I knew I never belonged
In this family.
But I didn't think you
Would gang up on me.
Just to take my daughter away
From me to.
Rip my heart out
And watch me bleed.
To destroy a bond between
A mother and daughter.
So you can
Paint me as the bad person.
So you can take all contact.
And kick me out of the family.
Brain Washing her
Into your little minion.
They say violence won't solve anything, but just this one time, let's all gang up and kill hate,
Lock it out of our houses, NO HATE BEYOND THIS POINT, posted on our gate,
Lock it out of our minds, our heart and our soul,
Feel the warmth creeping in, love warming up the cold,
It's in your hands, ask yourself, 'do I need to keep this bottled up until it becomes hate',
Or is it time to talk about it, apologize, make things right, it's never too late,
Don't let hate destroy your home, your future, your life,
Feed hate to the fishes, cut it into small pieces, let love be the knife...
Zuzuangel, dances the dazzling streets of Rio.
Her red hair, shines in the moonlight.
Attracting only the finest to her.
She wears studded gold sandals, those sexy feet,
cannot stop dancin to the Jobim, Bossa Nova Beat.
The outside cafes, the weather divine,
This is Zuzu’s time to be out and about, plus to
radiantly shine.
Her inner-soul, you see, has a rain-bowed, inviting
glow.
Wherein the river of her inner poetry does both rise
and flow.
That inner peace, is her fortress, where she truly
cannot be touched.
And any fool, who intimidates her-will be at once,
directly be rebuffed!
It does no good to intimidate, crush or
gang up on any poet’s soul.
The fate for any who so so?
When you harm any of God’s children,
in a monsoon of your own arrogance
you are eternally lost and tossed.
Your vanity, will kill you so high and mighty
you are.
Forgetting each poet is part of
God’s creative star!
11/18/2021
Pangie still in Trauma Center.
Learning to walk and stand.
Sorry, I am constantly around.
Commenting time is at
a minimimum..
Sometimes I just want to scream
To finally wake up from this dream
That doesn’t let up on me
Just screaming and wanting to be free
In trying to do the right thing
When through time it will ring
They will gang up on you in the end
Leaving you alone to defend
So you are left all alone
With all of perception gone
And wanting to know what’s right
Are you just too tired to fight.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Too quiet, my son
I worry about you
Thou contemplate overmuch
Get out there and do
Too noisy, my daughter
Unbecoming of you
You're a young lady already
Not a foul-mouthed shrew
Too passive, my wife
For this century
Take control of your life
Learn to fly like me...
It's our turn now, Dad
To gang up on you
But we won't go there
~ We'll just bid you adieu
When they come at you with pitch forks and tar
Get ready to fight back.
Be fierce, growl with your gut. Smack them upside their heads.
When they gang up on you, shove them into the ground.
Stomp on them if you have to.
Scare them to death.
When they come to you with a mean face
Open your heart and listen.
They are hurting from something else.
Unless you have truly done something.
When they call you names do not cry.
Do not give them any satisfaction at all.
Love them.
This is the best way to fight back actually.
Written. 10/07/2019
Contest; Why do I feel this is a Trophy Winning poem.
It is what I think we all realize in our hearts
Sponsor: Tania KitchiN
Chickens have beaks. For pecking
Their enemies and other unfortunate barnyard chickens
If they are dumb enough to get blood on them.
We will gang up and peck them to death,
Like people do, with rumours and stuff.
Chickens have scrawny un-tasty legs.
That is the downfall in being one, but there are
Other upsides, and I shall name my favorite one now.
Chickens can run around the barnyard for awhile
After their heads are chopped off.
Not clucking of course, but
Making those murdering humans laugh,
Which tends to terrorize the other chickens.
I am jealous of this.
Late hours ply poise
Hurl night time voice
A night sky deep
As darkness creeps
Stray breeze feels cool
As slumber spools
Cats roams these streets
As midnight greets
Late night skyline
Stray moonglow fine
Dark is the night
In mystic sight
Moon spreads blue tints
As echoes mint
Cats in full spree
Gang up with glee
Sleep does not come
My verse lines sum
Leon Enriquez
08 December 2017
Singapore
Imagine you are a Potter
Pots rise up and ask you why you make them
What can you do to them?
Imagine you are a goat
Grasses rise up and command you to stop eating them
What can you do to them?
Imagine you are the sun
Living things attack you to stop shining in the world
What can you do to them?
Imagine you are human body
The mouth commands you to stop using it for eating
What can you do to it?
Imagine you are lion
Antelopes gang up and command you to leave their territory
What can you do to them?
A Loner
Some people just have to be alone,
Not all of us get to find love.
Not all of us can be happy,
Most of us will spend our lives miserable.
But I shall save you from my misery,
I won’t let you end up like me.
For I only bring peace, love and empathy;
Disguised as my love (inside is a disease).
A ball of confusion,
A web woven by the fallen;
The women of past, present and future;
All gang up to tell me I’m a loser.
So kill me please,
I beg for death.
I can’t have love,
So I would rather be dead.
Than live one more second
On this putrid Earth.
It disgusts me,
It sickens me,
I despise having to live in this world.
(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
They all speak to me:
sometimes alone,
like a solo cello with
its sad, plaintive voice,
tugging at my soul
like a magnet pulling
at life's deep mystery.
Or maybe a small group
of rowdy instruments
will gang up, into a quartet
or sextet or even a very
tough octet, eight musicians
playing as one, much like a
small miracle of both fury
and the gentlest softness....
But sometimes I go all out:
I take on a hundred or more
at once as they breathe life
into a vast bold symphony by
Mahler, Beethoven, Bruckner,
or scores of souls perennially
reborn in music, music that
can make its own magic,
coming wildly into my ears
while putting a taste
of Eternity on my tongue....
I went in the woods one day
Grabbed myself a stick,
I shook it one too many times
Then landed backwards in the crick.
I looked over my shoulder
And guess what I saw,
Little tiny rabbits
Standing with maw and paw.
They hopped everywhere
I couldn't believe my eyes,
Noticed my clothes were all soaked
Then I began to rise.
There were so many rabbits
Too many, I couldn't count,
I looked over them carefully
I couldn't believe the amount.
I shook my stick at them
More appeared out of nowhere,
It was just me and my stick
That was rather unfair.
They happened to gang up on me
The more I shook my stick,
I think I peeved them off
When I tried to run, rather quick.
They pounced on my head
So many tiny rabbits,
Never go into the woods
And threaten a rabbit, with a stick.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
June.20/2005
NEVER SHAKE A STICK AT A RABBIT BECAUSE YOU HAVE MORE RABBITS THAN YOU CAN SHAKE A STICK AT. LMAO
COPLA DIECINUEVE : This Bad Guy World
All biped animals aren’t Men
Some are elves, fairies and witches
Others yet thugs
All are born to play roles given
Time Place Parents Beliefs Glitches:
The fate each lugs
Guys good and bad make up charade
Tug of war levels out with time:
If bad guys lose
When bad guys gang up to invade
Other guys living in good chime:
Charade red glows
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
I stand here with a rose as I rose early
from my garden full of them,pretty scarlet!
These faces make me to take up the gauntlet,
I`m determined to fight and face death daily.
Dreams fail,hopes dash, but my petals give fragrance,
Many weeds gang-up to strangle my roses,
but withered as they attack with failed doses,
display of floral and stem caused the hindrance.
Right from childhood this garden was protected,
My parent did guide and tend it jealously,
which has made me keep to the promise seriously,
Out of this floral , goodness is reflected.
Her pretty face is much better than the flax,
which has made many oppressed men to relax.
*Contemporary Sonnet*
COPLA CUATRO: This Bad Guy World
Bad guys gang up with God on lips
But place Their country above Their god:
God Bless Patrie
Their god other gods still outstrips
And for Their god they will kill God
Not above country
For good measure they kill own kind
They dispute nature of Their god:
Men take His place
They each lay claim to God’s own mind
And if by chance to Earth came God
Him they’d replace
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
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