Long Inglorious Poems
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Love and War
L ove will always be in the end victorious
O nly love can be triumphantly glorious
V anity leads to pride and evil aggression
E vil loses battles in dramatic succession
What is the answer to the eternal question
that mystifies many upon their deep reflection
Will love ever conquer evils progression
eliminating warmongers hateful obsession?
Surely humanity is in a deep depression
as war rages onward without regression
Hope fades quickly without faiths confession
only God can help us now with his protection.
Ignorance is inspiring the irate inglorious
Love will conquer war, that's what were hoping for
Love will conquer hate, never again to dominate
Love will always be in the end victorious.
John Derek Hamilton
February 02,2016
morning in Happyland
As the night dissipated and the modest dawn came
seeping into my room, I looked up to the ceiling
a black cloud hangs over my head
I moved the cloud to the dark/brown wardrobe
where it blended in with the skeptical color.
The closet is very big and empty, I sometimes walk into it when I remember things from my youth, that I ought to be ashamed of; I said “In my youth” These days I have lost the ability to be dishonorable in my daily life, or I have developed the shield of honesty and there is nothing to be
inglorious about.
Coffee and toast, no time to sit down, I have to drive my wife to town to see her doctor about her bones, there will be no place to park and I have to drive home, til she calls for me to pick her up.
I have to renew my driver's license soon, I dread
if I fail, and walking much is not an option I leave walking to people who like following narrow tracks
and get their feet wet in the tall morning grass
with this, I walk back into the wardrobe.
Out of all of us my best friend
Came to an inglorious, untimely ugly end
We were digging holes inside a cave
But what he didn’t know was that he was digging his own grave
When it was finally time to go to bed
He turned around and a Nazi shot him in the head
He fell into the hole he had just dug
And the Nazi covered him up with an old dirty rug
They poured gasoline on him and set him afire
That was to become my friends funeral pyre
We were made to stand there and watch him burn
And the Nazi said, "This is your lesson to learn”
That night we all went to bed
Full of sadness, fear and dread
What happened that night really gave us a fright
Nothing was ever going to be alright
At night I see the ghosts of the lost
During the day I see the price that it cost
The Nazis have no religion or conscience
They only believe in killing and science
Later that day, a Nazi came with something he made
It was a very awful ugly lamp shade
On one side of the shade was something I knew
It was one of my dead friend’s tattoos!
Of the unfortunate unlucky dead
The Nazis were shrinking heads!
And they were making all kinds of things
Out of the prisoners, their gold teeth and rings
One night so cold I was watching my frozen breath
The Nazis came and took me away to see Dr. Death
He said he was going to give me a shot and it would do no harm
He rolled up my sleeve and stuck a needle in my arm
That was after Christmas in 1944 late December
And from that moment on nothing I remember
An American soldier told me that when he found me
I was walking around the prison yard like a lifeless zombie
Now it’s early May 1945
And somehow I am still alive
It’s amazing that I am not insane
The last survivor of the last train
To understand the holocaust
You must understand all it cost
In this camp it cost the lives of over a million
Of innocent men, women and children
Now we speak of all the lives lost
In the past tense
It all really comes down to the cost
Of all the dead and the presence of absence
Against all of humanity there leaves a void
A hideous heinous crime
So many promising lives destroyed
In one short period of time
Lives that were vital and present
All became past tense
And we can still feel and resent
Their absence of presence
They met a demise so inglorious.
The culpable agent was the Varicella virus.
We were the vectors. It was none other than us.
Chalk up another deed of man that will be infamous.
The virus spread like wisps on the breeze.
It obliterated a civilization that lasted for centuries.
Any graduate from the college of hard knocks
can see these creatures died from chicken pox.
This once great city is now a ghost town.
First contact with humans is what brought them down.
So will you conquerors strut around haughtily with disdain?
I will see that these Martians did not die in vain.
Based on the set of short stories titled “The Martian Chronicles” by the late Ray Bradbury.
“Nature bears long with those who wrong her. She is patient under abuse. But when abuse has gone too far, when the time of reckoning finally comes, she is equally slow to be appeased and to turn away her wrath” - Nathaniel H. Egleston (1882).
Nature is ever compassionate all know,
She has her vindictiveness, yet, that denounces humanity;
A variety of roses adorn gardens a magnificently gorgeous row,
Don’t we observe thorns peeping from betwixt with absolute dishonesty?
The gentle breeze turns into tempests,
Cool water turning into floods our common human life arrests,
Earthquakes at unexpected hours create havocs bringing normalcy to tests...
Volcanoes, fire floods from under the earth, our cities annihilate,
Tsunamis, mountainous waters, lives of fisher folks eliminate,
Droughts, like holocausts, our farmers exterminate…
Tender motherhood turns into suicide bombers, who perilous hate blow,
Honesty giving way to viciousness and hover in heinous vanity;
Anarchy against orderliness declare hostile protests,
Thus negative features of nature inglorious tragedies legislate.
03 August 2021
Writing Prompt - Fragmented Spaces Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Uncomfortable confronting
your continuous consumption to which you're accustomed,
the crunch, the chew, it's all you do,
most munch at lunch while you the whole day through,
can't get a grip like a hug holding you
but when you sip it's a diet brew
no added sugar and calories are few,
but many saturated fats are stacked
impacting with gross growth of fat sacks,
so you boom take up too much room
and stay still through sore joints you feel
as you can't conceal spare tires that spill.
You've an ahss with a difference
surpassing any ahss in existence
by a significant distance
with its significant distance
disappearing in the distance
to France and French Resistance
wanting removal in an instance
with intense insistence .
To lose weight you need to move mate.
Eat less move more, it works for sure,
though at first a chore
instead of bursting out you'll once more
fit through the door,
and not resemble a dinosaur,
the sore-thighs-and-a-sore-ahss-eyesore-osaurus.
All four storeys of your inglorious
girth awkwardly bulges before us,
taunting as you pass us at speeds
outclassed by a passed its best tortoise,
a daunting and torturous sight
for our poor eyes that sore
at size you can't ignore
as your broad and soaring baggy core
drags flab and more flab along the floor.
To dine all the time like an assembly line
from 9 to 9 makes you the widest of mankind
with a need to wear a wide load sign on your behind,
eating on repeat
until you can't see your feet
or get out of that seat
while hoarding heat
roasting in rotation
as a gravitational orbit results,
these insults should install motivational mass
to counterweight your morbid oversized ahss,
… so yes your ahss looks fat since you asked.
Realise she hates guys that tell lies, she cries,
so I told her she's oversized and learnt lies are wise,
don't tell her she's wide from side to side or in her thighs,
cus her size cry makes her lies cry look a lie, lies are wise.
When I was with my mates,
my pals,
in my age - in that ageless era,
idiots all.
We had fine old rollicking times.
We had Vespa's and Lamberti's
then we had Norton's and Triumphs
leather and hard looks.
We rode drunk on ourselves,
spinning along on our fake paths
into inglorious adulthood,
a green maturity just a few short miles
down the road.
The girls were fast,
they grew up ahead of us;
some waited for us boys
to catch up,
most found men with jobs.
The plain girls that waited
holding a bitter grudge on us
even to this day.
Though in truth
we are blessed to linger on
astride our broken wheels
while we wave idiotically at each other
wobbling along catcalling
to the grave.
A mixture of the brute and the divine Man is,
That’s why the strife in his soul never ends
As the eternal adversaries for superiority strive
In the depths of everyone’s divided heart.
The brute:
Limited by the dimensions of space and time,
Intimidated by the oppressive notion of cruel annihilation,
Frightened by the savage idea of inglorious temporality,
And horrified by the torturous thought of merciless mortality,
Eager to pull man down to the material world desires,
And with the heavy chains of bodily pleasures him to tie.
The divine:
Unrestricted by the dimensions of space and time,
Animated by the lofty idea of unity with the ONE,
Strengthened by the noble thought of clement eternity,
And exalted by the gracious conception of comforting immortality,
To raise Man up to the immaterial heavens yearns,
And with the purified delights of the spirit him to nourish.
When,
The ruthless brute, victorious from the battle emerges,
And body’s barbaric-cry of victory shouts,
Benign spirit, inside the prison of here and now is found,
From where, silently, the devastation of divinity, observes.
When,
Eternal spirit triumphant out the war appears,
And the illumination of the soul, jubilantly, proclaims,
The perishable brute, even from its basic needs is deprived,
Thus, slowly, painfully, and persistently is fainting, away.
Only,
When the brute and the divine a truce declare,
And their powers under the banner of universal reason unite,
Rendering to each other, at the proper time, its equal share,
Harmony is established in our souls and the human is born!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
23 May 2021
The briny tears have dried
The sounding knells are stilled
The grieving crowd, dispersed
The parting pain, allayed
Benumbed lie the dead
Beneath the marble vaults
Bereft of power and prowess
Benighted and beaten.
The sun shall never cast its glorious rays
The stars shall never their brilliance shed
The breeze never shall bring tidings new
The showers shall no more drench them through
A thoughtful friend sometimes seen around
A fervent prayer at times chanted aloud
A plaited wreath, rarely laid over
A trite rite, randomly carried out
There’s none left to mourn or weep
Nor anyone to sing, sigh or sob
Leaving the dead to rot in the closure of graves
To life’s alluring charms, the dear depart.
Cold as clay the dead lie so still
To be feasted on by maggots and the worms
Life with all its glory – defunct
Its fever and fret too – extinct.
How in vain we run after wealth
The power and position we deem so great
Shall come to naught within Time’s gloomy vault
Yet we run and yet we straggle behind.
In vain ends our travail for might
Inglorious is our quest after fame
Transient turn the riches, we garner
Short lived is their gleam and glitter.
Oh Lord! Lead us not into illusory charms
Deliver us of our avarice to hoard
For all that is born and made
‘Must consign to death and come to dust.’
Placed Third
March. 1. 2022
'G'. Give me a New Poem- Any Form
Poetry Contest
Subject- Death
Sponsor- Constance La France
Strewn to the floor he collected his marbles and memories
Had played for hours as a child with his friends in the flat
Passed innumerable hours never bored always enthralled
Abraded by wear of near instant replay nostalgia flashes past
A time of Innocence and Recall of pure Joy
Collecting from lucky packets from the five and dime store
He cherished his treasures and assembled a wealth of its own
Built a shiny smooth fortune traded with his mates from next door
Never lost sight of his satchel clinking and clonking at every stride
Foundations of Wealth and Possessions
They only had a small space on the floor boards smelling of wax
Polished the wood and their skills on their knees with great care
Rolled the little balls one at a time to get the closest to the wall
Practised side spins straight lines curve balls ingenious bounce
Perfection and Victory held their suspense
But the little buggers appeared to have a devious thrall of their own
Fell into knotholes swerved back to where they had come from
Ricocheted recoiled or stayed idle deviated from inglorious norms
Some disappeared in the pantry just in time for a substandard deviation
Snookered in unintended Diversity
Today he respects outliers and dispersion from a delusive tendency
Cherishes and embraces people and places and different paradigms
Which include eccentricity oddballs and nonconformist dissidents
Finds beauty in a spread of reasons emotions and different drifts
When Loneliness strikes he looks fondly at his Marbles
28th June 2019