Best Facts Poems | Poetry

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Fun Facts by Ellison, Jack
Bizarre Facts by Ellison, Jack
Very Interesting Facts by Ellison, Jack
Aborted rights remain valid facts to speak up by mcdaid, liam
Facts by Cee, Bud
State All Of The Facts by Project, The Brooklyn Six
I love Animal Facts by Krutsinger, Caren
Amazing Facts Three by Ellison, Jack
Amazing Facts Two by Ellison, Jack
Amazing Facts One by Ellison, Jack

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The Best Facts Poems

Details | Facts Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Have a lovely day


Have a lovely day


Pushed now to the limit by a never ending whisper
Lost behind the meaning of a question I can’t hear
Dreaming of a day when life addresses me much deeper
Found within in a headline that is nothing close to clear

Led onto a dance floor with a blindfold and a promise
Following the jagged steps that shuffle once again
A slow collaboration to the music that was playing
Performed beneath a false pretense that never should have been   

Words in place of faces with a finger pointing outward
Fodder for the listeners who fall as one more prey
Stalking from the shadows on the unsuspecting gazers
Candy offered free to all of those who want to play

Jumping to conclusions as if age will change decisions
Casting off a friend without a compass in his hand
Sorry if this heart has run away from past deceptions
When its found the weight becomes much more than it can stand

Some can be so fickle filled with uninvited feelings
Blame is placed on others as their mind lives in a trance
In between the lines they find affection in a poem
Whirled about in cursive some accept as true romance

When did I become a man who listens to his echo
Caught outside the visions that can bring the scene alive
Wondering aloud if I can just afford an answer
Facts of that elusive mark which somehow I survive

No one understands me as the crowd now wanders backwards
Shocked that some old lunatic is running down the street
Screaming in a language sounding like a trolley whistle
There’s no need to fear me, why does everyone retreat

Just another body strewn about in some odd fashion
Move along, there’s nothing here you haven’t seen before
Hurry, call the coroner his pen is slowly dying
Look, a note he left behind all crumpled on the floor

I am just a poet who at times has penned emotions
Sending hope and happiness in fancy written charm
Not some steely daggers there in wait beyond the forest
Hopeful you’ll believe me that I never meant you harm

Those were not my wishes that are sorted out and tattered
Just a piece of fabric sewn around the fraying seams
Stitched together tightly in a thread of indecision
Cut by little pieces that are lost inside my dreams

Give me just a minute and I’ll pick up where I started
Then you’ll know the meaning of these very words I say
Far above the message found in hypothetic banter
Everyone, enjoy yourselves and have a lovely day
   


Thanks for everything Soupers. I will never forget the kindness all of you have shown me. 

Chris 




Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2017


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Why I Walk

I walk and walk, without talking to anyone,
I walk here and there, to avoid their stares, 
their scowls, their “poor lady” pity -
Do they know I used to be pretty? 
Now I’m just a dirty nothing, dirty whore, 
I walk till I can’t walk anymore. 

I have no place to be, no place to go.
I sit for a moment when I find a spot,
a park bench, a doorway,
the outer corner of a parking lot
But someone always comes around
and looks at me with that disdainful frown,
I walk. I walk so I won’t get caught
I walk away looking down at the ground. 

I feel so ashamed. There’s nowhere I can hide.
I try, though, I try.  I stand in long lines
to find a decent place to sleep for the night,
but decent places are hard to find.
I’d rather lie in the dirt at the downtown park
than fear the rats that nibble in the dark 
in bug-infested rooms with urine-stained mattresses.

I eat my food real fast, then hurry on my way,
before some men come around
and try to pressure me to stay.
I live in fear for my life every night, 
It’s like a fist that hovers over me, constantly, 
Like the fist he used on me that day, 
my body beaten; the bruises have faded away. 
I walk. I walk, to get away from the pain. 

I sleep in a doorway, in an alley down the street.
I’ve nothing but these filthy clothes, 
and the shoes on my feet, 
and I’m ok with being dirty, let me stink,  
I hope I stink!
Maybe it will keep the stinking men away from me,
so I can try to get some sleep, rest my aching feet. 

And then, when daylight comes again,
in the sunshine or the rain
I’ll walk and walk ... 
to get away from the pain. 


Inspired by Tom's "Being Homeless" contest 

Facts: 
Domestic violence is a leading cause of homelessness for women and their children. (nedv.org)
According to VAWnet.org, “Homeless women … are particularly vulnerable to multiple forms of victimization including forced, coerced, or manipulated sexual activity.”  



Copyright © Becca Teagan | Year Posted 2016


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Sepia Recollections



I sit here on the old porch steps, that I have always known
A weathered stoop, with gray floorboards
with creaks and groans, flaws and chips, ... familiar to my hand 
I have come to some conclusion,
and I'm surprised to understand, 
how well I know each board, each slat,
the shape, the size, the warps, the cracks 
each rusty nail, ....
but not the facts of you.  

Oh yes, ...    I've seen a glimpse or two, 
in photographs.     I have a few...
I see a robust man, in yellowed hues,  of vintage stock...
By a house, a barn, where land is strewn with stones to move. 
You stand behind a horse and plow, in coveralls,... a mustache too . 

I do recall, so vaguely gray,  as gray as the paint beneath my hand...
a jolly man, a wrinkled face, 
with a smile, a laugh, a loving way
 
A dream I have, or is it real?  
Is that me when I was two,...  sitting here, beside you then?
Or is it just my wish to know... more than just a trace of you?

I never knew the man you were, your hopes your dreams...  
the thousand schemes that brought you to these rocky slopes 
so far from where your hopes began
Where the steep cliffs rose and seas were blue.  

Today, beyond these furrowed rows,...
tall grasses grow in amber waves
The eyes will wander, and shadows grow

I ponder how it came to be....
that I am me,.... 
   who came from you;        

                a man I never knew. 


_____________________________________________________________



(To watch the youtube video recitation:)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hF4GCLqf9_o


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013


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Bloody Feet Upon the Slab

That tiny pause to skirt the truth, half-reals you'd paraphrase,
The subtle softly spinning gyre of cunning in your gaze,
Vague reflections from your skin - a shedding, sheltering plaque,
All concerned syllables sent swiftly bouncing off your back. 

Ever adrift on fiction's lost sea, never blown to shore,
Too late I saw your hidden thirst - too easy to ignore
Evasion and avoidance - thus was piloted your ship,
You'd dance around, not run aground - you gave us both the slip.

I failed your buried, rooted pain, I missed the reddened tracks,
All facts would step aside your rime of displaced parallax,
I slighted each secluded wound, the false-trod thoroughfare,
So ends a life of wary silence, cloaked mutely in despair.

No one knew you as I did, my reward there sadly sure,
I'd like to think away now, yet the hard truths are too pure,
Blinded, perhaps, by my own fear, I let out line for years,
And all my stock of forward time now fills with bloody tears.

Upon my closing sight of you, muzzled words within your eyes,
Your final hour released you not - you'd walked too long on lies.


Copyright © Doug Vinson | Year Posted 2017


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Behind the mask

Behind the mask there is a frail and fragile me
Enigmas clothed in conundrums; that the naked I can’t see

'Behind the mask is concealed, my authenticity
Examine my history to unravel my perplexing mysteries

Behind the mask it is unseen paralyzing, piercing pain
With arrogance and self-assurance camouflaging the shame

Behind the mask is hidden my true Identity.
Seek and survey the signs of my obscurity

Behind the mask is veiled a heart that’s been broken
Held together by unexpressed resentment and animosity unspoken 

Behind the mask is where my insecurity hides,
Like realism wrapped in riddles, you must read between the lines

Behind the mask is where I cover my falling tears
Dig just below the surface and you’ll unearth my crippling fears

Behind the mask there are cloaked secrets unexplained and untold
Decipher the symbols to crack my encrypted codes


Behind the mask you’ll uncover my True expressions 
Remove and reveal parodies, and expose the false impressions

Behind the mask, it is hidden, my Individuality.
Not acting out some script of who I’m thought to be

Behind the mask is obscured my, vulnerability
 Suppressing the mounting manifestation of the inner me

Behind the mask it is disguised, my true reflection
Underneath open wounds inflected by rejection 

Behind the mask rest crushed and shattered dream
Where fear muzzles roaring whispers and screeching silent screams

Behind the mask is buried, my stolen youth
Deception, and cover-ups, masquerading as facts and truth

Behind the mask is where I screen the confusion
Look close and you’ll find, trickery and deception, draped in fantasy and optical 
illusions

Behind the mask it’s stifling; it is hard for me to breathe,
The walls of deceit  that i have built ,are quickly  closing in on me. 

I am trapped behind facades of smirks and phony smiles.
So may I please remove this mask just for a little while?

Chiquita Baity


Copyright © ChiquitaChiamaka Baity | Year Posted 2011


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Winter Proposal

With my soul at peace and my thoughts at rest,
standing in this winter wilderness,
I whisper words of heartfelt bliss.

Come with me and walk this path.
Together we tread against the freeze,
and find the warmth of tender grasp.

My devoted being shall forever be,
a place of strength against chilled winds,
a brilliant light only you have seen.

Our lives have met in this quiet space.
Let sky meet land and rivers merge.
Forever, harmony I long to taste.

We have summoned light from darkest days.
Heat returns to melt still ice.
Each day length now brings stronger rays.

The deepest snows cannot hide the facts.
Beneath these layers life holds fast.
Newfound joys spring from bleakest past.

Let's rebuild life from broken dreams,
Where life restarts with each new spring,
the snows will melt to feed fresh streams.

Like this land, my passion runs free.
Walls have come down with earnest words.
My unblinded eyes now see.

I ask for your hand without ounce of gold,
or shiny stones dug from filthy earth.
My eternal love cannot be bought or sold.

Under peaks reborn of volcanic scars,
In night's serene and  starkest silence,
I pledge love to outlast the multitude of stars.

Solitude I turn from on this ride.
Today and tomorrow let's walk in stride.
Promise to be my utopian bride.



Copyright © Wayne Hill | Year Posted 2013


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Faith Is a Powerful Thing

Freedom of thought and expression could lead one astray.
Always there exists the temptation to tread on dangerous ground.
Ingrained ideas and habits become lax.
Therefore, ever careful one must be.
Happiness cannot be found only in material things.        

Interpretation of facts has to be honest.
Sincerity must guide every step made in life.

Away from temptation the path should lead.

Prophets of deceit abound and doubt is sown.
Only those who possess strength of spirit will survive. 
Watchful eyes will avert dangers, snares and pitfalls.
Easy it is to fall prey to false beauty and bright allure.
Rivers attract, but the currents can be strong, overpowering.
Fulfilment depends on knowledge. 
Ultimately, it is trust and confidence that lead to spiritual growth.
Love of the Almighty provides enlightenment. 

That is why a strong will and courage are needed.
He who perseveres builds a personal understanding with God. 
It is through grace and obedience that faith flourishes. 
Never is faith a step in the dark for it leads to the light.
God is forever available to all those who believe. 

----------------------------------------------
Contest: Faith Is a Powerful Thing (2014)
Sponsor: Mystic Rose
Placed: 2nd



Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015


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- New Life Awakens -



With a loving heart,
filled with peace and harmony
In the afterbirth new life emerges
An eternal optimist in Spite of living

Starlight sparkles in this globe softly glistens
Everything seems to be perfectly normal
Gentle spirit refines where the thought is good
Dream you shine a warm sunbeam gift

We live for truth and justice sake
The numbered days and duration of happy feelings
A glimpses of human life takes shape
Golden delicious fruit of Eden

Happiness can not be conquered, 
it must be openly received
A sun melting inside warm thoughts
Staring across the horizon clouds pearl white

My desires, my needs, my happiness
As fallen people with meaningless deeds
Dreamy cotton skies echo into one song
The ability to grasp facts of nature around us

Faraway mountains sailing yearns
Over the hills a warm thought in breeze blows 
Starlight twinkles in the eyes of a dream 
Coasting along on a deep blue sea wave kiss





Written by L. Mcdaid & A-L Andresen :)  25.08.2015 
Copyright © All Rights Reserved


Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2015


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For Lion Hearts Only

You Are The One I think of the most.You know and carry unconditional love.You have experienced the pains of pains.When You're not in My presence to walk with Me;My mind carries You and holds You deep in thought.The pureness that grows from Good devours The Evil...The walls of Your Heart fall down and open into fields No One Else can possible reach,love,know,or roam.The Wisdom of Your Fields develop and rules Valleys.Valleys expand  into Vast Kingdoms filled with Knowledge,Power,and Intelligence...Across The Horizon lies The Kingdom of Heaven in boundaries of grey only a Lion Heart can visualize.The Strength of a Castle is built by Your Own two hands held by Fate.Only a Lion Heart has the keys to open the doors and the ability to cross through the rooms furnished with Destiny untold.A candle is lit.You pace the rhythm with a steady beat.Your Heart restores The Eternal Light with-in.Truth becomes factual.The Greenness of Facts unfold into Beautiful Gardens. Among The Gardens indescribable Rays of Hope appear with Faith as Your Spirit.Your Spirit becomes excelled by love.... LOVE Blossoms into The Reality of Freedom. Freedom is enhanced by Courage...The Courage of A Lion Heart that holds Forgiveness for All. With-in Your Heart A Garden of desire is standing firm and grounded...Could it be possible that You have A Lion Heart? Respect,Understanding,Love;that is Everlasting Serenity... I often wonder where this comes from as an Orion of ringing appears undetectable in Ones Ears... The Lion roars and The Angels sing softly with an inner Peace.May Your Gift of Acceptance Shine-On...From A Creator;to an Angel,better yet A Lion Heart.Walk among The Winners just for Today... 
                                  By Charlene L. Wilcox     03-24-2014


Copyright © Charlene Wilcox | Year Posted 2014


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True God

Awakening morning darkness falls heavy clouds
walking outside stretching in deep thought 
Firstly alone dreaming in freedom love 
Looking into the mountains a prayer

Faraway winds howling cry out
snow capped peaks cold reminder
a silver chain running down the face 
The truth always shines its light in the end 

Heavy rains wet upon the brow 
why has life been so cruel to me 
I never chose this path holding  no demons 
condemned in lies with pain and suffering

All one showed was the face of good 
even helping people in the streets 
who almost destroyed my home 
I had forgiven everyone as God is my witness

D-day looms heavy 
the Devil spits his lies 
yet sitting on his fork one will find truth
How could another human be so vile 

To condemn someone 
on a story that has just been made up
never have I stolen from anyone in my life 
in fact the opposite money root of evil I see

Living humble and meek 
has taught me wisdom of my ways 
nature talks to me in winds whispering 
Some walk this earth to be persecuted in the wrong

Proof that justice sometimes fails the innocence
we all are sinners looking down 
at the cold face chiseled in truth
but to bear falsely on someone 

Somethings I will never understand 
You saved me Almighty Lord 
When tortured pleaded in your Heavenly name
Saved my family from Hell

A miracle of life you gave back to me 
I began writing expelling my demons 
Now judgement day is falling upon me 
Oh Heavenly Father save me in my innocence 

And the tears keep falling 
for the love of truth 
what is wrong with this world 
sometimes they are bind to the facts 





Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2014


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The World Around US

Awaking blithe each morning,
with eyes upon the World,
I wonder, are we mourning
with ebon flags unfurled -
or are they but a warning,
some draped like snakes and curled,
stark stars and stripes adorning,
sent from the netherworld.

I wander through the garden
with nothing on my mind
and say 'I beg your pardon' 
alarmed at what I find
as winds begin to harden
and sounds begin to grind.

Confused, I watch my neighbours,
they're wide-eyed, unafraid
to halt all useful labours 
and join the death brigade;
the ritters rattle sabres,
the frail and fragile fade,
morticians tap on tabors
 while potentates parade.

The military blesses
 (in tunics somewhat browned)
its crimson-stained successes,
hell bent and heaven bound;
such scenes don't dare distress us:
a bloody battleground,
dissevered heads with tresses
and arms and legs abound;
the fourth estate suppresses 
that bodies have been found
(collateral excesses
 discarded in a mound).
 
Society regresses,
now living by the sword,
with torture and its stresses
upon a waterboard;
a captive kid confesses,
his innocence ignored -
fallacious facts and guesses,
the guts of justice gored!

With canting vindication
a top brass bully brags
(pale pearls of perspiration
and swollen tongue that gags)
of third world  subjugation
for gelt and oily swags,
of human rights' castration...
and on and on it drags.

The manifold migration
of refugees in rags
while searching for salvation
soon finds compassion lags;
uprooted populations
are fleeing from their flags
else dying of starvation
as piercing hunger nags.

Atomic timepiece ticking
until the Reaper comes
when Geiger counters clicking
drown out the droning drums;
wild trump card's politicking
with little hands, all thumbs,
and sends the Mad Dog siccing -
insane! my soul succumbs...

Cast out for not conforming,
I wander day by day
and find the earth deforming
as nature wastes away,
with bees no longer swarming
deceased in poison spray,
and ocean depths transforming
with plastic underlay.

With CO2 performing
the climate's led astray,
the atmosphere's been warming
the grass now ashen gray,
eternal tempest's storming
while permafrosts decay,
and ozone holes are forming
in deadly disarray.

The people profiteering 
descend a slip'ry slope
destroying, never fearing	
of running out of rope;
instead they're cheer'fly cheering
that wealth's our only hope.

Now Armageddon's nearing,
it's doubtful that we'll cope
for Mother Nature's jeering,
she's mapped our horoscope:
we'll soon be disappearing...
like whale and antelope.

            Epitaph
The storms around me rumble,
my back's against the wall,
I take a step and stumble
but find no place to fall,
my knees begin to crumble
but I refuse to crawl,
nobody hears me mumble,
for no one's there at all.

Date: 2/14/2017


Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2017


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In Celebration of REAL Men

The strength of a man is not determined
By his muscles or his brawn
It is determined by his strength
To admit when he is wrong

The wisdom of a man
Is not determined by myriad facts
It is determined by the way
That wisdom is seen in his acts

The integrity of a man
Is not determined by his claim
It is determined by the reputation
That follows around his name

The love of a man
Is not determined by mere time
It is determined by each moment
That he makes you feel sublime

The sexual prowess of a man
Is not related to his size
It’s how he satisfies your needs
And what you see there in his eyes

The chivalry of a man
Is not determined by his manhood
It is determined by how he nurtures
You to revel in womanhood

The passion of a man
Is not his need to self-gratify
It is determined by how often
He makes the effort to satisfy

The wealth of a man
Is not seen in monetary things
But by those things that are free
That to your life he brings

The age of a man
Is not seen in the age life deals
But by the strength of his heart
And how young he makes you feel

The sweetness of a man
Is not determined by what he says
But it's determined by the fact
That you want him more each day

The humour of a man
Is not determined by a hurtful tease
It’s determined by how your laugh
When his words your heart please

A man is an awesome creation
That I’m determined to venerate
As Eve’s daughter much in love
This male wonder I celebrate.

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013


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Alchemy


How do you change a lie into the truth?
Alchemy, dear children ...
this is how it's done, using unverifiable proof
First, you take a sick, dirty lie,
and doctor it up as truth
Whitewash and scrub it clean,
then jet power it with unsubstantiated verbal steam
That should make the lie thoroughly sanitized
Then play a continuous sound byte loop,
uncorroborated and fact-free
Present the fake news with a five-star salute,
then say secrecy is the true path to liberty
This rings eerily like New Age alchemy,
bell-tolling Faustian chemistry
If that ain't a manufactured alternate reality,
then somebody is lying to us obviously
How do you do this, change a lie into the truth?
Alchemy, dear children ...
this is how it's done, using fabricated proof
Next, you take a package,
and deliver it to the people,
with a Trojan horse message inside
But the people don't know it's harmful,
because they labeled it with a lie
See, that's the beauty of deception,
they don't call a lie a lie
Instead they choose another word,
as they place the pirate patch over their eye
Misleading, false claims
Plausible deniability
mis-remembering
Choose whichever words you will,
a lie is a lie is a lie still
Changing a word won't make a falsehood real
Taste the propaganda spoiled sauerkraut;
as alternative facts are trotted out,
and disinformation is bandied about
Know that immoral alchemy is being performed
by high wizards of the dark arts
Frankenstein experiments in need of more body parts
Don't be bewitched by lying craft,
don't get (con)fused by this manipulative graft
into a cancerous body politic
Changing a lie into the truth
is the ultimate alchemist trick


Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017


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A Total Enigma

I can’t be branded and put into a box
I’m a rhyme wrapped within a riddle a complete paradox
I won't  carry the labels, or walk around with the stigma.
I am the great unknown a total enigma
I am an incomplete masterpiece, a beautiful disaster
I am the once upon a time and the happily ever after
I am realism, embedded within a parody
I am hesitation and doubt, clothed in certainty. 
I am cause and effect, the inevitable reaction
I am the unattainable that brings complete satisfaction
I am an open book, and still a complete mystery.
I am a façade, covered in authenticity 
I am assurance and conviction, facts draped in fiction
I am chaotic peace and silent confliction 
I am the writing on the wall that you try to decode
I am a living saga, great legends untold
I am a conundrum, a million scattered puzzle pieces
I am the hypothesis that obliterates your thesis 


Copyright © ChiquitaChiamaka Baity | Year Posted 2011


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My Own Poetic License

Sometimes when I write, I tend to stretch the truth.
Same as when I gossip; I've done that since my youth.
It's not so much deliberate, but to tell a story well,
Folks tend to stray from tedious facts to magnify the tale.

This habit's often utilized a bit, I have surmised,
In speeches heard at funerals for loved ones eulogized.
By writers of the news I'd say it ought not be employed.
But “doozies” can be found inside almost any tabloid.

I think, for my defense, especially writing nonsense,
I need to find the place to get my own poetic license.
I pose to you this question- In my practice as a poet,
If I get myself a license then, to whom should I then show it?


for Let 'er rip (the mention of poetic license made me want to do this one!)


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015


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Words from the Oracle

We are in our fall before the season comes
Misting eyes and dropping a dandy heart
A sullen silence around the bee hive hums
History has no center left, facts fall apart

I have nothing left for honey but my words
Listening cleanse the eyes to see forever
Soon the sky flocks with all departing birds
Old bonds are unbroken, new loves sever

But to come again in heat and passion and lie
Cradled against the unknown of life's tomorrows
So summer goes, and sweet flowers will die
To bloom again as carpet for graves of sorrows.

Soon gold will fall from trees in a gray misty shroud
And all that was green will be brown and dim
And wild grass will bow where the land was ploughed
And wind will tap on its trumpet life's requiem


Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009


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I Love Guns

I love Guns


Guns make us safe
Guns are rights and freedoms
The more guns, the more freedoms we shall bear
Every man woman and child should be armed
So that we are all safe
All schools should be armed
Teachers, Principals, Janitors, arm them all
The finally we can relax
in total safety
knowing we are all armed
I say give arms to the amputees too

Gun control is socialist and fascist
We registers cars
Houses
Pets
Bikes
We have banned toys
We regulate all kinds of things
Yet we are free
Totally free
Because we all have our right
To bare arms
Ask Kim Campbell! she agrees!!!

Not only guns
They must be automatics
The more bullets you can empty out of a gun 
the better
the more freedom you shall feel
Its called projectile dysfunction


And......... any man with a high IQ
Need's an assault rifle
Why of course to outsmart those ducks and turkeys
I firmly believe in a fair fight
Assault rifles to catch a duck
common sense to me
Quack quack

Guns have rights
Own a gun you have double rights
They are made to kill kill kill
Did I say they KILL?
Nothing more, nothing less
I need that right

Any child killed by a Gun
is only because we haven't enough guns

By the way
Children have no rights
Kill em all for all I care
as long as I have my rights

I am not concerned with facts
Evidence
Or the humanity of it
Is all about my Guns
Why
Cause I love Guns
More than humans
And thats my right
No matter how wrong it is



Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2018


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within the blue

in your arms, i feel as though
the sun will never set, 
i am the blushed morning rise
that doesn't rise alone,
i feel you rising as well.

sometimes when i am alone
i question cloudless days
and wonder what if...
what if things were colored gray?

if my hands were only able to trace shadows
rather than the very edges of your soul,
would loneliness trigger me in deeper thoughts
than you or i could ever imagine?

i can't picture my hands empty
aging with time, holding nothing but a dream;
like wrinkled poems falling to the floor
as if never to be read by anyone.

my mind alone could trigger my soul,
pull my fingers back from reality,
press against more than facts
then stop my heart from beating
as i roll the barrel and draw
my last breath of poetry,
alone...
if things were colored gray


Copyright © Sandra Adams | Year Posted 2013


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Alternative Facts

The earth is flat. We'll never die
And unicorns exist.
Olympic athletes never cheat;
Decorum won't be missed.

The sun did shine when Donald Trump
Took office; folks all bowed
Because they formed the largest yet
Inauguration crowd.

When Colbert talked of "truthiness,"
He meant it as a joke.
When lies disguise as facts, our dreams
Will all go up in smoke.


Copyright © ilene bauer | Year Posted 2017


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Paul, Peter and the Tweeter

Paul, Peter and the Tweeter
Why not choose, 
a billionaire leader?
One who is not 
an eloquent speaker.
Trouble rises,
he robs Paul to pay Peter.
The bold rich need tax savings,
forget about the meeker.

From a distance,
we watch the kingdom teeter.
Him smirking on high,
he thinks "What could be sweeter!"
Why oh why, 
did so many choose that cheater?

Global temperature rising,
things aren't the same.
Scientific facts need hiding,
isn't that a shame?
There's new logic he's applying,
says coal dust isn't really flying.
Even though the fish are bitter
and you can't see them under the litter,
no one can turn down the heater.
"Fake News" he says,
check out T-Man's Twitter.
The Country is "Great Again",
cause he ain't no quitter!
Yet people are making less than their babysitter.
Good jobs will go with free trade,
might as well become a waiter.
Otherwise you’ll starve sooner or later.

People happy,
he wants to build a wall.
Mexico will pay,
so build it tall.
More immigrants?
You don't need them at all.
But no one left to pick the fruit,
or to be at your beck and call.
Watch it all fall,
for sure the economy will stall.
No one buying nothing at the mall.
Meanwhile 
Klu Klux Klan standing tall.
If they ask him,
T-Man will let them guard his wall.

Look for all the signs,
a leader who's a hater.
Mastertweeting, flatulater.
A logic lacking debater,
self-loving,
self-promoting, congratulator!
If he pushes the button,
we might become a large crater.
He'll spin it and tell those left,
"I'm the great emancipator!"
If you don't believe him,
You’re just another disloyal traitor!



Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2018


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The Withdrawing Room

Unrhymed tercets

The Withdrawing Room

Huddled together in this abstemious grey chamber
no windows or means of escape walls closing in
trapped where the un-sanctified transactions are made 


Daunting without exit the silent screams go unheard 
ashen skin with darting eyes never looking up
forever too frightened of seeing the truth reflected back 

In the unholy grail in visions of comrades within this un-sacred act of ransom 
the collective voice of the masked chorus urging them on wards 
then the integrated tragedy of hidden fears and secrets

A living sacrifice under this bargain where no one wins or gains
without boundaries of mortal limits there exists in this gunmetal airless demise 
unfettered woefulness and vainglory vie for victory 

The innocent victim's now the pawn's forgotten as pride twists obscurities 
severing the umbilical cord drowning breaths of existence
the sterile smell of unfinished lives permeating into the coal and ice


Tiny little footprints always remain's inside the womb's silenced facts 
the living water of life breaks no longer flows through the natural cord
leaving a chorus of continuous phantom's chanting in mendacious unity  

Opening the door of perdition where the tactical glare of a butchers knife 
held under a ghostly specter of a child that might have been treasured 
a face imagined but never seen and names never uttered 

A tortured remembrance of a pardon held precious beauty once
soon the vapour of shame burns off in an emptiness that still remains
glazes over a ruby rare passion 

Where fear & the constant loathing cannot fathom the uncertainties 
this future brings forth in the immenseness of what might have been 
not touching the soul properly 

The unborn yet to speak?
silenced unadorned gone forever jewel's 
always held within prayers of the faithful loving grace


a co written piece by Liam Mcdaid & Donna Loughman


Copyright © Donna Loughman | Year Posted 2017


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Stars

When I was young and innocent
I though the stars were just a bunch
of celestial glow worms.
Then Christmas took its meaning
and I rejoiced in watching
my father make up the Christmas tree,
and right on top there he'd put
the loveliest star that glowed at night.

Soon I began to see the shooting stars
and wishes came and went,
some frivolous, some serious,
but wishes I really dreamt.

As time went on I bought some books
and learned of Saturn's rings,
discovered Pluto and our neighbour Mars,
and science fiction just became my fad.
Till one day man made it to the moon,
and shuttles flew up to outer space.
Occasionally disaster struck when astronauts died,
and I did cry my heart for them.
Finally the probes began again,
searching for the creation of man.

That's when I realized how much is spent
on useless information, just scientific facts,
while all around the world, hunger reigned.
Now I wish I never learned what stars were,
and yearn to turn the clock back to my childhood
when I thought that stars where just
celestial glow worms meant to light the world.


Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2018


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The Writer In Me

Is a soldier
He uses original paint to avoid crises during his war paintings
To avoid worries he frames experience in simple pictures
He knows tears can erase many water painting on written walls
The writer in me is so mean he never falls

He dribbles my own calculated footsteps
Like mistakes and lessons when you walk pass six plus six plus six
Everything stay fixed
He staples his lips in smiles
Equalizers are irritating to adjust during rush hour gossips

Mini enemies minimizes energy to maximize external intentions
In real time the writer in me anticipates to test drive defenseless expressions
He smiles in mirrors defining his images of a convincing writer
The writer in me intends to testify less physical intentions
Like expressions written in useless reactions chasing perfection in tender loving courage

The writer in me is so dodgy
Dishonest but real in realistic dialogues diluted by real facts
An idiot so like a student translating Sepulana into meaningful alphabets
He paints images upside down so readers can read what’s not written
He escaped judgement day buy judging his days
The writer in others like those other writers who read and walk their readings re-think history's footsteps

They speak statements under shadows of their own pavements
Writing is the stupidest weapon 
It does shoot at bees spreading in million ways to play hide and sick
Love sick no approval from eggs to donate farts
Rotten farts from realities long boiled eggs

Hide and sick is the hardest champion ship driven by waves between chewing gums
Some dirty behaviors are thirsty for improvisational gums
The writer in me whispers a lie in a group of nothing
And receive awards for hearing nothing 
Painters can paint you pushing a wrong truck of your own hustle 

I wonder how it feels seeing the seconds between a picture snapped from a 1994 digital camera energy
Those expensive nothings that will always be something
The writer in me knows the answer to all combined maths and history's favorite soundtracks
Freedom is a prison located in your mind

© Raymond Ngomane 


Copyright © Raymond Ngomane | Year Posted 2015


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Inspector Tweede

There was no finer detective than Inspector Thaddeus Tweede of Scotland Yard!
He was most astute in solving crimes and could quickly detect a fake canard!
He joined the force as a 'bobby' working himself to the peak of his profession.
You daren't pull the wool over his eyes when he was seeking a confession!

Ah!  He could have been cast in a movie since he was a detective's prototype,
In his tweed suit, tweed cape, tweed deerstalker's cap and ever-present pipe!
When investigating crime scenes he'd mull the facts with his chin in his hand,
Puffing his pipe making copious notes should he be called to the witness stand!

The highlight of his career was solving the case of Prime Minister Percival Hoar,
Who was found by his maid one dark and stormy night sprawled upon the floor!
There was no evidence of forceful entry or anyone breaking through the door,
Nor was there any sign of a struggle, bullet holes or oozing, bloody gore!

Who could have done this dastardly deed that brought the minister to his doom?
He took prints, photos and noted a strange odor as he moved about the room.
Thaddeus called on all his experience and training to solve this mysterious case,
Muttering to himself and doing a lot of 'hmming' as to and fro he did pace!

Eureka!  He noted a bulge in the prime minister's jacket he hadn't noticed before!
Gingerly lifting a bottle from the pocket he deduced he needn't search anymore.
It wasn't a gun, the butler, jilted lover, political enemy or an envious friend
That did the terrible deed - 'twas demon rum that brought the minister to his end!

Entry for Nayda Ivette Negron's "Mystery" Contest


Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2011


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Opinion


Every one’s got an opinion
We are entitled to our views
But, we won’t all agree the 
Difference often times are 
Huge
Somehow the simpler the 
Problem harder the 
Moot
Layering instead of issues 
Open wounds
And personalized attacks 
Are used
A point of contention is
The deliberate disguising of
The truth 
Distorting facts
Figures assembled by rote
Really there are a lot to be
Desired
Having regards to the distance
Between what had first prompt 
The opinion
And the reasoning that led
To this irrational tirade and suit
A stuck in a bog like situation
Ensue 
Like the dreaded dream state 
Being awake and can’t speak 
Move or do what you want to
While the root rot
The debates rambles on 
Unable to; save quip,
Get a grip on solid ground
Consensus pursuit 


Copyright © Weston Gregory | Year Posted 2014