Long Press Poems
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Back to normal
The festivities are over, and the morning news
is about the war in Ukraine, we are told how successful
their army is shooting down 13 drones and killing a Russian in a boat.
Regarding the ongoing slaughter in Gaza, it was hardly mentioned, one assumes it was too grisly a show
so early in the morning.
On another news channel, the boat is now a warship, and many sailors were killed
the Zelinsky regime has changed the orthodox Christmas 7th of January to Europe's calendar to the applause of UE who takes delight in such matter
President Zelinsky, who has not been elected to this job,
insist he is winning the war against Russia,
his view is
echoed by Jens Stoltenberg, the NATO chief, acting as the USA's errand boy, and when a new NATO chief is elected, he has a job lined up as the governor of Oslo's State-directed bank.
So, this is what you receive when you play ball,
a top job
the king's medal in gold, and the applause from a
psychopathic press, who never fails to mention his athletic prowess, an expert terrain runner, he sprints where rabbits hesitate to run
I knew his father, an able politician, in Norway there
are political families (dynasties)
who direct the outcome of elections, and they are not even Jewish.
The people do not interfere in the political discourse
as long as beer comes in tall cans and is available
at all hours.
As we get older, things become important
the black cook in the cafe was back to work,
she had been
criticized for behaving like an angry black woman
I defended her
not easy to be a cook in a hot kitchen
my portion of bacalao was enough to take
half of it home for my evening meal
If I could, I surely would spend time to buy my time back.
I would bribe it away, gladly give time all time I’d saved.
To hush time’s clock and hurts from all it stole from me,
I’d liquidate my time bonds and time earning stocks.
From the government to bread, false doctrine is fed
that time is for growing dimes to elsewhere bestow.
My soul longs for remote, a dwelling simple, a garden
ample, breathing without time strangling or mangling.
As time's slave, I must behave when it ends deep sleep
to summon me, ‘up, press and stress you working pawn.'
I sold time's possible joys when I enrolled in the goals
of a two-car-mortgage-anxiety-variety-cargo show.
Raised to believe responsibility was the surest path
to fulfilment availability, I neglected my own math.
I didn't try a pencil but hopped traditional boxed squares
and one by one I landed on time squares aloof, never fair.
Time gave my baby’s first “I love you” away at daycare,
a vague recipient, like the vague I paid causing the incident.
Time given that I might prosper fostered so much lack that
if I could, I surely would spend time to buy my time back.
Where will it carry us,
this fragile hour we are living in
this trembling breath of fear?
Is there still a future
beyond the shadow of this moment,
or will tomorrow’s world
slip quietly into silence?
I think not,
for the heart’s hunger for life
still beats its steady drum,
still plants seeds of hope
in the soil of our despair.
And though the air is thick
with confusion and sorrow,
there will come a dawn
when the dark clouds
that now press low upon us
will loosen their grip,
and the sun,
gentle, golden, unafraid,
will spill her warm light
across the earth,
restoring to the weary
the courage to live,
and to the fearful
the will to dream again.
Time will, in its quiet way,
outlast the fear and sorrow
that wrap themselves around us.
Your spring has folded into memory.
Your summers have drifted past.
Autumn has bowed its head in parting.
Now winter’s cold breath
lingers at your neck,
and the seasons fade,
one by one, into stillness.
Yet when you wake each day,
do not wish it away,
life is already too brief.
The sun does not shine
without pause,
yet even the greyest of day
is a gift placed in your hands.
For none can tell
when a sudden wind will rise.
life offers no promises,
only moments.
So, give thanks for each one.
Live deeply.
Love without measure.
Play as though the hour is eternal.
And weave your days
into memories
that will not fade with time
In the midst of life's troubles
one feels lost among the fog
so many routes filter through
making conclusions like a daily log
One wants always to understand
thinking it's our right to know
but we can live without this fact
for the seed of knowledge just won't sow
To understand we don't need
press the button that says delete
ponder anew on one's self
peace will come head to feet
Remember this wise quote
written insightfully by Tanya Brown
indeed 'some things just are'
take it to heart so don't get down
Rub out the need to understand
be as yourself to find real peace
taking that step to letting go
you know it'll bring real ease
“Delete the need to understand.
We don’t need to understand
everything. Some things just are.”
(Finding Peace Amid the Chaos,
Tanya Brown)
Any would be dictator can easily
close down an open and free society.
In order to do so 10 steps must be put into play
and these 10 steps are in place in America today.
*
1. Invoke An Internal And External Threat
Mission Accomplished:
Our country is under attack by terrorists.
2. Create Secret Prisons Where Torture Takes Place
Mission Accomplished:
Detainee camps are in America and at the various off shore military base.
3. Develop A Paramilitary Force
Mission Accomplished:
BlackWater of course.
4. Surveill Ordinary Citizens
Mission Accomplished:
Our streets are now flooded with surveillance systems.
5. Infiltrate Citizens' Groups
Mission Accomplished:
Government moles have been documented spying on you.
6. Detain And Release Ordinary Citizens
Mission Accomplished:
This occurs at all airports over and over again.
7. Target Key Individuals
Mission Accomplished:
(eg., Valerie Plame, Drew Griffin, The Dixie Chick girls)
8. Restrict The Press
Mission Accomplished:
Many outspoken journalists are threatened with imprisonment or arrest.
9. Recast Criticism As Espionage And Dissent As Treason
Mission Accomplished;
Many protesters now arrested get charged with terrorism.
10. Subvert The Rule Of Law
Mission Accomplished:
Bush's bill signing statements has subverted US Constitutional Law like never before.
between new nightmares
and day dreams
of a better life
lay reality resurfaced
tight with taut brutality
unspeakable thoughts drift
down through time's flash
triggered not there
not then
but now and here
her mind digs through fear
as she sinks
slight form down
crisp skirt's rustle sound
folds with her
to ground
and she says to herself
I will lay here
in this hollow
it fits the curve of my spine
holds the shape
of my hips
and the grass padded earth
cups itself a little
around my waist
hugs me
till I sleep
I am still alive
I am dead
to the world
tar roads
pavements
are too hard
concrete
cannot hold me
the same way
they resist my shape
press flatness
hard
against me
leave me sore
unrested
complaints unheard
where may I sleep
With fragrance
of grass and earth
maybe
in a garden
a cultured space
thoughts arouse
aroma once known
from those past
yet still present
places
so pleasant
maybe then
I will fall into dreams
of painless light
sunshine will soothe
I will feel bright
flame red flowers
in free fall
Will not burn
as they engulf me
float from arms
branches
blue sky stretched
they will caress me
in potpourri perfume
memories mock
her senses
she yearns to block
their burn
when I sleep
I'll not smell
petrol fumes
flared up
I will not hear
the shudder of bodies
breaking down the door
I will forget
the screams
eardrums pierced
my own
I will not feel
my body burn
in hell hound fire
twisted hatred
from ordinary mothers
fathers sisters sons
bizarre beliefs
turned my skin
from brown silk smooth
to outlandish patches
pink and brown
how will I
become
familiar
with who I am
now
she falls asleep
dreams
of sunshine
tree shadow dappled
nature cradles her
in dark and light
she breathes low
drum sounds
bring her back
there
next to eyes
awakening
her fingers
delicate drummers
play the earth
With firm tips
tap tapping
a well known song
her long gone
mother's lullaby
hush my child
hush now
don't cry
sleep sweet
against my heart
hush now
hear the beats
of my love
for you
hush now
so angels
do not sigh
hum drum
hum drum
hum drum
she starts to cry
Posted:15-12-2018
Note: "Sister" poem to "thin skinned"
*Image of William Shakespeare Poet Writer by Pixabay.
Contemporary Sonnet
Hot off the press, 'tis a rhyme of some kind,
a form that's advanced hundreds of years old,
hearts made it all the rage as love entwined,
game-changing for the muted, words of gold.
In full swing appearance stretches statements,
staunch vowels-consonants chime wondrously,
the construction on stanzas spreads segments,
three quatrains plus, distinct couplet, smoothly.
Completely concerned engaging rhyme scheme,
three mayhaps four amidst Milton scores whole,
though, moreover, there's Hopkins curtal theme,
although this well-known method leads the poll.
Functioning nameless skilled to be renowned,
Supporting heart and soul get off the ground.
2021 June 23
*1st Place*
A Brian Strand 1 to 14 line
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2021 August 11
An auburn glow
of freckled comeliness
not young not old
a little thick set
like a mature cat
When we pass a book
between us
our fingertips withdraw
scalded by small print
The room is crowded
but it is far away
like a story in a closed volume
We are alone
beyond the codex of morality
We both know
that I want to lay her down
on this tiled civic floor
to imprint a passion
upon a mute press
There is an understanding
a regard
that fast birds
and slow elephants have
for mutual journeys
I envision
her creamy thighs
lofted high
her sensible skirt
pulled over her head
as we grunt sotto voce
between aisles K to Q
The cruelty..the pain..the heartwrenching words,
The egotistical mocking in your unsettling world,
When i hear them i cringe..so saddened by your view,
Your eyes continuously focused on you,
I watch as you try endlessly night and day,
To see through the eyes of love but then go astray,
You allow the wind to whip your thoughts all around,
When the storm rages inside your heart hits the ground,
How many blows must you take before you realize?,
How long will it take before you open your eyes?,
I could walk away n have all peace,
No cause for the fight...i could make it all about me,
But then what good will that do me and what strength will i gain?,
I press into His love..i remember His pain,
He carried the cross of our burdens and fears,
He relentlessly gave until He bled tears,
Closer to my father than ever before,
The world sees from a distance but my heart is sure,
They believe that you stand farther away...
Because they watch you endure all this pain,
But i assure you its the opposite of what they see,
I am in Him and He is in me,
Standing at a crossroad..which path will you choose?,
Will you make it about me or will you make it about you?,
Will you selfishly walk away thinking your saving your soul?,
When you already belong to Him and you already know,
Will you allow fear to overtake you..and pain as its disquise?,
Or will you peel off the mask and stare into its eyes?,
Unmoving..unconditional..unwilling to leave,
That is how deep He feels towards me.....
the field is no longer there where
all of youth and ego collided and
her first glance was seen but shied from
all to be born in a thousand recollections
the field is no longer there where
near dusk I sat alone blurring
through November's naked branches
lamenting another summer passed
the field where I killed an attacking tree
sidearm from thirty yards dead center
no one saw but no one needed to
it happened
the field is no longer filled with fights and
fun and bragging and just hanging out
talkin bout how Joe's brother could press a 100
or how Cyndy's boobs were huge nothing
of importance was left to be conjured
one day I drove away and when I went back
it was gone but like that smile I shied from
never really gone