Best Subsistence Poems
Judgement
You light the fire, then play the victim.
It's not my fire, yet you let it burn.
Rage and pain drive you insane,
creating a parody of hypocritical lies.
Judgemental eyes ignite in fumes,
ignorant to another man's shoes.
Silent emotions
They say he shows no emotions,
yet fail to see the flow of tears,
crying from his poetic pen.
Poetry is only silent to ignorance.
It's the pain keeping him alive,
breaking all figurative chains.
He realises there is not shame,
when the sorrows of lost time,
become burdens he can't let go.
Yet the hurt makes him stronger.
She
I always knew she'd be the one,
from that novel, whose name I fail to recall.
When I read those words,
her image burst from the page.
I always thought lucidity of my imagination,
was a slightly cruel curse;
until i saw those eyes,
which moved closer in crystal definition,
merging true colours into my heart.
Even in the silence of my dreams,
I called for just one kiss from her lips.
Misunderstood muse
There won't be any poetry tonight,
nothing to say, to see nor to write.
An absence of subtle reflection in words,
become a substance of subsistence.
Confused with silent existence of timeless distance.
Insistence of your resistance,
seems like a waste of emotions,
in a false dawn of devotions.
Learn to create perfect harmonies
through simple sincere symphonies.
Then your predicament will not breed,
nor succeed in its egotistical need.
Simple Musings
Silent One
8 December 2019
Oh my misunderstood muse -
love and life;
It's not just a hobby -
It's my dream,
but demons in my mind
run wild at night....
So there won't be any poetry tonight.
Nothing to say,
to see nor to write...
My quill
does not care
for the combination of
April and Spring flowers,
nor merrily singing sparrows,
building nests,
preparing for birth.
I've not left the season
of bitter death.
I refuse to express,
as it's a confession,
so, I let my garden succumb
to deadly suppression.
Oh my misunderstood muse,
if not here,
then where will I find clarity?
Telling you my truth
was difficult.
Each second
is a nemesis to my identity,
so I'm burning pages
of time to ashes.
An absence of
subtle reflection in words,
becomes a substance of
proverbial subsistence,
as reflections of
past poems torment
in fluorescent flashes.
I'm confused with the
existence of timeless distance.
Remember when
we listened to the stunned stars,
as the miserable moon
hid behind clouds,
resembling the shadows of
your manipulative lies.
Insistence of your resistance cries,
seems like a waste of emotions,
in a false dawn of devotions.
You used to make me laugh like crazy,
as we danced among roses and daisies,
but we struggled to
create perfect harmonies,
ignoring simple sincere symphonies.
Oh my misunderstood muse,
I've drained all of your ink...
Burying you in an
unmarked grave.
Now your predicament will not breed,
nor succeed in its egotistical need.
THIS IS THE DAY THE LORD GAVE!
Looking out life’s window,
Trying to find out why I am so sad and down.
I don’t blame the Lord for my struggles.
I know strife in life is there.
If I did not live a meaningful existence, life would have no meaning at all.
So maybe I am stretched to the limit but I will never give-up.
Standing, I pillar because I am my self-worth.
To those that suggest a difference, my earthly work magnifies who I am.
Justifying my subsistence, my affluence is only a gen.
The knowledge this provides is of a greater acumen.
May I say that living is first and utmost privileged circumstance!
The Lord is my keeper and to him I give honor and respect.
In this solitary world, we seek companionship.
We go through situations in our relationships and may lose focus.
However, the Lord is there for us in our time of discontent.
Regime is formed and we mindset.
Our spirits are inner cored for fulfillment.
There is no greater cohort than the Lord’s intellect.
I know because this mountain I continue to peak.
Without question, I am profound in my belief.
That the Lord is the keeper of my faith and mankind is the persuader of a different way.
In joy, I laugh aloud.
I am not blind to the lies of mankind.
My footsteps are admin to the all-powerful.
This day is given by The Almighty God.
Do I hear an Amen?
___________________________________________________________________
Penned On January 11, 2015!
Embryo formed.
Fetus became.
A girl baby I am.
My creator I do not know. Procreation states that ovum and sperm conceives. My question is how does this evolve – from God?
We are told there are ninety-nine names given to the omnipotent. Let us take
a walk.
Imagine a vision that all us possess of The Almighty.
He states, oh I know you call me God, the Lord, Jehovah.
Some call me Allah.
I tell you that all these names make no difference.
I am your creator.
The creatures of the Earth are animals.
The beings are my people.
You are of the greater intellect and animals’ spirituality is their understanding.
The world is ritualized to both.
Each knows their subsistence.
Affluence is all way of life divided for profusion.
Prey...
Work...
Both have no indifference to a certain extent.
I am of man and woman and I am the eyes of human.
Life will form for me within humanity.
Animal is part of this divinity.
____________________/
From this visualization, what knowledge did I received; that my creator is ovulation and conception. This is an ascertain principle that in the beginning my creator gave me life that formed within modern time.
Revised and edited August 30, 2018!
We are as similar as opposites can be
He's short and puny, I am gangly
He barks when he's happy, angry or sad
Yes, he's my dog and he makes me glad
He looks at me with reverent eyes
As I beg before the world, for a morsel of rice
He's happy even though, it's in a broken voice, I sing
To him I am nothing less than a King
I am dirty and unkempt, my clothes in tatters
When people turn away with disdain, my heart shatters
But he's blissfully unaware of my pathetic existence
To him I am more than just means of subsistence
He is my companion, my friend, my guide
Together we surf the storms and the rising tide
Of everyday life and together we survive
I think, it is for him that I stay alive
As the day winds down, our spoils we share
In a dirty corner of a dirty street; Our lair
We always eat together, never alone
He always gives me the meat, and gnaws on a bone
I talk to him about past's glory, and today's misery
The world laughs at me and calls me crazy
But he wags his tail as though understanding it all
And snuggles up to me and sleeps, when night falls
Extreme temperatures
Melting of glaciers
Rising sea level
Wildfires
Forests' obliteration
Draughts
Drying up of lakes and rivers
Desertification
Hurricanes
Storms
Floodings, and
Landslides
Is the vocabulary, Mother Nature uses, to
Pen ts stern warning to Man:
" Oh, you thoughtless being, mind your ways and revere,
my eternal laws of harmonious cooperation and coexistence
otherwise, unable would I be to provide for your subsistence."
-
© Demetrios Trifiatis
26 July 2023
-
For more than two weeks the temperatures in Greece have been around
40 Celcius. Sometimes, like today it is 45.
During this period wildfires are raging across the country. It comes a day that
our firefighters are trying to contain more than eighty fires.
-
I’ve been blinded by a blistering light
An atomic angel in the nuclear night
Have they come to take us away at last?
Have they come to punish us for the past?
Let me just hold on
Hold on to these few threads
“Papa, can we bring them
Till we get back home again?”
I’m here in the wilderness with my kin
A makeshift shelter from sticks so thin
The kids are asleep so I cradle the gin
Alone in the reeds with secretions and sin
When morning comes like an atomic cloud
When hard truths assault you like bombs so
loud
Whatever happened to once make you proud
Will be crucified like the Face in the Shroud
Let me just hold on
Hold on to these few threads
“Mama, can we bring them
Till we get back home again?”
Mother and infant, both hopelessly yearning
Scraps of subsistence ‘mid garbage cans burning
Walk up close to them, their cart full of waste
Permanent Babylon — no figure chaste
Now does the sex of the child much matter?
Will its birthday letters be seen ever after,
From up on some small planet’s observing post
Its tiny embryonic, cancerous host?
I’ve been blinded by a ruinous light
A ballistic angel in the wintry night
Have they come to take us away at last?
Have they come to punish us for the past?
Let me just hold on
Hold on to these few threads
“Papa, can we bring them
Till we get back home again?”
I reverence you here, away from fire and grime.
Where no life claim, no earth rule, no dominion
You and I are tethered within a spiritual sublime.
Wind and seas stop inside the realm of opinion
Where no life claim, no earth rule, no dominion.
When nothing prevailed before our subsistence.
Wind and seas stop inside the realm of opinion
I admire you here, in the domain of real essence.
When nothing prevailed before our subsistence.
Ringed by embers that shatter, sear, and refine.
I admire you here, in the domain of real essence.
Where orchids bloomed amid the ash and shine.
Ringed by embers that shatter, sear, and refine.
When fall breezes carry melancholy to its abode.
Where orchids bloomed amid the ash and shine.
Where subtle veils of snow through valleys strode.
When fall breezes carry melancholy to its abode.
You and I are tethered within a spiritual sublime.
Where subtle veils of snow through valleys strode.
I reverence you here, away from fire and grime.
Written: May 06, 2022
POVERTY IN AFRICA
Nzongi N.Mwero
Large population live in slums,
Youth unemployment looms,
Illiteracy looms,
Poor health standards zooms,
In Africa poverty has rooms
A protein starvation diseases on the rise,
Due to a harsh natural environmental and subsistence level,
And semi skilled farming methods,
Many rely mainly on their primitive agriculture to stay alive,
Most Africans scratch out a living,
In ways that seem to reward inadequate diets
Dirty ragged children scattered on the dust road,
Scrambling for orange peelings,
That tourists had thrown on the dust road,
Children are weakened,
And mentally retarded,
Prematurely aged with yellow hair,
No clothing on the body,
The baby’s stomach bulged on their mother’s back,
Their arms and legs looked like sticks,
Although six and a half month old,
Their ringles skin and thin legs gives no chance to crawl,
Their closed mouth give no chance to sucker
A man walks along a path feeling very thirsty,
Looking tap water to quench his thirsty,
Ready to quench even the coloured salty water,
Because no single coin in his pocket
A woman thinks to send her kids to school,
But she finds in her cube no stool,
She thinks and decides to remain cool,
And goes for cooking roots in the bush,
With her weak kid on her back crying for food
A man in his thatched hut with holes around it,
Bow and arrow in his back,
Ready to hunt any rodent in the bush,
Ready to trap any insect that comes across,
In the home ,no food no water and no school for his kids
In cities and towns beggars are scattered,
Their spindly limbs reach out for a coin,
A piece of bread that might extension of life for few hours,
Dead brothers and sisters lying on the streets,
Not for bullets but due to hunger,
Waiting to be picked up for their painless journey,
Poverty is a war and has been a war for decades
GREEDY POACHING
Rhino poachers often hunt at night
When the Rhino has poor eye sight.
These prehistoric creatures
Cannot distinguish human features.
But with a well-developed sense of smell
Fortunately they can always tell
When danger or a poacher is close,
Thanks to their sensitive nose.
Every horn that they take back,
And Rhino body that they hack,
Is yet more money in their belt,
To which no sentiment is felt.
Subsistence Poachers who randomly
Kill, fit a less important role,
Their profit cannot compare,
To syndicates with international flair!
These professionals are sourced
From a military career,
Using weapons and tactics that
Inflict unimaginable pain and fear.
Rhinos are darted from the air,
Without hesitation or human care.
Some Rhinos are found still half alive,
And veterinary surgeons rush to help
Them survive,
But could these same people perhaps
Be involved and accept,
These horrific acts, could they in fact,
Be suspect?
Will Rhinos become extinct,
This is a worrying fear,
Statistics do indicate that this scenario,
Is realistically near!
‘Water’ seems a fitting title
of this rhyme on something vital
for the beings we take care of
and the others we’re aware of.
Life on Earth depends on water,
whether human or sea otter,
fish or fowl, whatever creatures
having some subsistence features.
Water may have been existent
in archaic ages distant
long before we tend to think—
even water that we drink.
Yet when in our galactic history
it was formed has been a mystery…
The researchers have debated
as to if it could be stated
that this liquid can be dated
back to when it’s been related
there was a disk of gas and dust
and molecules that were a must
for water that originated
when our ‘system’ was created
(namely, ‘solar’, where we’re fated)…
Or might it be more antiquated?!
Could we trace to outer space
the genesis that took place
of the water in our glass?
If indeed this came to pass,
it would open up new queries,
not to mention E.T. theories…
But that’s within the jurisdiction
of those who compose science fiction.
Many scientists have avowed
that from the Sun’s parental cloud
of interstellar dust and gas,
from which our star derived its mass,
water, well, to be precise,
water in the form of ice
was inherited there and then,
in that olden where and when…
Some astronomers theorize
that what we may not realize
is up to half the H2O
within the oceans that we know
right here on Planet Earth could be,
yes, older than the Sun we see
illuminating from on high,
in daylight’s path across the sky,
our frets and frolics down below,
where heedlessly we come and go…
Water and life go hand in hand,
from briny deep to wooded land.
In the mariner’s rhyming tale,
all the winds at sea did fail,
and the sailors lives were lost—
the idle ship was merely tossed
as if on a painted ocean,
painted ship, devoid of motion.
There was water ‘every where’,
Coleridge says, except that there
was none to quench their parching thirst;
so the voyage seemed doubly cursed.
Water is such precious stuff!
Do we value it enough?
Oh, may there never come a time
(as in that famous rhyming rime)
when as to water here on Earth—
where mortals meet their death and birth—
we too will ever need to think
that there is not a drop to drink!
~ Harley White
Redoubtable, unparalleled
Victoria Falls displays the
power of the Zambezi River.
Carving through basalt rock
from an ancient volcano the Zambezi
deserves the awesome accolades of its
native audience - the Smoke that Thunders.
Work more trenchant still, this river
provides subsistence, protection,
and inspiration for people in six
southern African nations.
The Zambezi is rightfully called
their river of life, christened by
their hallowed, Nyami, Nyami!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Victoria5.jpg
When dictators purchase our guns,
we wade through blood to deliver.
And take their cash without remorse
while riddled bodies still quiver.
Big egos and pampered palates
impose subsistence starvation.
And enforced illiteracy
results in mental stagnation.
Children suckle on bitter tears,
scratching a living from the earth.
And there is no escaping pain,
hunger's a consequence of birth.
Governments exploit poor people
that are too frightened to resist.
And their rights are an afterthought
to nations drooling to assist.
A weapon of mass destruction,
fear, undermines their will to live.
And they are stripped of everything;
till they have nothing left to give.
(Quatrain)
1/16/2015
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
Injustice has a name!
Twenty years in prison, detained because he refused to kill
his fellowman in wartime, was against his conscience and will.
Twenty years in prison, arrested without real cause
freedom of conscience there, means nothing at all.
Twenty years in prison, not even charged with committing a crime
With the whole world watching, now they are running out of time.
Twenty years in prison, without even having had a trial
Without any human dignity, experiencing all that is vile.
Twenty years in prison, he's languishing in squalor
government officials not answering, they have no valor.
Twenty years in prison, even warned by the UN and others
but they keep on arresting even children and grandmothers.
Twenty years in prison, subsistence living, no healthy diet
what if it happened here, would everyone keep it quiet?
Twenty years in prison, the world says enough is enough!
Yes injustice has a name...it's called ERITREA!
John Derek Hamilton
January 13,2015