Evil Shadow
The quiet before the storm,
is more sinister...
than it has ever been.
Because,
there has never been a squall,
like the one ahead.
Food, energy and resources,
scattered about on the floor,
stepped on, and made useless,
changed and made harder to eat,
and/or worse,
a plan, a preparation,
for them... to eat, us.
"Cannibals".
They are the elites,
that change the time of service,
at a whim,
They do not live in the real world,
but one of their own making,
from inherited money,
stolen money,
and money coned away
from the sheep.
Used we are,
like lambs to slaughter,
choosing among the colorful
and the plain.
No rhyme, no reason,
except to gain.
Freedoms slowly taken,
as not to be noticed by the whole.
The reason...
together, "we" are more powerful,
but a part, we are just a heart...
to be sacrificed.
I am honoring a Veteran that I knew.
He passed this year of Cancer. He served us in Vietnam.
As a Sargent in the Army. I can't say his name for he
didn't want to be recognized and I am honoring that.
But I am thinking of him today.
He left behind two great sisters. When he finished his tour,
he came to work for ConEd. He lived a quiet life.
No personnel wife or children. But he gave of himself
to many charities and relatives.
I characterize him as a kind and gentle person.
He holds a place in my heart forever.
He was only sixty-nine years old.
I love him; and miss him.
But I know he's always here with his sisters and me.
So, this Veterans Day, he can take his place
with the best of them.
The Lord has your back now and so do I.
Happy First Veterans Day in Heaven.
Love you. And, I Thank You for your Service.
Three crows pecked away the heart rubies
from an ice cream coned childhood dream
when they weren't gorging and preening
they'd mock from the blackest of black
taunting and scheming their next attack.
We've grown old and bitter together
I and these three hag footed beasts
forever cawing from ruby stained beaks
I donning feathers from a fractured past
minted as trophies atop a foamy night cap.
Four years it took
For us to talk
We lasted forever
You always cross my mind
Its been a while
Since I was true to myself
I’ve been on the run
Like a convict on the move
I coned you
Just as I coned myself
I look at this book
And I remember those three words
You wrote them
I erased them
I was in love with a memory
You were in love with a fake
It took awhile
It was the long con
Oh Sweet Seasons,
Return to me
Bring back the summers
of love in the sand
of champagne moons
and dancing in the sun
Send me your autumns
on apple cider breeze
and nature’s confetti
of auburn and gold
Frost me in winters
with marshmallow mountains
warmed by hot chocolate
and pine coned embers
Then let life renew
oh sweet seasons of spring
with lilac memories
and honey bee serenade
I want to talk about Christmas
Or as I like to call it Buy-more-mass.
The corporations have your head in a trap
While your child sit on a creeps lap.
Every year your kids you spoil
Then sit and wonder why they're off the boil.
I think you're a fool if you can't see
Money is the real key.
Every year it's in your face
Buy this, buy that, we're running out, quick its a race.
Christ or not surely you see
Only evil this can be.
With a ho ho ho and a he he he
You gave the bankers the rest of your money.
They've turned life into a competition, who can buy the most
What do you care, you're watching Beibers roast.
It amazes me how you're coned so easily
You even get into debt knowingly.
Is your child really better off
Or does it just sit there and scoff and scoff.
Sat there staring at their screen
A whole 1 inch bigger than the last one had been.
It's all a waste of money and you know
Yet it's off to the shops you will go.
Humanity is all but dead
You sold it to a fat man in red.
sari of morn floats
draping temples with orchids,
as Angkor Wat blows its mist
to flame coned incense;
and in the still of homage
pilgrims wander with their gods.
Angkor Wat, Cambodia
-----------------
May 2018 Standard Contest of Brian Strand
Colours
A passionate Red Man, in this cold, cruel, blue world,
stands, – one eighth blood in his veins, that doth swirl –
on his own, watching black prejudice all around, unfurl,
permeating every fiber, every grain of his marrow
that lay within the heart of the bones, the soul of this Red Man,
from the time the Europeans, the white man stole his land.
They coned, they pillaged, they raped, they stole with deaths hand.
The world they knew, gone, horror left, nothing but black !
Nothing the white man can do will ever bring it back !
The spirt , the soul, the heart and dignity,
all lost – for most - in the raging sea,
of the white mans greed
to satisfy his need.
B. J. “A” 2
March 27th 2004
As a little lad next door
always did I fancy her
The ring of Marie the big girl.
Her finger had this ring
I thought of it as diamond
precious,nice, always glittering
never thought she could be coned.
I wished I was big
to offer to it security
I would borrow that; the ring
always I knew it's beauty.
One hooligan in plastic suit
fake personality in disguise
blinded Marie that he'll suite
and Marie leased it.Surprise.
He dumped it in mud
she cried hard,poor Marie
broke it to auction its diamond
oh! The ring of Marie.
Mr. Gecko,
You are not Geico
Mr. SoBe,your name is not Ghecki.
Mr. Wiesman, your heritage is not Gargoyle.
Lime illuminating, advertising
Chirping, adhering to the humidity covered pane.
Hemut Stump toed comrade,
Licking lidless membraned eyes,
Perfected coned vision.
Wafered padded setae,
Suctioning eight times his body,
straddling atop sleek blades of greenery.
Dwarf extinct.
New Zealand`s lost treasure.
Delcourts Gecko remains King of his reptiles.
Self copulation is an unfortunate reality,
when you are a handsome neon lizard.