Best Mobilize Poems
Anticipating a peace march,
it is easy to get
cynical.
How to prepare,
what to wear,
a uniform to confront the uniform.
We mobilize and mobilize
in response to
mobilization.
Yin and Yang.
We and Them.
Spy versus Spy.
Frick and Frack.
The march goes on,
a suicidal drumbeat,
sheep to slaughter,
life and death,
death and life,
to step out of line
is to aid the enemy,
to join the line
is to aid the enemy.
The real problem is
just the shared
enmity.
On the energy waves of the eons,
Of lyric and line ever-forming,
One is injected, transported,
With all vibrations bursting
Through the human heart and mind,
The jolting edge of innovation
And every positive passion.
Even the cynic or child may sense,
When riding such a current,
The power native to humanity.
Synapses now malfunctioning
Cannot forever thwart their charge.
Mankind has the voltage needed
To mobilize all the connectors.
Imagine if seeds of trees hatched to Tree-lings.
Seedlings with two trunk legs and root feet
Bodies like humans covered in bark
Arm branches with finger shoots and leaves
Head with eyes, nose, ears and mouth
Like those cut into tree trunks eons ago.
Meet the Ents, pre-tree creatures,
Half-man, half-tree, destined to mature into trees.
When they are about two-score rings old and more
Their tired trunks grow roots
And Ents lose their human-like features and become just trees.
Ents can walk to establish new Ent colonies.
Ent armies can mobilize and fight against loggers
Who want to hack down their grand parents the trees.
You can stroll with an Ent on long walks through the forest
To hear their wonderful stories and legends.
Ents can talk and sing their arbor songs.
They also have ears and can hear what you say to them.
So you can talk to the trees, give them a hug
And say how much you love them.
But watch out, as Ents can be very argumentative,
Especially about how the forests are being cleared and
Roads cut through their midst, and even global warming.
Ents are too big and messy with leaf drop to invite into your home.
But they love a picnic in the open.
They hate smoke, which they fear, and so barbecues are out.
They love going to the beach where they can dip their toes and trunks.
The mangroves taught them how to swim and they love to bathe and swim about,
In the cool seawater and play with the seaweed and kelp.
They float well, and love to jump in a river and get carried downstream in the current.
They love a game of ring-around-rosy and even a maypole game.
Ents are are also very good and gentle with kids.
They love to have kids climb and play in their branches.
They are avid experts at swinging and swirling kids around their trunks.
So next time you wander through a forest
Call out "Ent, Ents can You Hear Me?"
Gently tap on trunks as you go
And don't be surprised if you hear the leaves rustle
Or hear a grumble, and see Ent eyes pop open in slits in the bark.
Ents love a chat and hug and a cuddle, and a scratch in their bark
Even when they get lazy and get rooted to the ground.
The Ents are there, you just need to believe in them and find them.
Anticipating
a peace march,
it's easy to get cynical.
How to prepare,
what to wear,
a uniform to confront
the uniform.
We mobilize
and mobilize
in responce to
mobilization.
Yin and Yang.
We and Them.
Spy vs. Spy.
Frick and Frack,
the march goes on,
a suicidal drumbeat,
sheep to slaughter,
life and death, death and life,
to step out of line
is to aid the enemy.
To join the line
is to aid the enemy.
The real problem is
just the shared
enmity.
Hastening t'ward the grayscale skies,
On gilded wings an angel flies.
While demons wail of their despise;
Hiss and moan, their sole reprise.
A lightning flash; the angel sighs
A rush of wind, and then she dies.
Oh, how the heavens agonize
And thunderously vocalize.
While in the mayhem devils rise
With beating drums to signalize
Their ill intent to terrorize
The broken hearts and reddened eyes
Whose cherub tears the Earth baptize.
But demon laughter amplifies
The vengeful thirst across the skies
And solemn, anguished seraph cries
The host of heaven unifies.
With swords aloft they mobilize
Their concourse as a vast sunrise
Whose flaming swords the clouds incise
And radiant light Earth pacifies.
Yet mankind fails to realize
Except the prudent and the wise
The storm is naught but a disguise,
Oh do you hear the old Magi’s
Verse for men which edifies?
Or listen to him rhapsodize
How from the light, the darkness flies
And from the rain, the sunlight dries?
Perhaps…he oversimplifies.
Open Secrets :
https://youtu.be/inEu2qQuGZ8
If we want a great nation, we have to change it ourselves.
To survive in peace and harmony, united and strong, we must have one people, one nation, one flag.
My message to you all is of hope, courage and confidence. Let us mobilize all our resources in a systematic and organized way and tackle the grave issues that confront us with grim determination and discipline worthy of a great nation.
A battle lost or won is easily described, understood, and appreciated, but the moral growth of a great nation requires reflection, as well as observation, to appreciate it.
A nation whose youth are endowed
with self as strong and hard as steel .
No need of piercing swords in war,
such people brave can ever feel.
The world of Pleaders and the Moon,
By natural laws is chained and bound .
whereas the world in which you dwell,
Owns insight, will and mind much sound.
what do the quivering waves imply,
save enormous zeal and zest for quest?
what lies concealed in mother shell
is a Gift of God who knows it best.
The hawk is never tired of flight,
Does not drop gasping on the ground :
If unwearied it remains one wings,
From hunters' dread is safe and sound.
I always like to look on the optimistic side of life, but I am realistic enough to know that life is a complex matter.
My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style.
Life doesn’t require that we be the best, only that we try our best.
By Miss Aliza Kashmala Kiran.
Wisping winds whisk whispered whimsies willows’ way.
By the pond, we ponder potent possibilities posed by pollinated passions.
As we divine dallying delights depicting developing days,
Moonbeams mobilize to mob us on the mossy mound.
Monster clouds roam with fiery open jaws
Memories of past freeze momentary pause
Storming tides advance with fiery rainfall
Followed by sounds of a shattering landfall.
Spirits resolve as gusty winds blow roof top
Families will soon rise to clean up and mop
Determined as ever to mobilize and survive
Hoping to keep remnants of memories alive.
Leaving behind the dread of storm unbidden
Lifting up each time such grief has stricken
Moving swiftly hoping for a construction loan
Dredging through an atrocious disaster zone.
Such repetitious blows becoming annual thing
Calling for prayers, God's heavenly blessing
Flying high with spirits on the Angel's wings
For the love and hope they continually bring.
Having heard cries of compassionate calls
Resounding like the magnificent Angel Falls
With unbroken resolve our nation stands tall
Shattered lives rebuild hearing the protocol.
September 13, 2017
I hear preacher telling me
If I am on earth, rich, happy
I have had my good share
When I die to hell I may go
That is, if I was not charitable
But that looks unfair to me
A billionaire who worked hard
With a lot of property on earth
I can’t accept to suffer hereafter
I shall mobilize all human beings
To raise five billion signatures
And present before God, Creator
To change the divine constitution
When one is rich here on earth
He should be rich in heaven too
When one is poor here on earth
He should go there poor and suffer
Because in heaven we need porters
Servants and maids the rich shall need
Or else by present divine constitution
There is no need to die and leave earth
Where did all the dandelions go?
Sometimes it isn't clear with these human fellows
Situations can be grey, not only black and yellow
We need them now, don't they know?
People seem to despise these little weeds
I happen to think they are pretty killer
It's tricky business though, to avoid the tiller
If they only knew, Oh Honey! this bee's got needs!
It really stings when they spray them down
Even though we strive to stay alive in our hive
It's spring and not all the flowers have arrived
So buzz off humans, this is our town
With our Queen in command, we rise!
Special unit, Nectar Collector Sector
You won't find us with your best insect prospector
When we mobilize upward to the skies
So we hover at antenna and prepare to fly
Calling all swarms, fall in and migrate
We're heading out, YOU attempt to pollinate
Bee warned humans, can't say we didn't try
Americans today are quite polarized
All we do is complain and criticize
The rhetoric ramping ever upward, uncivilized
The ranting and the raving has us desensitized
We sorely need something to mobilize us
An event to overwhelm and mesmerize us
E.T., please come back to Earth and hypnotize us
Leave us not to our own devices...
We're born keyless.
Then given plastic keys to play with.
We earn our first key of responsibility.
To mobilize-to enter things.
To cage things-to abuse things.
Like a warden with a cluster of keys
letting the good out- keeping the bad ones in
or is it the other way around?
A steady stream of keys.
Like a bird-every key sings
,, especially the skeleton key.
Only a few keys are able to keep your secrets.
Eventually there is a chorus of keys
Most of mine(secrets) are silver or gold
Some are dirty, some are clean.
Only one of them is king
but none of them are green
We often lose them
Then a mad search commences,
Like a red-eyed druggie rooting for a quick fix,
We smile in relief when we find them,
Hugging them as if they were our children.
Keys grow old, become battered and bent
Some wriggle off the ring.
Every year we have fewer keys.
Keys are a lot like friends,
What a relief it must be to be keyless again.
Write me with full meaning not incomplete,
Do not put me on the door of meaning
Then under the pretext explainers..
Raises a whirlwind of criticism.
Do not crowned me by poems,
Then by letters tighten me to the bed of thoughts.
Do not extracted sweet talk from my lips,
Nor liquefied musk from my neck,
Do not mobilize armies of language in my ground,
Nor warble your poems,
My doors are closed, wrapped in silence
You are too close to letters
Too distant from heart.
And there are not enough cubicles and grey paneling that
sugar rock candy lights won’t cut
the sapling eye from its still decline into Abyss.
And there are not enough sad thoughts wars rapes to gratify inward hatreds which never walk the feather but mobilize the thousand marching whales across an entire worlds sandy interior.
across every turtle egg.
If there are secrets below us we are too many
too numerously traveling
a cacophonous tandem that secrets could survive our drumming lull.
Surely we have broken all our secrets with our song.
I hear only ever what anyone always forever has known.
I have no doubt anymore.
There is only sand below.
No. The saddest days are behind in mouths of our trekking bedded with pruned flowers who wilted passing along the snaking vine of history which coils and dies as mast and pointed finger at every moment we recall our saddest days.
But these days are not polished aged silvers of goals and just conquering, but like a sword waved through crowds at night where the tallest fell in heads and became mountainous cultures of sporadic hands where finally at this moment cresting backwards
we see our ladder in dawn
and it is blood.
Every possible minute from every now onwards.
Each point along stretches back marking the infinite fence of beginnings lamely ticked from the chain which links them. Such that as time leans in the depth of reflection, in the understanding of casual existence, of tragedy, everyday comedy — the noon will bite its appearance, and we will miss our lunch.
Dry and sour throats work along this real thing.
Where there was once water and loss
Is the leftward image of death in decline.
We are not so caring as to want for our lives.
For as long as we want others, and acquire others, and drift from others — who were once familiars — only to drift back and want again, and not be in haste of charging this social pattern with contempt of experience;
Of laughing at us,
Doubting our depths,
Then there is hope.
If not, then we shall continue.
But we will not have our sadness.
We will dry our tears from each other
And mask the body to wed from time.
This tomb is a forever we would not escape.
It is a death amidst the sand.
The river awaits.
I looked into the eyes of the moon
I knew something was going to happen soon
My city was under sage
From my enemies, like a beast
In a furious rage.
People are seen running helter skelter
Running up and down to disperse
Their shelter running cautiously into the woods
Carrying with them their lives and
Their goods.
Our army was so weak
The commander had been trying
To mobilize them for a week
Throughout the journey
There was a scourge of silence
The only person who spoke
Was his royal highness
As we journeyed through foreign
Lands
We were terrorized and seized by a
Foreign band
They took to their big fortified city
Each and every one of us was
revoked to self pity
we were set to work, and placed
on a lot of burden
at the end of the day, we were
given a bowl of pudding
My job was to carry stones and bricks
And take out the horses to have
a drink in the creeks.
I knew there was light
at the end of the tunnel
you can easily tell if dirt
passes through a funnel
On our own we put to test an uproar
Devouring our enemies like an hungry boar
We thought our city
Was going to be in ruins
As we approached we could
Perceive the smell of fumes
In happiness we saw our city
In splendor
It’s walls standing steadily in it’s best of
Grandeur.