Best Invasions Poems
Mama I want to be a star
I want to grace stages that host the world's revered faces
Fantasies shameless my pipe dreams contagious
I want to be famous
Not one for fictional frivolity
I speak of what's in front of me
A new city called Poetry,
I watched as the has-beens soaked their dreams in sewage streams
Unphased by rodent plagues
These ones embrace their own rat race
I still try to navigate the avenues
Negotiate the ones and twos and find a way to tell the truth
Young and unstable I stumble in the giant footprints of those who stood before me
Tip toe on verbal terrain as desperately I pray the weight of immaturity won't bury me,
Admittedly this spoken world is new to me
-But-
Is it possible in any way the gift of verse will carry me?
I see me breaking grounds, earth shattering and in my dreams these words resound
I'll turn cacophony into somewhat of a sacred sound
I want to craft phrases that serenade, deliver sweet-somethings that emancipate
I want, in some way to bring meaning to confusion
Dear world of poetry
Sometimes when they're floored I'm in awe of how my flow's flawless, I hear applause no pauses, waving arms and stinging palms bear tribute to those timeless charms, classic tales still bent with intent to succumb to new pens
Pave way for insecurity
For fear of gift escaping me
See I fail to write when I'm trying to
I get it right with no intention to
Am I...within my right to claim potential true?
Tear ink off her hinges, her blue ball point cringes
Left hand in debt
My blank page bereft
But in the back of my mind
I see standing ovations and soul drenched invasions..
I want to pierce every being I encounter,
I want to penetrate faith, tear doubt asunder,
Let me to speak to the valleys
negotiate peaks and make friends with epitome
I want to part oceans and in the grips of my - pause - tempt emotions,
mold momentum to set in motion the wheels of adoption so that poetry.....may adapt herself for me
I want to write poetry, I want to speak
I want to reach within,
pen something...
A remote reflection of her
This...this brand new city
I present this piece as fantasy
when in all reality
I do hope she's prepared for me
This subject is too fraught for eloquent poetry
So please indulge me in a straightforward thought or three
For the first time in its modern history
Israel is on the brink of internal catastrophe
True, there's been bleeding before, sometimes severe
But to the rescue rode a Menachem Begin or a Golda Meir
Yet never before has the military been disaffected
And without it, the specter of an Israel unprotected ...
Morphing into invasions by Syria, Jordan, Hezbollah and Iran
Israeli captives marched to their doom in Tyre and Amman
Leaving Russia and China free to move in for the kill
Every holy site in Jerusalem ~ oceans of blood spilled
The world thrown into chaotic darkness, its center destroyed
All thanks to cowardly Bibi, who, fearing jail-time, turned paranoid
May his senses return immediately ~
Or may he vanish mysteriously
You are my lifelbuoy,
To go safe from the Great Lakes,
You are my suave harmonica
To play the melody of happiness,
You are the only shooting star
To make an extraordinary wish,
You are my sweet ile flottante
To save me in your darkest dreams.
You are my Chinese wall,
To stop the tiger invasions,
You are my double espresso,
So as not to fall asleep at the wheel of the vice.
Far as the Politics and this is my voice
Medical Marijuana is the right choice
Even though that road is no longer for me
It serves a purpose and that’s clear to see
Convicts are growers as it thins out the pen
Offering the players a game they can win
It’s true; home invasions may be on the rise
As smoke from the pot fills up our skies
Children of growers will grow up and use
Trying hard to fill up their parent’s shoes
We work, pay taxes, they rake in the cash
Everybody’s looking for some kind of stash
My stash is my daughter she is also my pride
From her there are no actions I would ever hide
There are two little feet that are following me
Eyes as beautiful and innocent as two eyes can be
Those eyes look at me like I’m Robert De Niro
I’m not just her daddy I’m that little girls hero
Because, I made the changes a man makes in life
I made them for my children and also my wife
I’m at the top of my class and like it or not
I wouldn’t be here, sitting around smoking pot
The Lord is my Shepherd my wife is my friend
Each lets me know there are rules I can’t bend
I talked it over with the Lord and my wife
Everything bad comes with that way life
We no longer choose to wear addicts shoes
But you be our guest go right ahead and use
I bear no animosity I will hold no grudge
I may be a Christian but I am no Judge
Aside from all the Politics this is my voice
I know growing pot is not the right choice
Medical Marijuana is an issue that I have
friends on each side of the table. I think
each side has many valid points. i think
it's an issue that will never be resolved
because the two sides see things very
differently. I have far to much to live
for to sit around high. But then again,
who am I to judge.
The world of Invasions
Like a virus, europeans came, tried to eliminate.
What they did not, abused !!!, trying to assimilate.
With such arrogance, greed, their evil hand,
conned, stole, raped and pillaged First Nations, land.
The Spanish, also – from afar they came.
In Mexico, South America, they did the same.
The world over, this was their game plan !!!
to conquer the worlds indigenous man
Two beautiful continents – once so pristine.
After four hundred years, never again to be seen,
as greed, profit, the desire to control - by the few -
leaves so very little of what our forefathers once knew.
Our air, our land, has been poisoned by industrial waste.
Our foods, genetically manipulated, poisoned for profit haste.
We are living longer, yet with more disease.
Doctors fill us with poisonous chemicals, to ease,
yet, we are ever more stressed, living life distressed,
but are all our ills just masked, or truly addressed ?
B. J. “A ” 2
July 23rd 2015
Manipulations, misrepresentations and government violations,
America has been terrorising for many generations.
Spying allegations, secret conversations,
US imperialism continues to destroy nations.
Cheers and celebrations for leader’s assassinations,
Activists disliked for anti-war demonstrations.
Iraqi invasions, Strategic implications,
Lies and propaganda from bias media stations.
Military occupations in various locations,
Native Americans forced back onto reservations.
Greedy multi-billion dollar corporations with no limitations,
The IMF plus World Bank equals evil creations.
Forced sterilisations, fake vaccinations,
Too many unnecessary health care complications.
Firearm fascination, covert operation,
Bombing without hesitation, countries left in devastation.
Celebrity fixation, racial discrimination,
A country facing global economic isolation.
Guantanamo detainees tortured for information,
A brutal CIA program called enhanced interrogation.
A history of government attacks and ruthless intimidation,
Kids in Fallujah continue to be poisoned from radiation.
Too many Palestinians are victims of dehumanisation,
The US and Israel are a deadly combination.
No admiration for globalisation,
Time to abolish every greedy organisation.
Coca-Cola, Starbucks and McDonalds in every location,
While Wall Street fantasies about world domination.
No exaggeration, it’s not my imagination,
Welcome to the age of Americanisation.
beauty, blessing, January, magic, moon, sunset, winter
A SEASON’S GLOW ©
‘Bastille’ winter-lodes wait anticipating the reserved and affected invasions of the sun’s setting rays, to lay its' mark upon her surrounding ice-capped winter hood---
Fortifying ‘arms’ now stand saluting at attention to the expected deluges to carnival delights from the setting sun….
Applause from ‘knightly’ lances carry a shadow-display, when brought to arms;
'toe-elbowing' their stances to a light bright multiplexed review….
Eventide’s soon to reach cosmic nighttime ceilings and is brought momentarily to stands aside, to hushed warnings off snow iced platforms gaining cheery fire-light at each kissed by-pass retreat….
At devotion ‘arms’ stretch their winter façades 'drawing' close their 'painted' ‘four o’clock’ shadows; that mark out each stance---
Alas, the playhouse ‘adieus’ end with sad commendations; when staged dimmed lights snuff and flicker out to blackness.
Nighttime slants and an interval is at hand, for waning sun’s rays, to dismiss their stationed sentinels over to moonlit beamed doom---
Night plagues with harmonizing rhythms; as ice-tinkling ‘icicles’ from branches high salute the night time, sky-faerie's lite and dance upon a new stage!
I use to be afraid of the dark
Till I lost my spark
To make others shine
Give them joy till I no longer had mine
They shine so bright
Till I am blind
I grew tired of running
Of chasing
To be pushed away of what I am embracing
To be alone
To be dispossessed of
Insecurities scream you're not good enough
These knees grow weak
As these journeys get longer
And this heart bleeds more
As these invasions get stronger
Manipulative demons
With excuses and reasons
You can't mend me when I am a million pieces
And only god can see this
A promise is just a promise till it is an action
Painting on smiles because a sad clown is no attraction
Weighed down with uncertainty
Confused with the definition of stability
As I juggle and balance
To make critics smile is such a challenge
when I fall time after time
And nothing eases
Just know you can not mend me when I am a million pieces
Cuba…Mamma Mia…like most of the Caribbean; part of the 1492 slam…
Slavery, sugar plantations… invasions, upheaval, independence…
Then the American kisses; with a slight twist…who initiated the ’disses’…?
Was it Blaine…is he insane…?
Was it Marti…the heart of the party…?
Or Teller…many say he was the real speller…
Or Estrada Palma…could he have been the calmer…?
Was it San Martin…any questions of his parting…?
Or was it Batista…is he the real twister…?
With his interwove of expansion…then stagnation and dissatisfaction…
Coupled with his increased economic regulation plan…
Was this the spike for the revolution…?
Enter Castro; was he the real maestro…his thoughts, his plans; communize the land…?
Centralize, non-democratize…ostracize, reorganize…
The politics…were they laden in tricks…?
The CIA; not here to stay… but what role did they play…?
When they realize the RAF size…what will they emphasize…?
With great plans to defeat…did they end in retreat…?
Now with Eisenhower…speculations of a great shower…
But after only months…fixation shift to ouster hunts…
Severed diplomatic relations…the new sensation…
Impositions of trade embargo…the ‘Fargo’ in my cargo…?
The ‘Bay of Pigs’…will you understand the gigs…?
The ‘Cuban Missile Crisis’…what was this Tri-fit…?
The military games…were these substances in flames…?
For a superpower war…or the everlasting scars…?
Of suppression, political persecution…migration, and interventions…
In Angola, and Ethiopia…from Nicaragua to North Africa…
To the Congo…to some say; ‘Jah Mek Yah’…?
Cooperation with Russia…was this the real crusher…?
The mid-eighties…the beginning of their ending gaiety’s…?
The dissolving of the Soviet Union…continuation of the country’s isolations…
Reduced rations…the new fashion…
Unpainted buildings…now the in-thing…
Old vehicles with limited repairs…any scares…?
Lack of electricity…did it colour the ethnicity…?
A country on the verge…is there a new urge…?
Tourist attraction…one logical concoction…
Amidst the flow…of system many Cubans know…
The US now attests…it is in the country’s interest…
Cuba has withstood the test…put the embargo to rest…?
You are still keeping heavy arms,
You did not stop explosive devastations,
The Earth is clamings trials – not once,
Have troubled vital forces for whole Nature,
United Nations orders been ignored,
Intrudes feeling free for invasions,
Increasing wars revising what agreed,
Incoming time inclining independence,
Indifference for all asleep,
Discourage poll possessions intentions,
Remaining backwards countrys in need,
Would left among nations in faceless,
Despite foggy announcements on stand,
Among the stars would shine the Planet,
Don’t leave your children on the sand,
And face cold judgments for a wild,
Pretending for the Future bright,
It’s hard to watch hearts children crying,
Forgiveness doesn’t have a chance,
Missed way to all the Human Kind
Greetings, ladies and gentlemen of the Associated Press.
As you know, our modern world is a chaotic hostile mess,
And we are being overwhelmed by garbage and pollution.
Hyper-Magnetic Technologies (HMTCH) has the dual solution!
Our new hypermagnetic ballistic launcher (HMBL) weapon
Is the latest greatest weapon of mass destruction.
Imagine, if you will, an ongoing heavy barrage
Made up of waste chemicals, and landfill garbage.
For eample, if problems continued with Iraq or Iran,
We could bury in refuse both Bagdad and Tehran.
Their population would give such an outcry
That their governments would fall or be compelled to comply.
Forget about ICBMs or future US invasions--
Garbage will be the ultimate ‘big stick’ for persuasion.
One ten ton HBML Launch
Would be the penultimate sucker punch.
Air Defense Artillery cannot shoot trash down.
All garbage launched will hit the target ground.
Invest now while our stock prices are still low;
We have the signed contacts. Watch your portfolios grow!
CELTIC MIST
Through mists of time and legends lore,
a Celtic mist invades our core.
Haunts our soul, stirs our mind,
looks through eyes forever blind.
To ancient times, lost along the way,
like an orphaned prodigal prodigy.
Mark the thought and slip back in time,
where honor reigned and stood sublime.
The year stirs awake from its icy wonder,
animals rouse from hides buried under.
Life buds swell, grow and start to bloom,
resurrected life, fresh ready to consume.
The livestock loose from shelters shell,
and pass through Beltain's fire like hell.
The bright time season as was once known,
of new born lambs and crops fresh sown.
A time of fertility when wars would rage,
of invasions passed from Druid’s sage.
The May Queen glares on the fires of Bel,
flowers freshly picked, decked the holy well .
The great Elk wanders, crunching under foot,
waving his antlers that from his crown did jut.
Like Cernunnos, god of the underworld dire,
feared by man, yet seduced by its desire.
To tame a land, too harvest its seed,
but sows the grain yet reaps the weed.
The Pooka stares, with its evil eagle eye,
harries the innocent, destroys with a sigh.
To mysterious waters, brine coloured despair,
lost to elder’s cries within Balors dripping lair.
Sidhe flit’s across the mind, a spirit of the dead,
arousing hidden memories lost within your head.
Morgana calls, the Queen of the fortunate isles,
prompting you awake, as you step the Celtic stiles.
Villanelle : Nations barely survive the turbulence of international events
Nations barely survive the turbulence of international events
Yet end up like interpersonal relations with other nations
Nations rise and fall yet some hardly ever merit compliments
What great Luxuor grandeur falls now to Egyptian peasants
The glory of five thousand years broken by Arab civilisations
Nations barely survive the turbulence of international évents
What great good from just Asoka’s illustrious achievements
Held Hindu sub-continent together through Muslim invasions
Nations rise and fall yet some hardly ever merit compliments
What great Aristotelian tutorship of Alexander’s managments
Kept the shores of Peloponnese free of Xerxes’s Zoroastrians
Nations barely survive the turbulence of international events
What great King Wen’s hexagrams and King Wu’s comments
Inform the sacrifices of Mao’s Long March peregrinations
Nations rise and fall yet some hardly ever merit compliments
Do nations come together only to blow asunder fundaments
Nations apart every life deserves equal rights and conditions
Nations barely survive the turbulence of international events
Nations rise and fall yet some hardly ever merit compliments
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
First his long and tender gaze. Then came his loving caresses
followed by little kisses, delicate dewdrops of sensuous sweetness
that he planted gently along my forehead, my cheeks,
the back of my neck, and around my ear lobes.
Happiness consumed me!
Butterfly kisses he showed me
with the long lashes of his beautiful dark eyes
fluttering like tiny wings against my own.
I giggled next as he rubbed his nose to mine;
The Eskimo way, he said.
As he stroked my back, his fingers lingered at my waist.
Unlike others before him, he did not grab for my body
with the clumsiness of a boy.
He let his smooth kisses linger too
so when at last I felt his tongue inside my mouth,
it was the sweetest of invasions. . . . .
Neither did he press for more than I was prepared to give,
for I was a woman-child, still clinging to chasteness,
and though I’d known him but a short time,
this magical moment was to be our one night together
before he returned to a country where I would never go.
Our brief time would become the fondest of my memories -
one to be rekindled time and time again through poetry.
Written 11/23/13 by Andrea Dietrich
for nette onclaud's contest: the BRIEF, UNFORGETTABLE MOMENT Poetry Contest
(this is honestly a new poem but I've written of this
moment so many times, it looks like all those other poems!!)
Every civilization has depended on water,
our Earth without it would be another moon;
blue oceans secure this nation from invasions,
but also cause destructive storms and death.
There's no other planet like ours, its waters
invigorate plant life, seasons renew themselves;
who would live in an arid desert exposed to wind
with no precipitation, only sun? Who would survive?
Permeable roads allow water to easily flow
and not saturate the ground during storms,
watch it dripping from the rooftops and trees,
even the grass benefits from it, it stays green.
We need water in our bodies to prevent hydration,
the more we drink it, the healthier we are indeed.
Crystallization occurs in winter when snow turns
into ice; even lakes freeze, rivers stay in liquid form,
so do oceans and seas for us to watch in wonder.
Every drop of water counts, it is a requisite to sustain all life
there's a vast shortage; droughts are caused by scarce
rainfalls, thousands will perish...others are forced to abandon
their lands. Can flowers, grass and trees grow in dry soil?
A land without water offers nothing, it's another wasteland.
Some of us are very lucky to live in prosperous countries,
it's a challenge when droughts hit, have compassion and help.