Best Might Is Right Poems
No earthquake, no thunder, no volcanic eruption
Or even there was no any of natural calamities,
A sudden loud sound broke out all through the bush
With whizzing, shuddering, cracking, tearing, echoing,
Fear, horror, dark, terror, misery and ill spirits spread
Committing destruction, death in a horrible situation,
Dust, dirt, smoke coiled over the whole atmosphere
The harmless animals are quite perplexed, helpless
They began crying, shouting, running, rushing, fainting
Seeing reddish spots and innumerable torn bodies,
They blamed one another for committing the crime,
Brawling, harming, plotting hardened in them
A long conflict complicated and awful tangled,
Loosing the worms of crime, injustice and corruption,
The virtues sunk and the vices rose everywhere
Envious state of barbarism, terrorism inflicted on them
The poor animals lost peace and principles they had
Centuries curse engulfed all what was out of thought,
Ferocious animals are in the neighbouring big forest
They always wait for chances on the helpless ones,
They do not care for hesitating in violating terms
Committing all sorts of hyenas and monstrous harms,
They know how and when to cook poisonous broth
And how to throw an unseen net to catch the rest,
Once some cats were quarrelling nearby the bush
Some wild dogs of the big forest made an instant rush,
For repeated barking mewing was beyond of hearing
Foxes and monkeys also joined within a quick haste
Crows, kites and vultures started crowing for the feast
What more, rats and mice left the bush being frightened
Dreadful tumult, commotion, collision, conflict took place
At the arrival of buffalos, deer, bears, wolfs and hyenas,
But with the unexpected appearance of lions and tigers
All the surroundings became instant silent and isolated
All went away murmuring without a single looking back,
The victorious were excited having got all easy victory
But they found troubles to enjoy the whole empire lonely
So there were roaring, shouting, blustering, threatening
Of occupying empire, power, lordship and over lordship
‘Might is right’ established in the ruleless bestial state.
might is right and white is meant to rule
with that mind set, tall ships sailed west
rapists for the father-land
Holy word in right hand
to convert heathens
while left hand stole
and bled dry
native
souls
Those that believe might is right
Are itching on paltry issues to fight
Show them in the mirror of gone by times
The perished Cyrus and Caesar’s might
Cats-dogs fight - is a common sight,
Each thinks: fighting is their birthright;
As though each exhibits their might,
Or trust in the code: might is right;
Fight is canine story...
Dogs don't harm cats, in real fact,
They throw a sound that seems half-cracked;
Cats maintain their harsh hiss, intact,
In fact, both seem to seal a pact;
Canines have their glory...
Predator dogs feel merriment,
Fleshy cats, to experiment;
Dogs stare, for cats, is worriment,
In them, is hidden, dark cerement;
Doesn't it seem gory...?
Who is great, truly, who is small?
In the house, where they, often, loll;
This query when grows very tall,
The killer instinct, in them, crawl;
This story is hoary...
When it is not tittle-tattle,
When it comes to real battle;
When both, in annoyance, rattle;
Both turn stronger than tough cattle;
Story turns vainglory...
23 March 2022
The stern sun frowns and mocks
At the hide and seek of creatures sly
In the dunes of the wide sandy stretch ;
One chases the other with survival shocks ,
While the wheeling winged vultures fly,
Viewing the supine, torn and scattered wretch
Being bitten or pecked in wild hunger,
With grunts and screeches to feel stronger .
The arid air greets the cacti hostile,
And the invisible , bleary blanket of heat
Envelopes, scorching and parching all through
The land of dying hope and dead smile ;
No shelter nor a hide anyhow to retreat ;
In light or in the dark , every meek move
Finds anxious uncertainty haunt with disdain,
Leaving no choice : breathe or abstain .
An awful aroma and fragrance dense
Fills the woodland and the thicket thickset ;
Whispering leaves and the avian melody
Back up the anxious roars, and chatters intense ;
Any venture ends up in sigh and fret ;
Living is reduced to a receding parody ;
Might is right, and success a chance ,
And futile, pangs flow in resonance .
Round the lake is the overgrown greenery --
A meadow of reeds and creeper- brace
Looking over the peeping lilies that smile ;
The large remnant mirrors the cosmic scenery
To make up for the missing trace --
A little domain to live in , the while ;
The spell of croaks and chirps in tune
Enlivens it's own ethos with the croon.
The cruel and crafty hunters of prey,
Wait to pounce on creatures indolent ;
Often the seeker is sought unawares as victim ;
And the run goes on night and day,
With a blend of action and reaction silent ;
No order nor method prim : just so grim !
The realm with space and possession is null ,
The impulsive spirit of life goes dull..!
Tomorrow came a day too late
Held fast beneath a Tyrant's hand
Who lied in Corporate "Double Speak"
With blooded swords and lightening bolts
In languages forgotten
Long before the thunder died
And mushroom clouds filled up the sky.
Look down to Middle Mountain Keep;
The inner city walls are breached beyond repair
The sounds once heard were always those of commerce
The energy of congress
The joy of profits golden and secure...
But nothing grows here anymore;
Nothing lives here anymore.
Behold a fortressed, fallen dream
Raining greed from bone bleached hands
From barren fields of dying farms
And clouds of death from poisoned lands...
Rejected psalms denied by despots and jesters
Wielding Power like a Scythe...
But taxes on their glory gather manifest
One hundred thousand fold or so last count;
And the Middle bears the weight alone
The weight of fraud...the filth of doubt.
Bound up, no doubt in tasseled ribbon braids of conquest
Surrounded by Ammendments and inalienable rights
Tossed like garbage in their wake...straight in our face.
Reminiscent of Ozmandius - royalty's forgotten names...
Musty, shallow birthright claims of grasping need
Of this part of the world -- or that part of the world;
Might is right and all must march
To whatever tunes they care to play....
And the Middle sings their songs alone.
Too big to fail...too big to go..
A cancer dressed in silk and lace
Worship Corporate blessing on the few
A new religion risen bright and new.
So, pay your blue blood Rites of Passage
Flightless birds, reminiscent of the DoDo,
And grab yesterday's last offered chance...
While you blindly walk on traceless feet
Straight into Sorrow's Lance...
And the Middle bleeds alone.....
As if
It is a part of life
To pull legs
And kill the fame
Earned by hard perseverance
This is a jungle of the race of man
Might is right is more right
Than the might of intellect
Attack the weak
Exploit the poor
Like sharks swallow in the little, small and tiny
In the ocean of life
Honesty is a burden
Integrity is a curse
In the market of justness
Value has lost its luster
Here people stripe
To be a perfect liar or hypocrite
An eye for an eye blinds the entire world.
By this action one negates the whole truth;
And so creates a boomerang unfurled.
With bitter hate and villainous uncouth,
There is fallacy that might is right, thus
By this action one negates the whole truth.
With sordid haste, being so atrocious,
The world’s play-book flutters with rage, selfish;
There is fallacy that might is right, thus.
By this token, without any blemish,
An eye for an eye may seem justified;
The world’s play-book flutters with rage, selfish.
While millions of people are petrified,
Flailing hopes and dreams only fantasy
An eye for an eye may seem justified.
All lives matter in eyes of Gandhiji;
An eye for an eye blinds the entire world.
Flailing hopes and dreams only fantasy;
And so creates a boomerang unfurled.
Shadow black blood floods flow silently wailing in whirlpools
Volcanoes of endless enmity erupt with vengeance.
It's not humanness. Here, the mores of 'might is right' rules
Against routing quagmires, lotus buds fight for transcendence.
We shake hands like friends while minds float on clouds of fraudulence.
Amidst rocking crowds in digital sounds, we feel alone.
Wearing torn costumes of cleaved conscience, we seek vigilance.
Weeds of weariness spring up, wherefrom seeds of smiles are sown.
Like weak rams, we follow the rushing crowds to hit someone.
Who do we want to hit? Why do we want to? No one knows.
We make weapons and enable our young ones fight for fun.
Roots of truth hidden, falsehood from friendship flawlessly flows.
Why is each one who toils not the owner of their wages?
Why don't we end all dead ends that prevent our pilgrimages?
Like two sides of a musical drum or a coin,
Each story has two sides; they, ultimately, join;
This applies to the truth of immortality,
Though, physically, this isn't normality...!
As seeds of an apple spring up, though flesh decays,
So too, I hope, human soul lives on for long days;
Flesh-form though dies and mixes with the mud of earth,
Spirit passes to the other world, full of mirth...!
Though none has seen these spirits living anywhere,
Religions assure their existence far, somewhere;
Millions and millions from universe, thus, have gone,
As per the beliefs, to a blessed, sacred zone...!
I imagine, all these staying endlessly, here,
Sure, the very idea causes in me fear;
Is the earth huge enough to hold these creatures, well?
Won't the ones arrive newly find this ill-packed hell...?
Will all resources be available to all?
Won't poverty, hunger and thirst grow stout and tall?
Won't humans, like furious street dogs, for food, fight?
Won't beings, follow the policy: might-is-right...?
There won't be, surely, fear of death, heaven and hell,
Yet, will mundane daily life, flow flawlessly well?
Won't deathless-state, my duties merrily postponed?
Would I, to my commitments to others, respond...?
Fearlessness to death might give me time to complete,
Any task, with depth and dedication concrete;
Yet, won't lethargy and dullness induce my mood?
And, won't endlessness sluggishness within me brood...?
Life should be short; I should enjoy its every stage,
Death should not abruptly call me before old-age;
Yet, will hanging around, here on earth, realize,
My dream of going beyond the limitless skies...???
19 April 2022
If I Were Immortal Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
To parents,
and other adults of voting age,
in significant responsible relationships
plagued by political abuse
and economic neglect.
We could invest less time and resources trying to discover
if harm came to us,
and those for whom we feel responsible,
because of an impoverished economy
or polarized segregation.
If you're asking,
the answer is yes.
Economic waste on defending
what cannot be responsibly conserved
is the merely logical conclusion
of our way too much LeftBrain-RightWing dominant
dissociation.
Abuse, neglect, marginalization, monoculturalism
elitism, nationalism, chauvinism, evangelicalism, zealotry,
aggressive hostility, assertive apathy, religiosity
of any egocentric and anthropocentric
might-is-right defensive type
Between always right v always wrong identities,
personal and/or geopolitical and/or disinvested economic
neglect of polyculturally positive climate health
Neuro-sexsensory systemic
and ecosystemic
neglect of healthcare responsibility
and lifecare opportunities
to co-empathically liberate dissociative polarization
feeds and breeds
more impoverishing LeftBrain-RightWing
disassociating trauma,
chronic stress,
paranoid
anxious
caste-preservation.
A compassionate
and more pleasant
way of curing in-house v out-house neglect
is to stop competing to disinvest
away from democracy's richer
and healthier potential
Multi-enculturing
as if All Organic Life Matters
were your domestic, everyday
Political/Economic Business As Win/Win Cooperatively Usual.
Those neglected and abused,
whether individual people
or individual nations,
are neglected
by monoculturing anti-social
LeftBrain-RightWing dissociative polarization
Untouched up by neurosystemic
and ecosystemic
Win/Win democratic
mind/body healthcare opportunity.
We Are
By Franklin Price
3/30/2015
We are who we purport to be
The ones you see in front of thee
We may not be to us you see
The ones that you want us to be
We present from deep within
The who we are or may have been
The same or not our acumen
To acquaintance family or friend
You never know just who we are
A mask we wear a window bar
To each we open just so far
Ourselves our egos not to mar
A fragile fortress in the fight
Someone's beacon in the night
Showing some that might is right
All of these within our sight
If we choose there's honesty
For some that's simply not to be
The choice is ours for you and me
We are what we make us to be
Man is proud of clay
But least bothers about water
There has been no human progress
We all behave like medieval man
The difference is only
The places have interchanged
The same might is right
Still rules the world
The tongue and tricks
Of the water-less clay
Has developed only a sharp edge
The arms which were blunt
Now becomes sharp and sophisticated
In the last small armed grip
Of trenchant technocrat underling
Dissolved with poison stripped from putrid earnings
Tree of life displayed is churning
Urging the virgin men to give up toiling
To hold the last ember burning
And lay down the sword of foolishness
Vanished this wet dream syndicate
As dizzy spells of archaic control no longer fool
The articulate minds of creative surging
Young bliss beings in the prime of the sun
We will have known the war over
It could never be won
No skin could transform in its light
So with might is right ethic
Duality must banish
From electric thoughts so composed
A repose gathering
Nature unstrangulated
Trees unmangled
Soft sand caressed
As lapping waves
Lead us toward sanity
I close my eyes
And straight I go to a forest
Untouched by hands
At the time of twilight
Where tigers, lions
Bears and men live
The only difference men have with animals
Is that all are naked but men with a piece
Of cloth
The sun has gone
So the moon appears
And things are visible but dim
Clouds are floating above
Making the horizon a perfect dome
I stand and see
The grazing of animals
Eating with sound
Grass and leaves
Around the bush and long trees
Birds are cool and calm
Taking rest in their nests
Or hanging from boughs
Rats like creatures
Running helter -skelter
And out of insects
Make their feast
No one cares here anything
No rules, no sophistication
No practice of art
No finer quality of heart
And mind appeals
Everyone goes gross
Coarse in attitude
And running after physical needs
Raw, thrilling and gratifying
Might is right here
Snatching and grabbing
Both are instinctive
Rampant killing is in their bloody habit
A man I find standing
Clutching the both ends of his scarf
Running round his neck
And contemplating hard and wonder
If man is less beastly than the animals
And his society is not less than a jungle !