My kindred spirit
Destiny to commend
A time and a place
A moment not to end
Comfort in knowing
Shared memories sublime
Youthful, not ragged
Crisp and divine
Sharing those chapters
Brings joy to the heart
Crossed paths in a moment
A beginning, a start
The stars were aligned
A friendship conceived
Expanding through journeys
Experiences perceived
A benefaction of fate
Priceless splinters in time
Not to be auctioned
It’s yours and it’s mine
Always remember
Not far from my mind
When life throws a dagger
Your pain is not blind
Your kindred spirit is with you
Just reach and you’ll know
Unburden your feelings
Your light will again glow
Your courage in loss
Is a strength you can share;
It is a comfort just knowing
In time you’ll be there
For now, just reflect
On the time they were here;
You will always have memories
Your parents so dear.
Do not let death be a hiding place for thieves,
Their mansions glimmer,their hands still foul of gold-
We want the money back, the people grieve.
They steal from the hungry,spin deceitful weaves,
Made poverty a product easily sold-
Do not let death be a hiding place for thieves.
Each tender lost,another dream bereaves,
A nation's trust auctioned,betrayed,resold-
We want the money back,the people grieve
The tombstone shines but cannot reprieve,
The curses of the poor,the stories untold-
Do not let death be a hiding place for thieves.
Let justice dig through soil and broken eaves,
Expose the empires' corruption controlled-
We want the money back,the people grieve
No grave absolves,no legacy deceives-
Return what you plundered,return what you stole!
Do not let death be a hiding place for thieves-
We want the money back,the people grieve
Hashtags.
Used to promote to get more attraction to a desired cause
To create a movement , to even open doors
But - like most things it has its flaws
Used to manipulate for narrative control
Stories of real life trauma
Plastered on social media
To be auctioned of and sold
To the highest bidder- usually a politician
Their favourites, those that contain stories of racism
Not because they care
But for emotional manipulation
Used to make them look like a 'diverse hero'
Claiming to love everyone
Yet create policies for a mandatory stop and patrol
'Coincidentally' in only black neighbourhoods
Most hashtags aren't even harmful
If used for the greater good, it can be very useful
A way for slogans to become a movement
One example - #blacklivesmatter
To boost, to help go viral
To become a worldwide sensation
After all you can never have enough people
To tackle this centuries long issue
Yet human nature makes people resentful
When they aren't the centre of attention - when they aren't popular
Usually the oppressors, they can't stand feeling inferior
They'll twist a cause to suit their reputation
After all what's a campaign without deception
They came with robes and golden rings,
Not to heal — but to own sacred things.
With Bibles bound in blood and silk,
They turned living water into poisoned milk.
Altars became ATMs,
Forgiveness priced in tithes and gems.
Salvation auctioned on Sunday screens,
While hungry mouths haunt shattered dreams.
They preach of heaven, sowing fear,
But drive their heaven in Bentleys near.
They claim to serve the Lamb once slain —
Yet dine in halls of Caesar's gain.
Not soul but ego leads the choir,
Their prayers are wires, their God — empire.
The gospel now a corporate creed,
With holy names used just for greed.
But beneath this glass cathedral’s dome,
The Spirit weeps and finds no home.
For truth is quiet, love is free,
Not bound by walls or policy.
And still, the light that can't be sold,
Flickers in hearts both brave and bold.
The soul knows lies, the heart can see —
That faith was never meant to flee.
So let them sell their plastic grace,
While truth returns to its rightful place.
Not in a pulpit draped in gold —
But in the silence prophets hold.
Democracy in a Coffin”
They wrapped the flag around his mouth,
called it freedom,
then shot him for speaking.
The ballot box bleeds ink and oil,
votes drowned
in rivers of silence.
Statues stand on broken backs,
names carved in stone—
not to honor,
but to forget.
Children chant anthems
in empty classrooms,
their futures auctioned
for one more war,
one more lie.
This isn't a nation—
it's a graveyard
with borders.
By Imran Ahmed
Two Men Stood At Fate’s Gate One Loved Her More Than Stars One Loved Her More Than Light Both Were Ironclad In Devotion,
She Loved Neither Only Her Reflection Her Scent A Spellbinding Elixir Her Voice Honey Laced With Fire Her Presence A Throne She Refused To Share,
One Was A Ghost In Daylight His Love Deeper Than Oceans His Heart A Candle In The Storm Burning Waiting Never Fading,
The Other Was A Master Of The Game Tearing Veils Like Old Paper Turning Love Into A Contract Offering Wings But Holding The Leash,
She Chose The Gilded Road Not Knowing The Thorns Beneath,
One Man Became A Forgotten Verse The Other A Victor Without A Prize,
Who Won A Question Lost In Smoke Love Was The Currency But In The End No One Cashed In.
The earth wept for no reason
under a soft articulate noise
of auctioned lives,
a beautiful dream, slowly dying.
Rottenness seeks in the soul
righteous prey,
grown from pure moments
in which the whiteness of thought
nurtures the hope of cleanliness
away from the smell own rot,
inherited from primary birth.
I feel the path in the whites of my eyes
through the chain of peoplecrucified
only for the future millennia.
We collect the rusty nails with tears
let's stick them on the sky.
Through the ancestral valleys
the blood of the crusaders flows,
furrowing the carapace of faith
to destruction.
One earth,
one history,
hangs like a ripe fruit
in the grown tree
from the heart of the universe
ready to taste the putrefaction.
On another branch
a flower opens
in the prehistory of another fruit.
The earth wept for no reason
under a soft articulate noise
of auctioned lives,
a beautiful dream, slowly dying
Come one, come all, to the grand affair!
The emperor sells his finest robes bare!
After a child called out: "He has no clothes"
What would the crowd bid for those?
The emperor beamed, modelling his finest gown.
Woven in gold thread, with jewels all around.
Silks and satins, woven with skill in fancy seams,
To be auctioned off, as the suit of his dreams.
The crowd cheered, adoring his gall and pride,
While hiding their giggles and snickers aside.
“Such courage!” they cried with a mischievous grin,
To auction off his birthday suit he was born in!
The auctioneer cried: "Now come on what is bid"
For the world finest, in invisible clothes hid.
For these Emperor clothes are fit for a King!
Who knows what fame and fortune they will bring?
The room ignited, the bidding went wild,
As emperor posed, smiled; he was so beguiled!
"Sold!" cried the auctioneer, banging his hammer,
To the nudist, wearing his pride with such glamour.
Like every other young girl
She holds a dream, vast and bright
But born in a land of dark shadows
That hunt and silence dreams.
Tempted by a shinning chance
She seized it with both trembling hands
Unaware of the story on the next page
A huge decision at a tender age.
Chartered, restrained like a fragile glass
Sent to a land with deceiving masks.
Auctioned to the highest bidder
Made a cleaner, a toy for pleasure, a mother.
But she’s just a girl with a dream
A dream that will set her free
From the shadows that dim all light.
Motherhood was never part of the fight.
{To be sung to the tune of Cruella de Vil song
from 101 Dalmatians movie}
Jewella de Vil, Jewella de Vil
If she doesn't tempt you, no other thing will,
To own her will take your strategic skill,
Jewella, Jewella,
She's like the parched earth waiting for her fill,
Shine on with Jewella de Vil
At first, you think Jewella will fulfil
But as time goes by, you learn to say goodbye,
For she plays hard to get, precious every set
That glitters and gleams and catches your eye
This sparkling ring, this shimmering gem,
She ought to be auctioned for she's the Femme
The world was fully satisfied until
Jewella, Jewella de Vil.
HERITAGE
Like a last puff of dust from an empty room
Almost a cough, as the last sign of life calls
From times when it was a bustling residence
Now deserted, with nothing left in evidence
No tinkle of the childish laughter in the halls
Just shuttered windows and this silent gloom
A house with history, both the good and bad
Gone, and few that now do hardly remember
Yet it was often the talk of those in high places
And some local resentment in particular cases
All the contents auctioned off last November
With death duties, the house left to the nation
Grounds are no longer regularly maintained
Since that final decision, all staff were let go
Now, just a few black crows in attendance
None left to inherit, no living descendants
Lost secrets that now no-one will ever know
At least, reputations may be left unstained
They are,
Still in touch with reality
They Value logistics over statistics,
They ask the right questions.
They don't believe in a totally cashless society,
Their vision for the future includes a roadmap,
That leads to prosperity for more than 10.
They see People, Water and the environment,
As assets that should never be auctioned off to the highest bidder,
They see benefit in strong communities.
They never make cuts across the board,
They understand that some services should never be contracted out.
That due diligence in this day and age is a heavy responsibility,
And put extra time and resources into it.
They understand that most white collar crime increases when,
Staffing levels drop to a point where,
The temptation to borrow and pay back,
Without anyone being the wiser,
Seems risk free to more people than you think.
They don't believe in overtaxing children,
But see value in afterschool jobs.
They refuse to hire spin doctors.
Written: October 18, 2023, For Ink Empress Dodoitsu Contest
________________________________
soul auctioned out to mirage
hostile and harmful hardship
cunning, for the devil, grins
In pursuit of fame
Who was such an arrogant p***k,
Turned out a sport, and double quick,
What was vulgarity
Turned into charity,
What was a faux pa, what a trick!
__________________________________
Happenings |20.12.2022| Limerick
Poet’s note: New Zealand PM Jacinda Arden was caught on a hot microphone using a vulgarity. Yet, what could have taken an ugly turn, turned a face-saver. She and her target agreed to sign an official transcript and auctioned it to fetch 100,000 NZ dollars. Well, one who was a p***k sort, turned out to be a good sport! Some may focus on vulgarity, some on charity, what about the politicians’ maturity?
Star-pod, Ashanti, all aboard ya'll!
We're penetrating space-time's inpenatratable wall
Floating & flying through space-time atmosphere
Where the unknown is crystal-clear
So all aboard, ya'll, it's the 2nd call to see
The mysteriously darkened space-time!
Come aboard, Ashanti, come see the best prime
Don't stray too far from your pods
'Cause if you do, your lines will snap
And it will unhook from ISS's rods
Casting ya'll to your scariest doom
Your bodies will stay flying dead forever
Floating & decomposing for all of eternity
All this information - for certainly
If you float & stray far, you can simply die
If you don't wanna die - I suggest you comply
Or your 700 million dollar pod will be auctioned
That is, if you unhook, get lost, & possibly die
At any rate, if you cease to exist - consider this
A fair warning I sang
A riddlized riddle
A rusted fiddle
Come now & don't dwiddle
And with that as the door slams
& mechanically locks
You're all of a sudden in zero-gravity
Flying in Ashanti's trapeze
5, 4, 3, 2, 1
Space-time is where I'll be
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