Long Changes hands Poems
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He rose from the East.
Torch in hand.
Not by conquest,
but by sweat.
A kingdom built
on labor,
on patience,
on memory.
Once a servant of empires.
Now a master of time.
I saw Britain
with a begging bowl.
France bent low,
asking for bread.
Madam Canada watched,
silent and uneasy.
Kings of the West,
learn this truth:
no throne is eternal.
What rises first
may fall last.
America will arrive here too.
Power is never owned.
It only changes hands.
Beijing stands
not as a conqueror,
but as a mirror.
Showing the cost
of arrogance.
Europe,
your wisdom begins
with humility.
Harmony is stronger
than pride.
To the King of Beijing,
rule with restraint.
Victory without mercy
rots the crown.
Forgive the past,
not to forget,
but to govern the future.
For humanity
is the first law of wisdom.
Smells of boiled hot dog sausages,
beef burgers and onions.
Mingle these with - wafts of candy floss,
toffee apples and brandy snaps.
Whirring of engines
chugging over noisily,
half drowned by thumping music,
screams and laughter.
A multitude of lights flash and spin,
in time with the rides
that dash before your eyes;
round and round,
side to side,
back and forth,
and upside down.
Over and over, on and on they go.
Crowds pushing and shoving,
impatiently they each await their short turn.
Money changes hands,
speaker blasts; 'Hold tight, here we go...';
While greedy fair lords
count their cash profits;
before packing up at end of night,
to go home to their caravans;
sleep briefly
then hit the road once more.
Onwards they go to next town,
ready to start all over again....
Building bricks
Brick by brick we build our nation
And stone by stone we build a generation.
The children are the future, the old our voting class;
The young have given up voting because politicians have no class.
Building new laws and building new houses;
Nothing this government does smells of roses.
Leaving the EU seems like it will come back to haunt us.
Rosie is in the hospital, the NHS is seeing closes.
Sack them all because they choose money over patients;
Every generation loses faith but nothing ever changes.
So they plant a tree as they knock down a forest;
Stop with your lies, just give it a rest.
Let the people vote and then try to take the decision back.
Politics, dirty tricks; power of conviction you lack.
Money rules the world and money changes hands;
Ideology and philosophy, but still you have no master plan.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
Power changes hands in a country, and how. State of affairs are diametrically different following a hostile takeover of a once peaceful, democratic society. The country has descended into totalitarianism, ruled with an iron fist by a brutal despot. Corruption and anarchy now hold sway. The reign of terror has citizens living in fear, and there's nowhere to hide. They're spied on by a shadowy organization; every punctilio is observed at social events. Free speech is muted and there are dire consequences for bad press or protests against the oppressive regime. Opposing activists disappear without a trace. The despot and his loyal lieutenants exercise absolute dominion over the populace. They employ fear and intimidation - their modus operandi - to maintain control, but the new normal is far from acceptable. A day of reckoning is coming, a secret cabal is setting up strategy on how to finally topple the regime.
oppressive regime
despot rules with iron fist ~
things about to change
Alone in my room
Pling, pling, and pling again from my phone
I ignore the sound, but it has
broken the poem I was trying to write
a fragmented poem
in a thousand pieces like a vase dropped
on a cold stone floor
Never mind!
WordPress tells me I have written over
3000 pieces, over the years
I spend Time editing poems I wrote in
2008, when I was at my best
relatively young with a hope of success
They are there, unpublished
accusing me of letting them down
Do you not love us anymore?
Yes, I do, but a few other does
Like having an eccentric girlfriend
and rude people asking, How can you
Go out with her?
I think this is disrespectful, besides
Odd women are good in bed
and interested in other things than
how they look.
I have tentatively tried to be published
money changes hands, I hear no more
except for the echo of laughter
This is easy money.
My poem, or little stories, I will continue
to edit, they have become cherished
friends
Rather Galesburg Joliet
Terrehaute Florence Colorado
to the shores of Bogotá
flushing heroin fentanyl
through the gates behind bars
thee corrupt prison ran
by gang leaders paying
off prison guards you can
ask yourself what brand
to buy into Hoover vacuum’s
are reliable American made
while Kirby Brands offers
negligence falsifying death
row inmates finally hangman’s
curse while the hoover
vacuum continues to crawl
over the paisley patterns in
the federal building breaking
even on Lasalle and Van Burean
where Gargano once controlled
most of the revenue trading fenced
with osh gosh severe terrorist
threats released only when corrupt
prison guards do exactly what
he says attack who he says attack
while Kirby vacuum holding twenty
convictions drugs violence victim
intimidation battery hit and run
corrupt family members controlling
Wisconsin prison system looking to
transfer power back to Joliet upon
Hoover stamp of approval which
might cross over interfering with
the free Hoover movement this
certainty opens the flood gates
for Gambino early release programs
for death row inmates just can’t
have all power to the people without
including all prison across America
not to exclude Gitmo with the
boarders rise in Islamic crossing
over Lore Mannino territories all
corruption throughout prison systems
changes hands through Gambino rackets
funnelling crime throughout abuse
of power corruption evenly distributed
meanwhile power is being tampered
with 40 years of dirt swept under
the rugs until the Hoover vacuum
is plugged back in all bets are off
ask yourself what’s your Brand
Hoover trustees or unreliable Kirby
designed to malfunction fictitious
score boards chips blood everywhere
devouring the structure of all power
terrorising FBI confidential human sources
during an election where corruption sinks
fast folding swiftly better get a broom
No fear of terrorist threats from
violent offenders gang leaders
corrupt prison guards organised
corruption abuse of power intimidation
of an FBI confidential human source
FBI informants CLEAN IT UP
Terrified innocents, departing indigenous lands
afraid to end with a sad ullagone…
merchandised as cargo.
Once money changes hands…all hope is gone.
They are herded into dinghies on an empty shore
united through a desire, a longing,
dreaming of peace, education and love.
On board each one clings anxiously to ice cold hands
elderly faces stare blankly. Children ululate
Silently one by one they fall overboard
bodies thrash as the cold invades their bones
until silence is the only sound in darkness
Once proud inhabitants, bound in dreams of
a better life away from impoverishment
To end life as ghostly apparitions…
Summer waves goodbye, as it tip toes forward.
Autumn shadows the land, without saying a word.
The hues of fall gradually makes its appearance.
The traces of summer breeze by, saluting in reverence.
Autumn light rain covers over the splayed ground.
A gentle wind cradles the leaves falling all around.
Summer passes on by, taking the toil and the heat.
Autumn breathes in coolness, as the summer retreats.
Trees turn over a new leaf, as autumn commands.
The green plush ground fades and changes hands.
Grayish clouds appear and the sun is obscured.
Autumn abounds with mystery and full of allure.
Power never disappears.
It only changes hands.
A new world is born.
Not with applause,
but with consequence.
The West ruled by division.
By naming itself first.
And others expendable.
Empires are not destroyed by enemies.
They collapse
from excess.
You governed by fear.
By debt.
By controlled hunger.
And called it order.
You mistook dominance
for permanence.
But power respects
only balance.
Those you weakened
learned your methods.
Those you humiliated
studied your system.
What was taught in cruelty
returns as strategy.
An unjust world
cannot remain stable.
It must fracture.
A single throne
invites rebellion.
Shared power
creates restraint.
The wise ruler knows:
It is safer to be balanced
than to be absolute.
This age demands equilibrium.
Not saviors.
Not masters.
For when power ignores justice,
justice eventually
replaces power.
The future will not kneel.
It will negotiate.
Cuba weeps.
And the world
observes in silence.
Suffering does not shout.
It endures.
United States,
power has been your language.
But power
is never permanent.
A nation may rise
on strength—
yet fall
by its excess.
The weak remember.
History remembers longer.
Sanctions tighten slowly.
Hunger moves quietly.
But both
leave marks
that time cannot erase.
You act today
as though authority
is eternal.
It is not.
Cruelty carries an end.
And every empire
meets its measure.
The world is watching.
Not with noise—
but with judgment.
Blood once spilled
does not disappear.
It returns
as memory,
as resistance,
as consequence.
Majorities shift.
Alliances fade.
Power changes hands
without warning.
What stands today
may kneel tomorrow.
Remember this:
A ruler feared by many
must one day
face them all.
And when that hour comes,
no strength remains
without justice.
God sees.
History records.
And in the silence of suffering,
Cuba waits.