The cradle of three of the biggest faiths
Rocked by the claim one agenda stakes
Locked and loaded and ready for war
With righteous blessings for terror and gore
Sentiments civilities and landscapes pitted
All of human decency finally outwitted
I don't read between the lines and I can't read minds
I was unsuccessful on my last three tries
you asked for my opinion but what you're seeking is agreement
so I toss what I was thinking in the trash like I don't need it
I do whatever works unless what works is inconvenient
then I kill the plan I had and act as if I'm in bereavement
I don't care about possessions and I know how hard success is
when successful at any level it don't feel like I expected
and regardless how I feel I have no choice but to accept it
sometimes the stuff that happens ain't as grand as its perception
that's just the way it is and that's how will explain it
if the statement that I'm making is too abrasive then I'll replace it
when I'm told I'm acting childish my ability to form
an excuse that I can use while I'm building me a Fort
goes right outside the door and I resort to getting petty
Richard Petty go in circles till civilities restored
Red Dog an Aussie of Gypsie proclivities
Pawed rides through the Outback without civilities
When he wished to depart
He let rip a grand fart
Then jumped from the car with much facility
by Robert Gorelick
Red dog the regular hitchhiker
Once leapt up behind a bike rider
The driver rode fast
Until he got gassed
And Red dog flew off in a hyper
by Belle Bellevue
North America, USA.
Freedom, because of our understanding of the lack of democracy from other countries, fighting to maintain peace and be a civil nation, for humanity's hopes that we are all here for one cause, and one reason only.
To evolve into something better than we were before.
To search out and explore new ways to our ever-changing futures.
To be the most generous nation to ever be in all of the histories of humanity, no matter how you look at it.
To have the best interest in mind when other countries need our lending hands, keep the peace, or find a diplomatic solution to resolve a democracy breakdown.
America the Beautiful, America the Free, America the Brave at Heart. For the care that we have in how we maintain a country with civilities. Yes, America, I am Proud of Her. She is Our Roots. She is Our Home, America.
God Bless this nation!
Alas, you do not know me at all. You think you do, and shame on you for it. We've been by this time and again, you and I. Will you ever cease?
Of all those who run me down.. You, oh it is you who have done it best. My hope you know.. And I know you know, is that you'll see you for you.
You've partaken my hospitality, the bread of my table you supped and were it not for such civilities I'd have shed you years ago.
You who have slept below my roof, shared my homes warmth, enjoyed the pleasure of my time. You of all who repay kindness with harsh criticism.
You interject when friends compliment me, you discredit all their words. And as a thief, you would rob me of simple joys and dignity.
You patronize me and whisper seeds of discord within my thoughts. You've been lurking all the while, in my discomfort you take pride.
I'm done with you, You have nothing left I wish to hear. In fact, I'm quite done talking back at you.... within this bathroom mirror.
i hate a night as this
minutes turning as the fan
slow and back again
metronomic
lives slipped past each other
spotlights on dark water
arc light dimming
tenebrous
murmured civilities
faucalized voices
whispers in a wine glass
monosyllabic
days years months
rusting like old coins
forgotten in a sewer grate
mineralized
calendar of moments
flying backward and away
burnt years like autumn's leaves
cold smouldered
tannic blood alkali veined
sublimated heart
simmering on a soul's backburner
as I roll back over
to this polar night
Again I would hear the night sounds
through the hours of civilities
when there was a pause in the body
untouchable.
You were sleeping with counterfeits,
running down the golden dome
sailing over the silken clouds.
My rough palm was still holding the pen.
That mirage, that fire on the road
had cheated us. You had pushed me in an
aging portrait. Alive, I am looking at you
from an empty glass.
Satish Verma
What sibilant consonants
conjure his image: angular, Germanic,
uttering phrases and grunts, monosyllables
forcefully spat into air alive,
filled with his vivid verbal assaults!
No saccharine sentiment for him.
He lets fly with steamy staccato
streams of purposely purple prose,
unblemished by boorishly banal
concern for social civilities.
Squeamishness never slept next to him!
But notice (not noticeably, please)
how his eyes seem furtively to flit
from yours, to gaze down at his hands,
pale and strangely delicate -- graceful!
And his cheeks are dusted with a blush,
under eyes not steely blue but liquid brown.
A beacon so true
Brigand beyond the blue
A harbinger, a clue
Voice with hope to imbue
A brighter, hopeful day
A light to make headway
A guide; a mainstay
To illuminate my pathway
A teacher to instruct in mundane activities
A politician to educate on urbane civilities
A preacher to warn of vice and banalities
A doctor to cure all diseases and debilities
Wisdom to learn when mentor's fail
Integrity to serve when statesmen flail
Virtue to live righteously when sermons are stale
Prayer to comfort when physician's medicine cannot avail
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