Best Livelihoods Poems
Governments have been intent on
eradicating our rights one by one
Backing us in a corner with countless
threats with nowhere to run
Under the disguise of an experimental vaccine
that has not been proven to be safe
Mandating it, thus taking away our choice
leaves us all feeling the chafe
Canadian truckers decided to take a stand for freedom and created a freedom convoy
Which the government, Big Pharma
and the mainstream media are trying to destroy
At stake is our freedom of choice, our livelihoods
and the spirit of mankind
Totalitarian society will become a reality
if the masses remain blind
To Ottawa the truckers made their long trek
asking all mandates to be dropped
Reuniting humanity worldwide by the millions
with unity that can not be stopped
Peaceful demonstrations fueled by hope,
awareness and an outpouring of love
That our freedoms will be rightly restored
with the grace of God above
Feb 3rd, 2022
In these precarious times,
I would be most unappreciative
not to give thanks to God
for what remains of goodness in the world:
the love and support of family and friends,
the kindness of strangers,
and the bounties of the earth which always I’ve enjoyed.
Furthermore, I have deep respect for those who died
to preserve the freedoms I hold dear -
especially for those who in the most fearsome of times
and wearing their valor like a knight’s armor
while witnessing horrors and great sorrows -
were willing to die for someone like me
who cannot even fathom a sacrifice so huge as theirs.
I thank God for the souls of such great people
who fought to keep freedom’s light burning brightly.
In these modern times I am thankful, Lord,
for the convictions of men and women
who, for righteous causes,
are willing to sacrifice their reputations
and even give up their very livelihoods
by standing up for truth
as they know it to be.
Thank you, God, for my inspiring fellow beings -
the ones who stand firm in their convictions,
and help me, please, oh God, to be
as brave as they.
Under quarantine, I am asked, along with many other people,
to stay inside my house -
except if I should go out for necessity’s sake.
I have no quarrel with this.
In fact, I count myself fortunate that I am not required
to drive a semi like my husband, who has asthma.
Nor must I work in a hospital, like my sister,
who has to work inside one to help support her family.
I am not forced to work facing a stream of customers inside a grocery store,
irate because they find no toilet paper in the store.
I do not have to work at any job in order to maintain health insurance
or feel forced to work as a sole provider of a household.
My boss has allowed me to continue working in my part-time job
from the comfort of my home office,
and for now, all is going well in that regard.
Furthermore, I love my house!
I have a comfy bed, televisions upstairs and down,
computers, running water, food, and electricity.
My dog is here to keep me company
and my husband is with me
from morning to night on days he isn't driving.
Friends and family are a phone-call away.
If I want, I can walk the dog on quiet blocks of my neighborhood
or simply step out onto my porch, breathe fresh air
and feel excitement for sunny days coming,
for I have to believe that Spring IS coming for us all.
Many in the world right now are not nearly
so blessed as I am.
I worry for my loved ones who have to leave their homes
to work on “front lines” for their livelihoods
and for the world’s poor who live paycheck to paycheck,
or worse, may be homeless and on the streets.
I worry for my husband, a good man who suffers from anxiety,
facing the threat of a virus everytime he goes out on the road.
Meanwhile I get to stay inside my house -and I say this thankfully,
for "here" is my home - my castle - my sanctuary.
April 3, 2020
for "Quarantine Poems" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
They've tossed their souls away
again
harlots for a vote
they've fingered the race card
the rapist card
the Russian card
the Ukraine card
now they're playing mahjong
with a virus.
Muzzling our freedoms and rights
placing plastic tiles in our minds
when this latest fallacy fails
they'll boomerang (black)
to the race card again.
They're locking {we the people away}
giving early release to protect rapist
and assorted other derelicts... from the flu!
Do they think a tsunami of convicts
will keep six feet away from our
daughters
mothers
grandmothers.
My father used to sweat the flu out
I remember him saying
"get me another blanket"
we'd stack them three or four high,
The fever would break
he'd be back to work the next day.
only to inhale benzene rings
to keep us in meat and greens...
They don't make them like that anymore
This will be a baton head splitting summer
oppression will detonate
spill freedoms' soul onto the avenues
fringe factions will clash..
Come November
just remember who locked you up
released the filth of society onto our streets
remember who pointed fingers-fell asleep
while withholding your money
to gain political traction
trashing the economy
running helter skelter over livelihoods
come November-shout out people!
remember how your local gvt. couldn't find
illegal alien felons to deport them
but suddenly found them long enough
to give them your Wuhan money -your bread and honey
come November vote their globalist behinds out of office
and into their
plush-slush funded gated community
Caged in shadows
the canary breathes
amidst the clutter and din
of coal miners
who toil to extract
livelihoods
from veins underground
fortunes told
with its demise
too late for those who seek
fresh air and light
as families above ground
gather and wait
under a pale sun
for news
they feel in their veins
will come.
Vast, powerful motion of all time,
How many do you facilitate sublime?
To discover, protect and to ably fight,
By wood, to keep our territory right.
To race, enjoying the sea air of such waft,
And to fish for delicious bites from our nets cast;
Enjoying the freedoms of the Common Fisheries Policy,
Having livelihoods protected through areas of advocacy.
One of carbon and two of oxygen, water,
And of course with salt which does the liquid alter;
Also with sodium, magnesium, calcium and sulphate too,
Plus the ions potassium and chlorine which do.
You can't really drink it apart from a sip,
But seawater and its fish can be boiled for your lip;
Cod’s coming back as no more overfished,
So pollock does not anymore need to be wished.
Our first travels were made on the ocean wave,
Its captains gave respect and sensibly did behave;
We journeyed from England to America to make,
A life for ourselves which nobody was to brake.
It moves with power, and sometimes takes a life,
And hides oil that's dug through much toil and strife;
The global community needs to channel its energy,
For renewable sources to be designed with synergy.
Incineration of Love God Madan ( Cupid )
Three of Many
Originally written in Hindi by my late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
1899 to 1994
English version by Ravindra K Kapoor.
Prelude to this epic.
According to Indian mythology Madan the Love God or Cupid was asked to divert the attention of Lord Shiva*, the supreme God of Hindus, who was lost in deep meditation, so that Lord Shiva may be requested to help the Gods from the attacks of the demon supreme immortal Tarakasur. However, when Madan disturbed Him in meditation Shiva became too furious and opened His third eye. Madan the Cupid God got burnt by the fire of the anger of his third eye. This epic reveals many interesting incidents about this story later in this series…..
(Hindi Name) Madan Dahan
Passion had not attained,
Control over human life,
Serene Love then prevailing,
Was the ideal worship.
Gold had not blackened,
Mind and heart of humans,
Service of all was then,
Lives most glorious action.
Work of Brahma* the creator,
Was at the verge of completion,
Vishnu* the preserver of Universe,
Had created livelihoods for all.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 23rd April 2012
Protected under the copywrite provisions of Poetry Soup
Clarifications:
*Brahma- According to the Puranas, Brahma is self-born in the lotus flower. Another legend says that Brahma was born in water. A seed that later became the golden egg. From this golden egg.. The remaining materials of this golden egg expanded into the Brahman?a or Universe.
* Vishnu -Vishnu is the supreme God of Hinduism. It describes Vishnu as the All-Pervading essence of all beings, the master of—and beyond—the past, present and future, one who supports, sustains and governs the Universe and originates and develops all elements within. Vishnu governs the aspect of preservation and sustenance of the universe, so he is called "Preserver of the universe".
Quail not at Death’s door if you wrought no wilful harm
Quail not at Death’s door if you wrought no wilful harm
Should turning back in vengeance be the Dead Man’s qualm
Though even as the end nears the comfort of proffered pardon
Will in no way replace the sacrifices to expunge the burden
Sure everyone wreaks harm by chance or through ignorance
During those moments when control depends on circumstance
The way the chips fall is not a matter for individual call
Is not that the way centillions of quarks knock into it all
Do the Dead turn back to set right their splintered houses
Or do the worlds keep spinning guided by original causes
Tell not the man whose wits desert him what’s really wrong
The punishment the Dead incur is a judgement well foregone
He who turns self-righteously around to avenge or to meddle
To set right the world’s injustices in the Manichean treadle
Might earn himself a life’s sentence to roam all over again
Dead people walking numb through friendless terrain
All they may be able to do is to warn you of a fiddle
Of some danger sapping your strength the key to a riddle
Even if friends and relatives who betrayed your confidence
Will cling to spurious justifications ever through repentance
Think not of the lives milling lost in the neck of your clouds
Is there no end to ramifications vilifications in livelihoods
Do the Dead take along with them the history of their lives
And in which distant sibling planet are they stored in archives
If only it were as easy as to look up and wish them all away
What good can this earth be with us all dead in it anyway
Bickering for pieces of molten land pieces of names in decay
Metals and rock on fire hurtling down minuscule Milky Way
What need has the Maker for such a vast and roving Empire
Even children give up playing with trains and coaches on fire
Do the Dead renew passports before entering galactic spaces
Or do they coddle up in comfort in inalienable birth-places
Wouldn’t our world be some thing else but for this baffling secret
The foregone fate of earth-born gods if it weren’t for this regret.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
So, I guess a 12 year old
American brown male playing by himself
with a toy gun
is outside your boundary
for normal early-adolescent activity.
Well, I can see why you would need
to draw your boundary
for healthy rationality
outside his grassy field of fire-armed play.
I can see why we need to draw this line
of "only predictably SWM domesticated life matters"
the way we do
to look our friends and children in the eyes
while saying,
"I can accept this loss
as one caused by an unfortunately timed
dual act of accidental wildness;"
But is it not significantly wilder
to fire ballistics at youth
than for youth to fire only ballistic imagination?
I can see that we need to doubt
reasonable risks of public recreation
for some lives
differently than other lives
and times
to gaze into our social-cultural mirror
with both eyes
fully comprehending compassionate integrity:
"We accept that Black Adolescent Lives Splatter
loss across our leaking shared loves and livelihoods,
thereby wilting our collective mental health,
starving our social wealth for future regeneration,
and yet hope we still dream
of somehow re-transposing,
All Lives Matter
in current US ReligiousRight culture.
Now that is egocentric mendacity;
not even Anthro-centric integrity.
We each and all must hunt our way
toward facing our fear of ourselves
our lack of empathy
and mind positive passions
and body healing pleasures
surpassing our neglectful lack of fully activating
Win/Win panentheistic wisdom.
Some hunting ways bring further AnthroSupremacist
Business As Usual
cognitive-affective dissonance;
further failure of Earth's polycultural integrity,
further degenerative ego-traumatizing stasis.
Some hunting ways promise more co-operative co-arising ballast
for culturally active hope.
It is this ballast we seek
between our self/other-reflecting eyes,
hoping to discover peace within as justice without,
and not more enslaving reductive addiction
to ballistics of overly-automated violence
Silent souls
full-will impassioned pleasures
without sufficient time to assess full-intent,
responding to fear of fear ourselves,
right between our blindered eyes
So it becomes challenging to see
a brown male playing by himself
with a toy gun
as well within our mental health care boundary
for normal early-adolescent activity.
In the realm of artificial intelligence, a shadow looms,
A world of algorithms, where uncertainty blooms.
The promise of progress, a double-edged sword,
As the cons of AI are slowly explored.
Privacy invaded, data mined without consent,
In the hands of machines, our secrets are sent.
Surveillance unchecked, a watchful eye,
AI's reach expanding, without asking why.
Jobs displaced, livelihoods at stake,
As automation rises, the human touch may break.
Inequality deepens, as AI's power grows,
Leaving many behind, in its relentless throes.
Bias embedded, in algorithms unseen,
Discrimination perpetuated, in a digital sheen.
Ethical dilemmas, in AI's decision-making,
Moral quandaries arise, our values shaking.
In the age of artificial intelligence, we must tread with care,
Navigating the pitfalls, becoming aware.
For as we harness AI's potential might,
We must ensure it serves humanity's light.
We live in a fearsome world where nothing seems right
And you don’t feel safe especially at night.
It is full of bloodshed and violence
With anger and war, can this world
Take much more.
The damage cannot be undone, the effects of
Pollution has already won as the ozone layer
Is fading away with the sunlight turning
To grey as summerdays we once knew
Are few, rather we have rain that flows
Like rivers that never end, floodings
Across the globe affecting people’s livelihoods,
Homes
and peace of mind people
Truly wish to find as darkness and despair
They cry out Does anyone really care,
Wondering what life will throw their way
Next as life is so full of change as unforeseen
Occurrences befall us all without much warning
At times.
Surely we can agree that the world seems beyond help and
The evil acts that take place is a cry in shame and
Brings sheer disgrace to the human race.
What can be done in this ever-changing world that we live,
Can we improve and make it a better place to live
With happy smiley people with hearts full of
Love wanting to give to others
Treating eachother as though they were a sister
Or brother.
Living in Peace and harmony
With plenty of food to feed
A multitude no matter what their race
They have a place to call home
With food on the table and
A bed at night to keep them warm.
Life would be much better adding meaning and to
Make living more worthwhile,
Bringing much joy really making you smile.
Always have hope in your heart
That someday we can all be part of a world
Where we live in
Peace and Happiness and life everlasting
That will not cease.
Once "City of Big Shoulders,"
Stockyards and industrial concerns:
A man's self-worth measured
By muscle and energy burned.
Today the stockyards are shuttered,
The Face of Livelihoods changed;
From Meat-packing and Manufacturing---
To Financial Services and Video Games.
Serving loyally with blind dedication,
Following only a high school education,
Lifetime stints at one factory or plant,
Today simply ain't where it's at:
Mere shards of memory
Of what life was before
Everyone had a college degree,
And sought work in a plush office indoors,
As opposed to lifting heavy two-by-fours.
Looking back at Chicago's history
Over the last century,
Our task is this simple question to ask:
Have we moved ahead and progressed?
Are our lives any better?
Or have we reversed and regressed---
Spending the prime of our lives studying letters?
It's easy to end a poem on such a note,
Leave the reader to cast his or her vote;
But I'll not finish off with a nod a wink,
I'll let you know what I actually think:
Chicago was rough, Chicago was tough,
Her denizens coarse and gruff;
Not much for culture or fashion,
Artists and poets she was constantly bashin.'
Workingmen reveled in their muscles,
Frequently engaging in tussles
With their bosses over hours and wages,
Oft-ending in fisticuffed rages---
And the workers sentenced to 6' x 8' cages.
Gangsters like Capone and Dillinger flourished,
By slimy politicos encouraged
To extort and shake down
Workingmen all over town,
At deserted sites with nary a copper around.
Sometimes we look back and forget how it was,
When education and the arts were slighted,
And even good neighborhoods were blighted:
Where an ugly picture emerges
Of exploitation and funeral dirges.
So let us be grateful for what we have in some precincts today,
And hope that Chicago's future points to an even brighter day.
My horse's haunches sway,
Saunter up hillocks and down a valley path,
Above a ridge off and on: a village where some people fish,
Phosphorescent flotsam washed ashore.
Green embers breathe as if through shriveled lungs.
Wax in contrast to the gloaming dark that's coming on.
Shrubbery shadows lengthen, enlarging blacknesses.
Crickets ratchet down their temperatures.
The earth cools in wan mirage.
Time lapsed, the stars make
A slow, quiet carousel of lights.
It circles far above us disengaged.
Wings of crows scoop pools of air,
Then dive down open maws
On tiny, furred crawlers shocked stock still.
Crows chalk their caws across the night.
A copse will grow into a stand of oaks.
The vintage children like to climb.
Gnarled limbs reminding them of fiction sailing ships.
Hand over fist to where the topmost rigging is.
For now, people and trees are bottled tiny on a shelf.
At dry dock like some whittled models are.
Until the oak is christened keel and frame
And of agers live lives and make their livelihoods at sea. (9/18/22)
Once Earth was full of wild brutes,
Hunting animals subsisted their livelihoods.
Slowly, steadily they learnt upliftment,
What we accepted later as civilisation.
Today in this modernised world,
We follow new-fashioned approaches and genres.
Maybe we are greedy and gluttonous,
But we are affable and amiable creatures.
We live in society which is full of prosperity,
Where educated and education leads us all.
But day-by-day in this rejuvenated world,
Society demoralising at a whole.
Everyone is busy today, at their own work,
Youngsters are concerned enough about their own careers.
But there is a bunch of people in every society,
Who are always ready to criticise one's variety.
We should not fight with those evils,
Neither we embroil ourselves into ills.
We are confident enough to judge our own,
And to scorn the Judgemental Society.
Photos bomb social media.
While
Terrorists destroy livelihoods.
War rages from within.
Crashing rathe upon distant strangers; us...
Pictures reveal this through social networking.
A quite distant war becomes real—too extents.
Photo bombs drop atop crooked faces.
Suicide bombs disfigure and gravely injure a far out man and a groovy woman.
However,
These groves are not so far out.
Closer to home than the television thinks—
Maybe more problematic than depicted and possibly more galactic than photoshopped.
What is their left to do with this distant war?
Sir War, her majesty, governor of terror like substance—ruler of all.
King War . . .
Master War . . .
Will you bow your heads to such ungodly deity?
Or
Will you fight for your mental pictures of believed righteousness?
Let's take this down to size and ask me (the writer) what he would do.
I would photobomb every picture possible until everyone around me cannot help but to smile and laugh.
One thing I know for sure I would not do is...
Never would I ever bow down to Master War.
May 29, 2017
Contest: Form P
Sponsor: Broken Wings