Alberto Nisman didn't know the danger he would enter
when he looked into the bombing of a Jewish center
He said president Christina was hiding the truth
he had the goods, would soon show the proof.
He was supposed to appear in Congress, but hours before
Somehow hitmen got by his door
He knew too much, so bad guys moved fast
If you let on what you know, next moment might be last.
Veronica Guerin reported on the Dublin crime scene
They had to kill her before the big clean.
She stopped at a traffic light, two bikers drew nigh
She knew she'd be shot, she knew she would die
She asked them not to shoot her in the face
So they shot her in some other place.
Jack knew secrets, but the mob didn't want death yet
So they punished him whenever he seemed a threat
He walked among you, but you could not see
The overarching underworld reality.
So beware the secrets that you've found,
Even heroes may not leave the battleground.
For truth’s a boomerang—when it comes back around,
Your message may die with you, six feet underground.
let on to secrets
I wish I had never heard
lured by twitch of ears
eyes wide open beg to know
best to leave, to leave it be
Tale of valour is about to unfold
Gallant knight's effigy in marble so cold
Once he was stalwart full of manly vigour
The name was feared his enemies shivered.
Yet, there was young maiden who loved him well
Like moth to flame, he did compel
Her wings were singed as she flew to his side
Throughout her short life, she did abide.
How she was missed but he never let on
Astride great charger his armour shone
Safe in his heart was her very own place
Never to forget beloved face.
Spirits are free in either they rise
Listen to breeze you will hear soft sigh
One thousand years they are still in love
Medieval moment on wings of Dove
I grew up blind
The kind that fades away with the gaping eye of knowledge
word on the tip of every patriotic tongue was independence
Little did my shut brain know, sham was a better word for it
The physicality was removed, that is certain
But ideas and creeds are still sung, venerating them
It’s as if our souls were trained for the job-faultlessly
Yet freedom is cried out from the fantasy of the beholder
How could it be that they quantify us unchained?
When the model of sophistication and elegance embellished
Fall in the wondrous sculpture molded of anything but our culture
Language is deemed "uncouth,” evermore forgotten as ancestral splendor
Colonialism ended to let on a superior beneficial exploitation
What better shrewdness than one concocted in plain sight?
We’ve seen their pockets outgrow them with our gold, our dignity
While we’re outran by their wars, and still, we grow old-blind
it happened during a strange confusion of reality
when the full moon howled at the wolf
if the wolf suspected interdimensional transference
it cleverly didn’t let on, just ran into the trees
luckily I don’t think anyone else noticed but me
the moon, a little brighter, had stood its ground
Dandelion mushroom lady standing at attention
In the meadow that is almost too gorgeous to mention
Mystical feelings float out of her ambiance too
She has a cosmic presence that says she is overdue
Where has she been? Pink and red tulips ask, for she is kind of new
I think her seeds finally sprouted said an intelligent Lily named Lou.
Dandelion mushroom lady hears but does not let on at all.
Standing proudly, loving her fluffiness, weed that grows so tall.
it feels deeply disingenuous,
making plans with a person you know you don’t truly want to share a future with
perhaps i’m more selfish than i let on
perhaps i’m not as truthful as i thought
how does someone go about ending things
there is so much of me in your life
my room is full of evidence
that you’ve been here,
in my life,
my bed,
inside of me
i will to paint over you in my walls
and wash you from my sheets
i will repeat my name to myself
until it is mine again
until my skin is mine again
Midnight comes and I'm lying in my bed wide awake due to
Anxious thoughts of what will happen tomorrow at the
Staff Christmas party. No doubt the alcohol will flow leading to
Questionable decisions made by myself in order to entertain others
Unnecessarily to cover my true inner self. I am seen by others as an
Extrovert, when in reality, I'm longing to be alone. Ideally, I'd be more
Reclusive than I let on, but the show must go on, and as the office clown, I
Am always expected to do a prank on a co-worker or spin a yarn. I am
Definitely hiding behind a mask, as so many others do. It's easier than
Expressing my true feelings and being who I want to be.
Heart of mine, why so timid
for fear of saying one word out of place
yet from the shadow of your cover
you'll never shun to force a smile
Still we both know
you're stronger and
there's more to you
than you let on
What is it that you hold back
without really knowing why
don't you worry what you hold dear
one day might fade away and die
Heart of mine, don't cry in the dark
summer is around the corner
promising the spark of youth
if only an illusion
AP: 2nd place 2023, Honorable Mention 2023
We met in the icy waters
of the lake one hot day in July.
In that bright afternoon we
splashed and grew close in the
dark under the raft.
An hour later we climbed
onto the grassy bank and
walked out on that oak
the wind had laid down
over the trout and
flash of minnows.
There, the sun turned your
blue skin pink.
In our leafy universe,
I thought you told me everything.
Next morning, we hiked our
translucent path to the bright
yellow tree that grew halfway
up our hill like a lighthouse.
The cool Wisconsin evenings
gave us popcorn and hot chocolate
in front of the fire, so we were
anchored alea of the storms and
through all the places we had to go…
school, and kids, and jobs,
but you never let on until
the hidden things lifted
their sails in a chill wind
and took you away.
Copyright
Vol Lindsey
9/17/2009
Mr. Down, you’ve got a vicious daughter.
Girls this mean lay my emotions bare.
I am so glad she doesn’t like me now.
She is clever enough, but me she doesn’t mind.
She’s a snot and acts haughty, your daughter.
Please tell her I barely know her name.
Here’s the game, I think she’s a big cow.
She is clever enough, but me she doesn’t mind.
Running around
She has a stench, a smell
Her voice as shout
It is ugly mean and loud
If she finds that I’ve been round to see you (round to see you)
Tell her that to her I pay no mind (pay no mind, ooh).
Don’t let on, never let her think she’s smart.
I would run away, but to me she does not mind.
Mr. Down, you’ve got a vicious daughter (vicious daughter)
Mr. Down, you’ve got a vicious daughter (vicious daughter)
Mr. Down, you’ve got a vicious daughter (vicious daughter)
Mr. Down, you’ve got a vicious daughter (vicious daughter)
Written 10-18-21
Contest: Change the Record
Sponsor: Natasha L Scragg
Original Song: Herman's Hermits "Mrs. Brown You've Got a Lovely Daughter"
As flowers fill with summer rain
Commuters board their rush hour train
Oblivious to all they see
They must get home in time for tea
Reflecting on their busy day
Decisions seldom go their way
The simple things that mean a lot
Just too busy – Now forgot
Magic times remain unseen
Now blinded by their dull routine
Tomorrows dreams stay in the past
Time flies by - the moments passed
It’s easy to be lead astray
But every dog will have his day
The thoughts inside – Just Cant let go
So don’t let on - no-one will know
All heading for another place
They hide behind a dead pan face
Afraid their plans have gone astray
They must survive another day
Don’t bother with a crystal ball
You have the power to recall
We each determine our own fate
So take control – Don’t sit and wait
Why stand in line and wait your turn
Just cut the ropes and watch them burn
Feelings that we all suppress
You never know – Perhaps they’ve guessed
The sands of time will ebb and flow
The tree that grows will always show
The promise of a future dawn
On platform nine you stand and yawn.
I have weight on, due to a moan
Those who labour under, Striving hope
Citizen breathes with recluse
See the country's ruller, gone to be rebel
Wondering those, illusion ail
The country gone to be breakage
Seek the history, we made it fiction
Whither see the route you are, trying to fly sole.
Union wons, being a garland
Accept those man, shares drawn the ail
Explorer are unknown, about the sage
Lash out the raze, agent of rebel
Be a union of garland
Let on, make of, right drawn
Recourse the grief, for an expect
To make regin drawn, with an terminate.....
The power of the spiritual
Within the ritual
Blood let on the sigil
Repeat so it becomes habitual
Draw a circle and light the flame
Recite the mantra and speak the name
For good purpose or to hack and maim
Focus with your pure intent, know this is not a game
Under full moonlight
Both blue and bright
Bloodmoon in sight
The spell is full with almight
Open your mind, soul, and body for possession
Know now that you're in the middle of the session
Perfectly in tune, master this profession
Study and learn, work each little lesson
Now thank the demon, respect the spirit
With open mind you can now hear it
Always remember that with acceptance, you'll no longer fear it
The path invoked from within, meditate while you sit
In the middle of your temple is your altar shrine
Around you is the template, now you are mine
The feelings you feel will be all so real, so sublime
These powers you've exorcised are ethereal and somewhat divine
Now end the session and close the gate
Put everything back properly or receive its fate
The love and respect can be hostile with hate
The powers conjured will embody you with its aspects trait
Why not create a flowered horse?
Not fully convinced I threw away the idea
Several weeks in a row, then a month or two
Horses are difficult to draw!
But my muse kept returning to my dendrite highway.
A flowered horse would be terrific! She said.
Persisting, insisting, tenacious as any muse can ever be.
At last I relented for she was getting louder.
As you may guess the end results pleased me
more than I ever cared to let on.
It is not wonderful to have a muse
Who thinks they always know better than you do.
Related Poems