Best Grabbers Poems
When the snout of lush abundance is full and flowing,
when all prey and creature-kind spill upon the verdant swards,
then it is that I worry night and day,
for the stoat, fox and hawk are at work,
they scythe in the whelm and nimiety, they hack and harrow.
The kits and chuckling’s are many, the light too bright;
for then the foragers forgoing fright, are palpable and open.
The long-eared nibblers, hairs on scattered rodents laid bare,
they scutter, skitter and twitch much in the open
greatly prone to be pounced upon;
their paltry pelts all unhidden, and being many,
and not running, they are huddled; yet not strong.
If this slew not ease, if the grabbers not falter,
if the singled-out dither, the glut not wither,
then the green snake will climb to where nestlings hutch -
they all so easily plucked and quickly snatched.
I worry for the wee brown birds; mottled shells still unhatched.
I fear a winnowing, withal a harsh hazard of gorge and sate.
I fret for the freshly delivered, the teeming,
the newly produced, all the bounding bounty
for those too easily found and so, arrived too late.
America unlocked
Is the monster
under stairs
stirring?
The bottom class
wondered
as upper class
called them higher.
Master like playing games
stoking darkened fears
enjoyed teasing
emancipated
Kept them
second guessing
what step
would be their
undoing
The sharp fangs
of illiteracy overtly ruling
Liked them tamed
and their feet grabbers
vicious
Had to be there quick
but punished
using a sprint.
America, your ignorance
is yawning.
The same viciousness
you fed, now hungers
for you.
Your appetite for power
Now, eats at you
You created a hole
It now devours you.
You gave a man
with a God complex
the keys
to spiritual kingdoms.
Even sinners are
scared to go higher
with Cerberus
growling
It's no coincidence
our world
became what it is
So many of us willing
to trade for more imbalance
instead of addressing
the fears that rule us.
The monster under the stairs
was abused too
The masters above
affects all of us the same
Whether by timidity or through
aggression we're locked in this
cycle of giving and giving
so only a few receive the getting
Starving for change
are the worst kind of
hunger pangs
I must give them Love,
And Love only
Can you stop me?
Will you be ashamed of me,
Or exasperated, angered,
When my neutrality resembles bestilled water,
Undrinkable, observing and flowing…
As my choice becomes iced with silence,
And non-action?
Every atom screams,
Hate them
Speak your tumultuous mind
With passion and purpose,
Speak and forget your disillusioned place!
Be their instrument of scorn,
Break them down,
These builders of fabricated walls
These grabbers for attention
These leeches latching onto
Every power they can get—
Feet planted in the swarms of stings
Erected to last—to suffer vastly
The sacrament of melancholia, let it
Find you,
And fill you with hate,
Disgust—for their
Impenetrable impotence!
Break them down,
With what you deem right
A spirit sighs, says,
Be a companion,
Be a meek friend
Be a listener,
Let them speak,
Do not be so quick to condemn
Allow their hurt
For how can you stop it?
Just like you,
How can they stop you,
From feeling, silently feeling
What they cannot grasp…?
Just as you feel,
Let them also feel,
Let them be,
Wait, just wait…
Their hands clasp my throat in searing iron grip
My eyes tear from the force,
Blood collecting in my world-heavy head
Do not be silent, they say!
Speak, you proud, religious bigot!
You are no better than I—nor him—nor she!
Speak, for tomorrow you die…
But I cannot even reason when you say….
Choose your way! Choose your way!
They probe—they force—they complain,
It is okay…it is okay….
I will not steer your life in the embodiment of my lens
I can only give, I can only pray
That the answers of truth will sooth your days….
I give them Love, and will the rest,
That swear that the responsibility lies on me—
I will the rest,
To the shades of better trees
Longing….
For their trunks to reach greater altitudes,
And their voluptuous shade to spread upon
These soiled, troubled souls
The choice is not mine to make
With love—with pain,
I wait for His reign
FIRE ANNIHILATION
cruel cycles of hate in our
wake
heat intense with burning
flame
as fearful fire-fried mice
bake
what glowing embers sear
souls
to detonate, destroy and
ruin
a million charred bones now
coals
seething land grabbers launching
death
smouldering their selfish hate
ablaze
scorching into earths dark last
breath
infernal planets eternal
despair
baptises leaf-dead sky with
flames
now a sinister sad clothed
last prayer
Inspired and written for the victims and families of Air Malaysia MH17
&
In protest of rocket launching where other innocent lives are being lost daily
© Kim van Breda— 21 July 2014
We come from down under
With a voice of thunder,
Yet stunned into wonder
By the things we say.
Throw down past failure
On the shore of Forgotten,
Stand tall as a captain,
Shove off with a shout!
Free wheel's in our grabbers,
Fierce wind's in our favor;
Cut loose every anchor
And sail with a smile!
Hear the waves roaring now,
Feel how they buffet now,
Plunging us down again,
Lifting us high!
Life is the sea of us;
We're not afraid of it!
Sweet the salt brine of it,
Onward we go!
Hail to the lightning there,
We're up for fighting there!
Reefs all about us, bare;
Now we attack!
Breasts are now laboring,
Death is not favoring;
Strike for your life-love,
Stretch for your goal!
On through the wave-crash
Of wishes and mindlessness,
On through the hatred
Of men that can't do!
Steer through the foolishness,
Rush through the madnesses,
Wade through the bubbles
On up to the beach!
Isle that's awaited us,
Be not afraid of us;
Souls of Atlantismen
Come here to stay.
Home of the sea of us,
Life of the deeds of us,
Smile of the style of us---
We, who are free!
We come from down under
With a voice of thunder,
Yet stunned into wonder
By the things we say.
They purr in your ear
also enjoy being loved
attention grabbers.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Oct.11/2015
"Complex Of Swerves"
When one has a tender heart
And a heart real and true,
Being among fake, callous hearts,
Is a difficult thing to do.
When one has a giving heart
And so, gives generously,
Being among the predators,
Is a dangerous place to be.
When one has a caring heart
With empathy and compassion,
They get treated like those who,
The opposite, keep in fashion.
When one has an honest heart,
Where truth reigns supreme,
The liars spin their lies as truth,
Make the honest like liars, seem.
When one has a humble heart
And choose to put others first,
Attention grabbers take advantage,
Steal recognition even if unversed.
Is it any wonder why so many then will choose
As their path of life, the one traveled most,
Where character of quality one cares not if they lose,
Settle for mediocrity, as their lesser on, they coast?
To cultivate integrity in the present world,
With all the traits of human blackness being shown,
Is an act of bravery when all that's being hurled
Is the vileness of humanity so many seem to hone.
It's rough to be a person genuine and sincere;
Choosing to be honest and mean what you say,
When all you'll get is categorized with a sneer
Among those superficial as their chosen way.
Staying on the right path takes a whole lot of guts;
Requires determination, based on values all but lost.
It's a maze lined every which way with many toxic juts;
With quicksand awaiting where sinfulness is glossed.
All the human vultures and the wolves dressed as sheep
Around every twist and bend, in hollows and in curves,
Lurking, ready, waiting for another soul to reap
Makes survival in this world a Complex Of Swerves.
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2018-06-08 06:10:00 (EDT)
All rights reserved.
Poisoned rivers,
Fishless streams,
Is this the fruition of all our dreams?
They drill in our oceans,
Just for our locomotion,
To enable the money-grabbers,
To gratify their own needs.
They cut down our forests,
Saying it’s just to please,
Leaving our children without any leaves.
Is it possible that ever since our birth?
They’ve been wiping the smile,
From the face of the earth?
An empty studio:
the man of the passionate handwriting
belts his dog
come my glory, my plebeian bride
hamster bagels
glitter indeed:
meticulously chosen bbq charcoals
as whimsical jewellery
“I’m so on fire and hear the wind”
Your grabbers, call them back
let me su.su
“No, don’t touch me now,
let me talk”
Poisoned rivers,
Fishless streams,
Is this really the fruition?
Of all our dreams?
They drill in our oceans,
Just for our locomotion,
To enable the money grabbers,
To gratify their own needs.
They cut down our forests,
And say it’s for all of us,
Leaving our children without any leaves,
Is it possible since our birth?
We’ve been wiping the smile,
From the face of the earth?
Dear Cartoonist,
make my lips full
and my cheekbones
arrogant. Turn my eyes
into “attention grabbers.”
I want my body to be
described as perfect
symmetry. Draw me a
cartoon in which my
character is desirable
and such a presence that
all others in the room
are destroyed. Make me
beautiful, no one else,
in fact, take the other
end of the pencil and make
all of the competition go away.
What’s that?
You work with pens?!!
Then drown those pages
of other beautiful people
in gasoline, stuff them down
my throat and give me a match.
Watch beauty burn inside of me
and listen to others as they marvel
at the hot beauty that seeps through
my pores. Make my beauty a
MONSTER and let me live
within those pages because
my reality is consumed by
imperfections and in my
society that is unacceptable.
Dear cartoonist, make me
pretty handsome beautiful.
The ignorance servitude harnesses
The zero burdened grave race
That forbid shaving sovereign hairs
Packed close in considerable layers
Underneath national flagpoles
lay the maiden demands in barrels
like untilled tracts in grabbers souls
wants and the needs tore brothels
Behind pregnant men and women
underlies machine guns of must gain
That punched the citizenry in tatters
And the torn voices of the Anthem
so brilliant meritocratic idea present
that all nationals can sing in torment
under the radiant guardian rays pay
And really propelling the repellent sway
I look out and see so much greed.
People taking much more than they need.
They all seem like nothing but sandbaggers,
You best beware of the money grabbers.
People living out on the streets,
Walking around without any shoes on their feet.
The poverty is enough to make you stagger.
You better beware of the money grabbers.
Many are losing everything including their homes
The banks won’t even throw them a bone.
They all are like the old time carpetbaggers.
You better beware of the money grabbers.
The war machine has become an excuse to make money.
We no longer live in the land of milk and honey.
Their fancy suits and cars they walk with swagger
You best beware of the money grabbers.
Take and take now there’s nothing left.
It is beginning to look like common theft.
They have gotten so bold, check your back for daggers.
You better beware of the money grabbers.
For the sake of ratings. We've been played again
Media mongrels, rewinding the worst of mankind
in the bowels of primetime
24/7/365 (hog)feed.
Leaving us ununited and completely cleaved and bloodied.
We've been played again by big pharma (those lords of greed).
Poisoning the sheep for short-term profit.
Pushing corrosive chemicals and vague vaccines.
We've been played again by ogre-run governments.
Infesting districts and house seats one by one
with grabbers -never givers,
Anti-American haters and Master race baiters
flag-burning bottom feeders...
Pursuers not of happiness but of mayhem and anarchy.
Godless creatures of the anti-everything.
We've been played again.
The Funeral of Tinapa,
Conference table littered with chicken and cockroach laps
A keg of palm wine descending from Adia Abo
Grabbers haggling on sharing formula
Emporiums rust and rats
Shopping mulls moaning
A banner of hypocrisies at the gate’ welcome to Tinapa’
Uniform of incompetence in the helm of decisions,
Tribal perfectionists nailing Tinapa’s coffin
Frustrated villagers pilfering cables and diesel
Amber at lost
Banks limping
Power supply a shadow of the Nigeria factor
Ponet a sheer seasonal fantasies
Nollywood studio an abode of lizards
At December we fool Nigerians with make belief. …
.AWOH KINGSLEY