Arabs are big example of break bread people generosity.
We knew who are the men of stinginess, meanness, baseness, and racism.
The world is tilting;
I see it leaning into black baseness
as long shadows slink like eerie entities
lengthening out – ever lengthening,
obscuring truth and sensibility.
These shadows dim the human mind
until over time, I am left wondering:
what has become of man-kind?
Virtue’s light I recall once brighter
is being shrouded now more and more
with so much stealthiness
that few, I fear, are barely conscious
of the deep malevolence
lurking and growing into night.
Can you see it closing in on us?
Long shadows are becoming
the umbra which will be
our pall.
So as the fauna flakes into flasks and the distance is at ease,
so as the forgotten fallen ones are at peace and you and your life are crease,
so as the harrowing start and a seasonal bar goes into the yonder park,
and an endimony of our presentation is falling into desert art-
I am pleading that you start speaking to them all in a heart-
I am donned to be peaking as I am just about to fall off the energy's leaving one little diamond in the war-
I said I wanted to fight, and became broken in the hallway,
it's O.K, I am only as ready as the unrealized baseness of seeing the future so stark,
let's let them off as we go because I have no other wool, and the only history of time is the glittering wine in the standout cottage on stage street where I round-about all hairy lore,
stupid as I can't breathe the only time I say please is honorary a beast so let's wonder about the finishing touches now heavenly and...
Pause a while when you pass this yard
For here is where dead soldiers stay,
They gave up all they had in life
That you may have this wondrous day;
Brave men they were with gallant hopes
True patriots till they were slain,
Perhaps you could a blossom lay
To say their deeds were not in vain;
In deep slumber these heroes lie
Nay aloof to the world of men,
I wonder what would be of them
Should these men ever rise again;
To see a world of glory shorn
Their days of honour dead and past,
A world now full of shameless men
Who roam around in rueful cast;
The art to cede bereft and gone
And valour now a piteous plea,
No wonder men in shambles lie
Nor brave hearts they would ever see,
The martyrs' grieve with saddened hearts
Their shattered breasts that bleed once more,
With souls butchered thus countless times
When, mortal baseness comes to fore.
***********
Stand still warrior,
This is just a test.
A passage in the canyon,
could be a beast's nest
See you in the warfields,
we'll be wounded but alive.
Stick to the command,
have faith,you'll get by
A Young man in you,
know your beginnings.
don't get startled,
hold on to your baseness.
Stand still brother,
we are captives of time.
a Slave of the past,
swing your sword in free in gust
Years will be waiting,
for a drop of hope.
miles we'll be climbing,
up this steep fatal slope.
Flashes of gold flecked with green
Pull me into their deep seas
With a sense of truth unseen
She laughs with her gentle tease
Her entire face seems to glow
With a sense of clean purity
Youthfulness that you will know
As she makes her whimsical plea
Forever abides within her sighs
Coloring her face with innocent grace
Soft silken skin where true joy applies
Naivety that no baseness can erase
She is the child that colors the world
With bright sunshine yellow and gold
That welcomes the morning whirled
With wisdom untainted by life’s mold
©October 3, 2014 by Regina Riddle
Alone in his cell, an inmate said,
"Truly, I have escaped the baseness of humans-
that inveterate vice which condones condemnation.”
No longer will he mistake loathing for love, enmity for
amenity or abhorrence for adoration.
Here, who you are, whether you be Gandhi or Nazi, is
Worn proudly, unambiguously, not shrouded in incongruity.
No longer will he be forced to live a lie and deny who he
Is. “Here, we are all the same”
No longer will he need to weave elaborate stories to cover
up your crimes. “Here we can count on your face
the lives you took”
Looking through the prison bars he saw our dilemma:
The masks we wear and the people we pretend to be; the people
We befriend to betray in the end. He saw the disingenuous,
the hypocrisy, the ruse and the tricks,
the chaos and the lies; and he felt sorrow because
he could not free those of us still trapped by prison walls.
Reflection injection,
I can’t do time so I bear the erections,
like bad economies and serious rejections...
They have relations of stations upon the masters of fakeness,
roaring awakeness,
upon baseness
upon rankness,
...I try hard but hear blankness,
waiting on makeshifts,
I live for the lie,
even if my body falls off of my mind,
just in-case I have to try-
I keep myself wide,
but creep slow otherwise,
beat up the wrong boast-
with character in my eyes,
ride motorcycles to the coast,
act rich,
and not even take a dip.
Dear Future if there is one,
I'd like for yo to know
how our people were so careless
and destroyed the good Earth.
We sent poison to the atmosphere
and poured it on the ground.
Though good men warned us daily,
we would not heed their word.
The Earth that we inherited was beauty absolute.
We should have taken care of it,
God doesn't make one every day.
But we were seeking riches
and we found God's hidden treasures.
We squandered them so freely and
saved nothing for the future.
We forgot God's gift was finite
and that He could lose his patience.
At last He said, "Enoughs enough
and we have lost our home.
Like Adam and Eve before us,
we surrendered to our baseness.
The Earth could only take so much.
We have committed suicide.
I hope the Earth recovers
andwe can all enjoy its beauty.
Please take care of its treasures,
once they're gone , they're truly gone.
Abused and mauled by filthy loveless hands,
Devoured by baseness, wickedness and shame,
A victim, slave to selfish fools’ demands,
With freedom kept on paranoid restrain.
The mannish-child has crushed the sweetest rose,
And, cheerful, tears off butterfly’s soft wings,
Intent on turning beauty’s joys to woes,
He’s threatened, terrified of purer things.
Courageous, strong, her soul has overcome,
This unclean, cowardly, and hate-filled world,
‘Though bruised and battered, bleeding, coldly numb,
Her shy and tender petals have uncurled.
She spreads her lovely wings and takes to flight,
Abandons shadows, makes for heaven’s light.
for Deb's and Cyndi's sonnet contest
shakespearean sonnet
Your smile is a threshold
that I can cross unharmed
only to discover your smile is a weapon
slicing me to pieces
with sordid cynicism.
I grab the metalic lance
which is your own baseness,
a vileness sheltered in your chest . . .
Oh! the lance is like ice
so cold that your veins have no pulse
But with a disenchanted shield
that protects nothing, impedes nothing,
in this misty field
on a foggy night, I´ll bow
my body before your pedestal!
trying everything
yet nothing can touch
your brutal ego
And the more I cross this threshold,
the more I want to cross you, but I can' t!
A viciousness kills me litlle by little
I -- each time a little weaker
You -- each time a little more insane
You -- blinding me to the reason
the way we are blinded by faith and psalms
and you, so powerfully wise, prepare your supper
I -- dying again at your feet
You -- carrying my scalp
across the sepulcher of myself.
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