Best Internment Poems
Lusting the passions of a secret desire
Unwinding the mystery of my needs
Funerals are for the future
Internment I ask be deferred
Timeless is my youth
Useless is my request
At seeking eternity or at least eternal rest
End of times may seem long away
Beauty we know fades, it will happen some day
So I dream of youthful moments
Isle graveyards were far away
Holy wars and loveless scores
That a soldier must endure
A desire for peace escapes this generation and more
External forces and internal woes
Death dances at my door
Dedicated to Sara Bernhardt, who slept in her coffin amongst all her love letters.
It was the first day of the new school year
The children of Beslan had no need to fear
In anticipation they eagerly left home for school
Some walked hand in hand with Mom and Dad
Others skipped along the well known path
Excitement filled the sidewalks and the streets
As fleeting thoughts collided in mid air
Some thought of new friends to be made
Others of old friends with whom to play
A little sister left at home
Of baby brother asleep in his crib
Much too young to run and play
Some favorite lullabies which Grandmama sang
As Grandpapa played his violin
The first day of the new school year
Mothers beamed with such pride
How their little ones had grown
Never would they ever want to let go
Others gave in to their children’s cries
‘Mamma, I do not want to go to school.
May I stay with you today?’
On wings of hate evil had already arrived
With diabolical plans and bombs in hand
To maim and murder the children of Beslan
Who became captives in their little school house
After the dastardly deed was done
Dreams and aspirations lay splattered 'cross the floor
Childhood innocence forever vanished!
On the day of internment the sun in his temple hid
Earth wept pouring rain, her bitter tears
As Mothers’ voices cracked and strained
Cried out loud, their children’s names
While others pleaded in vain for death
Fathers in a state of shock stood stoically in the cold autumn rain
Wearing faces carved in stone
The blood of children cried out to Heaven
Where at the throne of mercy
Sits a God who is just
Though their bodies lay broken in tiny white coffins
On angels' wings their souls did ascend
He will judge all men and their deeds
All, on one appointed day
A tribute to the children of Beslan, No. Ostetia, Russia 9/1-3/ 2004
the choking beat of conformity
coagulates internment in the minds
of fascist marches measuring time
shoving tubes filled with dictates
down the gullet of my spirit
wishing to be at least severed
from the instance of alignment
inherent in the laughing dream
which destroys ambitions of rain
-bows arching toward constellations
(a distorted and twisted version of the uni
-verse is still wavering alternative…
…dimensions into the crevice of an animal
eyeing and praying for nothing save rain
and prey to be plentiful despite their screams…)
must keeps the string extending
into nuclear holocaustic burns freezing
specters of old films dissolving
bubbles of arteries swelling grand
-father gasping at the why dangling
in the sky…stratospheric metaphors
…and off-key colors spill like incense
into the flame of creation harkening
dances of concubines combining
their hair like an enigma
lost in the tip of a hum
life splits the secret of the tongue
a hue reflecting djinns of you
releases peace in a white explosion
swimming a thousand curses in sand
blinding in the storm of suffering
until the palliating confusion tears
and the witnesses remain in the caesarian
-section of divided moons of elliptical doubt
orbiting the cloud of world-leaders
scratching the chin of sin smirking…
The force is catter-balled inside of it's own redemption,
you are not meandering without,
or even tempered to non-survive the site-
they told us in many more trials that we don't travel in far as much as we can keep being more than what was told is for...
So many wines and gatherings of the eclipse,
so many new tides you might wonder how they all fly when really it's nothing to attack.
"So fly like a G-6"
"Never guide the high it's all alike and its..."
No ask why,
no internment bite,
just the waltz of the mountain goats and whites..
The flutter around after strong size,
weathered mime and together light.
The Flood of Destruction
" 5 The LORD saw how great the wickedness of the human race had become on the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of the human heart was only evil all the time. 6 The LORD regretted that he had made human beings on the earth, and his heart was deeply troubled. 7 So the LORD said, “I will wipe from the face of the earth the human race I have created—and with them the animals, the birds and the creatures that move along the ground—for I regret that I have made them.” 8 But Noah found favor in the eyes of the LORD.” Gen 6:5-8 NIV
Whilst Noah built the famous Ark,
He warned the people of God’s judgment.
Their period of God’s grace
Came to its internment.
The Ark offered refuge and safety
From the coming destruction from water,
But only Noah’s family
Were saved by heaven’s Protector.
God always offers grace to man,
But that time of grace comes to and end.
Judgment and its door of mercy closes
Even before Christ descends.
The three angels’ messages of Revelation
Clearly tell us how.
Destruction of those who falsely worship
And to the last days’ image bow.
False worship is the reason
That every soul will be tested.
Seasons of grace
For a time God’s always invested.
Similar to the days of Noah
And that great Flood of old,
But this earth will be destroyed by fire;
A new and perfect world to unfold.
The Flood was a cleansing of the earth;
From sin and its evil intent.
The fire will cleanse just the same,
When by God to earth is sent.
The righteous will be in the New Jerusalem,
Safe from Satan and his throng.
Although they’ll attempt destruction,
The saints are protected,
Singing the New Jerusalem’s victory song.
© Copyright 2012 Maureen LeFanue
www.maureenlefanue.com
Since there was no stone to close Jesus’ death tomb
According to modern Christian myth, it had vanished,
But as of the Gospel version of this story, boom,
In Luke 24:2 the stone was rolled away - astonished?
Matthew 28 verses 1 to 6 tell us squarely, no tact,
That an angel appeared to the two women, the Mary’s,
To the next of kin in Jesus’ life, mum and partner, fact,
Which defers upon these two people the quandaries.
Jesus had caused such a kerfuffle amongst professionals,
In the medical scene he’d had an important remark,
That the poor should also receive treatment, nationals,
Did it in public even, brought medicine out of the dark.
So the continuation of this new strand of medicine,
Had to be engineered, and the two Mary’s saw that,
So, I detect, they told a lie about the internment scene,
Because they suggest strength by angels having hat.
When you do exercises too much or strain excessively,
You can see an angel if you believe in them, reflection,
So I deduce that Mary and Mary moved the stone actively,
And cremated his body without guilt or hesitation.
A lie can often hint the original truth, when you tell one,
And so the real story can be deduced, concluded, traced,
And the Gospel states that the stone was set aside, tonne,
Not disappeared implying god had resurrected and aced.
Extreme fundamentalist parents tell their kids smugly,
That the stone had vanished without explanation,
But you can see clearly that Christianity was born really,
From the two Mary’s and the gardener’s cremation.
I killed a man. Took his life, he lives no more.
Watching his lifeless body, prone, lying on the floor.
How should I feel? So many emotions fill my brain.
It was so quick, just one blow removed him from this plane.
Murder! just a word but the act itself carries such weight.
Such a heinous crime. It should be harder to seal one's fate.
I always prided myself with being a person of fine moral standing.
To hold onto my freedom, forged in the fires of Hades, I was demanding.
From debtors prison to transportation.
Betrayed by the government of my beloved nation.
Shipwrecked and marooned before arrival.
I set my mind to my very survival.
The secrets of my past internment, this Galoot threatened to expose.
Blackmail, extortion, to seal his lips with the truth only he knows.
Now the manacles which once bound my hands and feet,
replaced by fetters on my conscience, shackled by my grievous deed.
To the gallows I will never submit or succumb.
My freedom bought with luck, misfortune and bitterly won.
Flee again I must. Yet another new life I will secure.
I will leave my mark on this land, for my generations to procure.
Oh death,
You are ugly!
Get away from me!
Each time you laugh
Your guttural laugh,
Like a Python,
I know you have devoured
Another poor soul
I know because evil forest
Lives next door
Every witching hour,
I observe your lifeless victims
From my tiny window,
Where I plead my own case
As they ferret one unfortunate soul case after another
To the church yard
No one knows who is next
Or what hour you will cold-cock
Even the most vicious witch,
Witch doctors are impotent
When you register for them
Your confederate earth and earth worm
Know not to pique you
For fear of famishing
The day a coffin maker
Swears at you,
He goes home without a bounty
Doctors who snooze with cadavers
Shudder ceaselessly when you sneeze
A morgue attendant
Would rather have his eyes plucked out
Than peep through the window of a morgue;
For angst of what lays in wait...
What the peeper has spied
The maw cannot orate
An obdurate hover,
Knows not to stalk
A soul case into it's crypt
For death angst
I have hailed you Ozoemena
And christened my folks Onwubiko
That has not pacified you
You have only lent a deaf ear
To my feverish entreaties
Tonight,
I shall restrain all sacrifices to you
And your allies
I have heard of a sure-fire Ace
Who once bequeathed you
An undying pin-fall
Before you skedaddled from Hades
And commenced afflicting everyone
The poor and rich
Are at your mercy
My folks and I
Shall seek solace in the sure-fire Ace
Oh!
I see your guttural laugh dissipating!
Because you know
He is coming to judge
The living and the dead
Death, concoct yourself
You will not be passed over
Your internment is at hand
As our people ventilate: death dey smell
You have caused enough pain, sorrow and suffering
To our people
When the master descends on you,
You shall get an overdose
Of your own pills
Death,
You are already ugly;
You are going to look
Even uglier six feet under!
Lest there be any doubt,
There has been far too much,
For the hand that has written so squarely,
Has spoken with a tongue that is round.
There is much to do,
Far more then any mouth can speak.
The dormant seeds whose wait nears death,
Need not internment under mountains to breath,
But freedom to grow under the faithful eye of patience,
Whose blanket comforts and nourishes,
Waiting for eyes to open.
There is an ocean where tears need to be fished,
Mixed with blood and the black of ink,
Poured into an opaque bottle,
Shaken once for eternal life
And with the gift of hands that let go,
And a brush whose name none may know,
A stroke shall begin to shape,
Remake and retake
The face whose hope had faded.
“Art is the medium by which a person, having experienced an emotion, intentionally transmits it to others” – Leo Tolstoy
A bleak monotonous landscape,
Had been her outlook for years.
She so vehemently longed to escape.
The young woman fought back tears.
Christina’s world was internment.
Trapped in a body with muscles decaying.
Poor dear lacked discernment,
Her will to walk, her spirit not obeying.
Muscular Dystrophy restricted her being.
Crawling helplessly across the field,
The horizon beyond is all she will be seeing.
Determined to create an impenetrable shield.
To separate her from her crippling disorder.
Forcing herself daily, her bent limbs to be unfurled.
In spite of her debilitating marauder,
In pain Miss Christina Olson seeks to view the world.
A Plandemic they are causing, to tear us apart!
A constant reminder, of their evil restart!
Repeating over and over, COVID 19,
Lying to us, with their Fake News Theme!
Internment and Fema camps to get rid
of us all! Look at the writing, it's on the wall!
Scaring all human beings.To get us all, to
take their Vaccine!
Mask wearing and social distancing are suppose
to stop the spread. Cases are going up, don't
believe what they have said!
Programming us for the "Dark, Dark, winter"
Joe said. Then infecting us with their Corona
Test!
You can't trust the politicians, they do as
they are told! They are all traitors, just so
you know!
Could you ever imagine schools would be closed?
When the recovery rate is 99.7, still they
impose.
Their fake Science doesn't add up, someone please
tell them to shut the H-LL up!
They are shutting down Businesses that's the plan.
Causing unemployment, and Worldwide depression,
through out the land!
They will say our cash carries the virus! A cashless
society causing a crisis!
They repeat to convince us of A New Normal. You and I
know it's bulls--t and Abnormal!
World domination, total control! Affecting everyone, the
young and the old!
Men and women have to endure, The false narrative of
finding a cure!
A Virtual future of working from home. No interaction,
just isolation, and working alone!
Support one another in these Treacherous times. Pray,
get close to God, don't lose your mind.
Go for a peaceful walk, meditate for a while. Spend time
with loved ones, enjoy their warm smiles.
We can think positive on our outlook on life. Don't let
the enemy, steal your God given rights.
Peace be with you, all of my friends. Trust in our Lord,
until the very end...
Be aware they are censoring free speech under the guise of Hate Speech. These Channels are constantly being taken down. The Powers that be don't want the TRUTH shared.... Remember Nurses will be crying for the patients they are loosing to Covid ploys to make it real, winning your sympathy. Many are being told their loved ones are dead from Covid another lie.
Their mission is to take the world over, collapsing economies, and killing millions.
Check out on YouTube A Call For An Uprising. Also Lost Arts Radio.
Please share with others and tell them to share, thank you...
“Adults fear their youths who see through hypocrisy and won’t be silenced. Told to stop disrespectful behavior and not to fight ~ though it’s adults who taught them to stand up for what is right”—Poet
There is a book burning
Nine months since the banning of books,
The politics of fear are rising from minds bent
Into a Muslim camp they are sent
Seventeen-year-old Layla and her parents
detained inside, her boyfriend on the outside
Even though they’re citizens. What does he do?
Comparisons to the Japanese camps in WWII
White supremacy, a chilling coincidence?
Should Muslim Americans fight back for their independence?
Parents struggle just for survival,
under an unscrupulous Director and his guard’s evil revival
What takes place in determent is no mystery
It has already happened in history
Truth is hidden by the dictators
Bullies, cowards crass with words cruel, blustery,
Controlling, sparking fear unfettered, in this story
Freedom is traded for a false quote
Fascists and authoritarians never remote
Our voices will not be silenced
Power to teenage protagonists!
As a high school teacher Samira knows,
Teenagers always speak out to those
Show they have power, fear young hope collectively
Our privilege, use it for what’s bigger than we
Conflicts parents who shield their child to the nth degree
Meanwhile those children have gleaned from their parents
“You raised me to ask questions for injustices and now you shut me down”
Marching encouragement, teenage Idealism, hope
Duty to fight for justice is in wide scope
Youth who gaze toward the future can make a difference
They have perceived corruption in their world
They shall fight with persistence, resistance
Young activist with a desire
Unbridled zeal afire
The process in a hive
surgical snippets of allopathic
functioning and standardized
the unequal rhetoric
of a stolen paradise
Reaction homogeneous undiversified
to clacking gear
of working mechanized
the robotic motor
for economic lives
Buy the used up trash can of civilized
Such are the things of love in their passing
waste recycling
no longer applicable
the useless detritus
the human industrialized
The process in a hive
Sweet fortuitous profit
for living in life only to survive
the laws of credit
the hum drum mechanic
steadfastly brutalized
Cut, swipe the cure-all chemical
the ready cash
with its easy voodoo
its empty idols
strangle to a last breath the spiritual
Flip through the catalog of the hive
Its children become weaponized
uniformed internment
scrutinies institution
of all their varied lives
a scrape of paper tossed upon
the economies expendable garbage pile
Rev 14:6-12 NIV
The first angel flies forth with the eternal gospel
To proclaim to every nation, tongue and people;
“Fear God and give Him glory”—
Worship ‘the Creator’ in his territory and title.
A second angel follows claiming,
“Fallen, fallen is Babylon the Great”
Which made all the nations drink the cup;
Her unholy doctrines of church and state.
A third angel follows in the heavens
And shouts in a loud voice:
“If anyone worships the beast and his image,
The cup of God’s wrath” is by choice.
Anyone who receives the mark or name
Will be tormented with burning sulphur;
Christ’s judgments completed;
No more intercession at the Holy Altar.
There’s no rest day or night for the wicked,
Who choose to worship the beast;
Merchants of commerce and plenty;
Absent from heaven’s banquet feast.
Blessed are those who endure for Jesus
And obey God’s love commandments.
Although many may be beheaded,
They’ll rise soon from earth’s internment.
Revelation’s three-fold warning
Is God’s truth of his justice divine.
The seven last plagues of judgment
Fall upon those who, with the beast, align.
God’s judgments for the disobedient,
Who will curse His holy name;
Worship the beast and not their Creator;
Have themselves alone to blame.
Copyright © 2011-2012 Maureen LeFanue
He stands beside this long black granite wall
broken lines accentuated reflection recalled names
It is here where he realized
that intranquility of redemption, even of prayer's forgiveness,
he do not own it any more than he owned heaven
there being no clearing of one's debts here upon it's mirrored surface.
It is here in chiseled silence that he recalled
just when and where he met himself for the first time
among the scarred remains of the killing-fields
where young men grew old far too quickly,
far from the banana boats skipping upstream the tributaries of the Mekong Delta.
In a rice bowl, horror steamed crop circles of paddy fields jungles tangled
within mind's greatest intrinsic fear
death.
It lay visible near pothered doors
where once stood life's vessels - unbroken, now carnage without vestige
of honor, standing unhinged, doors singed, crippled with every breath unnerved,
reduced now here unspoken to names
only
this is where murder is not reserved
solely for murderers many were faced without honor
within this stone their internment.
As for others, they returned home
invisible
ravaged each night a memory of unhinged doors their un-sutured wounds
opening without knocking entering without leaving unforgotten
fears of cleaving sanctity undeserved
here
where there is no vetted self-reflection, only sweat and the tremor of dream's
recollected and fractured surfaces of soul stilled distilled dying a
thousand times a night each night each day unceremoniously
hell reduced to living in heavenly reproach.
(April 24 2016)
*Not for contest...but post inspired by.
*Unceremoniously, 366 blue plastic capsules containing the birthdays that would be chosen in the first Vietnam draft lottery were drawn on December 1, 1969. There were NO winners. I was one among them. The war had been going on for several years before. A black granite memorial wall was built in Washington D.C. to the veterans of the VIET NAM WAR with the names of the fallen engraved upon and was completed in 1982. Other than this...most are still invisible.