Lawless War
A mortal war.
A compass to nowhere.
Too many secrets.
The county is divided.
Death never ends.
Young men are misleading.
Leadership in turmoil.
Piece talk always fails.
Raining bombs.
Provoked rebels.
Camouflage paint.
War never ending.
Down word spirals.
Gun powder.
Leaders chasing death.
Manipulation.
War over land and power.
Greed leading to a nuclear war.
World War III.
Death so many.
Unspeakable measures.
It’s in our nature to destroy ourselves.
Conflict on every turn.
Another story to burn.
The lawless tide sweeps in at night,
Silent beneath the dark velvet sky,
Tears that glisten, soft and bright,
Fall where the broken lie.
Seeking truth, it wanders far,
A beacon through the shrouded dark,
No flame, no lantern, nor a star,
But hope, a fleeting spark.
One life to give, a single thread,
Woven tight in fate's cruel loom,
To rise, to fall, to meet the dead,
Yet bloom beyond the gloom.
To die in the arms of the light,
A soul released, unbound, set free,
The tide recedes, the shadowed night
Yields to eternity.
If a problem disappears, is its solution still viewed in arrears
Please reference John Lawless' Monoku,
'A Problem's Problem,' Sept. 21, 2024.
Not written for a contest but based on the wit and out of the box chutzpa of a ballsy poet. If Shakespeare shakes his finger at me for breaking Sonnet rules, I will tell him I am a Lawless one, and a quill like John's is in my bag of tools.
One Soup poet is a rebellious man
He's a 'Wild Boy,' sung by Duran Duran
Known to break a few rules
Pen and paper, his tools
Lawless' humor is jocular deadpan
Some baffling riddles from the Boston Bard
Might take an inspector from Scotland Yard
He's mugged a metaphor
"Innocent," he then swore!
Be ready to run when John shout's "ENGARD!"
Whispers of Autumn : August to welcome.
with cloudless cerulean sky to shine.
Luster of Autumn is bliss of season.
Amazing amiable ambience.
Environ to enchant on excellence.
Ample asters glow in rows and columns
Sparkling glistening astounding Autumn
on hyaline indigo horizon.
Dry leaves leave deciduous trees as seen.
Heavy showers getting no preference.
Glossy freshness is Autumn 's assurance.
Autumn -radiance painting sky-album
Autumn - glaze on shimmering Sun's spectrum.
Butterflies fly on flowery freedom.
Behind a customary pen that bites
its victims, left to bleed
in alleys dark, lurks a
denizen of forest nights ~
his sonnets' radiance, purest white
Fieldwork is stellar, sexy, or strenuous and sad
Talking values, prolonging childhood
Is not for the faint hearted among S. Africa's "Coloured"
My "township" boasts about acting backward
Using walls for urination, or there on streets
Many walk all day long with beer in hand (never discreet)
We reward bad for good; kindness is meekness minus Jesus (equals: simple weakness)
Abusing drugs, kids, partners - "street privacy"?
Is the only "rule" respected by all and sundry
II
Shall I report these abuses, "shebeens" next door?
But the policing is poor, revenge usual & more
Or should I show the other cheek, God's love
Shall I continue peacemaking, or reward shove with shove?
Since Middle School I struggled with moochers, "the lazy"
To accept them, help, yet teach a better way
Humans seek peace, routines, "order" in some way
But competition fir resources, conflict
May be the real order of the day
Hence wars are welcome for profits, bottom lines!
My question: Love or lecture "them" is as old as Time
In my "coloured township," there is no "time" for both
I'm more pessimistic about human nature now, sad truth!
A law-abiding citizen is
One who keeps the law.
There are many of them,
Of this, I am sure.
Sadly there are others,
Who live a life of crime,
Conning and conniving,
And never serving time.
Why does this happen?
How does this come about?
Law-abiding people,
Find it hard to work out.
People in high places,
Often get off scot-free,
Why are there no rules for them,
But strict rules for you and me.
Lawyers have a responsibility,
To follow the letter of the law,
Not looking for gratuities,
As the offender walks out of the door,
Footloose and fancy-free,
Confident in his next court case,
He will win as easily.
What sort of world do we live in
When we cannot trust the law,
Filled with war crimes and sin.
What do we employ Lawyers for
In this day and age,
People cannot stand much more,
It's time to turn the page,
It's time that crooked lawyers
Become a thing of the past.
The art of writing pooetry for John lawless
I never know when I’ll write poo-etry
So I keep a pen and paper with me
If inspired when I sit on the loo
Toilet roll can prove so handy too!
My writing it looks like a spider
who’s drunk on strong apple cider
I may strain when I use a long word
Oh yippee I see word rhymes with turd!
I can class myself as a poop poet
my poems are ‘dire ere' and I know it!
But I try to bring some fun your way
and sometimes get Poo et of the day!
12/8/18
The eyes are the same, we stared across the pub floor.
No recognition, just coldness in his glower.
So many years have gone by since the days of lawless law.
We saw the real thing. We saw the real man.
The stench in the air, young death on the land.
I still hear you cry, I still hear you beg.
For me to finish your life because of what
they’d done to your legs.
You once were my friend, my mate, my
comrade. I never saw you again after the
hell of the trench.
Decades have gone by and there you are now, sat not ten yards away.
Trying to not recognise me? Afraid to speak because of what you think I might say?
My brother, my brother, for what we saw, they’ll never see!
For what we knew, they’ll never know.
For what we did, they’ll never do.
For what we understand, they’ll never even consider.
It’s me, it’s me, please look at me. ‘till my dying day you’ll be a brother to me.
We need new sheriffs whom will uphold law properly
taking these monkey's into account for their corrupt action
and addressing facts on these cowboy's
that are held by public opinion as gangsters in uniform
Lawbreakers bring them down a peg or two and show them inside a cell
this is how the taxpayers look at swindlers and thief's under state assets
rather than shoot them down reward incorrectly in a big pay day
with bonuses and pensions into the bargain
robbing our hard earned money blind drunken greed
Even when they are totally shamed through their disgraced deeds caught out highlighted being honest it's a cowboy outfit force
that needs to clean up it's act to gain respect
for one this shows lack of respect where justice is not upheld
in showing favour to these criminals whom there sits enough proof
to throw the book at them correctly it should be dealt with
pride is a wicked place to hide when secrets are out
She is a mob
looting my sleep
rioting through
the alleys and lanes of
my blissful solitude
She is thieves
a thousand strong
who burglarize
my dreams
until the reprieve
of a restless dawn
Kidnapper of
contented hours
who demands
no ransom
but highjacks
every unsuspecting thought
with impunity
She is arson
my undisturbed peace
days unclouded by desire
now shrouded
in smoke
incandescent
in a bonfire
Beautiful
criminally so
but she's so young
so innocent
and serenely unaware
of the chaos
she incites
He was a perfect and glorious being
One who followed his Father
But it all changed
When he wanted to be like him…
...But doesn’t everyone want to be like their parent…
He didn’t want
To be a servant to his Father
He was beautiful and magestic,
An angel in full glory
He was cloaked in the mystical clothes of the divine
And he had all that he could ever want or need
But he was missing one thing
Pride
It was his downfall
Every child seems to think of themselves
As higher than their parents at some point
But he did have a special gift
Temptation
Which he used to sway others against his father
It was his curse upon the world
Along with its sisters
He worked for the wages of sin
knowing his chances were slim
surname of Lawless
tree on his shield crest
taut rope hanging over stout limb
John G. Lawless
11/21/2015
submitted to – What’s in your name – poetry contest
sponsor – C.T.
Life according to John Lawless
Real Life
a childish attempt to gather leaves
on a windy day
looking out the window at the rain
wearing swim suit and goggles
standing in the mud – wondering
why you just couldn’t resist it
a yard sale of emotions
tarnished and tagged
Ah Life
Curator of the hearts mausoleum
Guardian of guilt’s abyss
Overseer of the asylums mind
Debunker of both truths and lies
Still Life
a childish attempt at growing old
looking out the window at the rain
gazing at the mud – wondering
why life couldn’t just leave you alone
10/29/2015
submitted to – Life according to…. – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Silent One
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