Long Czars Poems
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I have found my voice
at humanity’s eleventh hour
I have found my voice because
I called upon humanity’s wisdom
and asked if I can help to deliver
to you
some units of joy
and lessons of love
so I ask you to hear humanity's inevitable lovesong
ancient
humble
soothing
And deliver me
deliver us
deliver me
on the days Jefferson spoke of inalienable rights
deliver us into that night of human liberation
when czars were overthrown and utopia envisioned
deliver me on the day Martin had his dream
deliver us on the day Paris’ commune became community
deliver me
deliver us
I say deliver me
And deliver us
Because without the us
there is no me
And without the me
There is no us
humanity’s struggle
constant argument between
Me
And
Us
The me and the us
Were at
Lexington Concord
Gettysburg
St. Petersburg
Stalingrad
Omaha beach
Paris, Prague, and Mexico in 1968
Tianenmen Square in 1989
And Occupy Wall Street
The me and the us
Are at kitchen table
Deciding whose childhood is spared
The me and the us are at
Parliaments all over the world
Deciding whose life is worthwhile
The me and the us are at the UN
Deciding which nations are worthwhile
The me and the us
History has been about the me and the us
History’s first experiment in liberation
Stalin and world interrupted, still insisting on the me
so I ask you, humanity
I implore you
In the name of so many terrified faces
In the name of so many torture chamber places
I ask you here and now
At humanity’s eleventh hour
brink of armaggedon's world war
to
Deliver me
And deliver us
Deliver us from humanity's dark night
let the children and future generations breathe
freedom's air
Deliver me
Deliver us
Deliver me
Deliver us.
Locked in the pages of a book
I find sanctuary, a quiet nook,
Where I often retreat and find
the kindest heart, the vilest mind.
Whenever I feel like getting away
From the rigors of life on any day,
I step through the portals of a book
into a fantasy world and take a look:
At the mythical realms of dragons
Fairies, nymphs, demons, gorgons,
At the dreams, adventures and magic
of life and death purpose and logic;
Folktales of love, miracles, covenants
Of knights, heroes and revenants,
Of saints, seers, demigods and mystics,
Priests, pundits, mullahs and clerics.
A vast chronicle of betrayal of trust
of reverence, innocence and lust,
Of deceit, debauchery and debacles
of witches, vampires and oracles.
Deeds of dictators, despots, czars
The chaotic world of wasteful wars,
swarming with malicious mobs,
fawners, snivelers and slimy slobs.
Be it poetry, mystery or tragedy
Racy romance, fantasy, comedy,
Oh, just give me but a book any
I will forgo a damsel’s company.
In the Library contest by Isaiah Zerbst
Her journey begins in the west
a golden globe upon her breast,
amongst a carousel of stars;
although she sleeps, she never rests.
Gazing at the heavenly czars,
passing on a course from afar.
illuminated by the sun,
floating in an astral bazaar.
Flirtatious, concealing for fun,
a myriad of faces spun.
Her province, to adjust the tides;
with mystic powers it is done.
At a celestial pace she glides,
passing astrological signs.
On a cycle, cannot linger;
keeping a course that she abides.
A wise old crone, no beginner;
knows when to rise, shine, and shimmer.
An orbit of mystique and charm,
sometimes bright and sometimes dimmer.
Date: May 23, 2022
For: Rubaiyat Contest Poetry
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
Syllables verified on Howmanysyllables.com
Rhymes verified on Rhymezone.com
Rhyme Scheme: aaba-bbcb-ccdc-dded-eefe
Placed 3rd in contest
Freedom Lost
Sane men know what’s going down,
but no one dares to make a sound,
and those who think this will not last,
should listen, listen, to the past.
Hear the sound of breaking glass,
the Crystal Night when windows crashed,
when those who knew just looked away
and thought that things would be ok.
The day the yellow stars were pinned,
the night the cattle cars rolled in.
The camps were there but no one knew
what evil was about to do, when good men looked away.
Or turn your ear to the land of Czars,
to hear guns crashing ‘neath the stars,
and hear the words of little men
destroy so many lives again.
Words of hope and change and such,
that never do amount to much.
But people listened and they learned,
their world on hollow words had turned.
The hammer and the sickle joined,
but freedom from their hands purloined, while good men looked away.
The sounds are building all around,
The sounds of footsteps on the ground.
The sounds of windows crashing near,
fires burning, shouts of fear.
Mobs are passing by our door,
all sounds the world has heard before.
These sounds are hidden from the young.
Hidden by those with crooked tongue.
But those who know the truth are crying.
It is the sound of freedom dying, while good men look away.
I slide and heave with gaunt brittle bones,
along this pitch fume-filled black tunnel ,
twisting, rolling, writhing in a sea of tar,
vapours hot and sticky taunt my nose,
as thoughts of orange-red sunsets,
coral pink lagoons, dream scene blue,
moon shadow are my visual anchor,
catalyst to daylight freedom quest.
here I am scrawny skeletal innocent,
squeezed like toothpaste from a tube,
into a world of pulsing urban metros,
Big Brother cameras snoop on sight,
prying eye, CCTV cadre choker.
wolves in human form fly a kite.
venal dormant czars censor skylines,
concrete jungle watchtowers scar heavens.
has this earnest gumption-driven fugitive,
swopped one form of jailer for another
Posted : 6th March 2022
If you prophecy the end of kings you are wrong.
Write no epitaphs, dig no graves, taste no grief.
The new czar, a rough and worldly killer firmly fixed
this very day stirs the cauldron of war to reset empire
Still, foxly friends of tyranny, who stab at weak democracy
praise the czar's autocracy, and mock free speech with treachery.
As modern judases, riding limitless swells of fortune, tease simple mobs
our old republic stagers and fades, mortally wounded by hypocrisy.
Perhaps, someday, freedom’s autopsy will show what transpired,
but if you prophecy the end of kings you are wrong.
The color blue the color of sky
On a bright sunny day
And the warmth of memories
The power and presence of a grand mind
The eminence of one
Blue the cool and soft hue of delicate pools
Bright eyes the color of blue
The depth of Indigo the color of Endless Skies
The color of souls dark and aszue
Blue the color of a soft hues delicate in touch,
Pedals n wishes or some such
Cast in to Wells
The Hues of soft blue; Prussian nights
In lands of snow bounds czars
Sparkling cobalt mornings running as a youth
Plays into hazy summer days, indigo
The waves became dark blue cold as ice
Sharp as blades blue steel flashing, keen
Stark wickedly mean, the coil of passion
The dying in the bright light, waiting
To a soft Hues sapphire, fire
Blue is the color reflected in Chrome
A washed in red of drying flash
The bruises are shades at rest
Lingering, still on the floor.
Bright as a newborn sky full
of warmth and Memories,
power and presence
Of something grand
the image of the infinite
The blue hue of indigo
and futures, new!
Oh come, oh come into the darkened night
look up with open eyes of adoration
trace the shaft, a perfect radiant light ~
journey to humanities salvation.
Oh come, look up, where angels host the stars,
below, a manger lies, swaddled in birth,
a prophecy born to rise above czars;
Emanuel descended to cleanse the Earth.
All "Glory be to God in the Highest"
bring "Peace on Earth" and "Tidings of Goodwill"
blessed, redeemed in grace, revered and pious;
we accept 'the word', His promise to fulfill.
Oh come, oh come into a silent night,
born to free us, from sin and human plight.
* Published on-line at spillwords.com / Dec. 15, 2023
The czars and the kings will hold on to their throne chairs
until they are dragged out kicking and screaming,
tweeting all the way to their dungeons.
Nuclear winter is a few years down the road, but global warming
will have people flocking to Kansas soon from Florida which
will drop into the sea.
The Texaco Shareholders and their families will build a wall,
and stay inside, breathing their own greed and selfishness.
Jesus will be saving other planets, not concerned at all about our silliness,
as we have so many wanna-bees here.
Stocks will go up and down, so many times. It will be called the
yo-yo year of the stock market.
The girl next door will develop narcolepsy and
refuse to come out of her house or answer the door,
not telling us it has flown into agoraphobia.
It will be the year of the PIG, and the pig will be orange
and be featured on balloons with diapers.
A misogynist bully-pig.
This is what I think.
Chorus:
Barack Obama
Barack Obama
He's the U.S.A.'s own Dalai Lama.
Barack Obama
Barack Obama
He's the guy who's here to save yer Momma.
Verse 1:
Oh yeah Obama's here an' he's really cool
Gonna tell yer kids to pay attention in school
Gonna make us all follow the Golden Rule
'Cause he knows Michelle ain't gonna suffer no fools!
He's an all-around, straightup nice kinda guy
Who don't get upset when ya scream "You Lie!"
He cares about the Earth and he cares about the sky
Gives ya cash for the clunkers you were stupid to buy.
Chorus
Verse 2:
He's gonna stim-u-late us, gonna spread the wealth,
Gonna write out a prescription for the nation's health,
Gonna come down on Insurance like a big black Stealth
Gonna take those stem cells down off the shelf!
He's gonna see we win in Afghanistan,
Someway, somehow - without a plan.
When yer rude to da cops he is da Man
Who'll give ya both beers an' make it right again.
Chorus
Verse 3:
He's appointed more Czars than the U.S.S.R.,
Gonna raise the mileage on yer car
Gonna lower those emissions both near and far
It lookin' snappy like a First Exec Star.
Can't answer "yes" or "no", it takes a paragraph
To get to the point, then it's good for a laugh
The Right hates everybody servin' on his Staff
- But their side of the Aisle makes most of the gaffes.
Chorus
Verse 4:
Is there anything Obamaman cannot do?
The assertions are fantastic; some may even be true.
He beat out Mrs. Clinton right outta da blue,
Now he's lookin' out for me and he's lookin' out for you.
If his ears were any bigger he could teach himself to fly,
But despite his geekiness he's still a heckuva guy
His heart is fulla Hope, his head is in the sky
An' if you give him grief Ms. Pelosi'll make you cry.
WORD!
Chorus et finis