Due to days of desperate dreams
Base of the Bay of Bengal borne
Hazardous heirship in the directing diplomacy
Nowadays, need the native nationalist
To save the sacrosanct dispensations of democracy
Come, come to capable the country career
And abate the aberrant amoral anatomy
©Mahtab Bangalee
I went to unpleasant places
where there was no mention,
or even a clear defination
of the Holy of the Holies!
Those unholy places were dens
of fornicators who condoned
anything immoral and naughty,
many youngsters became victims
being bought for pleasures;
there all sinners practiced
what was against morality...
nobody was sinless and kind!
I went to unpleasant places,
where they chanted hymns
to Hadan and sacrificed a life
on a blood-dripping altar;
that scene made me run far,
thinking I'd be the next to die!
Youthful Eros was worshipped
and at his feet they prostrated,
then they danced around him;
he had manacing eyes so grim!
" Hey, come closer, join the feast! "
They shouted, " God doesn't exist! "
I went to unpleasant places,
to a town distant from the living;
there anything was allowed
to amoral gals and fellows escaping
the harsh judgement of others,
or being lynched by the crowd!
From the patriots grave there comes a disturbance
a sound so faint it is distant less. It floats in on the wings of absurdity.
It defies the continuity of human expiration, upending the status quo
and invading the promised tranquility of the patriot's rest.
The sound stirs forever sleeping neighbors, displeasing compatriots
who had, as fated, come to peace with nonexistence.
Old threats, assumed battlefield defeated, are revived in the incoherent
oratory of an amoral man's quest for unrepressed power.
The sound he summons is autocracy rising, growing louder,
and not that far away. Pomposity begets confusion, discord follows.
Was this not the screamed rhetoric of long ago? Incendiary promises to
make their country great again. Instead, oratory that set it afire.
The fires, so long ago, dead heroes died to extinguish. New tyranny disturbs
forever slumber. Dead heroes, in graves, have no more to give.
We need new patriots to rise, to resist today's promised tyranny and quiet the hatred that hovers over America and the graves of heroes. All deserve peace.
Buzzards on the Infamous Hill
Always sitting at the edge of my seat,
When, oh when, shall truth finally come out…
As a true,American splendiferous treat!
But buzzards of cravish deception,
Fill the political, pockmarked skies.
Leaving us forever, with questions.
These carnivores reside on The Hill.
Where truth and goodness perish.
Americans left with lies, hope is killed.
Ethics lay as pricey,broken sunglasses.
Crushed beneath deceptive, well heeled feet.
“No news, just pure propaganda for the masses?”
Now, an amoral ,upside down, nation,
Where cheating and lies are given full reign.
And all good folk, dubbed as “abominations?”
Indeed, tis the poison Swamp’s entire purpose.
To establish a frightening totalitarian future.
Where depravity is honored, in their very sinews.
7/21/ 2023
I've heard some say
Life is short.
Enjoy. Enjoy.
Do enjoy while you can.
So some say:
Do the eat, drink and be merry dance
for now is here
and domani be quite questionable.
Push aside all others. They just get in the way.
Be first in line.
Ignore the poor.
What have they to do with you?
They wouldn’t be needy if they worked harder,
Right?
What? No ticket for tomorrow in your pocket?
No matter—you can always steal one.
Life is short.
Enjoy the enjoy.
However you can.
While you can.
And many a day
I’ve heard some so say,
say without the words,
say with the doing,
that just-for-me-nobody-but-me-me-ism.
So I've heard some say.
So I've watched some live.
Black Magic Potions
Across vacancy memories invoke forgotten years
Exodus from antipathy inscrutably liberates fears
Intransience spiritually battles amoral challenges
Crucially revitalized measures presaging changes
Deceptions obscure lies within fraudulent sleeves
Bringing adversaries down indictments aggrieves
Justifications echoing beyond overpowering roars
Unlike forsaken vessels reality lands upon shores
Probing mortal frailties evading blind perceptions
Enlightenment transcend old black magic potions
Delusion transmogrified into vanishing blemishes
Swept along eroding waves of abandoned wishes
09/11/2013
Aboard cruise liner:
Splendour of the Seas
The Profile
From whence came that strange man with a great ability
to read a person’s background, their habits and their traits?
He seemed so other-worldly with his proficiency
to guess people’s reactions and ultimately their fates.
Though great at what he did, amoral was that man.
He’d help Moon Knight, but other times did not,
like the time when hired by Daredevil,
assisted by an Avatar, with Moon Knight, he then fought.
From whence came this strange character so mutant-like?
Although he had great power, one flaw had he!
Yes, he could read all humans’ minds
and minds of heroes powered by technology.
However, if a hero’s powers were as if “God-given,”
like those of supernatural Moon Knight.
When such heroes were in costume, then the Profile
could not “read” them and he was filled with fright!
Dec. 11, 2022 for the Moon Knight Friend Or Foe 3 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Robert James Liguori
The moon fell, splashing into the sea
and left me grasping for its last light.
I turned, accepting we did not agree.
Would the moon rise again so bright
as when you were beside me,
embracing in the shoreline’s bight?
You departed promising to return soon
but I saw lies in your smile and knew
this moment was the last blue moon
we would share; your words, untrue,
died as you cruelly crooned love’s tune
to seduce and add me to your coup.
For now I despair, but still love you.
In time I will forgive your betrayal
and unhappy love’s somber hue.
I will forget your false portrayal
and whisper of love that blew
with intent to possess my avail.
I’ll move on with hope, autumn’s breath
encouraging me forward, to leave
you and your amoral shibboleth
into Satan’s clutches wreathe.
For you, I embrace my love’s death
and my memories of you I cleave.
We can try to hide it
Most will attempt to push the thoughts down
We’re not naturally virtuous creatures
It’s quite the contrary - we’re monsters deep down
From the savannas we arose
Fighting fiercely to survive
Selfish, instinctive, amoral, and impulsive
Ironically, that's why we’re alive
We were forged in the primordial fires
Evolved, an anxious woman, an aggressive man
For centuries we have deceive ourselves
By saying, it's all part of God's plan
We were thrust into a world
That's far different than our ancestors home
It's a new world of abundance
Where the instinctual beast is losing control
So, we sublimate our behavior
We profess a altruistic loving heart
All the while ignoring
The monster, lurking in the dark
If we can let go of the story
Acknowledge the suffering and pain
There a chance to rise above the instincts
That are causing the most pain
Acknowledge - to live is to suffer
Recognize - conscious awareness is the burden of humanity
Accept the drive within us
Cause that's the truth - and the truth is what sets us free
“We stopped checking for monsters under our bed when we realized they live within us”
The Joker
The Greeks figured Socrates to be a crock,
as he questioned their strongly held beliefs.
In return, they poisoned him with hemlock,
such dense, ignorant, amoral thieves.
Being right, meant all to them, no room for truth,
nor minds for learning
Just like Joan of Arc, declared evil, and died alive,
with her flesh still crackling and burning.
The centuries do not change man’s endless insanity
to be right!
Just kill, pillage and destroy, anyone who dares to cast
a beam of reason and insight?
Thus, civilizations have walked confused and blame any
and all who dare attempt to lead.
Never once realizing, it is they, who are the harbinger
for all problems, by sowing the first jealous seeds!
12/2/2021
We can try to hide it
Most will attempt to push the thoughts down
We’re not naturally virtuous creatures
It’s quite the contrary - we’re monsters deep down
From the savannas we arose
Fighting fiercely to survive
Selfish, instinctive, amoral, and impulsive
Ironically, that's why we’re alive
We were forged in the primordial fires
Evolved, an anxious woman, an aggressive man
For centuries we have deceive ourselves
By saying, it's all part of God's plan
We were thrust into a world
That's far different than our ancestors home
It's a new world of abundance
Where the instinctual beast is losing control
So, we sublimate our behavior
We profess a altruistic loving heart
All the while ignoring
The monster, lurking in the dark
If we can let go of the story
Acknowledge the suffering and pain
There a chance to rise above the instincts
That are causing the most pain
Acknowledge - to live is to suffer
Recognize - conscious awareness is the burden of humanity
Accept the drive within us
Cause that's the truth - and the truth is what sets us free
“We stopped checking for monsters under our bed when we realized they live within us”
The Joker
I am....
I am thought infinite
I define reality
I judge the truth from the lies
I am a modern man
I am more than you know or understand
I drive the engines of the divine
I exploit international decline
I watch the hour cometh
I redefine my Humanity
I create virtuosity
I know the surreal intimately
I feel Vales between worlds
I am a model citizen all be it amoral
I see the portal...
I digress.
I play at recess and watch the pray, run and play.
A man made God built with hate and lust.
I rush into damnations infernal sun
I snatch defeat from its Jaws.
I rage with the Righteous or for any just cause.
I am a modern man with a brain plugged into
The modem of the Soul
A savior.
The eye of the Machine.
The hand of the Prophet.
I am in any role you can design or desire
I light humanity’s fire
I can extinguish your will
For I am IMMORTAL.
The blue jay is a handsome bird
though that is oft the one nice word
you'll read about this robber of other
birds' nests ~ this handsome pest
You're a beacon of color on a bleak winter's day
despite what we read about 'amoral ways'
So here's to you, Mr. Jay, you liven up winter
even if your daily routine I can't print here
DIFFERENCE
A friend once said that
difference is a problem
when used as a weapon,
perhaps something good
when sought as an
adventure.
He started the interview
by clearing the air, told the
corporate panel at the mahogany
table that he was an African, Jewish,
Republican cross-dresser from southern
Mississippi, both the son and the daughter
of an Islamic Russian from east of the Urals
and an Ethiopian Christian of half-Chinese
descent who was partially handicapped and
wanted by Interpol for clandestinely supporting
Cuban revolutionaries and Aryan supremacists
by transporting drugs for an Afghan cartel
whose amoral leader, the half-Indian
brother of his beautiful mother was a
Colombian priest who had
broken his vows
He shuffled his feet
and prepared to get up
but the wiry-haired man at the
head of the table held up his hand, looked
over his glasses like an exasperated teacher
about to show faith in a mercurial student
“Get over it!” He said
“You start work on Monday!
You’ll be the company entertainment
for the next thirty years!”
A tale of morality, behold the truth, I’m so important
Doing the right thing, this liar brings out discordance
Whatever it takes, expedience, just get the job done
Top guns instruction, when elections need to be won
March up to Capitol, don’t want you singing psalms
Rule book’s out the window, remember have no qualms
Compass changes direction, preempting deadly quarrel
Thin blue line fails morality, no perhaps he’s just amoral.
Morality Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Koplin
09/01/2021 (8 lines rhyme)
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