Best Burnings Poems

When I think of India, I think of dark eyed beauties,
their foreheads painted with decorative red dots,
and I see them moving deliciously in beautiful bright...

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The heartaches of living are many
The comforts of living are few;
The truths we are told are not many
And the lies we were told have come...

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As the ink dries swiftly,
peer into the invisible thoughts
these poet eyes see

Blink  blink

The world is on the brink,
following dire voices
that speak darkly

Many underground secret...

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Wettened by the mornings dew 
Closely spaced where rows of roses grew 
Footprints stained the cobblestone 
Where my love and I had walked, alone

Breathless sun,...

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Wettened by the mornings dew 
Closely spaced where rows of roses grew 
Footprints stained the cobblestone 
Where my love and I had walked, alone 

Hand...

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Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Goree Island
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: February/2014


 I see the blood
of my ancestors 
that swell
 in the Atlantic ocean 
on 
Goree Island -

The unmerciful ill winds 
that fell 
over my people, 
in...

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terrorism has been going on for thousands of years
not just in the Middle East, but in America right here
Black folks have been terrorized for many...

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Die Bücherverbrennung ("The Burning of the Books")
by Bertolt Brecht
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

When the Regime
commanded the unlawful books to be burned,
teams of dull oxen...

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World War II Poems and Holocaust Poems II - Bertolt Brecht



The Burning of the Books
by Bertolt Brecht
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

When the Regime
commanded the...

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Four years ago on this very day
the Democrats and their proxy media stooges
cried “the election was stolen!”
and “we need to impeach Trump!”

Today the same apparatchiks...

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"The Precipice"



In the Autumn 
she wore a wedding veil
A cold winter would lift it
Kiss her lips passionately to 
speak words of 
LOVE
on a 
late roll...

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Scathing these miscoloured orbs of sight, with incised rocks carved beneath

Concretionaries jagged edges of contagiums....

Painted upon the predominating canvas of perceptions dank, pasteled times!

So what...

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This harvest of your quiet eyes,
this moon that blues
and sails dimly seen in the cloud of your gaze,
Lo' fill my troubled heart,
with pleasant sighs,
all too...

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Der Abschied (“The Parting”)
by Bertolt Brecht
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

We embrace;
my fingers trace
rich cloth
while yours encounter only moth-
eaten fabric.
A quick hug:
you were invited to...

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*1) "Tone it down" as much as I possibly can 
- There could be children presently attending my rant
And I want them all to ask...

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