Best Minefields Poems
Her reveries slant the compass of time: 1970s. Minefields now roar through blurred visions. She retreats into dots of space to live in the moment, as emotions fling to a gray sky. While curtains blow unceasingly, hours freeze. Again, love passes; leaves, while a young wife’s heart crushes in tears.
bouyant clouds wander
in the expanse of night time
to gather shadows
There is delicacy in pain. Letters from Nam change the dark of winter to a glitter of December lights. As she sets the table, the flaming candle waxes through a kitchen filled with sweets and almonds . He is the breath touching musical tones in the quiet rhythm where carols are sung together. Feeling his presence,
she regales in a lone dance of fond remembering.
pines in crimson gold
waltz across the starlight
etching mellow notes
Somehow, a woman begins to droop beside a half-closed window. In the cold of duskfall, she longs
for her soldier husband, quietly. Then wiping her cheeks, she is refreshed by those who need her, now. In a joyful play with daughter and son, Aunt Jamie finds her true north. Such is the luster of more tomorrows,
moon glimmers, dust fades
a balm of healing renews
fresh discoveries
For 1/14 2016
Your thought-balloons are filled with wild and magical freedom ~
until madness seizes your think tank
trapping your ceaselessly chirping ideas
within the teeth of its snapped steel-jaws
refusing to relinquish you; lest you chew up and spit out your mind-racing brain
ire over this cognitive quagmire is quite understandable ~
like the murmuration of startled starlings
amassing in angst and taking wing
your thoughts, your second thoughts and afterthoughts
gather in pulsating dark masses
swirling into flight and shifting directions
turbulently twisting into tornadic spins
unable or unwilling to unravel and unwind
as they hurl themselves
in a pessimistic panic
through the maze of gray matter minefields
not wanting to explode their legs-to-stand-on should they alight...
...and despite butterfly nets vying to capture them
they are whirling dervishes twirling out of control --
holding your damnation in a state of suspended animation
Susan Ashley
March 24, 2018
a flustered tango of Gypsy moths
drumming the porchlight; chalk artists;
the endemic disappearance of farms—silos lost
in unkempt fields; space stations; the sunlit-scent of lemon
oil on cherry wood; birth; the chasm between cultural
appropriation & cultural appreciation; the history in our dust;
loneliness & heartbreak; trivia; funky funerals;
climate change, hurricanes, earthquakes & neglected
victims; heirloom charm bracelets, homemade
wind chimes & the homing sound made by a singing bowl;
masquerade balls; cityscapes hidden in ant hills; fly
fishing; serendipitous skinny dipping; missing children,
teddy bear memorials, forensic identification, monsters
never found in sleepy towns; the horrors of zoos—
elephants gone mad, lions robbed of their pride;
book reviews; civil unrest, bad cops & good cops & young men
gunned down; brand new fire stations; cancer survivors who wear
baldness so beautifully; my favourite pair of jeans; river rocks
found by dearest hands; a letter that can never be
received; joyful celebrations; incandescent dragonfly
dreams; twenty million at risk of starving to death;
wildflowers shaking pretty little heads;
misogyny disguised as religion; forgotten veterans who die
a bit more inside every day; the rainforest, shrinking;
saintly stoners & postulant prostitutes; toxic smog;
madmen with warheads; cheese cake & ice wine;
every personalized Kama sutra move & the God-given
ecstasy of body on body language; holding hands;
why one giggle can change everything; Thanksgiving
prayers; abandoned minefields, boy soldiers & devastating
amputations; the songs of the working poor; lightning
over the lake; his timely phone calls; brotherhood & sisterhood;
love in its every form; old maps; twenty-one gun salutes;
the extinction of the Galapagos Giant Tortoise; being
five, being twenty five, being ninety-five; kites; dogs chawing
on ragged rawhide; church-like museums on a Sunday
afternoon; make-shift picnics; deja vu; thrift store
wedding dresses; long drives with comfortable silences;
fading freedoms; censorship; seamless moonlight;
introspective dalliances with self-acceptance; the power
of purpose; how to be the bigger person; how to go
in a new direction; how to rise above . . .
As an era of rage and power surged forth;
there were Nam warriors crossing the line...
did they have fate, did they have a choice
but crown a homeland's need for supreme win?
Dressed in fatigues, soldiers baked in hot sun
booby traps and minefields nailed on minds,
as wet noon blazed around their acidic voices,
morphine and death kicking dim walls of night.
From 1965- to 75, this lost war ended...
the comedy of politics gone wrong,
although a homecoming of men’s brigade
lost a victory... screams of peace reigned.
Promote peace not war
Sponsor: Silent One
10/27/2015
For Natalia Kills
Are the majority
of things in
life controversies?
It seems like
there is always
another side
of the story
You have to
maneuver delicately
amidst the minefields
of trepidations that
pester your
daily routine
Even simple decisions
can cause angst
Who to go out with?
Where to go? When?
Others are involved
making it hard
to appease everyone
Such is life
The colour of an uncomfortable truth
Bullets of ecstasy white powder clear spirits
shots into nothingness forgetting looking away
Translucent syringes monochrome devastation
fighting for a better world wholeness surrendering
to psychedelic transcendental illusion
Explosions into Nirvana black darkness oblivion
powerful mind- and minefields one in the soul
Grenades shed colour of blood guts and gore
the olive skinned baby disappears in a flash
Rockets and missiles illuminate boots on the ground
marching to enchanted delusions of higher stronger
escalation of greed hunger power single vision and death
No stone is untouched no life unworthy of killing
men women children are equal in the addiction of war
Moving pictures on wide screens in high resolution
feature the strong hold of ruinous splashes of fire-works
a true melting pot in the scorching heat of the battle
All shades of skin colours united in excremental demise
interspersed with advertisement for super bowls
fast food consumption computer games Kentucky fried
Mac Evil’s temptation to escape poverty of kindness
Love is a silent rainbow composition of all colours combined
antidote to overwhelming addiction of domination abomination
and being hooked on humanity could shatter the madness
01st June 2016
Nowadays I find myself
In church windows reflected
By the surface of my tea,
Too hot to drink.
I try anyway,
My nose against a brick wall,
(This Jasmine is my sledgehammer)
I burn my tongue,
(This Jasmine is a non-factor)
I set it back down.
I see the fractured, colored glass shimmer in my mug.
Am I like the image of the lamp in the tea?
Glowing for no reason?
Nowadays I rarely find myself.
I take orders.
If I did find myself,
I wouldn’t recognize me, anyway.
It’s just these fractured lights I remember.
Beaming like living lanterns shining towards the way to goodness.
Like I use to.
Like I use to be.
But now I think life is a quantifiable bucket,
The bucket half-empty, half-over and me completely stir-fried,
Gazing over what I see as minefields.
Nowadays I go back-and-forth.
As it suits me,
As it suits the occasion,
I wrangle and ramble, dribbling and babbling
Staggering through empty suburban warfare.
Nowadays I thank God for the emptiness.
The minutiae, the random acts of silence
Can send shock-waves through the spirits made of light,
Secretly keeping them in rhythm for the rest of their lives.
One day I will drop my post as the Barbarian Guardian of Willy-Nilly.
One day I will remember what all the colors mean.
One day I will remember what all the glowing was about.
One day I will skip lousy repetition,
And never repeat a mistake again.
The 1AC is a shot in the dark.
When we use interrogative strategies
we create zones of visibility and possibility.
The potentiality for deliberation
towards a new politic.
The study of bare life signals
radical transformations;
The constitutive ambiguity of theory
is never clear-- is always double
Thinking of thinking;
A reflection that interrogates
the link between life and politics.
The relation between power
is complicated to consider.
The most authentic paradigm:
Sovereignty corresponds to ability
And ability not to be: a state of exception.
An act is sovereign when it realizes itself.
Bodies are made intelligible
through visibility and value.
When these components
are removed, what is left?
Operating in the shadows,
the truth often stays hidden
Fights break out like
“walking on minefields.”
Silently governed interests
implement policy which
silently neglect populations
further into the margins.
The bodies of the victims
emphasize this state of
exception making it more difficult
to identify, articulate and critique.
There are rare but significant attempts
to conceive the indistinguishably
between law and life.
Debate helps curtail individual power:
to shape behaviors and attitudes,
to be made visible and speak to the
systemic character of American injustice.
The possibility to fill the void
and mitigate impact of fighting.
Education can have a
dramatic impact. Mental
stimulation and meaningful
human interaction cause
social connection,
Zones of indistinction
regain the meaning they lost.
The key is to create alternative
conceptualizations of self
in relationship to others.
With broad political and social
movements standing behind,
uniting the call on the part of
democratic transformations.
Any radical change will be
more than cosmetic.
Young people now carry the banner
of struggle. Of democratic life.
A variety of discourses developed
to avert stemming the flow--
reverting to secrets we do not know.
Claiming that debaters can “solve”
by repeatedly rejecting and interrogating
the tradition is a key strategy in creating
new modes of being the secret to every exception.
How it unfolds remains to be seen.
The Path to Purple
Crimson chakra at the base the sacred perineum short lengths waving
a holy colour wholesome changing mingling like an ocean crest and you
the surfer riding life with Delphic dolphins searching for answers to
questions posed un-posed ascending let go assembled webbed together for
survival safety escape from blood tinged minefields of human aberration
rooting in what is yet to come the rainbow pastel taming tides of passion
Red like the emperor’s clothes in nubile nudity native naivety reflected
shades of vibrant healthy tissues the womb the curse and inspiration
aspiring to violet the crown from simple found foundations on the road and
swerving journey from war to peace evaporating hatred to compassion
25th July 2016
Through gangsters with guns scowling sad streets of sin
Through bad hearts that get broken and they never mend
Through pitfalls of peril on roads of ruination
Through dark deeds of evil that lead to devastation
Through storms of the soul that destroy everything
I've got an army of angels keeping me safe
Through wicked war zones and mental minefields
Through casualties crying...bleeding blood,sweat,and tears
Through endless fears that turn into fire
Through demons getting paid while driving our desires
When the bait is on the hooks from a fiery lake...
I've got an army of angels keeping me safe
Through wreckage in wastelands
Through angry arms and hateful hands
Through rusted steel jungles of jeapordy...
I'm running like a rabbit through a crazy crime scene
Through silent screams sinking in quicksand
One thousand ropes descend from divine and holy hands
I ascend up above...up to my fathers throne of grace
I've got an army of angels keeping me safe
Not physically but mentally
as I reckoned with
my precarious situation
caused by years of
philosophical indifference
bestowed upon myself
while I was skipping
to and fro through
the minefields of existence
wondering where I was heading
with a gleeful exuberance
that bordered on naivete
Now I felt as if I had
been kidnapped by circumstances
As if things were
spiraling out of control
But I knew
deep down inside
that if I remained
calm and balanced
things would work out
In the Trenches, In Love
Digging deep, entrenched,
barricaded against love's bayonet,
securing the heart,
impregnable, shielded,
but,
love breaches the lines.
The defences crumble,
walls of steel melt away,
shields are lowered,
minefields disappear,
as,
love overwhelms the night.
Alone now, desolate, exposed,
my embattled heart lies injured,
the fatal blow being dealt by you,
in the trenches, in love.
betroth yourselves
to old houses of Charlottenburg
let yourselves be mollycoddled
by the petrified rain king
buy yourselves a shiny armour
of a former seraphim
call yourselves bourgeois,
dear ambassadors of art
prosy playwriters
live futile lives
full of futile effort
we are the revenants of heedlessness
the masses of plastic limpidness
and cubists that paint no more
like vortex and vertigo
we're abstract in a colour gamut
but I only like to whisper
among the lilies of rusty minefields
replacing the city with simplicity
The marriage proposal
like a forced march
through Fort Jackson, a backpack
Full of chert beating on his spine.
He stood his ground with her.
His actions spoke volumes.
Good soldiers die with assurance.
No romance in war.
Refreshingly quiet,
The dutiful tour.
She paced herself sleepy.
She could rest in peace.
Honor the hero.
(He'd saved her once.)
Uniform with purpose.
Fight the good fight.
The battle impressed.
Things escalated.
Orders got shouted.
Ammunition, manufactured.
Grenades for detonating.
Entire minefields laid.
(Dangerous territory:
Don't play the field.)
Tanks roll in now.
She runs for cover.
Still he stands strong.
Warriors don't yield.
Until there is torture.
Torture's illegal.
But you know what gets said
About love, and real war.
They'd die for each other
But living, so different.
They live with surrender:
Embattlement, love.
die on your feet or live on your knees
live as a slave or die bold and free...ringing that bell screaming liberty
mental minefields, thorns and thistles, bomblasts and war whistles
black clouds pouring floods of fire...it starts as a slow sizzle
take a stand...even walkin alone
because every goliath has a stone
stumbling blocks or stepping stones...divide the spoils and conquer the world
giants of doom they fall in defeat...marching on miles of misery
coming on the clouds on thunderous thrones...wise ones and warriors they know the score
monsters of madness turn to dreams and dust... blood and bones
because every goliath has a stone
facing those fears with a force called faith
shooting the wicked...they die with disgrace
taking new lands with righteous revival
no time to rehearse...no time for recitals
victory is vital...everyone should have a nest without thorns...every heart should have a
home
because every goliath has a stone
give me the blessing as i send back the curse...wrecking and rolling that long black herse
send me a doctor send me a nurse...bring on the medicine man
give me a miracle from the palm of Gods hands
as i sink in quicksand He throws me a rope
because every goliath has a stone
anthony_beesley@yahoo.com