Long Depravation Poems
Long Depravation Poems. Below are the most popular long Depravation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Depravation poems by poem length and keyword.
Thanksgiving Day
~ pretty weird that it is necessary to have one day allocated during the year to give
thanks to the harvest or anything else we might and should be grateful for during
the year and I do not suppose that turkeys approve of this pagan feast when we
stuff ourselves with bird flesh digestives condiments from the gravy train of riches
Hallelujah for burgers wine and soft drinks Coca Cola Mc Donald’s Gallo’s Alamos
on consumption’s battle fields entrenched in modern living praised be the Harvest
Queen the God of Wall Street the Guns and Drones that feed our seeming needs
the wants of affluence and exploitation the fig leafs of sweet environmental humility
You sow the wind and reap the storm and flatulence and bloated waistlines waste
lines of reason’s indigestion shed fatty malnourished winds of tempest’s thunder
Armaggedon in the waking waiting helplessly for paradise at least in our neck of
the woods the Global North’s power broking houses of doom injustice domination
Far from honouring the beauty the Dominatrix yes mother Gaia is female and
should protect ancestral love and kindness from the milk and honey breast of
feeding body mind and soul and spirit communal comprehension ancient modern or
just timeless cycles of sustainable responsibility we pilfer rape and pillage desecrate
One day of feasting praising what we otherwise forget lest we remember leaves
three-hundred and sixty-four periods of moon and sunlight spinning out of all
control and we’re oblivious to the warning signs of plenty erase the gift we should
pass on to our children lineage progeny now left with massive mess and no Messiah
Were we more honest we would solemnly acknowledge that what we’re praising
in hypocrisy and neglected conscience is human depravation the demise of dignity
loosing the plot the fields and garden from where our harvest needs to prosper
would in frank and serious good faith admit that what we garner and amass is
Genocide…
05th November 2016
At Customs
Delayed fatigued grumpy and miserable there was I
yet another queue at Oliver Tambo on arrival another
Check scan body search and
mind games in my baggage
Damascus had been an unusual holiday destination
had firmly attached a couple of splinters just a bit of
Shrapnel trauma displacement
on the movie of my soul
Amena breathing the rubble with one foot detached
collateral damage digitalised toes in my camera
Home still smouldering siblings
Riham and Yaman with Allah now
Sayid coughs up the message of
how the planes came planes came
again and again planes came planes
then mother and father had vanished
Assel unable to talk it is difficult to
speak without jaw when brain leaks
upper jaw lower jaw who
cares who minds the statistic
So many images am I importing the
injustice depravation guilt shame
‘Not in my name’ nameless no
frame in the hierarchy of evil
Destruction of a sovereign nation and
the king makers in the global North West
export and import in trauma and transit
memories narrative existential angst
In the queue at the airport OR Tambo
and the tambourine major plays human
beings sacrificed on the altar of a simple
custom of exporting terror and malice
I am importing so much on my return
from Damascus yet choose the line
‘Nothing to declare’ but sorry I cannot do this
there is no time and you don’t want to know
So much pain so much anger on my mind…
but I have too much to declare
Ubuntu
P andemonium the polymorph perverse un-reflected paradigm of our time casts
A narchy tumultuous turmoil killing sprees beheadings senseless hatred and results from
N ihilistic never-ending bombing wars hatred colonisation kills for money oil and land
D istinct in death demise and depravation dogma causes hunger poverty disembowelled
E ntrails blood and gore splashed for the highest bidder of murdering virtue and emotion
M oulding peace with weapons is like having sex for virginity so stuff some flowers in guns
O nly nuances of push and near extinct pull away from total insane annihilation’s madness
N ests and nurtures compassion communal sharing un-consumerist tradition
In kindergartens schools and homesteads sporting fields of lived experience in
U niversities higher learning centres TEACH ‘Ubuntu’ Nguni Bantu human kindness
M ake love not war with heart and soul and refuse to be abused in pandemonium
27th July 2016
The Journey from Crimson
Orange chakra on stage two of the journey perennial sacrum’s waves getting longer
a sensual colour accomplished spraying moistening waters tides and you
the rider surfing growth in lengthening wave swell searching for meaning
riddles comprised enter-prized rising let flow webbed intermingled for
pleasure desire escape from orange agentic mushroom fields of human depravation
longing in what is here for now yet to arrive amber whiling push-pull of senses
Tangerine like Kama Sutra’s challenge in naked nocturnal novel nirvana mirrored
layers of sensual vital living skins the secretions the challenge breathlessness
ascending from carnelian climax from joyful attained building blocks on the path and
unfaltering voyage to peace condensing violence to kindness
27th `July 2016
And here I am again completely weird
But the clock it just keeps on ticking
But not the only reason why I'm tired
And my eyes they keep on flickering
When outside all these flashing lights
The sound of cars keep whishing on by
It's no good all these sleepless nights
If I could get some blink in shut eye
I keep on telling myself sweet dreams
Though most of the time they are vivid
It's like I'm jumping in and out of scenes
And only leaves one restless and livid
Yeah I defiantly need some more r,e,m's
It's like this bad case of sleep depravation
I'm often asked where is it that it all stems
Though I've never been one for relaxation
I need some more rapid eye movement
If I could get some of those sweet lullaby’s
Of course that would be an improvement
To those bags that are under my eyes
Thoughts keep going round in my head
If I could give some rest to my aching bod
I've just got to start getting myself to bed
Though still trying to find the land of nod
Something wanted to write about for a while
couple of verse not to happy with might update in futre
just getting some thoughts out of my head
im sure a lot of people can relate to this
when in my ywenties did not need as much
but so much going on at times find it hard to relax
get in to that third stage of sleep
WRITTEN BY MY SELF DAVID SCOTTFE MARCH (2013)
INSPIERD BY ALL THE COOL SOUP MEMBERS ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,