Long Peace talks Poems
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They were a different breed, in thought as the coffee grinds
Gentler souls, dreamers with artistic minds
More acceptant than the average man
Substance goes farther than image can
And I wondered why in these troubled times
Of violence hatred and senseless crimes
Couldn’t we have a world summit at a coffee house
I talked to a man who prayed for peace
And a girl who wanted all war to cease
Not like Washington I wanted to scream
People think and people dream
And I wondered why in all this turmoil
With our young bearing guns on foreign soil
Couldn’t we have peace talks at a coffee house
I listened to the morning news
It made me sad, gave me the blues
Storms, violence, disease, starvation
Governments seeking domination
And I wondered why in our darkest hour
And nation’s leaders obsessed with power
Couldn’t we change our world from a coffee house.
I stepped inside to find a book I sought
Found myself immersed in thought
There were poets, dreamers and works of art
People whose words came from their heart
And I wondered why in this time of strife
As our leaders devalue human life
Shouldn’t we listen to the dreamers at the coffee house.
schools encourage students
to grow up have recess-fun
behave and become mature
responsible people who mind
their business and help others
however there be a problem
the ukraine leader was a stage comedian
before being elected head of his party
in the school yard where-in as class-clown
he seeks cheers and applause for unfunny
psychopathic gang fights with those with
whom they've lived for decades so that
peace ends and school yard fighting reigns
reputations of the biggest bullies who clamber
for a piece of the weapons profit all while
people are dying for publicity and bank accounts
of the usa as the biggest weapon-profits sucker
on the planet that threatens those who want
peace talks (china) because the fighters then
might be removed (and put on an island somewhere)
to fight or work and talk out their problems apart from us
immature people must not be put in charge.....period
stan sand
Make me man as soon as my youngster
knowingly receives their very last coddle.
The unconditional love curdles from
your loving mother’s teat.
Make it matter despite what you moo to cattle.
Prod the brittle; the previously dilly-dallied say,
“Tagalongs, hogtied stowaway freeloaders with
the trade inside loading and shipping containers.”
Longtime division produced its remainders.
A cove far off the oceans cost.
A cove in a periwinkle sea,
frothing with a bacterial foam
whipping up these sweet
whipped creamed treats
and other delights.
A fondant atop it all
till the klutz ruination
curses cause clusters of
curse wordings together,
finding their bindings.
Shame soaks the rag that wiped away
a distressed and disastrous look upon face.
Words impact with a continuous compound fracture
under the masterful tongue's dismantling of the
peace talks upheld on the other hand.
The redness from the veins still stains the earth,
Bones stripped bare of flesh by ravenous ants,
In each of the souls, peace was much in dearth,
The redness from the veins still stains the earth,
That's what wars do, even before my birth.
We humans have brains, yet behave like plants.
The redness from the veins still stains the earth,
Bones stripped bare of flesh by ravenous ants.
The redness from the veins still stains the earth,
In each of the souls, peace was much in dearth,
That's what wars do, even before my birth.
We humans have brains, yet behave like plants,
Bones stripped bare of flesh by ravenous ants.
With all peace talks drowned by hordes of war chants.
Guns stop firing, still the hate goes on,
with grievance still burning all along.
Peace talks halted, no hearts in repair,
Just hollow moments, trembling in air.
Need more than stalling, need to claw back trust,
Need to face the truth that inclusion is a must —
Not in the silence, but when hands entwine,
Not to encompass truce, but to redraw the line.
Hear what we're saying.
What we keep telling.
This ceasefire is only pause, not peace.
Guns fall silent; but none are melted down.
Ceasefire? — Just a pause.
Peace? — Takes a cause.
Stop the fight? — That’s nowhere near enough.
Mend the hurt? — We’ve got to do the hard stuff.
No more walls! — No more hate!
Justice now! — We will not wait!
Call it a start, but it’s not the end,
Peace turns a foe a'fighting into a friend.
Don’t pause at stopping, let the healing flow,
Plant seeds to settle; let green shoots grow.
The guns go silent, but the anger stays,
Smoke in riven hearts never just drifts away.
It's called a calm, but it’s just the hour before,
the storm returns, with deadlier power.
All we are saying —
Ceasefire’s not peace.
All we are saying —
Ceasefire’s not peace.
Captive burdens
Of dismay
Problem solve all away
Corrugated spills actions happening
Distorted views memories misshapen
Quantico rehabilitative fathoms
Sway
Complicated positions do not keep me at bay
You get my drift
Stuck in a horizontal position
Cradling the bed
Somber silence immovable body Solace
Asleep Not Dead
Sway
Call kaydence spills actions fashion
Peace talks fail time for military action
Complicated positions do not keep them at-bay
Asleep Not Dead nothing is left other than to pray
2/18/20
Written word by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
Within me a battle wages on
Between true change and pure acceptance
As my flaws scream we want war
My soldiers of truth are dying off
The weapon of choice is blame
Everyone but me
Raids on my self worth ocastraed with in the ranks of reason
I ponder a battle plan a way to win the war on me
I bring the guns
I bring the fear
I rain down the negativity
She was there to raise me up
But the resonbility should have not fell on her
My victory was never meant to be raised with her white flag
The concepts I see now are realities of the past
Manifested by a much stronger enemy my self esteem
The scars of this self inflicted war
Runs free within the hurt of all who try to be close
To make sense of my demise is to search way down deep into my pit of rage
There can be no peace talks not anymore
Because I can no longer convince the otherside of her
That I have changed
When this war rages on within me
How can I create a peace for her
I can't and this is my true weakness
My own fate is in my hands now not hers.
I must now make it my greatest strength
To become the peace we all need
I was a famous conductor, and performing beautiful music was my joy,
As diamond sunshine, to pervade darkness, finds any means to employ.
Music had long been a part of me, in that I sang long before conducting,
Like the famed adult bluebird choirs, lead the songs they are instructing.
My much loved work kept me busy. Still, I loved every precious moment,
As wild, crazy, summer colors dash afar, with no cries of encroachment.
But I had a personal favorite song, which I loved more than any other,
As anyone recalling their great loves, find their thoughts turn to mother!
This song had held special meaning for me, for what felt like long ages,
And I never tired of hearing it, as blooms will never have enough vases.
I thought of the melody as 'my song,' for in my heart, it was mine alone,
Like multicolored autumn leaves flying, when green summer is disowned.
It was then marigold days of sultry July, and dark purple martins soared,
Like finding you have heartfelt passion, for someone you once abhorred.
I had just entered a restaurant, when I heard that stirring song playing,
Like chattering, mischievous monkeys, swing forever in treetops, saying.
Then like always, I was transported, back down nostalgic memory lane,
Just as orange birds recur every springtime, singing the melodies again.
As I was returning home that evening, the full moon was in the treetops,
Whispering with those flashing stars, as a part of the nightly peace talks.
As I went up the front porch steps, the fragrance of lilacs was tangible,
As on the streets of scarlet summer, where wild blooms are fashionable!
The moment I entered my house, my heart song began its playing again,
As a sultry summer that's come lately, only to meet the vivid fall refrain.
Though I was enraptured by extravagant music, and music was my life,
Still, it was odd that it could play itself, the moment this person arrived!
It seemed that the song I'd loved so long, had come to love me as well,
And had determined to follow me always, like fragrances casting spells.
My heart song is still pursuing, through mellow days and jasmine nights,
As owl stares at a moon of rapture, and bees are off on honeyed flights.
That song of precious sweet memories, greets me every room of my life,
Like a red rose that blooms for you only, even where wild blooms are rife!