Best Collective Poems
A melancholy of poets
A suffering of poets
A torment of poets
A provoking thought of poets
An expression of poets
An inspiration of poets
A rhyme of poets
A verse of poets
A stanza of poets
An anthology of poets
A poem of poets
We are all poets
however some of us
go to the trouble
of writing it down
‘What good´s permitting some prophet of doom? To wipe every smile away …’
The orator grins at his drunken audience through make up and mask
Opens the cabaret’s veil in the theatre of forsaken minds on the run
Champagne flows from magic fountains while Berlin falters from grace
The wild thirties dance to an apocalyptic sound of paralized conscience
Outside the toothbrush moustache commandeers Svastika’s march
Torches set light to mislead passion and houses of semitic prayer
Crystal breaks as brown shirts parade their poisonous conquest
Heil to the savage Führer when ‘reality is something to rise above’
Pirouettes swirl on stilettos while boots squash compassion and lives
Caviar evades judeo-bolshevik scapegoats and trains to the camps
Blond blue-eyed conception born to inhabit Lebensraum on the map
Feeds into industrialist’s dream of war effort and armoured production
The white flag of surrender stuck into skull bones and belligerent stride
No meaningful rise of resistance only raised arms and ‘following orders’
When God capitulated and sang his swan song to the sound of hell fire
And prophets of doom cashed in on gas chambers and golden teeth
It’s easy in hindsight to lift the pen from an immaculate ink-pot of courage
But where would I have been when ashes in Auschwitz were ascending
When evil tore into the last bit of humanity in a vile coup of disgrace
As I look into the mirror of history I reflect on the cowardice in my soul
21st February 2020
‘What good´s permitting some prophet of doom? To wipe every smile away …’
Line from Cabaret the musical base on Christopher Isherwood’s 'Good-bye to
Berlin'
Theme for the poem ‘Reality is something to rise above' Liza Minelli
Remember that with a collective heart, you can connect to GOD
gather your quills, gather your words
ink deep inside the well of your hearts
choose phrases that resound with your soul
Be a billboard for the broken, lonely and lost
Advertise God's Kingdom
with the workings of your hands
Share your riches with those less fortunate
and always say, thankyou.
A
farewell
greeted with
a Mexican
wave
slaughter of compassion
virtue out of fashion
soul selling for a trend
how far can morals bend?
an accepted disease
coughing up sleeze
poisonous expectations
more and more vile creations
the coffin crafted by insanity
another splinter of calamity
emotional corruption
condemning self expression
negligent empathy
slaves to apathy
filthy rage grows
in an explosion of woes
a mass collaboration
birthing an abomination
obliterating all value
striving to subdue
the beast of individuality
mourn the remnants of lost sanity
Modern day Empire
The same as old,
Man doesn't really have time
Just Inventions and different clothes.
Still craving our nature the two split purpose,
Consumption and reproduction
All else is conjuring vanity,
An evolving Microchip of lost perception, a tinted clarity.
Yet we entrapped ourselves into a diamond cast,
Being compounded by every grasp that meets ear, eye and touch.
Never forget the truth bearing lust,
that feeling of inner-ness that splinter-hair precision awareness
And ask the question you've subconsciously locked away
Why are you being and what are the aims?
And then at that moment your shell will fall apart
so remind yourself of the real truth the binds mind and heart,
and roam among your ancestors in the lyceum of endless fascination
in one's mighty reflection and complacence.
A group of fish is called a school.
A bunch of whales, a pod;
And crows comprise a murder,
Which I’ve always thought was odd.
Many goats become a tribe;
Lots of apes: a troop.
Hares: a warren; chicks: a clutch
And geese: a flock, not group.
Squirrels form a scurry;
Antelopes create a herd.
Platypuses make a puddle,
Which just sounds absurd.
Bats, a colony do make;
Butterflies, a flight.
Oysters congregate in beds;
For hamsters, horde is right.
Collective nouns are lots of fun.
Let’s bring this lesson home:
Many rhyming lines like this
Combine to form a poem!
A piddle of puppies, a pimp of johns,
A flood of plumbers, and a regatta of swans.
A charm of finches, a wriggle of sperms,
A sleaze of lawyers, and a sneeze of germs.
a gam of showgirls, a basket of buns,
a shrug of mechanics, and a groan of puns.
A fidget of boy scouts, a gross of farts,
A sulk of teens, and a valentine of hearts.
Calabash from the petals...
Cannot withhold all the joy in her heart
A long way from home
Though all path fade away and travail becomes deeper
for an ordeal to conquer
Papa always away at the stable...
Mama's millstone is never quite in slumber
Beads dancing round the fire
Enjoying the breathe of a new palmwine
Feathers flyng in the wing of summer
Breeze blowing up the cover of imaginations
Pot too hot to hold erasing the memories of tale...
Propelling the courage to thrive
Faith to cross the breached bridge of emotion
Boundaries without sweat and blood
Nor a lifeless pod?
Ajoke is my name!
A parliament of owls listens to
The bellowing of bullfinches
And the chattering of choughs
At a wake of buzzards
Resulting from a murder of crows
Witnessed by a watch of nightingales
Assemble a crowd of redwings
In a congregation of magpies
Perch a charm of finches
As a squabble of seagulls
Causes a murmuration of starlings
To startle a piteousness of doves
Amid an exaltation and ascension of larks
And a convocation of eagles
A host of sparrows
Gobbles a diet of worms
The Collective Conscience of the World Apologizes to Jamal
Kashoggi, and His Fiancee', Hatice Cengiz
We are very sorry, Mr.Kashoggi,
As also to your never-to-be wife -
Condolences.
We understand how the Casualties of Truth
So often find themselves, like you,
Caught in the crosshairs
Of exigency and cynicism,
Bereft and bewildered,
Adrift and confused;
Betrayed by the mistake
That Truth and Justice
Are closely connected -
A common error,
One that turns some that make it into ghosts -
Like you, Jamal, physically;
And you, Hatice, in Spirit.
Believing as you did that Truth was a prize beyond all price,
Shared for the betterment of all,
You missed the sad fact that Justice,
In this wicked world,
Is subject to price fluctuations;
May be had by the highest bidder.
Those scales are for weighing money.
So when you bid Truth for the Many
Against Justice for the monied Few
The price for the difference was your life.
At least now we know the full Market Price
Of one good journalist's life:
110 Billion dollars
In arms sales.
Wherever your spirit wanders,
Let it not despair;
And let comfort come to Hatice;
It is her due.
The Truth will Out, no matter what -
For it is free of price;
A thousand smiling cynics
A thousand bitter tyrants
Cannot stop it.
In the end they shall drink their own tears.
So Be It.
To you, Jamal, I say,
Bismalla.
To you, Hatice,
Inshalla.
An infant death of thought!
Lives a feeble mind'
Like deception of perception,
But intolerance is bad reception'
the intensity of the physical,
And the perceptual effect'
Lives you victimized and helpless,
Because a choices of an individual'
Aligned with a given idea..!!!!
We’ve already decided …
In one minute -
50 acres of rain forest
Are destroyed.
One billion trees -
Are used to make
Disposable diapers
Every year.
One third -
Of what you throw away
Is packaging.
Acid rain -
Stops reproduction in fish
And kills crayfish.
Our cars -
Burn 2 gallons a day
That’s 20 lbs of carbon monoxide.
In our air.
70% of our trash -
Ends up in a landfill.
30% is recycled.
7 pounds -
Of garbage a day
Is what YOU produce.
… Our collective suicide.
we can
collectively
show compassion to help
the needy to uplift them from
squalor;
they do not know why they suffer,
put in such condition,
not of their own
wishing!
4.5.2020
parliament mischief
unkindness and murder
crow family