Best Propagated Poems
My one burning wish -
I want not to fade away
like rotten lace, dumped
onto a trash heap and forgotten.
I want to leave myself behind,
for those who come after
to inhale during breakfast.
Not money, like my mother,
who judged it to be the only thing
of worth she had to leave behind,
as though her love meant nothing,
as though her virtue didn't count.
A nonpareil pattern of motherhood,
of personhood for that matter,
written in permanent script,
propagated in layers of goodness,
flung onto her progeny
with the glue of infinity.
As long as I live, so will she.
I want that,
when it's my turn to go.
She came from nowhere, mouse-like quiet
At first we thought it’s just a trick
But soon her powers were dark like night
We saw her strength cut to the quick.
Covidia came from foreign lands
But traveled fast with power and speed
And she was subtle with sneaky hands
She quickly knew our wants and needs.
Some ignored her presence here
And chose to be aloof and brave
They would never express their fear
Freedom was their cry to save.
Others feared with cautious worry
And wanted to precautions take
At first we thought there is no hurry
But soon we rippled in her wake.
Covidia forced a change in life
Restrictions limit what we do
Isolation and the daily strife
Removed the things we thought we knew.
She swept away our social life
She caused our isolation
She propagated grief and strife
A plague upon our nation.
Many chose to ignore her power
And haughty would proclaim beliefs
But on the deathbed they did cower
And beg for peace and just relief.
Respect her and her powers now
She’s ruled us for some time
But slowly we will find out how
To stop her on a dime.
A normal life returns someday
Covidia will be lost
Never forget the price we’ve paid
The death and all the cost.
O LORD my God, define my purpose in Your Name that my confident path fades not obscure but blooms with clarity in mind, body and spirit.
- For in each of Your beloved children
is a Heavenly seed to be cultivated.
- Guide my every action that in Your
Name, I thoroughly nurture to full
growth my potentials perfect bloom
of divinity.
- Show me the way to a manifestation
of my
perfect vision for then I shall have eternally
served You by being true to my highest
calling as earthly propagated.
- I ask Thee to receive and bless my full
permission and cooperation in consciousness
towards Your Heavenly seed as given me that
it achieve Your desires in and through me.
No Particle Theory can ever be Unified –
for there is always the space between...the
unknown that separates while binds us
in a matrix of primitive wonder. Dark
Matter is only dark to those accustomed to one
light...for those whose eyes adjust to the
thin horizons of others who have passed
before them – and not the endless expanse within,
the heart and soul of a boundless Universe. So,
we slowly peel-back our outer layers, those of
earth and moon, the illumining stars, limiting
skins of meagerly defined senses. Without God
there is only Science...
hopping from one physical rock to the other, skimming
over the depth of spaces,
stepping cautiously into shallow pools
as yet to explore the unimaginable realms
of a far greater Spiritual Sea.
(More Context)
We are observers...consciousness existing
in an elevated dimension of reality. Difficult
to imagine, yet our thoughts are entirely
separate from our physical senses and their
body sources; we truly, not figuratively,
look in or down upon the many instances
and vehicles of manifest substance.
There can only be
one Unified Theory: it must be a Continuity Theory,
where separation is merely an elaborate illusion:
In fact, all we see and seem are Wave effects
propagated through a flexible yet solid dimension,
driven by vibrations or shivers (so to speak) –
Waves collide, and those peaks or points
of collision become our physical reality –
these are the pixels our eyes and minds interpret
and assemble in the likeness of recalled
references, desires and predilections – We look down,
look in, look out, but always from positions independent
of the objects of our inquiry. Mind, Consciousness
is entirely independent of the physical. This
explains the phenomenon of Savants. Our
brains are not developing receptacles of
knowledge – but, in fact, developing
gateways. Who we are, where we come
from, and how long we live progresses
far outside our experiences of birth and
death.
We had saved our precious stock of grandpa’s grape
prepared the ground and amended the soil.
After laying out the orchard, we planted cuttings with our own hands.
Fed the young vines with love and creek water
and waited for the work of the rain and sun
before giving birth to the wine.
To insure that his family would produce the best wine.
Grandpa, tho’ as straggly as his grape
cleared trees and topped them to admit the sun.
He would not purchase plants for his soil
and dug the trenches wider and accessed our water.
He was self sufficient and he propagated vines by his hand
We prevented winds from whipping vines out of hand
to best grow and mature the soul of our wine.
The vines followed the contour of steep site which brought the water.
The rows ran north and south to suit the grape - -
this presented light while drying and controlling the soil
allowing the plants to follow the eastern and western sun.
We placed much faith on the drying done by the sun.
We had one to backfill. We wished we had more willing hands.
We had two to dig holes, and one to hold the vine and tamp the soil,
as the fruit began to ripen to marry our precious wine.
A crew of four was used for setting the grape.
The Vines should not be sprinkled with too much water.
We made plans to prevent soil erosion and loss of water
to the harden the wood and expose it to rays of the sun.
The Niagra White and Riesling grape.
Both needed pruning and the waste hay cut our hands.
We made sure our methods were best for the wine.
They would mature late, even in warm soil.
We found that more humus was wanted by the soil.
Some magic was performed to deliver more water.
alas, for the reward of a not so remarkable wine.
Again the wait, the prayers, the morning dew and sun.
More work, more time, sweat and callused hands.
The next year we tried a grafted grape.
We had saved our precious stock of grandpa’s grape
prepared the ground and amended the soil.
After laying out the orchard, we planted cuttings with our own hands.
Fed the young vines with love and creek water
and waited for the work of the rain and sun
before giving birth to the wine.
Our final wine was surrendered by the sun.
We captured the prize from our water and our soil.
My hands, today, still stained with the color of the grape.
Lay down the spoon and still the hand that shakes
the smell of cooking mixed with that of fear
eyes reddened, wide, haunted expression make
await a fury fuelled by drugs and beer.
Self worth crushed long ago by vicious tongue
of loving parent's warning took no heed
her bruises say they were right all along
in symphony with her both their hearts bleed.
On garden bench she sat and sought recess
bent forward, hands clenched, pinned between her knees
fighting to quell the tightness in her chest
belaboured heart rate slowed, she drank the breeze.
Before her, nodding back in sympathy
once cuttings, propagated in their bed
now standing proud amidst the greenery
a solitary bloom in vivid red.
Years past they graced the altar, happy day
the ceremony over, left in peace
one rose remains from times when love held sway
companion for her in rare times of peace
Plucked ,she held the stem and asked the flower
'through which door and how long 'till real love comes?
Pray, am I to languish in his power?'
the answer in the red bead on her thumb.
Conclusion come to and no need to speak
With fingertips she brushes back her mane
resting the scented blossom on her cheek
Unwary petal catches salty rain.
Viv Wigley
24th October 2015
For 'any sad poem' contest, sponsor- Broken Wings.
originally submitted mistakenly as a Sonnet, and have not changed form description to remind me to be more careful in future, for reference.
The first person who grew wheat
would have been called “wheat”
and hence the local chieftain and village folks
would have given a nomenclature
to his discovery,
honoring it with his name
it would have been his name
or something rhyming with it
like “cheat”, “heat” or “eat”
or perhaps “treat”
there was probably someone called “gehu”
in India, who grew this grain
and there is a resembling treatise of words
“gay hun” (I am gay) proclaiming sexual choice
giving it a contemporary feel
of an alternative orientation
were they different people who grew it
at the same time, in the different parts of the world?
was it really Mr. Wheat
Or el trigo, blé or weizen
Spanish, French or German
was the wandering original Mr. Wheat
or cheat or heat or the Russian pshenitsy
who propagated this and we missed his chronicles?
and we missed his chronicle of travels
and basic grassroots experiences
of the genesis of rotis and cakes
of flavor stimulants, of bakes
and of the grass of wheat
for a figure conscious succulent lass
wheat and all its ontology
and the first one’s ecstasy
whosoever it was
had a higher calling
than the current day diminution
Announcement to all Outer party members:
Thomas Woodward is dead. He is an unperson. You are to incinerate anything in your possession that might be contaminated with his DNA. All memories of him are to be forgotten.
It is rumored that some of you have been infected by his mentally deranged rants and poetry. More specifically, that a few pages from his personal journal may have been copied and passed among you. He was a madman, an agent of Goldstein. His confession of his many crimes was broadcast publicly, as you are all aware.
You have heard that he wrote: "Happiness is the freedom to say, to think, to be and to do whatever one wishes." Such untruths have long been exposed and denounced by the Party. "Individuality is the future," another untruth propagated by a filthy mind. The Party has long held that oppression is freedom, and that individuality is delusion. There is no I, only we. There is no individual, only the collective. To think independently is to promote chaos, anarchy. The collective mind promotes peace, unity. The Party must survive, therefore the Party must remain united. Again we say, oppression is freedom. By bringing every thought, dream and aspiration into captivity, thereby obliterating individuality, the Party member becomes part of the unified whole and is thus free to love Big Brother with all his mind, heart, and strength. To love and serve the Party in perfect obedience is the pinnacle of existence. It is the greatest of all freedoms.
Thomas Woodward is dead. He is an unperson. In fact, he never existed at all.
One further announcement: Victory gin rations are to be increased by fifty percent beginning tomorrow.
*artwork deviantart
Girl, Who lied to you?
Who told you that being you just won't do?
Who told you that your flabby thighs and your big brown eyes were uncouth?
Who told you that you weren't pretty enough and that your skin was just too rough?
And I want to know who broke your spirit within, never to dream again...
to live again, to just be...
Where is the sparkle that burned like stars in the sky in your pretty brown eyes?
What about your sashay and sway, was it also taken away?
What about that gorgeous smile that one could see from a mile....
Away--it all disappeared day by day.
You see at first it was an internal decay...
Your joy, your praise, your graciousness, your faith..
Your gratitude was replaced by an attitude toward them, her and him..
What used to shine like a gem has now become dim.
And as your spirit became corrupt, volcanic lava began to erupt...
From the depths of your soul, into you...the natural you.
And now you want to be "Barbie".
Confined to this image propagated everyday
that constantly reminds you that being you ain't okay
"Watch those carbs!"
"Too much fat!"
"Count those calories!"
"You can't eat that!"
And now your mind is preoccupied with looking like "Miss Thing,"
That vision, hope, and destiny have no room to make you dream.
Not worrying about your future, or what legacy you'll leave...
Not worrying about the up and coming generation of women that will be left to
grieve...
Your loss..
But then have to pay the cost of your neglect and disrespect of yourself and others
Girls, Women, Mothers..
You're too busy trying to find "Mr. Right" when you should be finding you...
The you that lies inside the truth.
You see, your beauty is not limited to what lies on the surface but rather the spirit
that dwells within..
Your beauty is found in balance...
Your beauty is expressed through creativity...
Being you, Not being me, she or he...
He created you to be...
Creative, unique, purpose driven, free...
To give life, not cause strife...
Who Lied To You?
Poverty, Racism, Classism, Low and even No Self Esteem,
Ignorance, Your Past, and even Your Present Lied to You.
But don't be shaken, for you have now be awakened to the lies of your youth...
that been dispelled by the truth...
That is the proof...
That your beauty just like mine...
Has now been DISCOVERED!
Form:
" Answering The Call "
The fighting American soldiers who answered our need
they are all the brave men who followed the creed
I think of past history with a silent rage
as I give this thought for you all to gauge.
Remember the leaders who all asked that we
as the mighty American's fight for our liberty
all the America people they sought to deceive
the primary cause as to why our souls grieve.
We had faith and trusted all those we elected
we all thought that our rights would all be protected
we never did question the right nor the wrong
now we are the victims of this misguided throng.
It is not our great flag which is in error
but those giving birth who raised all this terror
they called upon us all to hold back this tide
our wives, sisters and mothers were left here and cried.
Some may have fled and shunned the plea
to go and fight this fight for our great liberty
America's brave soldiers are all very young
most have reported when that summons rung.
American's are to their duty so honor bound
just as strong as a seed is to the ground
we have never fought before a war of dissension
demanding from our soldiers such comprehension.
There has never been a war of such half support
propagated by such a political false report
so many have fought and too many have died
we are beginning to see that they have lied.
These soldiers return home from a war that is unfinished
and find that the honor of the duty is diminished
all soldiers will hate this battle they lost
both before and after who paid the cost?
Who is doing the fighting and who has died
who are the real victims of those who lied
who sees a faded glory in this wasted fight
all the soldiers returning in the dead of night.
Are we all so wrong to jump to this deed
by Answering The Call of our nations need
we all think not nor would we flee
if we are called again by this democracy...
Penned By MPK
Quote: Life Is Poetry In Motion, Great Poets Reflect Emotion...
War Is...
War is unkind to servicemen, women, animals, flora, fauna, nature's terrains, seas, atmospheres, and everything else
War is unjust and unethical to everyone
War is the slaughtering of innocent young and old men and women of both sides which are fighting for their leader's version of freedom, or simply protecting themselves from so called enemies
War is fought on both domestic and forgein lands
War is authorized and legalized mass murder of both sides
War is an inevitable necessity evil in order to be free
War is beyond expensive monetarily, mentally, physically, psychologically, death stats, and causality states versus survival stats
War is heartbreaking, heart-wrecking, and heart-wrenching, to the servicemen, to the parents, lovers, wives, husbands, and children of servicemen on both sides
War is caused by several different variables usually for economic and territorial gain
religion, Nationalism, revenge, Civil War,
revolutionary, being defensive, ethnic cleansing and other ideological mass killings, globalism, world domination, and so many others
War is fought by young and old men and women as either draftees, or volunteers
War is ugly
War is horrific
War is traumatic
War is dramatic
War is psychologically scarring
War is terrifying
War is brutal
War is common
War is unpopular
War is propagated
War is hated
War is detrimental
War is immoral
War is sometimes manufactured
War is unpreventable
War is fighting for your and their commander-in-chief's ideologies whether you like it or not
War is glorified
War is sometimes created by opposing forces in order to gain something from one another
War is everything I mentioned above and so much more
War is not a favorite of mine, however, as United States Navy veteran and having lots of veterans in my family as well there is no harm in honoring and respecting the young and old men and women who died in war for us, and those that didn't die in battle but still served in the military for all of us!
For years, the ominous signs were palpable
The deep fraternal mistrust festered and discernable
Propagated by colonial masters to divide and make Rwanda malleable
And left lingering became monstrous and uncontrollable
Snowballing in 1994 into an orgy of murderous hate
As Hutu brothers turned against their Tutsis siblings
For three cruel months respect for human life was obliterated
For three bloody months sanctity of human existence perished
As the government of the day made killing an obligation
And mobilized the population through official propaganda
To destroy all Tutsis and saboteur-Hutus
At the end of the Holocaust over one million Tutsis were sent to the great
beyond
Dreams and hopes were shattered
Loved ones massacred in the most agonizing and cruel manner
While the indifferent international community looked on unconcerned
Just like after the rain comes sunshine
The blood of the martyrs of Rwanda has irrigated and purified
The country of a thousand hills
Which has risen from the ashes of the gory tragedy
To a land flowing with peace and tranquility
To a Haven for tourists and investors
To a land of calm and forward- looking citizens
Committed to work and put their past behind
And queuing behind their charismatic Leader
They cry unceasingly and with one voice
‘’Never again shall bestiality descend in our clime’’
You think, therefore
You're rising with the rising stars
But in dreams
You're falling to the far side
Day by day
Collecting what's yours from your sales
Of whatever it is you sell these days
You watch your profits double
But in the nighttime lying down on your back
You feel the sores, the numbness on your backside
And you feel your soul's down
Led to backslide
Taking stock of life
Feeling like you've been defined
You reach into your inner rebel
And begin to revel
In the ideas in which all rebels revel
And a new track of thought
Begins to unravel
Riches are illusions
Of grandeur propagated by the grandiose
I was richer spending time by the fireside
Cramps in my toes
The cold caressing my back and sides
Roasting mice or crushing lice
Or sitting and reminiscing
I was richer spending time by the fireside
In the darker peripheries of the log fire
With no desire
To do the math and devise
With no desire
To figure out how to destroy the earth
Or launch into outer space
Looking for places I could never reach
Now here is my own pitch
And the wise will see what I mean
The moon is the moon and the sun is the sun
And we are us
Living breathing and moving here and now
After all is said and done
I could be Lazarus
Coming back to tell us all, or not,
Just the guy waiting for the rich man cry out
Form:
The human species has been propagated
God knows, we have multiplied way Beyond necessity
We are living longer
Relationships don’t have to only
Be for reproductive purposes
I have an eleven year old cat
Who is hooking up with a one year old
And we think that’s cute
It’s not for multiplying
These cats have been fixed so as not to
Propagate more of that species
But it may be for romance
According to my latest book on cats,
This would be like a 66 year old human
Hooking up with a 24 year old
Which is not considered cute
If the older one is male
He’s a dirty old man
Or lucky – depending on his wealth;
If the older one is female
She’s a cougar
No matter what her wealth
(Back to cats)
I find as I age, I gather knowledge
Which is not necessarily connected to wisdom
My body gathers rust and dust
In creaky bones and wrinkling skin
But my self, my inner person
Stopped aging at about 24
- A mature being
But still young
According to that book
A one-year-old cat
Is like a 24-year old human
Mature; but still young
Which is all to say
I had a dream this morning
Wherein I met a young man
Just out of college and into his career
And he was very attractive
I mean intellectually and spiritually
As well as physically
I am 66 years old
And he was probably 24
I was torn between trying to get near
With the hope of starting
At least a friendship
- And keeping an objective distance
My heart would propel me toward him
My head would see
Reason, Public Opinion; maybe even
Wisdom standing nearby
(Who knows but that I wouldn’t end up
A foolish old wanna be cougar
With a broken heart)
I never made up my mind
And woke up feeling sad
Which is to say
Now I understand Demi and Aston Better
And even though I shudder,
I may even understand Hugh
And his latest wedding fiasco
I wish that in Human Evolution,
We would have not lost
All our fur
Which covered our wrinkles
And kept our bones warm
Cats are lucky
I must refrain from
wearing a mask of depression,
Still retain joy in this deep
recession. Give America a
reason to be, but I must also
decree; that if this world goes
under, society must not
stumble.
But in a dark age of oppression,
we must rise up, and make the
difficult decisions. To keep the
world in disposition, to rise up
and recondition. In this new
world government, we must
rebuild. Reconstruct and regain
tranquility, rather then passing
new bills for these new issues
that arrived because of thee.
We must amalgamate, to
create an environment that is
suitable. For the future of the
commonwealth, retire these
decrepit values, upon which
this country was propagated.
In order for this earth to
burgeon, the earth’s population
must reconciliate. Any being,
man or women, any race
abiding within our communal
purlieus.
For these reasons I must ask
the world to not accept the
future, but instead make a
change to better it. Hopefully
society will never relapse, and
cause another fatal collapse.