Best Manipulations Poems
I'm an ashen dove,
fading in zephyr
of wine valleys,
saturating in fog
upon enchanting hills,
draped in
grape-green silk,
where fantasies of forest,
sprout cynthia moon
of a bygone
medieval saga,
amidst heavenly
eventides,
and wailing weeds
prick my shadow,
infusing iced intentions
of the puppet's paradise~
floating in islets
of shackled bones.
My wings are
made of violet wool,
fluffed with
blueberry cotton
and stitched
with the fabric of
amethyst satin,
but as soon as
my tiptoeing feet
touch the
seafoam grass,
it stings my silent
glacial flight,
making me bleed
in chloroform-
dipped letters.
If love was a
rosy matte comet,
I would carve
pastel orchid smiles
amidst kismet-coated
cherry blossoms,
with frozen floral paints
and forgive
beige betrayals
of aqua sirens,
to which the
scents of evermore,
sweetly succumbed.
But maybe,
jasper tinted
jasmine petals,
are sewn with
poisoned thistles
whilst being
dispersed upon
the chambers of
midnight raindrops,
and those
soulful stars
in your eyes are
a mere mirage,
flourishing
false silhouettes of
a perfumed
saudade in
nocturnal negligence.
So, pardon these
bleeding metaphors
that echo sombre
sun's soliloquy in the
hazy kiss of gloom
and follow me
to the teal towers,
where this
fluorescent flesh
slumbers in enfolded
spruce leaves of
sequoia sonnets.
For, when the last petal
falls as poetry,
my soul would be
alive in wistful runes,
mourning in a
doleful decanter,
whilst eyes
would frown
in fragile promises,
wiping diplomatic
dust of dolent delusions
and knitting mists of
manipulations,
carelessly sinking~
to soil of feathered
dandelions.
Where nurtured seeds
of jade reflections,
still haven't ruptured
every pixie dust of hope,
in their life's
dormant decession,
reminisce me
as an ivory moonrise,
fluttering beyond,
dahlia chains of sunshine.
Between paper-soft
worlds of fragile
imaginations,
I float upon those
gossamer tulips
that split every
second of saccharine
musings and
eclipsed confessions,
distinguishing all
photoelectric synonyms
of lachrymose
stimuli towards
glassy manipulations
of blood-fragranced sun.
Everything that is
sown in sweetened
textures of afterglow-soil,
always blossoms upon
decayed fossils of
frivolous fates, as
balanced bullets have
forever pierced
through the pulpy
sheaths of nature's
rainbow-blankets,
but their aged roots
always adorn nourishing
gemstones of
ephemeral healing,
to spread their wise
branches across earth's
mirrors, as the thin
veil disappears.
What is the raven-spade
-hearted impulse
without its nascent yet
succulently flowing
snow-white mist?
What if, reality speaks
of those skies smitten with
hypnotic illusions of
chess-shaped horizons?
Have yin and yang ever
repelled each other's
rusty-maroon notes
that they whisper in
immortal prelude?
We have remained
skillfully blindfolded to
the isles of inceptions,
swirling amidst ripples
of diamond-kismet
estuaries, washing away
consciences with
diplomatic dewdrops
of frosty maple fog.
Tending to forget that,
we are mere syzygy knights,
crawling along
slanting seesaws as
bioluminescent bishops.
Our schizophrenic
threads have been
tied to the aroma of
poisoned satin within
these final alphabets of
enchante´ epitaphs,
where life will be
the last organ grinder
of karma, playing
an evanescent checkmate
which shall ascend
every soulful spirit
beyond Persephone's
penumbral embrace.
above our heads
and flying high,
manipulations few could believe
whole generations fooled
and bled to slave at life - with chance
to stay above the doom
that lay beneath the lies - that feed
the masters of our destiny - blindly led
to fight their wars - for gold beyond
what measures know - to harvest
souls and build a race - with no emotion
....shades of gray - everyday we start
again - with chosen scripts
approved by those who rule this
place we think is free - they give
us games and penny idols - 'till
one morn' - we'll wake and look around
with no emotion
to
be
found
inspired by and a tribute to "Rowdy Roddy Piper"
and his featured role in the 1988 movie.... "They Live"
He wears his frame with dignity.
Moves amongst the throng with confidence,
with a buoyant outlook
that defies everything malignant.
He magnifies his letters until
they are neon bright and shining
messages for his eyes alone
And augments sound until
each letter thrills like a breathless
poem, spoken for his ears alone.
Can he see right through the covert
messages people send through
thick air like fog suffocating?
(We think he cannot, we think he
fails, we think he doesn't see the
labyrinthine manipulations people
use for information and interaction.)
Can he hear those hidden connotations
of words?
(We think he cannot,
we think he fails, we think he hears
only one track of a multitrack tape.)
He rides his chair with poise,
loves with afflatus, with fire,
animus and anima. And leaves behind
what cannot be carried into the
present. But finds in the past a
strength to fight and avenge, not
revenge. Find justice for those
denied in the past and today.
He smiles, smile with him, and
meet him halfway, he is new.
***
March 15, 2017
N/A in contest: Broken Wing
Sponsor: Frank Herrera
She drives that wobbly car
Stacked to the roof with goods
Squalor taunts her thus far
As she hides under hoods
Her babe cries behind bags
Baubles of plastic sneer
Purpose chokes on ball gags
When spending serves to steer
Tears well in her bright eye
While she struggles with rent
How will her child get by
On cash already spent?
She bats those long lashes
As she stands at my door
Wounded bird with gashes
Maybe she’ll need to whore
I long to comfort her
To regulate her pain
Emotions tend to blur
When yanked by Cupid’s chain
So foolhardy with joys
At discovery’s gate
I shed some unused toys
To help her mournful state
I’ve learned to live on crumbs
With circumstance’s ebb
All billionaires and bums
Depart this fateful web
Conjured visions of us
Tease my eroding mind
Intentions won’t cause fuss
When paid forward in kind
Yet her concept of friend
Surely differs from mine
Manipulations end
Alliance once divine
Wounds either kill or cure
What I am meant to be
Yet one truth shines for sure
Love keeps consuming me
** “The unexamined life is not worth living” – Socrates.**
Looking Inward, Asking For Serenity's Grace
Looking inward, a soul that so silently weeps
For the realization of dear dreams born in sleep
And cessation of wickedness in this dark world
Those unexpected strikes from lightning bolts hurled,
Deeper in that inner web, hiding there alone
A phantom- it's ice-cold, hard beating heart in hand
Magnitude of negatives, more than one can stand!
Looking inward, where heart its gasping whispers beat
As if constant traffic on golden bricked streets
Therein the winds of romance so quietly wait
Chance and the manipulations of hands of fate,
Sweeter in that inner web, hiding there alone
A valiant knight, armor clad and steely eyed
Holding true to the hope on which millions relied!
Looking inward, asking for serenity's grace
Welcoming true light, demanding courage to face
The unknown and world's barbaric mercilessness
Yet brave enough to let love abundantly bless,
Chained in that inner web, hiding there alone
Those pleading for swifter rescue and hopes return
To lift them from bondage and flames set to burn!
Looking inward, a soul that so silently weeps
For the realization of dear dreams born in sleep
And cessation of wickedness in this dark world
Those unexpected strikes from lightning bolts hurled,
Deeper in that inner web, hiding there alone
A phantom- it's ice-cold, hard beating heart in hand
Magnitude of negatives, more than one can stand!
Robert J. Lindley, 6-09-2021
Rhyme,
( To Seek Wisdom To Break Out Of Inner Bondage )
PASSION FOR FASHION
We live
We continue to pretend
We copy
Because that’s in fashion
Painted Face
Leaving no trace
Fiftyish women,
Pretending to be
Forever Thirty,
Obsessed by age
Not finding grace
Men from Metro-sexual
To Retro-sexual
Proving Substantial,
Gizmos Essential
Looking Influential
Faking Credentials
Doubting Potential
Half-Truths
Outright Lies
For motives of profit,
The lies of materialism
Succumbing to manipulations,
For notions of happiness,
Financial Strains
Come with long term Drains
Eligible Singles
Readily Mingle
To Romance and Jingle
Then come Expectations,
Anger and Frustration.
Lousy sex
Eternal vex
Killing the Passion
Divorces and Affairs
Becoming a Fashion
Relationships are broken
Through SMS and Faxes
Marriage then Fixes
To save on Taxes
The key to Liberation,
Is not in “Passion for Fashion”
But in knowing that
What does not contain LOVE
Is only an Illusion!!
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.
VANISHED
We are the echoing voices crying within the darkness,
Melting mists of vapor co-existing amongst the living,
The ambling drifters shifting between reality and limbo,
The vanished.
Displacement malfunction, the frozen chill in one’s space,
Happening without explanation, the corporal spirit sliding
In the temporal rift as if a doorway has opened then closes
With sudden forces slamming,
The vanished.
Running at full sails speed the ghostly ship hanging on the
Distant horizons cresting wave, the Bermuda Triangles curious
Answer, never revealed, a planes broadcasting its S.O.S. then
Nothing except statics silence, the walkers of historical significance,
Never heard from again except in dusty monologue’s ancient text,
The vanished.
Rebukes despised disposed by hatred lies of malice, the forgotten,
Yet we touch the living by the night’s lunar light, angers tortured
Languishing amidst the flames of hell’s fire, crying out for justice
But receiving only torment, silences footsteps heard amongst the
The land of the living,
The vanished.
Sacrifice’s vanished foe, given to the idle gods of the past,
Manipulations fallen solider who gave his life for what
He believed was a justified cause, the lost soul of the
Innocent that does not realize he lies in the kingdom
Of the diseased,
The vanished.
The crumbling ruined city, with its lingering residences,
Still haunting the abandon streets and venues of the past,
Do to tragedies misguidance, or alliances bomb shelled fortress
Torn apart and left to molten ash, these shadows of innocence
Remain, behold
The vanished.
The dead man’s sleep walker, emerging from his cryptic
Tomb, suddenly realizing it’s survived the end of the world,
But now he’s all alone, in isolations one celled chamber,
As the human ash cloud descends upon the last ma
On earth falls to his knees and screams out loud, why,
Dear God, why
The vanished.
Listen to the voices carried upon the wind,
It is the vanquished seeking answers without
Replies response, the weeping victims of time
Bang against our shutters windows, and knock
At the front doors of our souls, they will not
Be ignored,
Those vanished.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Soft Chains – Cold Steel
cold steel and darkened hold
bound for destinys untold
asea in darkened misery
a towering flame – laid cold.
unbound in aftermath of strife
adrift in memories of life
fading in the pain of emptiness
the faces of a child, a wife.
dreams, forbidden wants and need
reduced to wooden ploughs and seed
subsistence farming sharing crops
hearts stolen by land owners greed.
time and generations still oppressed
rebellious music of the Afro tressed
fists to signify a races pride
marches to force the past redressed.
movement to the front from buses rear
courage to face oppressors fear
those who dared not lift their eyes
believing the dream one held so dear.
soft chains of manipulations dread
attempting to control a movements head
unable to comprehend the truth
that millions believed the words he said.
nurtured the seeds that he had sown
on freedom’s winds as they were blown
demanding that now must be the time
to face down the clubs and hatred thrown.
sadly the tone of skin and voice
still affect the definition of each choice
succumbing to the psyche of the bonds
re-emerging in an unforgiving noise.
2/24/2015
submitted to – Writings in a Black Perspective… - Poetry Contest
sponsor – Verlena S. Walker
Sheltered in the south of the south,
its culture breathed out the dance of love to the world.
Once established,
as the historic natural park for gigantic dinosaurs
with the earth’s tail attached to its field
and a familiar friend to continental extremities
both in elevations and in the measure of cold and heat.
Even with its tender voice and closed influence
its hands have contributed
to the beautiful jewelries of the globe’s spark.
The first scores of Cristiani’s animation
and pioneering crime’s neck breaker
through the Axe of finger-printing;
also a well watered green yard for cosmetic manipulations
but yet marred with Anorexia and battles of the mind.
So much flowers with few thorns
classify this blessed home with sons like Diego and Lionel.
a pervasive bareness
walks like an honest lie
on the road to truth the bone white marble
god oversees the planet green’s woes
a climate change of heart its manipulations
its intrigues
something remains unsaid when i look back
i think again before i disappear between
bread and god whosover is stronger
than me i remained unchained distrusting
the rules laid down by hoaxes now i
am not me
i am not a god i am not a thought only
innocence of an unopened bud.
Satish Verma
A land of tumoil, you left;
a terrain of peace and progress
into it, you’ve been embraced.
You settle, multiply but never mix,
time acquires a rocket engine then decades pass
from nowhere, demands begin to emanate
forcing unto your hosts, your migrated laws
pointing your fore-fingers at them
if your faiths and cultures are not institutionalized,
then shouting to the world and claiming the victim;
raising banners of discrimination and segregation;
creating lines and societies highly unmissable
terror’s attention is subsequently signaled
to make its agents begin to manifest.
Then either through physic’s inventions
or through human manipulations
unrest is born, pushing a once peaceful corner
towards a land of cautious eyes and hearts;
going back to the exact place once fled for peace.
a pervasive bareness
walks like an honest lie
on the road to truth the bone white marble
god oversees the planet green’s woes
a climate change of heart its manipulations
its intrigues
something remains unsaid when i look back
i think again before i disappear between
bread and god whosover is stronger
than me i remained unchained distrusting
the rules laid down by hoaxes now i
am not me
i am not a god i am not a thought only
innocence of an unopened bud.
Satish Verma
La Historia-101, 2011
Vickie M. Ortiz Vazquez
Imagine, I cannot
To feel their lost
Longing for the return home
Rejoicing behind closed doors
Criminal act
Propagate servitude with miserable pay
Runaway between breaths
Hunted
Capture, captive
Criminal act
Rape once again, over again
White women turned the other way
Power instilled by any means necessary
Emancipated January first 1863
Imagine, I cannot
Overseas journey, long nights
Not knowing what awaits
The other side
Driven by hate, broadcast faith
Golden Goose displays false imageries
Selective stay, citizenship
Manipulations to project extreme dislike
Plant self loathe
All in the name of supremacist tendencies
Reached land
Meenay, miny, mo
Criminal act
Los Marielitos, 1970’s
Imagine, I cannot
Under the hot sun
Vast land of sand, predetermined path
Self-sacrifice in the name of family prosperity
Uncertainty
Dreams fuel by promises
Human trafficking, lottery
Slavery
Death
Destiny
Either way, criminal act
Imagine, I cannot
Whispers of sterilization
Population control
Blinded by land’s riches
“I must have” translated to ‘let me help you prosper”
Fed ideas of growth
Second guessing labor intensive industry
Rise of unemployment, 1960’s
Restless machetes stored away
Land’s fruits stolen
Justify
Criminal act
Under false pretences, little you give lots you take
Migrant float picture of your lies
Grasp in the hand of the devil
Imagine, I can
Two thousand eleven is the year
Headlines a fluke, mostly ignore by news
Recent voices speak of fear
Fear to seek an education
Fear to seek shelter
Fear to seek food
Fear to roam about
Inhale life’s smells
Capture life’s colors
Tattoo life’s experiences
Criminal act
Imagine, I can
Flickering lights getting closer
Fused back light
Finger print attempt for a burned out back light
Tif for Tat between Blue and Morena
Unnoticed the color of his skin
Minutes after, does it really matter?
Blue soldier with a license to destroy
Destroy without questioning lives of those tricked
Brought under false pretenses; full of hope
Penniless
Left to die
Wrongfully accused
Dreams shattered
Hopeless