Best Disunited Poems


Premium Member Survivor

Lying in my bed one night ,
I hear the quiet,
It does not feel at all right,
Something is about to take place,
In this disunited human race,
And then, the world that I knew,
Its comforts, my family, my dog,
My little pet frog,
My bicycle that took me
To school, No longer exist,
My arm is bleeding,
My heads’ spinning,
The noise, the blasts,
Impending
Bombs exploding,
Amongst all this chaos
I manage to find shelter near
What was my home, 
An old photo of my parents
Floats up towards the sky,
Then down past me
Lands in front of
Something or someone strange
Who looks identical to me,	
Am I dreaming, 
This feels surreal.
A being extends their hand
To me without hesitation,
I am bewildered, 
Petrified 
Beyond imagination,
In sheer desperation, I accept,
Expecting the unimaginable,
The unfathomable,
A fog appears surrounding
Me as if it were a blanket,
I no longer feel like the target,
This being is gentle and kind
Our hands still entwined,
I am led up some stairs,
I turn around to see 
The devastation,
The world behind me 
Is an abomination,
Endless desecration,
I have nowhere to hide,
Don’t want to be left behind,
I enter a space where I
See familiar faces, my best friend,
My brother, my teacher,
My preacher, 
The being tells me to not be afraid,
We are all on a crusade,
There are other familiar faces,
People I have met 
During my lifetime on Earth
Selected¸
Destined,
To be reunited, 
In a Universe 
Of aeons far away
Where we would awake
Up one day, 
On the banks of a watershed
Where we would tread
A new era, a greener place,
A new beginning
Where hopes would
Be brimming,
I felt humbled
I was to be a pioneer
An unknown spec of sand,
Among some
Of humanity who would
Begin a new world,
Part of a new universe
A parallel to the one destroyed 
Whose population was no
Longer techno driven,
No hate or crime,
Just time,
Where you and I, would learn to 
Survive all over again,
At a much slower pace,
Nothing anymore feels surreal
It is a new era dawning,
Along with a sense of belonging.

And There I Will Be

I Go to Prepare A Place For You
A Heaven Where You Will Never Have to Say Goodbye

Where you meet your beloved 
And again hold hands;
Where no one is missing and 
Time still stands;
There are banquets to share
To be sure,
And dancing for those who loved life and lore,
Where laughing at dawn happily breaks,  
And smiles abundantly tender make;
There are misty clouds of sweet perfume,
And cottages with perfect and soft quiet rooms,
Babes will play and chortle, reunited
With those who loved them and were disunited.
Where ills and discord never exist,
And each to other dedicate to assist.
To beloved pets and wild beings no harm will come,
And weather will be stable with cool bright suns
But best of all, 

I Go to Prepare A Place For You
A Heaven Where You Will Never Have to Say Goodbye

And There I Will Be

The Snowflakes Precision

The Snowflakes Precision

What a cruel and un-compassionate fate you bequeath us
A million years of the mediocre and paltry garnish of faith and hope
Given for the consumption of these generations

How uninspired and habitually in denial
We have become

The lost worlds of dreaming
Left waiting
For better times and in a better place

Plied by consuming the majestic expectations 
Of living
In the eternal wake of emptiness

What an unloving and unforgiving creation
We have come to exists within
Full to the brim
With uncompromising seconds

And not even in the grandeur of nature’s scenic beauty
Not in the snowflakes precision as it floats
No
Not unimagined complexity of form and chaos
No not even in a perfect chord

Does the merest or slightest of clues
Become existent or reverberate to us a voice
Which whispers to us of our truth

We are bereft of guidance
Untutored in this colossal magnitude and vacuum
Between the myriad stars

Tiny insignificant is this of our awareness
A planet a world 
Part of an unending silence

So alone and so self absorbed
So material in the murderous evil
We have done to each other
So disunited in the dark reaches
So solitary
And yet we did not gather the family of man
No not even to look after of ourselves


Premium Member Affiliation To Whose Law

AFFILIATION TO WHOSE LAW

If I was law unto myself
What would I be?
Where would I go?
What would I say?
Would I in such a way
Be free?
Or be shown a dark
And narrow path,
Which would purposely
Divert my way?
Would it excite me,
To greet each day
With confidence,
That my every deed
My every word, would
Like a sunshine ray,
Light up my being,
Console my need?
Would I enjoy to grip
Reality and face 
War and love and hate,
All on my own,
It seems a lonely trip
The solitude of being alone!
Being a law only onto myself,
Would enable to keep the key
To live my life,
I'd choose to never 
Have to strife,
For precious little time 
We have,
In this fast moving train
Insane,
Happiness, sorrow and pain
Melt into one!
But being a solitary soul
Could be exploited  
By one and all,
Should I succumb to a
World that’s disunited,
And steadily begin
My downwards fall!
What must I do,
Live according
To my own law,
A great many think
That this is wrong,
To be or not to be,
Which decision has
The flaw?
I don’t want either
I keep telling me,
The answer becomes clear,
Only with His Law 
Will I be strong!

Premium Member At the End of the Road

Breaking free from collusion

A watch tower stands tall a look out in the circular prisons 
surrounded by wardens laying down prescriptions and rules
with us in the centre fragmented in dead ends and schisms
mirrored glass no one inside we internalise as obedient fools

At the gate high walls conscience barriers and road blocks
imagined barbed wire where we pay fines in constant delusion
monitored in constriction we fail to walk outside of that box
abide by dogma norms lack vision to approach our confusion

Afraid of cul de sacs dead ends stop signs for individual drive
we halt and abide arrested immobilised for society’s sake
accept torturous certainty admit to all guilt and as we shrive
cannot distinguish from needs what is causing us mind ache

Roundabout’s exits guarded by our very own straight jackets
we spin around like puppets on strings to our master’s delight
The ‘panopticon’ demands obedience and we cannot attack it
for lack of conviction rebellion introspection rigorous insight

Unless we break free from chains of what others demand
disregard our dreams our beauty default on individual virtue
the road ends at a four way stop where forever we stand
disunited abolished forgotten and constant imagined taboo 


4th January 2017

Written for contest: At the end of the road

Premium Member Sleeping Man

I watch you as you sleep mysterious man.
Lost in a land of dreams - inhabiting a 
different world  to me - temporarily.

Or maybe you always do?
Do you really know me or I you?
Married, yet separated somehow by

our differences - missing the point.
Sometimes dwelling in disunited silence.
Lost in languid ignorance of one another's musing.

I long for you to touch me tenderly;
to see transparently the love that used to be.
Or maybe still is, but different now somehow.

I long for you to listen; to notice me.
A mutuality of conversation; a shared 
interest in humanity, but you dismiss me.

A rushed kiss and you are gone again.
Talking on the ever ringing phone as you 
gesture a half hearted goodbye.

Goodbye then.  Will you even notice?
When you come home and I'm not here -
how long for you to realise that I have gone?

I watch you as you sleep mysterious man.
Lost in a different reality - inhabiting a
different world to me - permanently.


Premium Member Autumn's Falling Contentment

New England's post election trees
shed a few teary waving leaves.
Morning sky tries to shine resilience
yet lingers in ominous grey overcast
of silent waiting through despair.

In Michigan and Wisconsin and Pennsylvania
tens of thousands of mothers
who cherish their daughters
are beating themselves up about yesterday;
longing for a do-over
to avoid confidence in false predictions
of safely voting their green ecoconsciousness,
or too quietly staying home
to rake falling fertile leaves.

Failing leaves feel their personal mortality,
too old, over-extended, to survive another bitter winter
of expatriation
while maternal nurturing root systems survive through hibernation,
deeply embedding in Earth's nutritional compost
of yeasty faith,
waiting for another Advent enlightening Season.

Not a branch,
not even a twig,
stirs from frosty lethargy
wondering Why?

Why would we decide ownership of human bodies
must be illegal
because immoral,
yet sexist and capitalist 
and racist and homophobic
weaponized irreligious predation
remains legally and morally ambiguous,
as if wealth of straight white male supremacist nobility
were God's full harvest of religious moral gifts

Excusing triumphant patriarchalism
by betraying autumn's promised grace

Elite relentless entitlement
of enduring cockiness
to buy fortressed escape
from winter's monolithic misery,
EarthTribe's historical hiatus 
from SunGod's evangelical campaign
of hellfire

Recovering 
silent spring's radiantly enlightened morning glory
from disunited piles of leaving ballots
already composted to fertilize richer soils
in four more autumnal climate years.

Premium Member 1984

What a year – Tim was just a little boy of 25 – naïve and

Lost in ‘innocence’ a critical time bomb waiting to happen

Blue-eyed he listened to Nena’s 99 Red Balloons flying high

While Band Aid wondered whether They Know it’s Christmas
		
          Sticking plaster for an ignorant conscience
          
          Plasters cast for broken souls and hunger

Summer Olympics in Los Angeles the world disunited

As the Soviet Union boycotted the Festival of Youth

Hollywood and Universal Studios Footloose competed

With The Killing Fields for consumption and Oscars

          Dancing in full view of the Apocalypse
	  
          Khmer Rouge and Holding Out for a Hero

Miner’s Strike in Great Britain with Margaret Thatcher’s

Heavy handbag crushing legitimate opposition’s pickets

Reagan became ‘acting’ president and Space Shuttle discovered

That we have only have one lonely planet so we must muck it up

          Cold War awaited nuclear freeze and
	 
          Hiroshima was declared a minor aberration

Metallica roared Blitzkrieg inferno and Armageddon

Iraq fought Iran and guess who was supporting whom

The US supplied Saddam Hussein with poison gas while 

In Afghanistan they supported Taliban and Mujahedeen

          ‘The enemy of our foe is our good friend’
   	  
          Coalitions must change freely in axes of evil

George Orwell comes to mind with Eurasia Oceania and

Eastasia altering alliances but then history must be forbidden

It can mislead young minds and wars have to be waged

For the sake of gory glory and self-righteous delight

          Who reads books anyway and why and for what
	  
          They might seduce us to hail love and compassion

In 1984 Tim longed for flowers in hair scribbled Peace signs

On flare bottom jeans 20 years past The Sound of Silence

Had not mustered the courage yet to challenge the inevitable

Collusion of his inactivity with happy murder for money and oil

	  Slowly though he finds his belligerent voice and
		
          Concludes that the 80’s offer more than nostalgia

Egg On Easter

Egg on Easter, 
no one who is sane can begin to believe that there is nothing or Christ, just nothing?  
The world is in a mess, dare anyone deny that this is the truth, this is the test. 
Wherever we look factions and fractions give us the tautological certainly that where 
humans are humanity runs away fast and far away as violence has the night and day.

In our general election pompous political arithmetic seguing into statistics that dully flows through our disunited kingdom as rhetoric is rare as demagogy blares out  Simple Simon answers, or pride in prejudice as Christ's sacrifice is of no avail and all religion is tainted by the few fearing they are the unreasonable while philosophy is cant not Kant. 

Our a silly selfishness seguing into great greed and awful envy that got us all in the world into the Great Recession that slowly, uncertainly is dying, but is so more real for many than the Resurrection of Jesus Christ's yet, yet still, people of all sorts are touched even momentarily by Easter as others go to church even though scorned by those who know it all and indifferences of the everyday world even on Easter Sunday, this most risky high of high days.
© Peter Dorr  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Dead, Demented Yet Presides

Over two hundred million people sleeps and wake without a leader,

A cloned effigy in a rock called "Aso"

too old to lead or long dead to be,

demented or dead, they cannot tell,

old age has come but he would not leave. 

a cult of connivers shields a tyrant,

with ceaseless speeches and empty promises,

One A Liar , some are writers and others are twitvist,

Two years of silence and none dare ask,

where is the President who took the oath?


Over two hundred million heads bowed to corruption,

East and west the groans is Loud,

where right is wrong and wrongs is praised.

The governors or senator and ministers too,

all aligned to loot the treasury,

recycled bandits in seats of honor, 

Judges are blinded and the media subdued,

as brown envelop  diverts attention.

over two hundred million destinies suspended,

#ENDSARS was their last successful outcry

a revolution too soon suspended

From Bonny Barracks to Lekki, criminals in uniform murdered unity.

bludgeoned agitators with the barrels the errand boys of a dictator police and solders. 

and the masses too scared for a  total freedom,

returned to apathy and unending subjugation


Over two hundred Million deprived masses.,

controlled as slaves by  a hundred old despots,

Littered across cultures and tribes, a handful few protected by guns,

ex criminals , Presidents and ex all,

with looted funds in London and and Zurich,

atop hills in gaudy wealth,

unaffected by the groaning of a people nestled in penury,


Over two hundred million people disunited,

who by amalgam compelled by Britain's Lugard,

Feudalism and lie called democracy.  

The minority herders on a mission

they took the yam and knife without resistance.

where beggars becomes a tyrant after election (Rigged)

and the masses dare not demand accountability

over two hundred million sufferers gave oppressor a breathing space, 

where servants becomes the Boss,

without pacifying and unwilling to yield

the Loot looted named palliatives.

old tyrant mock democracy by decrees

What country ?

Don't ask me. 

you know it well

Premium Member Day Dream

Echoes reverberate unsafe and 
                         unsound through history and 
                                                        the foreground of the past

                 A mimeograph taking its 
                              toll unless we remember
 
Trumped up charges send 
                    shockwaves through disunited 
                                             states defend and deny 
                                                                 a holocaust to come
 
A third Reich facsimile globalises 
                             from Pentagons of evil turns 
                                                 duplication into ‘fascimile’ while 

Donald marches in step with brown 
                 shirts and black shirts as a mesmerised 
                             world walks head on into yet another disaster 

Now is the time to echo-graph our mores 
               and moral remnants and stand up for 
                         humanity in civil disobedience for not 
                              to be lulled into a discordant lullaby of           
                                          nightmares of ignorance and demise


31st January 2017

Twentynet - 60s Loss of Innocence

(TWENTYNET  - 60s)

LOSS   OF   INNOCENCE




Fab four
Psychedelic colors
LSD powered yellow submarine
Ragas and flower children
Great Society
Female Liberation
Black Power
San Francisco
State of innocence  - Garden of Eden
Shake off shackles of this earth
Space race
Gagarin Armstrong
Ask not what you can do
With a man on the moon
Ask rather what happened to Camelot
And the limitless power of illusion
Serpent’s destruction of dreams
Khe-Sanh  state of siege
Detroit burning
Disunited states



. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Written   by Sydney Peck

for Nette Onclaud’s  contest      MAGIC OF DECADE'S MOOD

TWENTYNET  -  60 s

Premium Member Citizens Disunited

Awhile back,
in the Dred Scott decision, 
SCOTUS denied rights of citizenship
to people of color
"as a subordinate
and inferior class of beings,
who had been subjugated
by the dominant race..."

So, we need not dig too deeply
to rediscover where straight white male supremacists
and systemic racist allies
might find our strongest
most toxic heritage
language
beliefs
lack of inclusive discernment,
absence of multicultural intelligence
united citizens experience,
values of all people
for all creatures here below.

Anyway,
with this precedent in place,
we might similarly nuance the Citizens United language,
giving corporations the rights of citizenship
without the responsibilities of healthy stewardship,
authority to buy media speech
and heavily invest in purchasing political competitions;

This right more transparently unveiled
as the authority of a superordinate
and superior class
of capital-acquiring beings,
masters of organic Earth's climate degeneration
who have subjugated the unstraight 
unwhite 
unmale 
suffering from non-elite lack of multiculturally appreciated face, 
too slow race,

These assumptions
of who is SWM better than whom,
rooted in outworn 
and unhistorical
and supremacist
win/lose environmental theories,
blossom as further toxic prejudice
against Earth's primordial health rights
and humane responsibilities
to repair damages,
restore peace of natural/spiritual
left/right
west/east
north/south cultural hemispheres 
advocating resonant geopolitical balance.

How would such corporate persons be baptized?
And confirmed 
to be raised in ways and means of a loving Creator God
rather than a competitive and jealously greedy Mammon?

Someday We Will Be the Change

S omeday we will unite this disunited world
O nce and for all; although it is true that
M any have tried a lot to improve this world in
E very way they could; but
D on’t lose hope just yet
A nd give up so easily, because believe me when I say:
Y ou can be the change we need in this world.

W e can bring about revolution and
E nd this chaos and confusion

W herever you are out there,
I  promise that we can do it.
L isten to this clarion call and
L ive your lives freely and united.

B right light will shine and soon will
E nd this period darkness despair


T he world needs us, so all of us should
H elp in any way we can to put an
E nd to all the problems and troubles in this world.

C an we do it? I say we can!
H owever big the problem,
A ll of us together can solve it, so
N ever back up no matter what, and
G et ready for a revolution as
E veryone can bring the change.

Jewel

If at dawn,
in the first splash of infancy,
the cherub falls to the floor like a dead orchid, maternal
blood shall stain the symbol
of creation, a man
alone
without wisdom,
love,
or self-reflection,
is duly disunited from the root of truth,
“communication;”
the jewel
that brands us human.

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