Best Corrupts Poems
Benefit for all is converted for the use of a few
their pockets are included in national budgets
and their wants, top the country's priority list.
Even the Cock's raw corn
is highly coveted by the Cat.
An old plantain tree, preventing its suckers from growing
or a father, who frustrates the welfare of his family
is exactly the hell,
created by these money and power mongers
The political system
is all about a game of cards.
A particular clique
fixes their huge pipes
as the fatherland shrinks under no mercy.
Leaders they call themselves,
yet they invest on the hunger of their people
profit in the poverty of the land
and trade on all forms of artificial instability.
Acquisition of a generation's sustainability
turns out to be a hobby
as they still fight for the crumbs with the weak
and go for the meat, no matter how hot the soup is
disregarding those who cooked it.
The same citizens who once lined up
to give their confidence
which has now become a fatal sacrifice
are gradually reaching the wall.
So know ye this!
A hungry man is one that is angry
and when millions of angry men unite
nothing can stop their quest.
A people once treated less than animals
will hunt like vengeful kings
taking what is rightly theirs
marking a restoration, stained with blood.
Blood, far from innocence and purity!
Dedicated to African leaders, especially Nigeria!
CORRUPTS: EPIDEMICAL THIEVES - ninette
Slaves
age old
to power:
septic, putrid
e p i d e m i c a l
thieving millions
a b u s i n g
the most
poor. . .
_____________________________
CONTEST NAME: NINETTE
Contest Sponsor: Silent One
~~4th Place~~
Olive Eloisa Guillermo
8:54 pm, October 10, 2015
he stands in his suit,
blue tie hanging like a noose,
smiling with dead teeth,
signing papers that send
another man, another woman,
into the dirt.
our governor knows
there is no afterlife—
he isn’t sending them to heaven,
he’s sending them to rot.
if he believes in the Bible,
he’s forgotten the line:
thou shall not kill.
no grey area, no loophole.
he pretends justice,
but it’s only blood on his hands.
death is not justice.
it’s silence,
it’s the shutting of doors
that never reopen.
it should weigh
like iron on his skull,
like stones in his gut.
but the man eats your steak
with no indigestion,
wipes his mouth with his hand.
what does his wife see
when she lies beside him?
does she hear the whispers
of the buried,
the cries of mothers?
and worse—
he sharpens her name
for the next ballot,
preparing her face
to be plastered on walls.
unwanted, unloved,
another mask of power,
another hand raised
to press the button,
to pull the lever,
to kill again
who would kill again and again,
for ten million dollars.
"It's funny within the life we all live in,
Think of regret,
Of things that are no longer alive,
Questions of things thought are the opposites of our own lives, Expressions within this earth,
We've all showed but never found,
What you saw within your own mind, yesterday doesn't exist today!
So why does our mind access within the beauty of brought joy that is horror, we all see but cannot connect?
Well my true opinion towards this is,
No matter what people only express the fake to view within a different mind than their own,
Not one that expresses true struggle,
As if its hard but deeply braking,
I truly believe people are the opposite on what they express from their own views nowadays on social media,
True opinions do not exist,
From the blockers of reality,
That cannot handle the difference between two different minds together."
-Ds-
RBG's body had scarcely grown cold
when the White House made a decision most bold
to instate a supreme judge cast in its mold.
and liberty's soul is up to be sold.
A glass stands upon a table,
Watched by arbiters of existential
State.
They observe the glass, to give opinion
As to its contents.
The Pessimist speaks: “There is wine
In the glass, and it is half empty”.
The Optimist, with shake of head
And wave of hand, denies this:
“The glass is half full”.
There is a pause as all gathered
Ponder the wisdom of relativistic
Observation.
The Pragmatist steps forward:
“Half full or half empty, it is refillable!”
Silence shrouds the watchers, deep in thought;
The Opportunist elbows past and picks up
The glass, draining the wine within.
“Hmmm – nice” he opines,
“Is there any more?”.
Thus Heisenberg speaks through wine
Stained lips;
Having severed the Gordian knot of
Fullness or emptiness,
With pleasure and relish.
A young lady from Lillehammer
Was wont to consort with a scammer
No one could stop’em
Until the cops caught’em
And now they reside in the slammer
Power corrupts, strengthens ego
Plunging us in darkness
Please let go, oh hermit, let go
Entwine with That oneness
Voice of conscience’s bleating
Save love, all else fleeting
Soul debilitating
Desire erupts
Power corrupts
11-April-2022
Quietus