Best Cages Poems
Parental desperation
is the dreadful flee bidden cause
Children separation
is the inhumane quarantine effect
Trying to cross the sovereign divide
is narrow mindedly viewed, by more than a few,
as a pestilent travel venture
Ill will is the chilling, unhealthy reception
The uncivil solution: Create an insane policy
for poor souls seeking asylum
Man-made designation is an animal control way station,
(also known as) Borderline K-9 Cages
See the perennially sad puppy eyes
laying fetal prone on the morgue cold, concrete floors
Watch the waning wag of the tongues,
their thirst for freedom dying behind iron bar doors
National psychotic behavior is borderline criminal,
keeping children in cages is morally indefensible
Diamondback mutes devolving into what?
Mental worms turning into heartless slugs!
Children developing separation psychosis
is a lonesome doggone shame
K-9 kids were never meant to be raised in cages,
yet no one wants to bear the blame
But many of the kennel keepers
have gotten so inured to the ear-piercing, borderline pain
And the womb-ripped parents
are never told where the aborted-trip children were taken
The man who puts kids in cages
Laughs at the folks it enrages
Whilst taxpayers bleed
Republicans need
Bilingual pedophile Pages
In Life we were free
As free as Birds
We could fly around and do as we please
We could touch the skies and walk on moons
We held Life in our hands
And cherished it until the ends
Now a fatal virus flows through our lives
It knocks over all possibilities in Life
It crushes our hopes and dreams
It destroys the values of Life
Now we struggle to fly towards Freedom
We are like Birds in Cages
Locked away from Life behind bars
Fed only Fear instead of Hope
Dreaming only of Death instead of Life
We are like Birds in Cages
In my country, gangs of fiends own the night.
In my country, we lived broken lives of torment.
My family fled with little but our naked terror.
Bleeding and blistered, our feet carried us hundreds of miles.
But I always had my familia.
We migrated in trucks, never sure
we could trust coyotes.
We roamed scorching desert, never
sure we would find food or water.
Sometimes we waited until nightfall, hidden from view.
We were nocturnal prey on winding dirt roads,
never sure if we would be killed.
But I always had my familia.
Our bellies choking from hunger,
our desolate depletion, the final forces
delivering us to the border.
So distant my country, so remote in this
unearthly place where we were captured by
armed strangers, where we were divided by
strangers.
Today, I no longer have my familia.
This day is glass shattering and the shards
cut me open like a skinned rat.
Today I am that bawling baby paralyzed
by panic.
Today I am that shrieking child trembling
in terror.
Today I am that adolescent crowded
in a cage.
Today I am that tortured toddler
crying himself to sleep.
Published: Dissident Voice 11/8/20
?http://www.poetrysoup.com/poets/top_100_poets_most_poems_all_time.aspx
Rattling Others Cages
Suppose what you said, I were to renounce
Would on my person you start to pounce
And again another game begin to play
Which was called, "Trying to Get Own Way."
Actually, accordingly to my latest prediction
You surely will have produced much friction
And projected to end up in pretty poor shape
Without any doubt at all, lack any escape.
So if ship shape is way you want to be
Reality is our perfect American Society
Become educated and others do bother
Who you find related to a Family Father.
Heavens to Betsy Ross and God forbid
Was wondrous things that ancestors did
Part of pages of sages through the ages
Who thoroughly enjoy rattling others cages.
James Thesarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
CAGES
trapped in
apparent spaces
power
extinguished
bird in a
forgotten
tree
building cages
safety nests
apparent
circumstances
placing bets
on novel lives
sunken
and clean
stuck in barb wire snares
itch itch itch
the language is
obscene
headbound in
freakish Atlantic
sea
© Kim van Breda—8 January 2016
Splash!
Down for another dive
But wait!
What is this?
No fish?
No turtles?
No sea life?
Just plastics
Plastics and dead coral!
Our oceans destoryed
My lifelong hobby gone.
Sea creatures kept behind glass
where grubby fat hands tap at them
staring with widened gazes
Sadness is not a strong enough word
Not strong enough to describe what we have done.
Protectors of the earth?
More like destroyers of habitats.
Don't let this nightmare become truth.
locked by tyranny
mocked by the masses
little children
little Jews
silver teeth
take away their shoes
the statue you see
is fake
Trumpets hide not
the fading of liberty
The kindest of souls
is ok
shout
above the showers
Berlin 1934, USA 2018
Note:
Where a society travels, is where a society may end up.
Cages of Angels
Have you hungered enough
As you lay bereft of sleep
The changing seconds in dead red digital light
Stare you blankly into thoughts
Seeping from your pours like tears
Afraid to close your eyes
Shutter your lids into another night
And hear the loveless breathing beside you
The long and mundane rigmarole of remorseless continuation
Counting out those dieing wishes
Those weeping hopes
Seethe with vampire blood cells
Feeding on every dream you ever had
How can you bare to watch yourself wither
The unrecognised martyrdom
The unknown sacrifice
Has everyone a practising pugilist
Made you their target
And beat you back on your own split lip
Of what you think they all deserve
Broken and shattered they let you fall to the vacancies of their love
Have you hungered enough
Behind the flimsy lace of prison bars
In the cages of angels where your demons tormented you to ridicule
Your loneliness you wear as a ritual mask
A tribal dance behind your words
A crying freedom that no one has ever heard
You berate yourself against your heart
And cannot see for all their lies
The single solitary truth
Have they ripped out my love
And turned it into a debacle of mistrust
Scourged my every word with dubious uncertainty
And left me to wear their shadow
Do you walk alone
Head bent beneath the sun
With the purpose of your soul hanging on the gibbet
The wretched forlorn and fallen weak dragging at your footsteps
Does your mouth push past the emptiness
To level you
Drag you through your sense of duty
To fruitless searching’s for some reason
Not to love me
I dropped my sackcloth of inconsequential burdens long ago
It fell with its bricks to the cemented dust
Others would have built my dungeon with
There is only one cage
The cage of not having anyone to share my freedom with
Have you hungered enough
I stopped what I was doing. I got very still, and I breathed like I do when I hear noise
outside my room at night.
I listened to my poem.
It told me to stop expecting, stop thinking
and just be there for it.
I quickly squeezed one out.
I wanted to be a chef and
feed my friends a poem.
No.
That wasn’t it.
The poem peeked out at me again and said
I want to say to you what the wind says to you and what the warm breezes say.
Now, listen.
I stopped to listen.
I took from my book of seeds and crumbs.
I wanted to share a story like the stories that begin with, “Yesterday, I…”, or “I heard
this…”, or “Can you imagine…”.
I stopped chasing the poems.
I let the poem catch me.
The poem may hold you for a moment, then let you go, or it may become part of you
-- and you are one.
Title quote-attributed to Robt. Bly
Once, there was a boy who loved animals,
every kind of animal:
it didn't matter; he loved them all!
He had rabbits, pigeons, hamsters, and a raccoon.
The boy kept them well-fed,
cleaned their cages every day
making sure they were happy:
for that made him happy, too.
One day, he was watching the news
and saw children taken from their mothers;
by the border patrol, and placed in cages.
He saw their misery and heard their cries.
They were not happy in their cages:
and he cried, too.
He loved his pets:
and yet, he also kept them in cages.
Now he realized they weren't happy at all:
for like people, they want to live free.
And so, he released all his animals
to an animal sanctuary, and destroyed their cages.
"One doesn't cage what one loves."
BIRDS WITHOUT CAGES
Jubilation of an early morning Spring choir
Free birds perched upon budding branches
Clothed in the creator’s best feathers
Preparing nests to cosset their eggs
Tree roots are deep and strong
Choice finches, robins, and jays in synch
Confident in their praise of dawn
Sounds of early morning song awaken
My ears
my heart
my mind
my spirit
Open the windows, oh hard-hearted!
Soften your tune, breathe fresh air
Fly free with slight chill of March
Soar outside your skin. Let the bad air out.
Revive!
Relish the day!
It is Spring!
You are free!
Kim Rodrigues ©2017
Freedom is a bird with broken wings in the modern world, trapped in invisible cages of indifference,
Reflecting destiny as a silent shadow, the immutable aspects of existence embrace us with cold arms,
Death, an artist of limits, carves the boundaries of our lives with the chisel of relentless time,
Each human being becomes a prisoner in their own freedom, building an invisible prison with choices.
We are born free, but the irony of fate makes us builders of walls, raising barriers between dreams and reality,
True freedom is not political, but a delicate dance between choice and the inevitable,
The possibility of self-realization becomes a play of shadows and light, a duel between desires and limits,
How we confront our boundaries becomes the ultimate art, a commitment to destiny in each day lived.
In every choice, a window opens to infinity, but we fear to look beyond the bars of habit,
Destiny calls us to embrace its rigor, to make it part of our daily story,
True freedom is a silent rebellion, an acceptance of the inevitable, yet an exploration of the possible,
In this world of contradictions, we find ourselves, both captive and free, creators and prisoners alike.
Many kittens are brought here,
Each month, and all through the year
Living in small, cramped cages,
Some are too small for their ages
Their owners should feel really bad,
Because their pets are way too sad
They're so cute, and full of love,
And have nothing to be ashamed of
If they only knew their fate,
Would they choose instead to hate?
Lots of them will be put to sleep,
While their owners will never weep
You hear their tiny voices meow,
Pleading, please help me, somehow
They never even asked to be born,
But they must feel very forlorn
How could a pet owner be so uncaring,
To subject their animal to such a living?
White picket fence surrounds the perfect house
keeping the perfect life inside and intruders out.
White collar job surrounds you every day
keeping the money coming in and play time out.
White crisp clothes surround your body and soul
keeping the correct appearance on the outside.
White French doors surround the bedroom
keeping the perfect wife in her perfect place.
Cages come in different shapes and sizes
keeping you locked away in something not you.
Be bold, strike out. Ignore the cages, allow
people in to the house, go home from work, no overtime.
Be something you want to be.
Not something you’re told to be.