Long Maim Poems
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A Dove, an Eagle or a Turkey, a symbol of a nation
By
Kevin L Fairbrother
What could be the symbol of a rich and powerful Nation?
Known as the United States of America
Could it be the bird of prey, or the dove of peace?
Maybe it’s the Turkey you have at a feast
For America is known as the land of the free
Free to kill and maim, free to downcast its people
Free to deny medical help or help the many homeless
Therefore the Dove won’t help until there is peace and harmony
A great country but sadly many of its people obese
Fast food, easy access to sugar and a fast life style
Means many eat and have big meals on the run
So my guess is that the Turkey is off the plate
Throughout history in wars, wild weather, fires and flood
There has been a powerful Eagle watching from above
So my choice for a bird symbol to unite America
Is the formidable Bald Eagle so powerful and yet so free
Pieces of glass shattered on the wooden floor
I maim my pointed finger; it bleeds and runs into my broken door.
Grief is timeless as it seems,
How evergreen to sculpture happiness in my dreams?
I’m beautifully made but devastatingly asking,
“What keeps you awake and keep on going?”
Life is an art that is crafted under a long process
They say it’s worthy to endure; just like how everyone else.
“You need to find hope in your disappointments and failures”
As nonchalant as mosaic, there’s beauty in life’s curvatures.
“Your insecurity is like a fake brush that loses your colors to paint”
Look how splendor the love and support around; need them to acquaint.
Just keep on going is what will keep me going.
For as long as I know that this beautiful life will keep me flowing.
Soon to be draped inside the room where decors and schemes are pretty simple,
I will be the masterpiece; a work of art that outstands like a steeple.
The Unbiassed Media
Bombs rain on Gaza, the youth throw stones, the Israeli soldiers killed
or maim stone throwers, a dance of death.
What do the leading media say? Not very much,
the Gazans must be partly blamed; the victims are guilty
of the strength of being Palestinians defending their right.
In Hebron, the settlers are razing houses, killing goats and setting fire
to olive trees and daily is the death of those who get in their way.
The media might have a byline about it, that’s all.
If Israel is criticized, it unashamedly invokes the sacred Holocaust
and calls us antisemitic
Should a Jew speak up, he/her is called a self-hater
and be banned from entering the stolen land of Israel forever.
What is this resplendent thing that sparkles ahead,
Pacing faster than limbs of incapacity
Beyond the all-pervasive dakness of want?
Could my eyes be playing upon me some sly pervasity,
Seeing things untrue, askew and errant?
Or is it a reality that they will be resewn
The torn bonds that linked me to the world of bounty,
Where I may be returning soon?
I've had a glimpse of the future;
What a beautiful and gorgeous sight!
Streams of milk do freely flow,
And pots of honey glitter bright
Against the blinding rays of a rising sun.
This days of plenty seem set in the Promised Land,
For I see the fertile shoots of a germinating future
Guarded by an armed angelic band
Recruited from beyond the azure;
A fulfilment of a trashed prophecy.
And children of fate weakened by ages of plight
There do sing day and night;
Feeble frames malnourished for centuries
Enrich themselves from celestial treasuries,
Where the obedient minions of the sky
Gathered in response to their cry,
While they laboured on the red soils of Egypt
Before God heard their cries and His mercies leapt.
Who else can see this vision
Of relief from pandemics of fate
And the gaping gallows of death?
A time coming when sons of men
Shall storm this ogres den
And avenge the murderous terror
Inflicted upon their long gone kith and kin!
And the forbears long dead,
Shall be awakened by cries of war,
And with might reserved for decades
Shall avenge the pain inflicted before
By their wicked adversaries
Who maim parents and drink the blood
Of their offspring left behind.
In the event of that morning
The allures of the luring lulling yellows rays
A caress of the beam that lit lucid
I was not another day
So it was in a ponder and wonder
A day dragged into a trap of make
Such a rare feel it was
A faint distant thought did flicker
A nag?
A tickle?
Piercing prod mind wade
It came like a trod trotting horse invade conquer
A rare weird thought did deem
Triggered into a stagger
Breaking abruptly as it had started
It was the garment touch feelin’
And that what I was thinking then
A friend like a garment can be
And so in the feel woolly wholly perhaps
Or like a lulling sun beam when sky is yellow
Whichever that rides toll rule
In a muse like a deem
Let loose flood existent domain maim
That a friend is only but a friend in rule
And if that the footprint consistent pasted
Somewhere on a bough
Or a pretence of an Isenberg atop
The vision of an eagle fix in time stream in replay
There below waylay
a track of moments and events rehearse intent
Many paths culminating into one
A mouth of a river a hub so say
Here like one on a bough bow lay
There are a million and one clips in play
Atop this anthill is a diversion into me
An intermittent printing on this plane of being
Comes to me prints of history
Coming into me
I am coming into my self
All this point to me the past in making
The bricks in time lay
Not in haste retrieve past memoirs cherish
But a muse in nostalgia marvel
The life that is and becoming...
How I wish I was Omnipotent,
I will bring their parents back without an argument,
I will make them alive again,
To stay around and see their kids regain,
So that they won't be in torture and pain.
In streets,they are branded thieves,
Every accusation falls on them like leaves,
Mob justice knows the best of them,
Their bodies ache daily with maim,
Just because they are orphans,no one cares.
Drug addiction seems to be their only friend,
It makes them forget their suffering trend,
They pass through real hell,
Hoping one day life will be well,
But how will it be, yet they are unwanted?.
Dear Lord,touch the souls of men,
Make their hearts ooze with affection,
Let them hear my begging cry,
A cry that all orphans get treated without fury,
How I hope that all be well and make them smile again...
©Poet Igweee
Based on a quote from Watership Down:
"He fought because he actually felt safer fighting than running."
His experience in fighting battles
had been friendly games of Monopoly
Rolling dice across a colorful board
after shaking, to hear them rattle.
Those were serious acts of aggression
and hotels were POWs, taken in possession
Weapons were a top hat, thimble or boot
Men built houses, not blew them up
Winner, the one accumulating the most loot
Snake eyes moved him two spaces forward,
instead of sniper eyes on roofs of Park Place
resulting in blood dripping from a man's face
He wished he was only playing a game
But shots were fired from somewhere near
Bullets seeking men to kill and maim
War is fought with emotions of courage and fear
It was time to clear his squadron out
That kind of move is what wars are about
With rifle ready he led the charge
Run through a mine field, though weary and tired
He heard a man cry out, "I've been hit, Sarge!"
Without a free space they could'nt stop to rest
No Short Line Railroad upon which to ride
No fox holes dug, in which to hide
Amid shots fired, he passed down the word, "GO!"
only stopping to collect dog tags of his dead men
This time the battle was fought and won
From a shrapnel wound his blood took flow
It was never bravery that he lacked
It was being interred with a bullet in his back.
When asked why he hadn't turned to run,
knowing his platoon was badly overpowered,
He sighed and replied, "I'm not a coward,
So I rolled the dice and landed on Chance.
The top card said Be brave and attack!
So we fought until we took our property back."
Heroes Undone
We train men up to go to war.
We train them to fight and kill,
the enemy.
The people…
in foreign and domestic lands,
that have no honor,
and care not for law.
We tell you to shoot,
and maim and knife,
yet when you return,
home…
Some cry that you are changed,
somehow by your actions.
That you are less than citizens,
and even those without I.D.s
planted here by people
that have sold themselves
early to the demons
on the block,
receive a greater due.
God is the judge of all things.
He is the one that matters.
Heavens gates are open wide,
for soldiers
that protect
and serve,
the weak,
the defenseless,
and those
thought without
value at all.
Homage is paid,
for your sacrifice.
The kindest men and women,
the harshest jobs,
the longest hours,
the thankless parades
of “people”;
(people: for lack of further description,
prior to my morning coffee)
of do-littler(s),
instead of do-gooder(s),
or even
do-er(s) at all.
Soul stripped.
Flesh ripped.
Hope lost.
Time moves on not heeding the cost.
Hurt buried aside in the ditch.
Anger flares like a flip of the switch.
Fist tenses,
Wrenching blood from within.
Fingers pawing at the line of life,
White with streaks of red pressed flesh.
Ghost pepper strongly inhaled,
Nose like a waterfall over the lips.
Eyes clenched as tears meet sweat of the brow.
Foot tapping unceasingly faster,
Knee and leg exaggerating the attack.
Yoke across shoulders crunching bones.
Arms crossed, torso giving to gravity.
Pores gushing both hot and cold.
Mind races with head pivoting,
Circular on it's axle.
Soul? The soul dancing??? How cruel...
Mouth ajar in disbelief.
Tongue scratching to arise from it's lair.
Cheeks numbing,
Throat choked.
The beat of the soul continues...
Mind dampens.
Heart weakens.
Gut set to purge.
Soul keeps dancing...
Heart, mind and gut can't hear the rhythm.
Body jolts in knee-jerk spasms.
Face curls in anger,
Nose crunches cheeks,
Upper lip cliffs out over teeth,
Brow furrows, slanted cynically.
Mind perks up seeking to undermine...
Logic with misdirection lined.
All except the soul act as one.
The body relaxes, the masquerade begun.
"Nothing ever did transpire,
There is no real reason for this angst and mire."
Lungs breath a sigh of relief,
Heart makes off in the night like a thief.
Outward appearance turns abruptly calm.
The soul leaps up, raising an outward palm...
"Stop this at once! We've done this before!
Leading only to hunger, depression, and gore."
Soul connected to the source of life,
Reaches through the smoke of daunting strife.
Louder and louder the truth is yelled,
Mind, gut, heart and body remain uncompelled.
Suddenly, a piercing touch from without,
Skewers the essence of each with doubt...
The soul is a right a truth must break,
A two way mirror reflecting a fake.
The mind is steadfast not willing to commit.
The heart is frozen as opposed to lit.
The gut uneasy in volcanic burn.
Body's composure lost in a violent turn.
The soul is heard, the unforgiven must cave,
History includes a pain never forgave.
Voice it aloud all five parts of being proclaim...
"Release, us at once, from this torture and maim!"
should i tell them
should i let them know
what i have inside me
that nobody knows
should i make a confession
of all of my crimes
and if i really do it
will they drop a dime
everything i'm thinking
i think that they thought of too
i'm so very sure
that they all have a clue
and when it comes to sinning
i'm only just beggining
waiting for time and the world
to teach me something new
the lust of the eye's
and the pride of the heart
the needs of the flesh
invent the dark arts
it is in the cerimony
the worship, the ritual
where we sacrifice to ourselves
to satisfy our hearts
to steal, to avenge, to fornicate
with impunity
to kill, to maim, to imprison
a thing of beauty
to lie, to cheat, to see but
turn the other way
to remember but forget
who it is to we should pray
to raise up our throne
above almighty gods
make ourselves rulers
and that our only cause
now you see the
darkest side of me
nothing new
the twin of thee
(Hey ! what happen to the dark poet contest that this was going into!!!)
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