Fighting falsehood with mere truth is
a losing proposition
The public clamors for the popular position
The underdog has it all his way today
yelling that America is evil paves the way
no matter that it’s pure, unadulterated fiction
Soon all law-abiding folks will be imprisoned
as anarchy realizes its wildest ambitions
Disposable.
Just like the bodies scattered
As unimportant as the soldiers blood splattered
A black man stands watching violence unfold
Not to the enemy
But those who fought close
Those your supposed to trust
Comrades
Yet somehow
The black man
Is on the receiving side of the bullets
Not by the opposition
But by those claiming to be on the same team
With words that sting
He fought for his country
And as a reward
He is erased by history
He became an unknown soldier
Whitewashed because of colour
Seen as another sacrifice 'for the greater good'
Yet deprived of herohood
A man who once had a name
Now demoted to a nameless face
The question is will we ever know
The story of this unsung hero
Will his name forever be buried in the trenches of history
Hidden beneath the blood Soaked sludge
Drowned out by the white man's scream
Forever silenced by the songs of white history
Now an invisible grave of black memory
Under appreciated by a system so weak
It used black strength as a weapon and shield
the dragon conquered both armies, annihilating them with fire
soldiers screamed as he incinerated both sides, their lines breeched.
shields did not help them, and swords would not pierce his armor.
soldiers were helpless, falling down as the dragon screeched in the mire.
two witnesses lived to tell the tale, ten thousand and one dead.
though on opposite sides during the war, they became fast friends.
the dragon claimed yonder castle as his own and promptly went to bed.
two new friends ran home to tell the tale, without exaggeration bends.
spirits that floated out of the war that day went to various places of course.
patience had to be with the solider spirits who arrived at heaven's gate
leaders went the same way, and realized they were both thick and Norse.
why were we fighting? They asked each other. Why the hate?
the dragon felt smug as he watched these antics in his crystal ball.
he wanted marauders, soldiers, and armies to see their demise, their fall.
we are all put on earth to learn to love each other, after all.
he demanded dragon soup and stayed with this staff until the fall.
Worth a Fight.
It is no longer about right or wrong. it is about taking a stand
Against those who came to this country
to escape poverty and tyranny, and now want to end democracy
The unwritten consensus among people of different classes.
We have become soft liberal, Christianity, you said?
Don’t make me laugh; we are far too Self-assured
to believe in God.
And we are giving way while their imams egg the people
on and not for a moment do they stop
No, not for a sneeze of hesitation do they think that
if they went back to their forefathers’ country
A whip would await them in dank cells.
Their faith has good points. No, it has not.
But they have the right to return to their cherished land
and practice a faith that is still in the Middle Ages.
Soft liberal, giving way for the sake of peace
a peace I will not accept, and I will fill bullets in the chambers of my revolver to defend what my people fought for, is called democracy, shaky, yes, with many flaws
But is a system worth fighting for
Worth Fighting For
I was just thinking the other day.
Alone just wondering in a haze.
Is someone worth fighting for?
Standing in the rain under a downpour.
We’ve had time apart.
Someone may have a broken heart.
Where does all the time go?
I’m getting older, you know.
I can’t wait forever.
Another sunset has appeared.
A lonely life is never clear.
Looking out the window, one day you could appear.
Maybe I did something wrong.
Maybe I could sing you a song.
Maybe the effort is all worth it.
Like a flower, you are delicate.
You said, just be you.
Be open minded, follow through.
I’m not asking for much.
Just a beautiful touch.
What if it was meant to be?
All have to wait and see.
The one is always worth fighting for.
We could walk side by side in the sand on the seashore.
So long ago, we had so much fun.
Being so free under the sun.
Being a mother to adult sons is wonderful
and hard and everything in between
I am a hard praying, hard fighting, mama
when I need to be, but I am also a soft
spoken, sweet encourager when it warrants
Mental Illness and Substance use have made
my role harder and more needed than many
moms of grown men, but I am just thankful
that I still have the role of mother to both of my
amazing sons, because it has come close too many times
It feels like I am fighting death for my son's life
and I will FIGHT for him. I will show up when he
needs me, even when the sight is something that
no mother should have to see and I have sat in
hospital rooms way, too often
I feel like I am also fighting for my son that is not
ill, but has a heavier burden to carry due to his brother's
condition. Such heavy issues weigh on a person's heart
and can cause so much emotional pain, but I promise,
I will pray and fight for my sons as long as I have breath.
Morey was thrilled because the cheese spa was coming.
The refrigerator made happy sounds, it was fairly humming.
The cheese was melting ahead of time in the microwave.
Morey was the first family member in; he is extremely brave.
This is not only comfortable, but tasty too he told the rest.
There was cheddar, provolone, but he liked the blue cheese best.
He scooted aside for his brothers, and his sister began to wail.
They have the best seats she whined; a complainer without fail.
Looking in the mirror
I saw an image it was clear.
I told my reflection
you are loved and shed tear
No longer prisoner to shame,
I watched my shoulders slowly rise.
The person that I dared to name
Now gazed back with gentler eyes.
In that moment of pure grace,
The walls I'd built began to fall.
Years of doubt left without trace,
As self-compassion filled the hall.
The mirror held more truth than glass,
A portal to my wounded core.
The strength I needed came at last,
From words I should have said before.
The bravest act of love of all healing
starts so small, A whisper when
the world grows still.
The summer breeze lapped at my hair
Firmly yet gently lifting each strand
The warm caress of the sun
Brought happiness to my weeping skin
My lips parted as laughter
Freely trickled down my chin
My eyes lit a beaming path for my feet
As I began my evening walk
Abruptly I tripped and fell
Soberly I looked around
For the object of my humility
And found myself gazing into my own eyes
I had tripped and fallen over myself
Fighting to regain a composure
That proved to be elusive
I stood and faced myself
As I continued my evening walk
a menacing fog hangs low serpenting
and infiltrating nooks and crannies
while the news continues
to spew its ugliness and venom
resistance may be futile
but i fiercely refuse to stop defending
the last little corner of my brain
that remains unblemished
by this mile high pile
of appalling bile that's vile
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Little leprechaun is fighting mad
Irish of course, so big and bad
Someone tooted in his beer
Swung around and used their rear
He’s determined to make others sad
In the Cape flats the bullets are flying
Today people are dying
The gangs are killing
To them it is fulfilling
It is a deed so sad
It can only be done by the bad
The gangs don’t feel a thing
They love the sting.
The gangs are like wild animals
Like real damn cannibals
Running in the street
Wanting to kill whoever they meet
Whether night or day
The gangs will have their way
Even If they have their own way
It is their way night and day.
They smoke weed
Even if there is no need
Like the drugs they snort
Their life will be short.
They live by the sword
And die by the sword
They don’t really care
To them life is one big dare.
They drink a pill
In order to kill
They smoke weed
Because they have a need
They consume a lot of alcohol
Till on the floor they crawl
Harming people is what they do
Heavy drinking is what they do.
In this life they cannot cope
Living a life without hope
Living a life so hollow
There Is nothing to follow.
Ink Drops Like Rain
The Devil tried to take a bite of me.
I watched his ringlets twirl.
I've finally reached the spot
where I knew I was going to be.
It's a lose lose, to hell
and back to tell all that I see.
I asked for pens from the devil's guard.
He thinks he knows my name.
For months now I roam these empty halls,
and now the song is gone.
My name is hidden beyond the star's pain-
it hides within a song.
My pen is like my weapon, far mightier than the sword-
it splashes ink drops like the rain.
'Till it too catches old.
I fight sleep like Muhammad Ali
As melodic moon gently glows
Rather dance than chance sleepwalking
Music on the radio inspires tapping toes
Somehow my muse has been set loose
Not sure how long she will purple parade
She’ll always inspire my writing blue truths
Despite sleepless night or fiesta less day
I hear the whiz of emerald electricity
It’s so quiet I’d hear ants tap dancing
I’m sure I even hear your denim dreams
Tell me when you wake from sleeping
verse 1
Mr Nice Man
nice disguise at the front
just like your own paintings
blur the edges
just like Salvador.
verse 2
Promising prizes
not like the wisest
dont act like you care
Predator.
Chorus
your floating in the wrong seas
your fighting me for what for
your hunting for the wrong things
all like Salvador.
Chorus 2
Your fighting in the wrong seas
hunting for the wrong things
up side down, wrong way round
just like Salvador.
Bridge verse
Your drowning in the blue seas
and the pictures getting clearer
upside down and counting
whats the hunting for.
lyric builder in progress- Draft 2
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