Empty race
That's what they want us to run
Running aimlessly, living like slaves
Wandering around planet earth
Working without earning
Living without thinking
So we won't be aware
Of the poor infrastructure, political instability, corruption, institutional weaknesses etc
They always abuse our potential
They know the dirty games they play
Creating chaos and fear to give News
Trying to be our muse
Just to lead and misuse us
But our senses we always put into use
We are always feeling good
Even when they belittle or neglect us.
If you've never
Been seen as nobody
You can never be somebody
Not all shame lame or tame you
Some are triggers for your growth
Stay strong; so you can break yokes.
Family programs used to abuse me
Relationship programs used to abandon me
Friendship programs used to outcast me
Resource programs used to hinder me
Society programs used to influence me
Institutional programs used to distort me
Principality programs used to discredit me
Municipality programs used to harass me
Mass media programs used to haunt me
Religious programs used to control me...
I am standing with healed wounds,
I am stronger the expected,
I am wiser without a doubt,
I am present without resentment,
I am fearless, brave and powerful
I am free.
A One Off Concept
as Tends to happen
casting to be
announced
a institutional concept
emotion exclusivity
concepts of revivalry
quality needs not to be
negotiated
Neglecting the needs of
your consumer base
undermines your effectiveness
pre production is successful
at the post production fade
Brand recognition offers
satisfaction
Production within the bounds of
creation
allows the functioning production machine
to keep the momentum of production
Robert Lloyd Sherriff - Australian Poet, Author, Actor, and Model: American Historian.
Robert Sherriff - 'ME' 1961
In the shadows of a childhood lost,
Where crows cawed with voices crossed,
Robert Sheriff bore the weight of pain,
In a family's silence, cruelty reigned.
Father's fists, like a tempest wild,
Mother's eyes turned, averted, mild,
In the darkness, young Robert stood,
A soul consumed by violence's flood.
The crows outside, their watchful eyes,
Echoed the screams, the silent cries,
As society's grip tightened strongly,
Institutional abuse is a ghastly song.
But Robert stood against the tide,
His voice a beacon, no longer to hide,
Injustice rendered, cruelty slain,
His story is a testament, a survivor's gain.
The crows may caw, the shadows loom,
But Robert Sheriff, in his strength, consumes
The darkness, the violence, the unjust night,
With courage and resilience, he stands in the light.
Florida prisoners should have their institutional work count toward Social Security benefits.
This policy would recognize their labor's value and provide a safety net upon release, aiding reintegration into society.
Most inmates engage in various forms of work, contributing to prison operations and gaining skills.
Excluding them from Social Security undermines their economic stability and increases the risk of recidivism.
Additionally, recognizing their work ensures fairness and aligns with broader labor rights.
Ultimately, counting institutional work toward Social Security would foster rehabilitation, reduce reoffending, and affirm the dignity of incarcerated individuals.
Jackie who was permanently stuck in the twos after
a childhood vaccine that was due..
Larry's addiction and prior crimes that led to his
affliction and wheel chair confine.
Bill who struggled with his c.p., only hoping that
others could see beyond his disability..
Joe whose institutional blows caused stuttering,
frustration and angry explodes..
Carol whose Asperger's left her obsessed compulsively
dialing strangers on her ex boyfriend quest..
George who got an inner thrill by chasing trash trucks
until they turned on the hill..
Phil who in public would stop and beg to touch the
calf of a woman's leg..
Barbara with her theatrical flare who craved full attention
every where..
Howard who lost his serenity when any change occured
in his vicinity..
James and his life long obsession with Marlboro lights
and fake wrestling..
Our society labels them developmentally delayed but
many were the best friends I've ever made..
ODE TO MONEYLENDERS
Oh, what designs can one possess
Lending succour to those with naught
Such desperate need one must confess
And how hard one must have fought
When courtesy has no more currency
With those to whom one is indebted
And there is a sad loss of coherency
Then additional loans must be netted
Limited choices never were the best
Yet lenders all may seem attractive
In selecting just one from all the rest
One does have to be quite proactive
Yet each time, the first steps are easy
Later payments getting ever harder
Mounting dues can make one queasy
It can be hunger and an empty larder
Interest becomes the pound of flesh
With debts spiralling out of control
Raw need and sympathy never mesh
As timely repayment is ever the goal
Whether institutional or private loan
More than money may be involved
Property as capital soon sets the tone
And any timely exit is rarely solved
Pleasant outcomes appear quite rare
Borrowing is always a slippery slope
With risk of ending in a pit of despair
And yet for some, there is still hope
Each bon mot melts with
Nuanced, age-old symbolic flavors --
Growing, changing, challenging me.
Language arts baffle me.
Institutional norms perplex me.
Slowly, I listen for that precise sound.
History’s echoes bounce off my walls,
Heaving meanings like so many dock workers.
Overhead, cargoes glide by glistening in the sun.
Movers eye the carts going forward.
Only I stand still.
Purposefully, I dream of…
Houses filled with treasures – elegant libraries!
Open-hearted, I find and survey my grotto.
Nothing seems impossible as I
Enter into a new dwelling and
Seek to be transformed.
In class five the studies was going on for local scholarship
After exam I was seized by love for a girl thru friendship
Second I was in prize but left me alone she went to Dhaka
In merit list I was always as usual in the institutional data
At the end I was continuing in that institute for studentship
©Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
17/01/2023
Cultivation of distressful life was starting in our family after the cyclone
No shelter we found except a crushed hamlet on far dale with full alone
On the next year we’re moved to hill tracts for probing of best living fate
Through a little job my father cared us with his loving effort to be settled
The year nineteen ninety two was my first year of institutional learning rail
©Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
07/11/2022
To hold a liberal viewpoint is a good thing
For we liberals believe in our inalienable rights,
Rights to “the pursuit of happiness” we bring.
Freedom with responsibility, a good feeling,
Opportunity with civility is worthy of its fights
To hold a liberal viewpoint is a good thing.
For America, her flag, her anthem we sing
Proudly supporting her fundamental might,
Rights to “the pursuit of happiness” we bring.
We will not buckle to an insurrectionist wing,
In our belief in liberty for all, we delight,
To hold a liberal viewpoint is a good thing.
When our government is threatened, we sting
And for our freedom of speech, we will fight
Rights to “the pursuit of happiness” we bring.
Our commitments are more than a passing fling
We keep our proven institutional values in sight,
To hold a liberal viewpoint is a good thing
Rights to “the pursuit of happiness” we bring.
Written July 12, 2022
Anyone can write a poem
I mean, they’ve never passed a law
and with the quick access to paper
and all.
Of course, the serial poet’s the danger
that keeps us up at night - someone lacking
the gene for rhyme control. Normal people can’t
imagine such wonton, naked promiscuity with words.
It’s best that we ignore them - to nip it in the bud.
A real collective effort is required - let us build
institutional archives - yes - we’ll call them libraries - to
lock such verse away - may it never again see the light of day.
If you catch a child with a pencil, slap it out of their little hand
because we cannot start too early in discouraging needless rhyme.
This public service announcement - pointing out this new “poetry”
trend - was made for the benefit of all.
t-rump...reigning sourasst...
made his fortune as a stand-in...
fall-guy in wall-street emergencies...
financial vehicle bank rupture blowouts...
someone has to cart the monetary debris away...
and so profit from institutional destruction is t-rumps...
home stomping ground where he is now seeking bailout...
money for his republican party and corporate supporter investments...
now that the ruptures in those public institutions are as visible cracks...
in a wall on which t-rump is leaving demonstrator marks and is hoping will fall...
stan sand
Dwindling are the final nights,
the ebony skies on which you etch
your stark ethereal aura each year,
your superlunary circle of shine.
Mantic god’s eye, you watch us,
enigmatic as we inventory our yesterdays.
as we ponder new beginnings,
as we behold your lustrous crown.
Naked wreath of pallid gleam,
cleansing the lingering indelible ink
we all carry from our enfeebled judgments,
from our institutional callousness.
We never comprehend you.
We only see our plots and perils in you,
Still, in your stable presence,
your dispassionate appearance,
your silver shimmer to which
we ascribe our madness,
odd though it may seem,
we find a new year’s hope.
Institutional prayers belong on a shelf
I can compose them much better myself...
I am but a tiny speck, you God are immense --
Too obviously true; that'll never do, so hence
I cry out to You, but words escape me --
Hmm, someone's already written this plea --
I search for You in places hidden deep away --
No, the Lord's found everywhere and every day
You come to me unbidden by cover of night --
Would God ever want to cause me fright?...
The Lord is my Shepherd
I shall not want...
Now, that sounds so elegant --
Words that I thought were so easy to write
Only true genius can produce such delight
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.