Long Annihilation Poems | Poetry

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Long poem by Catie Lindsey | Details

Judgment, Bloody Judgment

When before the throne the Lamb advocated,
For those countless Souls in arbitration,
He reached for the Book without hesitation,
On the altar the Lamb's blood inundated.
God's chosen Lamb being consecrated,
Present at the Earth's foundation,
Then witnessing her mighty cessation,
This Lamb of God now mediated.
For a moment the time seemed to stall,
As blood from the altar spilled to the floor,
Many there were, in search of a door,
But the serpent, on his belly, crawled.
Each Soul stood complacently consigned,
To Hell's fire or Heaven sublime.

To Hell's fire or Heaven sublime,
Every head bowed, every Soul felt speculation,
Be it Heavenly bliss or eternal damnation?
For by righteousness or sins defined,
What was forgotten was in the book to remind.
As time after time, each Soul fell to temptation,
No stone left unturned in this lengthy investigation.
But for the glory of God this moment was designed.
Minions of Souls, of every nationality,
Pale and cold, as dripping sweat insinuates,
The guilt, the shame, the fear that alienates.
Not jot nor tittle removed from prophesy's biblicality.
Sins of darkness were brought to light,
From Hell's fire the demons took flight.

From Hell's fire the demons took flight,
Swooping down low upon the congregation,
As the fire flamed higher in Hell's orchestration,
While Lucifer's laughter offered no respite.
The smoke and the ash suffocated the light,
The sins of the Soul weighed heavy in condemnation,
Then each Soul experienced the evils of segregation.
Isolated, and shamed with immobilizing fright,
Some Souls did faint, their strength grew frail,
When out of the smoke came the Rose of Sharon,
Bound and tied, bloody, whipped, and beaten.
Countless Souls saw plainly where they gained or failed.
Composure denied, though the Soul struggled diligently,
To loose the bonds of sudden accountability.

To loose the bonds of sudden accountability,
Each Soul, a nail in fleshy augmentation,
Slammed into a beam of bloody fermentation.
Throwing stones at a young woman's assailibility,
Convenient doctrines demanding public proclamation,
Heresies and Pharisees in close association.
Each Soul bore the weight of responsibility.
Loud wailing was heard with gnashing of teeth,
While Lucifer's laughter rang out over all these things,
Then more demons took flight, with great and mighty wings,
As a burning sword was loosed from destruction's sheath.
The Lamb opened the Book of Life, judgment to confer,
He called out the first name written, "Lucifer."

He called out the first name written, "Lucifer."
Then an army of Angels appeared in mighty demonstration,
To witness Old Lucifer's final eternal annihilation;
Around the throne sweet incense was implored,
As Lucifer came forth with his minions to proffer,
"Take these," he began, "some of my closest associations,
Take dishonesty, theft, and the greed of the nations."
Then these sins on the altar were offered,
As Lucifer grinned with sheepish beguilement,
The blood of the Lamb arose in hostility,
Covering those sins with absolute capability.
Each Soul experienced honesty and enlightenment.
With the truth now clear for each Soul to discern,
Old Lucifer grew tempered with anger to burn.

Old Lucifer grew tempered with anger to burn.
Displaying murder, lust, and war's devastation,
The blood on the altar covered these evil manifestations.
But within himself, Old Lucifer's patience churned.
As the cosmic wheels of divine justice slowly turned,
Lucifer became enamored with his own amplified palpitations,
Biting the heel of humility, in his moment of greatest tribulation.
"I AM GREATER THAN THOU!" The Lamb, he spurned.
Then an Angel brought forth keys, as the Lamb was inclined,
To protect the Soul from sinful separation,
Due to Old Lucifer's dishonest inclination.
The Lamb held the keys, and to Hell, Lucifer was confined.
Then the Lamb came forward and smashed the Serpent's head.
Now that Old Culprit, Lucifer, was eternally dead.

Now that Old Culprit, Lucifer, was eternally dead,
Received in the end, the Lamb's final summation,
As the Soul was washed clean of sin's sedimentation.
Each sin covered on the altar where the Lamb bled.
Never again would a Soul know sin or experience death,
The Soul felt it's worth as the beloved creation,
Brothers of Christ, in eternal salvation.
Filled with brotherly love, the Soul, felt blessed.
A new Heaven and a new Earth appeared,
Where Eden was restored to it's celestial estate,
Of the Tree of Life each Soul was free to partake,
But having knowledge the law was revered,
Eat not of the Tree in the midst, mandated.
When before the throne the Lamb advocated.

Copyright © Catie Lindsey | Year Posted 2018

Long poem by Christine Phillips | Details

The White Race Has a Point

The white race has a point
But that doesn't mean
They should treat us improper
The white race has a point
Nature is repeating it over and over
White snow, white moon
white Jesus, white angels
white robes, white clouds
White pedestrian crossing
White road marking, white horse
White house, white church
white white Santa, white Christmas, white world.
The white race has a point
Which is why I am in the basement
They go through the front door
while I use the back door
White refrigerator, white wall, white man
white car, white truck, white cotton
white wheat, white flour, white bread, white land
Everything is white except the  color of the hair
at birth and the pupil in the eyes
The white race has a point
They have been saying this for years
They rule our universe and they feel very proud
Some treat us with kindness other with disdain
some treat us inferior because we are of a different color
The Chinese try to be white but they are not white
The Koreans try to be white but they are not white
The Japanese try to be white but they are not white
Hispanic try to be white but they are not white
Asians try to be white but they are not white
Middle Eastern try to be white but the are not white
Many race try to change their color
bleaching out their beautiful skins and
inviting a new pigment within
Bleached hair, bleached eyebrow, bleached skin
Cosmetics of all sort packed their cabinets
They are bleaching everything
pretending to be white but they are not white
Men are bleaching too they want to get in the groove
I met a guy from Peru and I mistake him to be white
But when I saw the original hair sticking from the side
I was bewildered by a terrible sight
They build houses in white neighborhood
sending their children to white schools
Trying to fit themselves into the upper class
But later putting their houses on the market
and move swiftly out of the neighborhood 
I admire Ethiopian and Egyptian princesses
They are passionate about their race
The men mingle with different races
Moving across borders causing serious disorder
Babies are born with different color
Melting down the white race and highlighting a different race
I was born with a different color
And I have never felt inferior
until I stepped foot in America
I have studied with the white race and
and I understand them quite well
The white race has a point when they meet at the jukejoint
They make silly mistakes because they are the superior race
Many people question this over and over
Many are made to feel inferior because of their color
Many have been murdered and sold out to strangers
Many dragged to the prison den
While many are still bound up in chains
I stood at the intersection of  Chain-Bridge road
and  Courthouse Rd ,next to the big cemetery and I see
everything in living color the chain is already broken
Adolf Hitler might have a point
But was he actually right?
He separated the sheep from the goat
to find a strong and pure race
Such move caused a global disorder
and spill desolation to the world order
An order that have us bound for years
causing death and destruction across the land
separating mothers from their daughters
Fathers from their sons
using people as guinea pigs and
damaging innocent lives for useless sacrifice
It cannot be taught in the school
The churches have broken the rule
They have no power 
They are only spreading useless propaganda
Everyone perhaps should have stuck to their race
and we would not have this global disgrace
annihilation and persecution of many races
What is done is already done
but the omniscient has control over everyone
Scientist has done research
Many of which has proven wrong
But the evidence still stand that
The white race are the whitest ones
Throughout history mankind seek for clarity
Europe has formed a union to cement white
domination all over the globe but it is soon coming to a close
I am proud of who I am
even though I might not be accepted by everyone
My sprit is at peace and I can mingle with whitest sheet
I have been trying to figure out this ideology for years
But nature never leaves us to despair
The real evidence is from nature
And  you must think things over before you give orders
Nothing yellow or brown is falling from the sky
All I see is white snow, white trees, and white roofs
The white race has a point
These are the words I heard a short while ago
when I was cleaning the white snow from my grey truck.

Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by David Moule | Details

World Bleeders

World Bleeders (#777 words)

If you claim to be sane
in this crazy whirled we live
I pity the world in your domain
in that you forget to forgive
I think your normal is abnormal
You must be one of the takers
not the One's that give
Maybe you're one of the fakers
that live comfortably in a lie
Maybe you're one of the shakers
not afraid to roll another die
Maybe you think you're one of the makers
without having to try
You have others do as you will
You love to make them cry
You've assigned yourself to the breakers
the bankers and self-appointed high
for annihilation in the illuminated fire
Resurrected in a body for hire
A true holocaust
The Soul is outsourced
to the Archontic principal
and the psychopathic Bull
Mad as a hatter
Too much Mercury in your brain
has broken through the membrane
You burnt the messenger
that had a swift cure for your pain
You're historically insane
You designed your new casket
to survive after the pyre
It fits your godlike desire
to outlive the last creator
of heaven and hell
The Great dictator
behind the face you dwell
It's all in your head
that's lost in space
You're the naked king not the ruler
of the awakened human race
Your master is weakening
Your plans are known
Your days are numbered
on this Earthly throne
Your wars will not win
Your battles will be lost
Humanity has suffered too long
along the lines that you have crossed
You fail to wholly understand
Your left brain receives
and makes the demands
to Be-keeper of the Rite
that assumes command
Darkness over light
You want the hive in your hand
to extract all the honey
Only you can transfer
the raw gold into money
and set a price beyond the reach
of the deepest wells
You seal your darkened spells
in sacrificial red blood and wax
From the micro to the macro
you set the rate of in-come tax
upon every single unit of measure
You claim each traded name
as your personal treasure
to buy or sell as you proclaim
Crashing stocks 
and shifting shame
Rewinding clocks
to fool and blame
the one that's lost in time
Forever leaning back and fore
Not balanced along the wavy line
alike spiral chakras resonating a sine
from root to tip along the spine
but not connected to Earth or skies
Beyond worship of the witness Moon
Saturn plays your tune
The old man of time
will come for you soon
just as You have willed
Fashioned from the blood you spilled
on sacred ground
The buried bodies will be found
You will get what you deserve
in the final round
Beyond the courts of Law
are accountants keeping score
You could have been part of the whole
You chose to be the whore
You could have given back what you stole
but wanted to prophet from the score
Painted a Red Star above your door
Each choice that you make
either exacerbates
or exaggerates the mistake
Turning water into ice
for you to rule a frozen paradise
and rape the feminized Son
through the Djinn in your genes
You host the obscene
Still burning your skin in the Light
You hide behind sun screens
The most affected are the unclean
primitive reptilian-brained Being
Hidden at the top of the unseen
below ground
Much more has been hidden
than declared or found
Buried so deep underground
it traps the sight and sound
The rumors fly around
like sprayed-on mud
across the whole scene
They say the copper in their blood
makes it blue/green
Manufactured super-soldiers
Part human
Part hybrid
Part psychic machine
Someone's terror nightmare
is someone else's dream
Frequency modifications
intensify the silent scream
that so few people hear
Is someone other than Me
reside unseen in here
Is there anybody out there
Slip and slide induced fear
Manufactured and produced
to make the precious juice
that powers the parasitic rider
Who takes the spark from him and her
through unguarded portals
the siphon is Set
The Python of Horus
when the Hawk's eyes meet
and amplify the chorus
with an electro-magnetic reaction
that powers the craft
created from forced intention
beyond your mind
through an angled shaft
Home of the Dog-gods
and the worshipped Cat
before the destruction of Tiamat
engendered the demise
from flaming objects
in blood red skies
All innocence dies
Only the Soulless vampire survives
on the victims last breath
Only the anti-creator thrives
on imaginations final death.


Copyright © David Moule | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by Justin Bordner | Details

Jeruselum, The Jugular -2

It was not uncommon to discover a missing Brother Legionary
castrated, and decapitated
with a headless eagle carved upon his chest,
don't speak to me of morals and mercy
for I have seen and dealt the damage of rude death,
hate becomes your Father, vengeance your Mother
aggravated murder your cause
when everything you revere and fear merge
to make a leviathen of life,
the "Chosen People" of God
became the chosen target of annihilation, 
Mount Moriah, mansion of Yaweh the Pariah
would become capital of Divine crucifixion, 

February, year 70,
after sustaining 5,600 casualties
Rome's legions were leering on Jeruselum, 
I swear the Temple Mount moaned in doom
as we assembled the seige weapons religiously, 
Solomon's Temple sweating dust in our presence, 
Vulcan's vault opening with ruthless explosion, 
no more tactics of fire traps and slicing surprise, 
enemies breath now counted with limited life,
catapaults cranked, ballista scorpions loaded and torqued 
like cobras of chaos,
oh how we heaved and hurled at those walls of brittle bastion
bricks popping like sticks,
heaving corpses, balls of tar fire, stones of moon size walloping, 
the crumble and cries of Cannanites
cauterized our wounds and chastened our courage, 
as the camp fires fell prostrate to the face of the rolling Sun
I addressed the men of the Fifteenth Legion saying,
Brothers come near
bring your ears to the voice of my heart with no fear,
a man who is prepared to die is a man prepared to live,
the south wall is torn, today we charge that gash
ready to thrash those bastards and avenge everything we believe in,
to put worth in the light of our slain Brothers,
we wete born in different provinces
raised in different homes and temples
but everyone here has earned his boots, belt and bacon, 
we are all Brothers in Rome, free men
and the most skilled warriors on the planet,
we kill those who attempt, not to kill us as individuals
but who attempt to kill our future, and past of our Nation,
if you must die today, make sure your gladius finds flesh
and be certain to follow the Lions home,
now let's put our blood to blade
and swear loyalty with silence
eyes fixed on eyes...hearts drummed to hearts...

The battle trumpets burst with the sprite of brass of bravery
Centurions blowing the whistles of war
like eagles gone insane,
as I sprinted into the early carnage
existence became a series of thuds grunts and motions
the sound of metal chiming became my foresight, 
discipline a matter of square feet,
I saw the Standard Bearer's wolf pelt ablaze
and having an arrow through his waist,
using the boss bolt of my sheild I launched a rebel onto his back
while thrusting my sword up through the nape of another fighter
who was hackng my Brother Marius
my weapon jammed in his skull,
then I got smacked on the cheek with a pommel
and a savage cut the tip of my chin off,
as I fell I broke that dog's knee with the rim of my sheild,
that's sheild lightning for ya,
smashing his throat with forearm, I used my dagger
to stab him through his gapping mouth,

I carried on type o butcher with precision and pride for 5 hours
saving the lives of a Centurion and 6 other Brothers,
and rescued the Standard of Legio V Macedonia from being burned, 
I actually sealed my chin with the hot metal of the Standard,
for these acts of valor
I was awarded the Corona Civica, and a lifetime of night terrors,
sometimes I think I died in the ruins of Jeruselum, 
sometimes I feel I'm still there
fighting for the taste of honor or for the smell of blood,
many of the captured Jews were used as slave labor
to construct the Colliseum,
we made a death sport arena of Jeruselum
but there were no spectators cheering,
no audience to applaud the agony
of two two cultures in a death match,
maybe we were all meant to be gladiators,
fighting to make noble graves and pyres -


I composed this poem in 2014...Justin A. Bordner

Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by Tom Arnone | Details


"I will continue to broadcast, as time and circumstance permit,
To whomever is receiving on the aforementioned frequency.
My name is Cor Nosduh. I am not infected. Over."
Yea, I thought, continue to broadcast until this massive, power-sucking,
5.1 Gigawatt (Or 97.1 dBW at maximum output) transmitter is dead....

There may yet be salvation coming, as the original premonition
Implied -- but, will it be enough and in time to effect a solution.
Halle is exhibiting symptoms; however, it is too early to distinguish them
From a common ailment and the SV virus. We are squatting at the
Zordos facility -- the most powerful radio array on the planet.

The desperate flocked to the call of this secret, northern sanctuary.
By the time Halle and I made the difficult trek, there was no one
Left alive. I thought we might be immune. Now, I'm not so certain.
The most baffling thing about SV is its lack of an origin point.
No ground zero individuals. Its effects felt worldwide, simultaneously.

The freezing temperatures kept the stench of death at a bare minimum;
Daily meteor and aurora displays filled me with both awe and foreboding.
Halle was feverish and aroused -- a possible (unthinkable) sign of SV:
Arousal to the point of mindless incoherence. Nonstop sexual activity to the
Point of fatal exhaustion and/or cardiac arrest -- not excluding kin.

Somehow, the virus was producing huge amounts of adrenaline and dopamine,
Causing an endless, progressive succession of physical stimulation and reward.
If it didn't take the form of sexuality, it manifested in anger and lethal violence.
Expiration followed swiftly. SV proved invulnerable to all known biological agents.
Halle and I have been lucky. I cannot ... I refuse to continue if she should turn....

The station was set to transmit on the AM band at 700 KHz. While I was
A decent IT guy, I knew practically nothing about commercial radio. I didn't know
How or even if I could receive a signal. In any event, I continued the prerecorded
Call to sanctuary and my own personal broadcasts. Thankfully, Halle is much better
And, I think, not infected. It’s been a month since we last saw a living thing....

God. If the power should fail, we would be finished. The station's kitchen was
Stocked with edible food and drink. Halle and I had a quiet dinner. She was so
Pale and weak. Before SV, there was a little girl in the news who began making
Incredibly accurate predictions and premonitions regarding the future. Of course,
The most outrageous being the total destruction of all life on the planet.

Most forgot her strange premonitions when the virus began its cycle of killing.
I did not. And, as unlikely as it may seem, I think I've figured out the origin of SV.
With Halle safe and fast asleep, I began to explore further outside the sanctuary.
On a recent expedition, I collected several, still-warm meteor fragments for
Study and later examination. That night, I had a eureka, epiphany moment....

"Perhaps, I'm losing my mind. Yes, an unbelievable story: The premonition of
Annihilation; the simultaneous SV infections and meteor bombardments; these
Eerie, green-glowing rocks; the invulnerability of the virus -- and, a much earlier
Premonition, in the form of a children's story, of a savior from a doomed world,
Orbiting a super-massive red star. Perhaps, he'll come to this world. Over."

My darling Halle is starry-eyed -- and, perhaps, a little too excited....

August 30, 2016

Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details

Contagious Insomnia

I've not been sleeping well
since early November,
about the time Donald Trump
was not just nominated by Republican Christian
Male Dominant
Evangelical Christians,
in some unholy alliance with
fundamentalist rabid Roman Right
to Define Which Lives Matter Most Catholics,
but actually elected their own AntiChrist President
of these DisAssembling States
of natural-spiritual nondualist moral laws
and ethics
and aesthetics
and constitutions
for democratic ethical health
and aesthetic trusting happiness
and economic sacred ecologicalEarth prosperity.

I often wake up to a day I dread
and fear to hear even more atrociously bad news,
domestic and international,
local and global,
economic with political Winlose Climate Gamesmanship.

But, i'm also afraid to sleep at night,
anxious and worried about our children's drying up
and wasting further away prospects
for any future at all
as a humane cooperative developing species
rather than anthro-survivalist parasites
rabidly infesting a thoroughly secularized
and commodified
and de-natured Earth,
former habitat for Eden,
Creator God's original plan,
original intent,
original meaning and purpose,
original love and health of regenerativity.

So, I frequently wake up,
as I have this July 4th morning,
really pissed off at Republican Christian Evangelicals
for continuing to live in denial
of their self-fulfilling prophecy,
like Lot's wife looking back toward Sodom and Gomorrah
one last post-millennial time
to elect your long-feared AntiChristian CEO
with one hand on the world's nuclear annihilation switch
and the other hand up North Korea's
and China's
and Russia's elitist asses
and assets,
if he could
he would
even though he knows he really shouldn't.

I did learn yesterday
that almost half of Republicans
who elected Trump
are showing early signs of remorse,
of sorrow for your denial sins
of sexist and racist and capitalist over-investment,
omitting anything akin to natural-spiritual mindfulness
of your own adolescent through maturation mental-spiritual health issues
and challenges
and opportunities to evolve co-operative grace
with gratitude,
LeftBrain strength
with RightBrain integrity of love.

I am hoping,
and trying to trust,
grow in faith,
that the half of Republican electors of Trump,
and other similar Anti-All-Climates-Of-Health Matter politicians,
now experiencing remorse,
is more likely the evangelical Christian and Catholic laity half,
also having trouble sleeping at night,
worried about lack of ecopolitical co-investment
in anything resembling Earth as Eden
for our natural and spiritual grandkids,
extending Earth-Eden Habitat families,
rather than aborting them. 

If I were you,
believing Christian fundamental-patriarchal
as you do,
rather than continuing to live in denial
of the hell on Earth we have served up to the grandkids,
I would repent
and spank myself
on behalf of those same grandkids
who would righteously spank us
if they economically and politically could reverse time
a mere generation or two from now,
this day,
celebrating our interdependent immigrant waves
for independent Not Yet Bought and Sold
Commodity Days
and OverExtended NightMare Competing Nights,
whispering horsepowers
and bought and sold
pirated and prayed for,
rented and outright autonomously purchased
of and for Earth's sacred Eden re-investment.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by Jane Shields | Details



From hills in the distance
Comes the roll of thunder
Soon raindrops are spotting
His mind turns to wonder
The sky flashes brightly
In vivid white and blue
He knows in a short time
This storm will break through

Above clouds are dancing
Thunder roars a deep tune
The sky becomes jet black 
It's not quite yet reached noon 
He runs to find shelter
The rain comes down in sheets
Lightning strikes in sharp forks 
Not a soul on the streets

As the thunder crashes 
Howling wind starts its fight
He seals all the windows 
And lock down the doors tight
The storm races closer 
He heads to his basement
Lightning spears spit venom 
Wind rips into casement

And thunder beats loudly 
Rolling deep like breakers
There's fear in his heart now 
And prayers to his makers
He's cowering down low 
With scared murmured stutters
And white and blue flashes 
Creep through his torn shutters

The thunder rolls faster 
Roaring deadly and loud
The storm draws still closer 
The sky heaves angry cloud
The atmosphere's heavy 
And the rain lashes down
The lightning strikes at trees 
At the edge of the town

The storm is upon him
Sky's crashing light flashing 
Constant lightning flicker 
With rain full on lashing
The wind howling fiercely 
He crouches himself down
And lightning makes contact 
With the high points in town

The storm vents her fury 
Leaves lives ripped and tattered
In basements prayers go out 
As most homes are shattered
All prayers are in earnest 
The storm surges and strives
Pure white light burns vision 
Raging winds destruct lives

Houses blaze full panic 
Thunder crash in the sky
Crazed lightning striking down
He screams a frantic cry
Blind panic is manic 
Burned buildings all around
Bright flashing and the wind 
Still lightning hits the ground

Rain lashing and pelting 
His fear pervades the air
Thunder rolls relentless 
Burning fires everywhere
Slowly doused by rainfall 
His house flames and then falls
He's trapped in his prison 
Still rain beats in a squall

The air is still thick with
The white and blue flashes
The rains falling hard still
The thunder still crashes
But off in the distance
The storm has now passed through
He's done for, he knows it
The sky's now turned dark blue

He is now screaming
Alone in the basement
The flames coming through now
From the crumbling casement
He succumbs to the fumes
Total devastation
Home burnt into ashes
Him annihilation

The rain douses burning
It eases, it's slowing
The wind has abated
The death toll is growing
So many have perished
At the hands of this storm
There's anguish and despair
Families are transformed

The sky's getting lighter
The daylight returning
The people keep digging
The buildings keep burning
All through the day they dig
Far into the night too
Recovering bodies
Hoping for a breakthrough

As the sun falls that day
A child is found alive
No one is sure how he
Overcame and survived
He is the final one
Darkness arrives with night
Digging is halted now
Until the morning light

The storm is long gone now
But it devastated
So many lives it took
Most incinerated
The people move on now
To rebuild their homes again
All lives are now shattered
And all hearts in great pain

(C) Jane Shields

Copyright © Jane Shields | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details

Flowing Through Quicksand

Meritocracy is nurtured through discerning differences
between regenerative and degenerative information.

Aristocracy is controlled and maintained
against revolutionary change
by both regenerative and degenerative energy patterns
of historic entitlement.

Merits and demerits
are nurtured and avoided.

Aristocrats and slaves are controlling and controlled
primarily and fundamentally
by birth rights and wrongs,
inherited wealth and power
and disinheriting poverty and absence of cooperative ownership,
even of an enslaved ego,
addicted to avoiding annihilation by fear-selling aristocratic gods,
and sometimes even goddesses,
disguised as princesses 
and Queen Bees 
and AntiFeminist Aunts.

Democracies nurture nonsexist and nonracist meritocracy,
rooted in past cooperatively successful experience
with ecosystemic self-governing balance,
familial meritocracy spewing out mutual governance skill sets,
and adult vocational performance
producing measurable cooperative-nurture outcomes,
more than consuming competitive controlling outputs
of and for authority by right of historic purchased placement
rather than by right of empathically trusting co-responsibilities,
perhaps most revolutionarily felt
by First Generations of disenfranchised slaves
freed from ego-shackles of Aristocracy worship
by uncovering ecosystemic alternatives 
of and for meritocracy of just and peaceful regular folks
living primarily in cooperative ownership and self/other governance.

Plutocracy seeks to control, 
to maintain aristocratic ecopolitical controls,
rooted in past regenerative and degenerative energy patterns.

When do healthy democracies
turn toward pathological plutocracies?

When past performance standards
for public sector vocations
turn to whom and what you could buy and sell,
from whom and what you have cooperatively developed
for regenerative ecopolitical purposes,
healthy merits of past relational
and transactional history 
with healthy
mutually happy 
prosperously resolving ego/eco-balancing outcomes.

When the electors,
the civitas,
turn from discerning merits of mutual wisdom,
look away from matriarchal co-empowerment,
cooperative-ownership principles of actively trusting mutual subsidiarity,
becoming too nationalistically
and ethnically
and racially
and ego proud to actively nurture Earth's dipolar cooperativity,
turning toward pathological preferences
for bipolar bicameral competitions
for playing WinLose Aristocratic Players
of egotistic Might Makes Right,
seeking monocultural monopolies of ever more aristocratic patriarchal control
rather than polypathically cooperative nurturing 
of meritocratic nurturing equi-valent
democratic abundance.

When the healthy wealthy Earth Moms and Dads are in charge,
everybody may continue to competitively fight tomorrow,
but not before we all cooperatively prepare
enough for all to eat and sleep in peace tonight.
And no one allows anyone to go to bed hungry,
angry and unforgiven,
or enslaved by fear of egocentric aristocrats,
within oneself,
or without,
preferring ecopolitical landscapes of democratic cooperative abundance
balancing egoLeft with ecoRight,
flowing through economic swamps of political quicksand.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by DENNIS OGEMBOO | Details

waiting on the Lord

Beat model, the truth

I just defeated a temptation see
Deal was soo good but then I thot o revelation
Fought it to the ground like a superpower nation
My goodness

		And Jehova’s my witness
It is hard be-in a righteous man in pursuit of these richess
   See a man gotta do what a man gotta do
Then a man gotta die then account before the heavens
My goodness

		Who’s me,  u don’t know me
U think you know me’ I don’t even know me
I’m nobody, I speake so much nonsence ignore me
If am somebody and speake to you some sence, applaud me

	   I heard God has got a justice system
So strict they only let in the souls that r cleanest
(What of the rest)………….”heard they get roasted”
(you believe) …….…….”my thoughts are clouded”

Mammalian mind of mines money mobilized 
Stressing on status seeking to stabilize
My goodness……….crimes habitualized
World without worries it is hard to visualize

Swirl back to before adam on the first date
Before the devil had us caged if we cld have a new slate
                  Perfect definition of happily ever since
But then, humanity’s mammalian we had to let in sin

All a gat. Is a lyf, that I don’t really deserve
                 They pinned Him to the cross
Like a notice to the world readin the devil’ in-charge
        I hear bells tolling from a distance like a calling
I don’t ask for whom they toll I know theyre warnin of my falling
Evyday am on my knees seekin a spiritual breakthrough
Then am- on ma- feet re- a lize- my heart- is hard- to break- thru

My goodness

			Dear God, it is me again
Still alive and kicking, thanks to you my life has not ended
Means I got a purpose unfulfilled am workin hard on it
For my latest on my page of sins I beg you pardon it

			I’v got a faith so shaky
So am praying…….break this chain that enslaves me
    I trick-my soul-am too-weak to-be what-you pur-posed me-to be

		Dear God-I am trapped-in a thunderstorm
My worries keep me wide awake a worried prayer’s becoming norm
       Mind’s  eye’- seeing -things I -should not- even- see at –all
Am trapped-in a swirl- sucking me into oblivion

                     Dear God, thisshouldnotend-in an amen
But soon I drift off and act like early days cavemen
Am prayin for faith the size of biblical - days men
Noah, Abraham,

At times I feel like I have had enough
Life is pushing me to harden up
Trajectory steepening isn’t life already hard enuff
Scared to death of dying yet you lookin forward  to bein dead
Strange anticipation yu just not so sure you ready yet
Other side foggy I could take the wrong turn
Am not my life’s time keeper, I drop dead I burn
See my life is on a countdown soonerolater am at zero
Revelation scary my generation needs a hero
Mental degradation filth propagation annihilation
Of spiritual ways plight of my generation
See………I gat a conscious conscience
But somehow my mind prioritizes nonsence
Gat ink on ma heart says God is watching
But somehow my heart still succumbs to longings
On the move again, bag packed with all my belongings
Long walk ahead o me I still packed my longings
My goodness…….

Copyright © DENNIS OGEMBOO | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by Demetrios Trifiatis | Details


Are we really free?*
Free to chose to:
Go wherever we please? 
Do whatever we desire?
Be with whom we wish? 
Pick whichever thing we fancy?
Without coercion? 
Without ever being obliged by an unseen force in 
A predetermined or predestined way?


How can we have free will to be wherever we
Wish to be
Bound to earth we are with the 
Heavy chains of gravity
Obliged, incessantly to follow our planet as 
It moves
Around its circumference 
Around the sun  
Around the galaxy  
Around the universe, 
Having no chance ever to escape its
Deterministic laws?

Are we free?

Have we got a free will?
If yes, when did it start?
The day we were born or later on?
For the day we were born 
We knew nothing of:
What we were
Who we were 
What we wanted
What we needed 
What we desired 

Subject were we to our bodily organs and
Their functions
No control had we over:
Our heart
Our liver 
Our kidneys    
Our spleen
Our blood circulation
Our brain 
And had no idea of
How to defend ourselves against
How to produce blood
How to digest

We had not any control then and we have
No more control now as adults

How then are we free?

In what respect?

Is it because we choose A over B?
To be here or there?
To do this or that?

What if our choices are just the
Result of the working of nature in us?
The outcome of ideas and  tendencies, 
Implanted in our mind and soul by, Man or 
Mother nature? 

In that case, 
Isn't our acceptance of free will like declaring that:
The earth goes aroud the sun because 
Of its free will?
A stone falls as a result of the same reason?
A seed spouts because of its free will
And that
The salmon, after venturing for years in 
The ocean, returns to the river it came to life, 
To lay its eggs, out of free will?

Is free will the result of 
Our Lord the creator and creator of the universe 
As they say?

In this case, free will,
Is a gift of God to men for to show His love to us
To make us partners of His creation, by giving us the chance to become
Responsible beings that would safeguard nature, 
Obeying God’s holy laws of the harmonious cooperation and
Coexistence of all living things.   

If that is true then we may ask,

Would the wisdom of our Lord entrust His creation to us?
To our free will to do as we please?

If the answer is yes, then we have to ask ourselves,
Are we happy with the results of our free actions upon
The world God has created?

Are we pleased, 
With the demolition of harmony?
The annihilation of various species of animals?
The devastation of the environment? 
The killings and the wars?

Whatever the answer may be, the mystery
Will linger

We, know nothing for certain, since we do not
Know the truth  


The only thing we can do, is to believe the one 
Theory or the other!   

© Demetrios Trifiatis
     21 April 2016

*Having read, Silent One's fine poem: "Destiny lies in the heart of my beloved" I thought it appropriate to re-post this poem of mine that first was posted back in October 2014. The poem has been edited and revised.   

Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2016

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