Best Writing Is On The Wall Poems
I stand tall on the windy mountain side.
Look down on mankind’s world
And snort in depreciated disgust.
Let death embrace me in its jugged jaws.
I'm not afraid, just tired.
This flagella of torrid life,
The gross garbage of man’s past,
The insignificance of the insecure future.
Time has no meaning.
A hallucinogenic rhythm
Of the quintessence of nothing.
Bring on the rumbling war drums,
Raise up the sharp guillotine's blade,
Let the cacophony begin,
Let me dance to no rhythm
Of preconceived dreams.
For since the beginning of time
When humans invented drawings
Of men killing men, and sang
Songs resonating of rape and lust,
Of slander, conquests and plunder.
The day will come when we must
Give an account of our misdeeds.
We turn our backs on good and evil,
We just don’t really care what happens
To unfortunate beings, our neighbors.
The writing is on the wall.
The seer chants: the end is near.
Yet something in me stirs.
I refuse to let go. For look
Not far away on this cold mountain
Is a rainbow, way up high,
As bluebirds happily fly on the other side
Of the shimmering bewitching hues,
A consequence of a prism of raindrops.
One day, all our dreams become reality.
Hope reigns again and all dreams come true.
Another child lay dying in his mother's arms,
She holds him to her- weeping hopelessly;
There will be no ambulance coming, no alarm,
And this scene plays out each day endlessly.
She holds him to her- weeping hopelessly,
The writing is on the wall for the starving;
And this scene plays out each day endlessly,
We give to charity because of ads appealing.
The writing is on the wall for the starving,
Thumbs up we say, we are saving the world;
We give to charity because of ads appealing,
The money given- into the wind it whirled.
Thumbs up we say, we are saving the world,
Somewhere over the rainbow plays in my head;
The money given- into the wind it whirled,
I pray this boy finds that blue bird when dead.
Somewhere over the rainbow plays in my head,
There will be no ambulance coming, no alarm;
I pray this boy finds that blue bird when dead,
Another child lay dying in his mother's arms.
_______________________
April 16, 2016
Poetry/Pantoum/Somewhere
Copyright Protected, ID 16-778-504-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Lyrics, cliché, Image,
sponsor, Silent One (Image #1)
theme used- somewhere over the rainbow lyrics
cliche used - the writing is on the wall
First Place
The writing is on the wall.
The writing is on the wall, an old saying used even until today
for those found lacking or deficient, Divine judgement is on the way
It means that there has been a weighing done on the scales of justice
by an impartial God who knows us, and the good or bad we practice.
The writing is on the wall even today, in our ultra modern society
for those who choose critical and independent thinking, instead of piety
for those who deny there is a God, or who simply worship in their own way
for those whose judgemental hypocrisy is super abundantly on display
The writing is on the wall, for all warmongers filled with nationalistic hate
For all those inciting our youth to violence, malevolent voices that resonate
The writing is on the wall, for those who say good is bad, and that bad is good
and for those who kill the innocent child, it's well deserved and understood.
Writing on the wall comes from the Bible Daniel chapter 5 where the Babylonian King is judged by God's handwritten cryptic message on the wall. The prophet Daniel interprets the writing and the King was killed and replaced that same evening. Consequently the expression the writing on the wall portends judgement and destruction.
John Derek Hamilton
April 19, 2016
I stumbled into a graveyard
And found written upon a stone
"In this place lies the human race,
Who died greedy and all alone"
It was dated Two-thousand and thirty-five
The year that man had died
The tomb was split just a little bit
So I decided to look inside
I saw what will be our future
Or maybe I should say our end
Covered in soil were barrels of oil
And money, too much to spend
I saw miles of nuclear weapons
As far as the eye could see
A place so sublime it was frozen in time
For all of eternity
Bodies lined the inner chamber
A warning to one and all
The price of greed means death indeed
The writing is on the wall
I stumbled into a graveyard
And found written upon a stone
"In this place lies the human race,
Who died greedy and all alone"
The last mile of the way
It is a matter of must
To all and sundry,
Each and every man-jack
Has to walk it.
It is the real moment in deed
For one has to say, “Goodbye”
To those he loves.
One has to put down all his loads
And face the reality of time.
Blessed is the man
Who walks on camino real with the Lord.
Cursed is the peregrinator who peregrinate alone,
Who promenade Lordlessly.
The rich man blundered
To hell he was taken
For his life has been peripatetic and perfidious.
Confessions he tried
But confessions failed.
Remember, longest is the night
That is not followed by the day.
No matter how long the night
The day is sure to come.
With His cross on His shoulders
This mile the Lamb travelled,
Sinless and spotless the teacher was
And God the Almighty on His side He stood.
The impenitent Judas also travelled it
The mile was tough and dolorous
For his sins were accompanying him,
Suicide and sheol were his penultimate end.
Fight panophobia and euphorbia
With rectitude and optimism for heavenly opulence,
With clear conscience and faith in Him
Walk through the narrow door
Before the Master closes.
The writing is on the wall
“God shows no favouritism”
Let us travel this mile
With no wrinkle and spot
For this mile takes us
Into the hands of the Omniscious One.
Where our tears will be removed by Him,
Where there is eternal rest
Where there is no sorrows,
Neither death nor sicknesses.
Bleeding through my sinus
Experts say I have THE VIRUS
.............................................
.............................................
I try to smile but I can’t
My lips are numb (and)
My tongue is frozen
My eyes refuse to open
My mouth is ajar but I cannot speak
As this breath of mine gets weak
My dear life has become a mess
Sickness has robbed my happiness
The pills that I take are all in vain
Needles and pipes fail to erase my pain
I overheard the doctor conversing with a nurse
There is no vaccine or cure for my curse
I thank my folks for holding my hand
But mama, you better understand
Appreciate what my song is about
There is no denying, there is only one way out
Give unto Caesar what belongs to Caesar
Dust to dust, ashes to ashes
The writing is on the wall
The mighty tree must fall
Mama I will never walk again
Mama we will never talk again
Mama you will never see me again
It is time for me to face my maker
All my good things you must remember
The not so good things you must forgive
Please forgive me, for I have to leave
I lived right so I’m not afraid to leave
Like a leaf detached from its tree I fall
Time has come to answer my call
True love cannot be sensed nor seen;
Cannot be heard nor touched;
I never saw it coming;
I still remember the evening; l received a call
It was from someone l never knew or imagined.
It all sounded like a joke;
How can one have a tale to tell to someone never met;
Never talked to?
All was a fairytale indeed.
All was a sheer madness!
Calls were made;
Texts were sent;
Wishes were horses.
Roses were planted;
Sunflowers were planted as well;
Love was planted;
Later & nurtured by
Jokes; appreciation;
Encouragement; determination;
Faithfulness; honesty;
Two-way communication;
Not forgetting "give & take".
It is said that
Where there is love;
There is always a way.
One wonders ; what is love?
Who deserves to be loved?
Howitzer can one prove the love one has for the other?
I am told that
Actions speak louder than words;
Love is believed to conquer all.
Am l conquered as l love someone?
Has my heart been stolen?
If l cannot spend a second
Without thinking of someone!
Without smiling at his once cracked jokes!
Without being thirsty of his kisses!
Without craving for his drive!
The writing is on the wall.
I am in love;
Madly inlove!!!!
I don’t want to think of you in Winter, Spring, Summer, or Fall.
I don’t want to visit memories of you at all.
I don’t want to think of you when I lie down to sleep.
You promised to love and honor… a pledge you did not keep.
Our happiness is now scattered to the wind.
You are no longer my husband or even a friend.
You portrayed a future of love and bright tomorrows,
Instead your eternal gift to me was sorrow.
Get out of my heart with your memories that invade,
You are the ghost in my past I want to fade.
Love is blind, even when the writing is on the wall.
I don’t want to think of you at all…
5/14/17
Contest Introspective...The Deep Inside You Stuff
Sponsor: Lewis Raynes
Awarded 4th Place
Muted voices drift on the winds of silence
Blowing over the conscience of their pretense
Even through the storm nothing is said
Only the wind speaks, as if to the dead
The unspoken word that stifles truth
Could return its verdict upon the youth
Drugs will reap its silent pain
As the silent wind becomes a hurricane
Can they whisper to a truth that hides
When the coin falls on the other side
They see no reason to lend a hand
In this muted mob you'll not find a good samiritan
Soon their silence becomes a disease
With a pain they just can't ease
The writing is on the wall
It wont be long before they fall
And in their quiet agony, they will feel the pain of many
The words of the prophets fell upon the dense
Falling without heed with the sound of silence
----
At this omega of ill-fetted volitions
where the concrete-embeded poster reads "EXIT"
you watch with amusement the logical end
of ideological perversion
bemused by the grunts of kings vommitted by history
a history of misery
In this, my date with fate
as an inspired spectator i ignore the values a society disguise itself in
and read the writings on the wall
about disjointed limps and fractured souls
about abused women and misused slogans
about useless ballots and useful bullets
about persecuted students and deffered freedom
about the death of peace
and as such our long awaited kiss
on the lips of the King's corpse.
By the concrete poster
the wretched stands awestruck
waving their broken limps,
thus penning the last line in this history of what never happened.
the writing is on the wall
"mene mene tekela upasini"
umambo hwako hwapera
they sit
faces blank .....
fingers working up speed
the writing is on the wall.. the
art of conversation has died
no longer do you hear
sound of voices raised in anger or passion
now just silence....
life goes on, looking, searching,
looking for that something,
looking for ...yet they never find
that special person....
somewhere..... over the rainbow
life lies....images of how life could be
if only, ahhh, if only,
I could win the lottery...
not having to work,
buy whatever I wanted
bigger and better mobile phones maybe
to sit there faces blank....
fingers tapping at speed.
If this is the now way of talking.....
what does the future hold!!!!!
I used:
writing on the wall
somewhere over the rainbow
image 3
penned 29/4/2016
Long travelled
am I,
amongst words
that have sailed
in and out of months
beyond the horizon
of years and age.
Set down
and scrolled out
in lexical identity
on parchment stane
quarried and carried
in the soft strom
of half light.
Earlier
I gave
a cursory nod
to the old man,
I had not considered then
that his solitary stature
would guide so many.
But his
aching, half arched frame
in washed out form,
guards entry
and signals the
traveller
of tides the
glimpse of long lost siblings.
And in your flatter
inflexion,
my attention drew,
to the obvious
island words,
that take shape
their derivative
prose.
Sung in angular
and Whale like form
their signature
icon denotes
my spiritual home.
And so,
the ellipsis
hidden from view
was always there,
its codified embodiement
still breathing amongst the living,
in you and I,
and all the seas
that ever were.
For time,
as with the bluntness
of Helgi’s flint like passion
…………the writing is on the wall
America has always been noted for its Wild West and gun slingers.
Stage coach robberies and killing Indians was also in center of attention. Killing off entire herds of Bison and Buffalo was also alarming.
Bonny and Clyde, Valentine's Day Massacre and Patty Hurst were repulsive. Masochistic tendencies and being prejudiced and discriminating are bad.
Trump said that he is not prejudiced. There is my token black in the crowd. Senator Elizabeth Warren was called Pocahontas by Trump.
Finally, Walmart and Dick's and Fred Meyer are restricting and/or doing away with sales of assault weapons. The hand writing is on the wall regarding weapons sales. The Florida High School is sincerely fighting against weapons. Soon, assault rifles will be completely off of the market. Look at how many massacres it took to get where we are?
Jim Horn
Black Friday Blues
We set are clock to help avoid the biggest dash
Look to the advertisement the paper is as dark as ash
All for the new nintendo out the door a given chance to explore
Inside were running on empty from toxic fumes
Just not enough time to even clean our rooms
Gone to soon from the imagination in our minds
A cost of getting those items from standing in line
We all been through this many times before
Shackled to the exit sign by the edge of the door
Still a willing chance at which to explore
We push the proceed to call are neighbor a whore
The scream for eleborate things for so much more
There is the deviding line in are black friday blues
With tempers on fire a scene from Hill Street Blues
All in the name of fun we run to avoid such lines
This doesn't fit in with any jargon in a quest of time
We often will fade into the scene in such an evil scheme
The hand writing is on the wall choose to live with head ten feet tall
Downtown long lines at the mall people trampled to death what a quest
We cry, ***** & even moan for the sale items to lose their crest
Rush hear & there just to get ahead of what ?
Look at me now half the person I use to be
Where can I find me? Lost in a sea of emotions
Floating threw and threw
It's lonely tears tearing my soul
A wall put up to keep from drowning
To keep a float no life savers to keep me
From going under
Where is my resolution on the outside looking in?
Wall to wall glass smeared with years of tears
Fear of not ending well within my self
Years disappearing with time gone bye
Like a pill a day to keep from finding out
The worst has not yet come
Can’t seem to pull myself out of this state I am in
I lost myself between sight and mind
All seems so small were have I gone
Most cant’ understand can’t fit in my shoes
Let alone walk as far so easy to say and pretend
To know ones true feelings isolated from the rest
My walk unstable my sight
Not focus myself esteem shattered
Not two days the same missing memories
Blocked by judgment were have I gone
Can’t find me myself and I tears rolling down
Constant reminder of how it feels to be lonely
Within one self-walls of glass looking in not
Able to be reached to be pulled from the abets
Writing is on the wall content reminder trapped
In these dark and lonely walls
I fell heavy and hard rock bottom no bottle
To sued my pain let alone fix my broken parts
No amount of comfort can sued my shattered
Limbs my words are few carefully chosen
All that matters seems to be slowly diminishing
Find it strange a whole new outlook not sorry
But sad to think I have lost so much more then
I thought to have lost a mere merrier of myself
Realizing I have been hit hard not yet victors’
I have been known to get back up with a smile
This time my hit was blow to blow back to back
What I hope and pray is to find me myself
Within my frame of mind
By Mirian Parrilla