They say:
Savages.
Savages.
SA-VA-GES.
We say:
Hypocrites.
Hypocrites.
HYP-O-CRITES.
Moral olympics were never your event -
To participate,
In.
You don’t get a say -
When your words ooze with hypocrisy,
There is no democracy,
In the role you had to play,
In BLACK BRUTALITY.
You live in glass houses,
Throwing stones will break your walls of security,
You don’t get to call us savages -
When you, yourselves are defined by hypocrisy.
Superiority has never existed in your DNA,
When inferiority is the price you pay -
For generational jealousy
Your irrationality,
Blinds your capability -
To see,
The irony -
That the fingers you point, are facing your way
Topped with terra cotta- tiled roof
the house stood on a hill with pine trees,
partly covering it from view,
with its turrets opening like watchful eyes.
Rumor runs, at night from there,
people hear strange wailings.
Scoffing it as the weird fancy of crazy minds,
eager to prove the irrationality of it,
one night I ascended the hill,
leading to that cozy mansion.
As I paced faster and came closer,
the house looked so imposing
with a wide yard and a porch
surrounded by ornamental railings
with a winding driveway
lain with marble squares
and leading to the entrance
Close to the house but safely distant,
I noticed a narrow pit hidden among shrubs
Nothing was unusual about it.
I walked round and round.
Couldn’t see anything to rouse suspicion.
When I was about to leave,
as a proud victor after a thorough search,
I saw a skeletal figure emerging
from the pit and rising into air wailing.
In horror, as I looked on,
like a bird, on the pine branch, it did perch
and soon shape shifted into a man.
Fancy or Fact, never looking back
I took to my heels as fast as I could.
War in its profound essence
begins not in the battlefield,
but in the dark chambers of human ego.
The self-interest thrives on the illusion of invincibility,
distorts the judgement of historical forces,
designs the destiny of nations
to misshape the configuration of the world.
The selfish egos of war write the story of pride,
seeking a permanent legacy of triumph.
The tragedy lies in their blindness to the primary truth
that all existence is intertwined,
and to harm others is to destroy oneself
when the guns go silent and the dusts settle.
In the irrationality of war their vanity
can’t transcend the narrow limits of egotism.
Sedated by the delusion of greatness
the selfish egos of war seek to embed themselves
upon the enduring world,
but their quest for immortality ironically hastens erasure.
The house looks so imposing and majestic from outside
With a wide yard and a porch surrounded by ornamental railings
It was situated on a hill with pine trees partly covering it from view,
Rumour runs, at night from there, people hear strange wailings.
Scoffing it as the weird fancy of crazy minds,
I was so eager to prove the irrationality of it.
One night I ascended the hill leading to that cosy mansion.
Close to the house but safely distant, I noticed a narrow pit.
Though I walked around, nothing seemed unusual about it.
When I was about to leave as a proud victor after a thorough search,
I saw a skeletal figure emerging from the pit and rising into air wailing.
In horror, as I looked on, like a bird, on the pine branch, it did perch.
If you can but see,
the height of desperation
where death is deemed more desirable
than the pitiable plights of
the people of Palestine.
Why no one in this momentous time
call out the names of the killers?
The wantonness of the world
The inhumanity of man
The gullibility of gods
The irrationality of religions
The impotency of prayers
The prostitution of justice;.
O the children of Palestine,
You are haunted
by the ghosts from your future
writing it in blood,
Where does one go to seek
the salve for the suffering souls?
First I had faith
but had no god,
and when I found god
I lost my faith!
No question is harder than this alarming dialogue
must I completely forget each joy given to me?
Fear is the adversary; it suggests I remain free:
no vision is equal to this imagination so vague!
It's a disadvantage to express beliefs that are rejected
by the masses manipulated by contrasting science, not faith;
they become invalided by bizarre minds lacking worth,
and they affect us with their derogative philosophy of creed!
When untruths are perceived as facts and truths as misconception,
we run the risk of irrationality and stand on the brink of confusion;
where's the authentic sense of reason that connects us to reality?
Be transformed by all invisible forces and you'll lose your sanity!
No prospective is clearer than the one that's ever present
and deviates us from the right course taken by old wisdom;
will we err by irrational wish, by naive reaction or foolish intent?
In this circle of extreme folly, we choose allusion over realism!
It comes and goes but often stays
Sinking its sharp teeth into my shoulder
I pray it will soon disappear and go away
But it lingers as emotions rage and smolder
Waking up to teeth blaring and knowing
Negative thoughts will be stirred and flowing
I try to shake it off, with logic and reason
But It never dies and reappears every season
Drool from its ravaged mouth can cover me in fear
Immobilizing me, not sure which direction to steer
It feeds on irrationality and becomes a powerful force
Only positive thoughts can help me get back on course
This beast is called anxiety, controller of the mind
It’s a battle I fight to win and leave the negativity behind
an existence of time...
perceived as -
an existential phenomena...
be labelled as -
an irrationality of change...
stan sand
The Man in the White House
Watches with a cautious eye
Aware his term of office
Is swiftly flowing by.
The man in Number 10
Still thinks his country Great
As he creeps and craws to
His trans Atlantic mate
The Man in the Kremlin
Wanting territorial gain
Wreaks havoc and despair
On the defiant Ukraine
The man in Pyongyang
Just doesn’t care
How his irrationality
Drive nations to despair.
The Quiet Man of Beijing
Very seldom seen
Flexes his muscles
There behind the scene.
The working man in general
No matter what his location
Labours long and hard just
To maintain his situation.
There's a symbol for our justice,
Holding scales while she is blind.
Yet it seems the 'MAGAteers' have extended
This further, adding deaf and dumb to their mind.
Because they have made the choice not to
See, hear, or think, as they ignore reality.
While they follow a corrupted voice, laden
With false notions and irrationality.
This conviction has seduced their soul, with
Visions of fear and lethal consequence sustained.
Using a barrage of powerful fiction, giving faith
To a utopia without discord ... but they're ordained.
The stupidity is clearly seen, as they avoid
Any facts that disturb their view.
As these followers become so deeply entrenched,
They can't escape the shadow that's untrue.
Having seen the danger progress, while a
Fragile democracy wavers on the brink.
Watching a majority come under constant attack,
And a privileged minority tries to silence those who critically think.
Piles of garbage; sounds of carnage they motion
Blurry images of malnourished children
Struggling for breath and bread
They evince; the struggles as we grow
-of how we ourselves are adversaries to our improvement, a hated compliment;
Of our lust for not the future but the moment
In bold they write
headlines with demeaning adjectives
that best describe our tribe - negros
A continent taken as just a nation
With a bunch of foolish souls
With primeval irrationality, flagrant corrupt officials:
Followers of a God that is partial.
What they will never show
Is the hope and courage dancing
In those malaria eyes
The trueness in our loose ties
They won't write,
Stories of how our crudeness
Made them their goodness
Of us being their reservoir
A training ground for their geniuses —
Perfect confirmation of their guises.
Will they ever have those eyes?
Those that see us as civilized humans
Minding our own business.
irrationality is maintained
by...
the systematic geometry
it...
sustains against itself as
an...
equivalence consistency
to...
be as i pi e or phi that's
as...
functionally manifesting
by...
transcendental numbers
stans sand
a point is balanced by its empty space
contraction is balanced by expansion
gravitation balances space
mass balances energy
change balances continuity
irrationality balances 'pi-e-phi' numerical continuities
a numerical existence balances the mental illusion of 'change as time'
mass contraction balances energy expansion as/of a bubble of time
a slow burning candle flame balances wax consumption with energy loss
understanding is a balance between input and output
irrational time perceptions are balanced as/by continuities in/of mind
a large bubble is balanced by the number of small bubbles it becomes
no two things in existence are equally balanced space-times
a lifetime is a time bubble balance in a temporary space-time environ
a lifetime is but the balancing of a candle flame with its space-time
find a slowed life time bubble-balance continuity in an irrational lifetime
stans sand dust
Uncharted seas
they are sailing in
time and again
along lines of flight
they defy surveillance
and smuggle
their clandestine dreams
braving
propaganda
indoctrination
derision
oppression
and whatnot
They elude despair
and evade the smear
of the myriad accusations
hailing them
each time they dare
to word their needs
and speak their hearts
infantilism
immaturity
ignorance
irrationality
greediness
disloyalty
lovers of anarchy
and whatnot
Those unseen
whose eyes
are riveted on
tolerance
equality
justice
equity
and whatnot
they will never
give themselves up
to that old mantra
once bitten, twice shy
The time-framed mirror made of me
reflects the pernicious perception of fear,
looking at it I’m mortally scared,
and sink immobile in the state of stasis.
An emotion engulfed by trepidation,
bewildered by the flight of fight option,
gets trapped in irrationality of phobia,
while freeze response shrivels my mind.
The sane sense loses the escape route,
disappears in the miasma of loneliness,
petrified mind meanders in dense darkness,
trying to find the instinctive observer, me.
As that me turns into a fright sensor
in the dark abyss of scary isolation,
my detached soul strives to abandon it
to show the way how to transcend fear.
August 28, 2021
Brian Strand Contest : A Strand (1059)
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.