I Celebration in the year 2000 A.D.
Cultures combine with cornucopia chalices
spinning with starry spices that steam dreams
All together with pollination of feather flowers
flowing with global glowing as hope harvests
We capture watercolor waterfalls with words
from freedom chests that echo expressions
with conversations carving gemstone caves
We interlock internally with our orchestra grace
where world's writers inscribe soul scrolls
II Desolation in the Year 2001 A.D.
Insane airplanes fire and flame wanton wars
from unknown blistering hate with death's fate
Buildings burn with sinking smoky skeletons
Tomb's teeth bleed scythe seeds upon societies
Ghosts of time’s crimson crimes question peace
Horror history halls that crumble from cryptic calls
ringing culture's forever communication chairs
Within destruction clocks trusting chambers
exist now with sweating escorts to eagle engine exits
Like humanity rising, scatter wood plains
thrown about roadside living in waste
What's one but trash you wave in wind,
upon your own castle the clutter
linger sores
Scarce inhabitant emptiness filled without space,
couldn't wait; trash across beauty
of nations scape
Like soul you trash, call for goodwill
Negligence to cleanliness is water run down leg,
laziness to bend, dirt washed from top down
Trash nation, your words does not speak highly wanting
to destroy integrity beauty in name of evil
Mounds of hills pipe poison dirt filter, environmental
green screams, fuel erupt ozone
Killing America for greater mankind existence, toxic,
poisoning of everything we feed to touch
On this piece of earth don’t say “peace”
Some folks around might get confused
Their customs seem rather peculiar, please
Watch out for the language they use
Lives are owned by the state, which is merely God
Don’t show off in their churchyard how critical
You might be about this philosophical thought
Otherwise they’ll make you a criminal
They are criminals too, but the difference is
They maintain their lies as the truth
They’re descendants of the coup’d etat so this
Could be viewed as a kind of excuse
But the main problem lies in the ethic
Their derivative culture’s obscene
It can’t set the consensus, being too pathetic
Can’t absorb what the “empathy” means
There’s less drama in death of the uncivilized
The barbarians reap what they sow
But aren’t we a little like them? - not surprised
If we are, to a point, when alone.
Find a cool place with tolerant people
Move right in, enjoy (or rather exploit)
Their kindness and abundance
Get firmly planted, reproduce
Bring your families over too
And the very cultures and oppressive systems
You supposedly were fleeing
Until suddenly before they know it
You have become intractable
A social and political force
Of chaos.
(11/6/25)
tormented soul soothes by unruffled, serene Jesus.
Getting Ready to Go Out
C. G. Hart
Store your memories as
a mirror stores your image —
long enough to reflect,
as its hand pushes you away,
and vanity pulls you back.
Adjust your wear, tweak —
an odious memory
refracting from your mirrored past,
shining on your social post.
One quick scan before
your mirror releases you —
the grip of glass
wants to make it last.
It will have to do, even if
it doesn’t feel right.
Your comfort seeks to conceal
an inner squalor, set to unreel.
You hurl scorn at those you don’t see —
to rise above derelicts like me.
Out on the street, out of luck,
as I scrounge for my lost life.
You are my dollar store mirror,
reflecting your disgust onto me —
a look seen in others.
It doesn’t feel right.
But what can I do.
I wish the whole world could come share
This park with me
With us
This Sunday afternoon
Run under the spire of blue sky
Green Earth
Shoes to their feet
Experience a freedom from fists and elbows
Fighting itself
Within a slavery box tucked in a palm
Come to this park
Where a dozen boys in a mix of colors
Team under the basketball hoops
And whoop it up
And a field-wide game of cricket
Unfolds with Indian teams in home-made jerseys
Women rocking their picnic baskets
Pickleballs batted over a dozen nets
Dog walkers and runners old and young
Boys and girls gay or not
Weaving this tapestry of happiness
The river streaming by like leaves in the sky
Last flowers aching
Deer peering behind the Oaks
The slanted heat of October sun
Shined upon all our faces
Forever and ever
As one.
Here where the hibiscus and the palm tree sway,
December wears a mask, a sun-baked day.
The air is dense, a solemn, muggy sigh;
No frosty breath to hang the winter sky.
The calendar integrates as the year grows old,
But the earth, a young bride, refuses the cold.
No white covering quells the green-clothed land,
Just ocean rumors on sun-drenched sands.
We seek where the stones stand, as assurance’s strong,
A parable of familiarity where we truly belong.
It should be brimmed with ice, a silent guard,
But the tropical heatwave makes the vigil hard.
The stone stands, a heart, unmovable and true,
Yet the absence of snow paints a sky too blue.
This December is a clock with hands reversed,
A winter’s tale delightfully dispersed.
We are the trees, confused, with leaves so bright,
Awaiting shadows that won’t take their flight.
The island dreams of silence, sharp and deep,
While the warm waves roll, a secret it must keep,
That the soul of winter is not in the flake’s soft fall,
But in the resilience of the stone standing tall.
The sun, a fiery bear, keeps the cold wolf at bay,
In this warm December, the stone still holds its sway.
I come to you with one hand out
Open and up in my need
The other behind my back
Hidden in a fist of rage
Holds a blade, a bat, chain or gun.
I want my way
And if you do not agree
I will throw a fit
And take it however I can.
This is the ploy of a toddler
Grown into full size if not maturity.
I want my way
And will get it no matter what.
What’s that you say, “Go
And earn it, grow it, make it, use it, keep it”?
I have no idea what you mean
You cruel, cruel meany
And I will stay until you give it
One hand out and open
The other clenched and hidden.
(10/31/25)
“Our World”
by Positive Mark
As we all seek a world to be contained in, our peek-out is the news. For those of you less beautiful, I gift fried chicken and the blues.
Horns with a muted bellow for every dead fellow who never made it out. Tight dresses for baby’s mommas, so those bodies leave no doubt.
Pitches peak on slammaday and slumday, then dive by Monday.
Jazz strained by too much salt. It’s food called soul. It ain’t our fault.
I’ve had no chill since Emmit Till.
Percussion is dulled by a pocket of pills. Contained in a world where we’re killed.
Gorilla pimps and ‘rillo scents, when will our world be healed?
Brick Lane
We used to walk down Brick Lane,
hand in hand,
Where verses rose like smoke
across the land.
In Bangla Town,
the poets found their place,
A lane once lit with culture,
soul, and grace.
We shared warm tea
beneath the twilight skies,
Where rhymes would bloom
and truth would not disguise.
Now flashing signs
and crowded plates remain,
And poetry is drowned
in glass and gain.
The voices fade,
yet still I hear them call,
From walls once dressed in dreams
and muraled sprawl.
Brick Lane still stands,
though not the lane we knew,
Its heart now sold,
its soul has bade adieu.
Do I look like someone who loves you
Remember where you came from
Might the ways of evolution spite us
Nothing his talents
The redimsion of a rebellious Person
Who was undermined and fooled
He who loves me is not worthy
Might the nights find us
Spoke the men who
Would find the worthy women
Who wanted them
Yet that which he had proposed is nothing
And the likes of loving
Is truffled by the situation
Of unwantedness
I stand on my position
That she wishes to be mine
The Sai ts of Valentino
Shall speak me as her lover
So here we go on e again
That once upon a time
Is sacred
To lovers who have faulted before
Lovers who have neglected there
Lovers duties
Or hast she been opeotice to others in script
To be rebellious against the ways of patriots
To be schemious until that now
She speaks you as her
In a meager of supply
But she is his
And should you ask yourself why
He is neither hers or his
That they seek remedy
The sickness of togetherness
Describes she and he
Chorest me might
I am whore
To speak him in prejudice
Might he explore
Speak me as his
As so he thinks
Speak me as his
To repeal the thinks
Business is like this
No fame, no profit
No benefit, no deal.
Business on the go
Less talk, less profit
More talk, more gain.
Business with benefit
Friendship brings favor
Engage, more connection.
Business is service
It's love being measured
Best serve, born revenues.
Breathes in the forest, sweet and deep,
Walking upon the soil, climbing steep
Grounding itself where the trees roam
Amongst the roots that grow in the Grove.
Groves light candles under starry night skies,
He's burning luscious lanterns
Feeling the yellow warmth of firelight
A pumpkin that magically delights
In sending faery blessings.
Leprechauns dance in his joyful mind.
Angelic wings delight in faery flight,
Whilst Scottish fae commence to dance.
This Halloween Pumpkin named Druid guides
Onlookers on the magical path,
Urging them to dream Silver Pixie dreams
That soak in golden gleam.
Forevermore in greenery and dew,
May you be blessed with soft starlight,
With happy and lighthearted folk so bright
In moonlight shining positively tonight!
May your art be inspired by Halloween!
May your Ogham convey dreams acquired
From ancestral memories
As Samhain opens the veil, reveries!
With candles burning and flames whirling,
My beloved Pumpkin is yearning, returning the love!
24 eggs boiled hard
And halved
One big flat pan
1 stick of butter
Melt add eggs
Open faced down
Add 2 Tablespoons of minced garlic
Sprinkle onion power over 1 T
Sprinkle 5 Tablespoons of breadcrumbs
1 teaspoon of cayeene
3 tablespoons of parseam cheese
6 tablespoons of cream cheese
1 cup of sauteed mushrooms
2 cups of shredded mozzarella
3 t of parsley
5 T of sour cream
Hear in covered pan until cheese is melted
Five to twelve minutes.
Top with hollandaise
And bacon bits
Specific Types of Culture Poems
Definition | What is Culture in Poetry?
Poems Related to Culture
fashion, art, ability, science, practice, experience, civilization, perception, skill, manners, learning, polish, dress, urbanity, gentility, capacity, discrimination, erudition, savoir faire, elegance, improvement, cultivation, enlightenment, finish, elevation