Soft life had decided to give In
A glass of vanilla yoghurt
A piece of cake for breakfast
A plate of macaroon for lunch
And some pasta for supper
Hiking on weekend to the mountain tops
And having some fun by the caves
On the green lands in the high relief
And even when the rains came
I was not afraid of wetting my clothes
Or dirtying my clothes in the mud
Cause in my little spacious room
There was a laundry basket
That will be emptied on my next hike
By the brown girl who'd come visiting
Well! sycophantic misanthropist, verbose agitator of spite
Club footed whore master, couldn’t goose step for his life
Malicious propagandist, spreading hatred in every breath
His wife willing disciple, poisoned their 6 children to death
Demanding patriotic nationalism, big speech carcinogenic
Snickers in vehemence, sardonic grin, genocidal eugenics
Never dirtying his hands, an aryan superstar, not by blood
Master race aspirational, looks into the mirror then shrugs
Doctor of nihilistic supremacy, swearing hypocritical oaths
5 ft 4” gigantic paradigm, inferiority complex, slow growth
Promising victory up to the last, faithful to his fuhrers flag
Cowers from nearby artillery, blasting Swastikas into rags
Hiding amongst his sewer rats, goes insane down a bunker
Mixing morphine with champagne, to alleviate going under
Saved the best cocktail for last, cyanide and bullet casings
Fitting end to crawling malaise, and cockroach infestations.
Biting Satire Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
24/02/2021
Breath in, pain within,
Restless rattling of wracked lungs.
Breath out, pain out,
Released relaxation of soft flesh.
Breath in, thoughts in,
Never speaking out, always hiding true thoughts.
Breath out, thoughts out,
Calibrated and monitored, dirtying the truth.
Breath in, limbs in,
Staying home, sleeping life away.
Breath out, limbs out,
Running, jumping, participating.
In and out, Out and in. Breathing is such a simple, such and ordinary, necessary thing that we all
do, and yet it belies and reveals so much of a person it's startling. A sharp intake of breath, a
reluctant gasp, labored breathing, soft sighs. The breath of life is known as that for many
reasons and one, because with every breath we tell the tale of ourselves. So breath easy
friends, life rolls on.
Staring through the sullied glass
Ever present…
A transom of silent reflections
Standing amid us…
Dirtying with every irate grousing
Thick and hazy…
Our windowpane painted shut
Always locked…
Gazing through at one another’s faces
Slowly fading…
Eyeing the desperations of moving lips
Hearing silence…
I’m wild and I’m free, I look down and what do I see…
Ghostly bubbles rising from the bottom
of a once clear mountain pool
now devoid of life and vegetation.
I dive to double check and see if I could drink…
Rotting garbage float on the surface,
decaying flesh and grayish matters
of silvery darts that used to play on these waters.
Off I fly, I say goodbye, tears are in my eyes…
Billows of charcoal fumes puff off from afar,
out of ebony chimneys of murky factories
blackening the clouds, dirtying the skies.
I can’t breathe, I suffocate, over the desert I retreat…
Vast expanse of silent dunes offers no breathing room
for cannons boom and jets rain down their gifts of death
on a hapless desert country, civilization’s early cradle.
Off I go again, off I escape over some faraway glade…
Once primeval forests now just blackened patches,
empty landscape where tree-tops used to shoot up
to play with the wind and mate with the sun.
My bones are aching, I’m tired of flying…
But there are no trees to perch on, no air to breathe,
nor cool water to quench my thirst.
Is there an end to this madness,
what have they done to my world?
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