
of the space between
organic particles is recorded.
The reaction time
of all chemical soups
is set to almost midnight.
Anubis prepares a place for us
where all next steps
are predicted.
When we are delivered
to this underworld,
the heart
(an electric devise)
is preset
just for you and I.
am I who am I
Yin Yang aggregate theory
Breathes cogent relief
Angels observe in un-articulated anguish from above,
anxiety afflicted by appalling accelerated ambition of the aggregate
that redefines the archaic, apocalyptical allure
driving humanity to its brink of active self annihilation;
those moments of antiquated adversarial abstractions
when history goes awry in its accursedness
revels the atrocious alienation of poverty ignored,
that hidden appetency wherein
the very acquiescence of its anticipated allure,
blinds us in our astigmatism that can anesthetize living well;
the assuage ascendancy of life's pain and amplified existence
briefly lingers, dies
as we absolve ourselves with abstinence
surpassing the more auspicious moments lost
when we could have been assertively aggrandized,
to become
more augmented humanity.
for John Hamilton's Crazy A's contest
10/30/19
1. Anguish 2. Awry 3. Auspicious 4. Atrocious 5. Assuage 6. Appetency
7. Allure 8. Absolve
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