Long Siberia Poems
Long Siberia Poems. Below are the most popular long Siberia by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Siberia poems by poem length and keyword.
They promised me, with a single mouse click,
Quotes that will change my life forever
I asked myself; how do they measure change?
Do they know my baseline?
How do you measure forever?
Over the years, I have recorded words
That resonated with my ideals and credited the author
I turned them into epigrams and meditated upon them
Committed them to memory in case I was sent to prison
With no books to read
In those moments, I felt understood,
But, I never felt changed.
No quote ever gave me
A road to Damascus epiphany
Jesus gave us beautiful beatitudes
Stretch goals that seem unnatural
He said, blessed are the meek
I argued, “they will be mowed down”
I heard him say,”Blessed are those that hunger and thirst after righteousness.”
I thought of Navalny and responded
They will be locked away in Siberia.
Starved, frozen and forgotten.
Mother Teresa said, “Do not worry about why problems exist in the world– just respond to people’s needs.”
My mother didn’t say it. She lived it. I witnessed it. My mother got to me first.
“Thank you, Mother Teresa”, I will agree. I saw the fruits of her caring.
George Bernard Shaw said, “Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.”
I answered, “Mr. Shaw, you assume that change is good regardless. I have experienced that this not so”
There was a time that Bruce Lee lived in the same city as I did.
We smelled the same salt air and the caramelized soya sauce blowing out of café exhaust fans.
His image was painted on a wall in China Town. Bruce Lee said, “I’m not in this world to live up to your expectations and you’re not in this world to live up to mine.”
I’m thinking that this is easy for him to say. He has no idea what I expect of him. He expects nothing of me
Because I do not exist for him but he certainly does for me..
I thought I shouldn’t argue with each and every quote,
Perhaps I should just drink them in and see what happens
I read all one hundred quotes that promised to change me,
Change me forever.
I ended with the wisdom of Oscar Wilde,
"Some things are too important to be taken seriously."
On this, I will agree.
Yet I don’t see that it changes me
Now or forever.
this nucleus of sweet christian craziness
sought after from 1096 onwards
with 60,000 strong leading the
kill-everyone-in-its-path-if-they-don’t-worship-the-same-character-of-fiction-that-we-do
campaign
stands tall within the canon of idiotic reasons that
humans have killed each other.
one has to wonder that if the devious concoctors of
the work of fiction known as the
new testament
had penned “mr. christ’s” death somewhere a little less sweltering
than the dry heat of jerusalem---
if the whole story would have been different.
think about it
what if the character of christ had been written about in the context of
siberia or perhaps the nether-regions of antartica?
certainly the freezing cold may have calmed down the
fanaticism to
follow?
those who will tell us that these lands had not even been
“discovered” yet
so they wouldn’t have suited the writer’s of said work of fiction---
well, i suppose that they walk around everyday, somehow,
on one leg---
because the other leg, bent upward,
always has the extended foot
shoved in the mouth of said believer.
an estimated 30,000 people were killed in the first crusade
alone---
muslims
jews
& even other christians,
died
because people who read a book
told the majority of people who couldn’t even read that book,
that there was sufficient reason to take up arms & go
marauding over water & land
to kill others
because they did not abide by the fiction which this book
“delivered.”
it is now 2011
& have the crusades stopped?
just how “holy” is this jerusalem?
just because it is the centerpiece of 3 cults of
fiction,
does not make it anymore significant a land mass
than that of
st. petersburg,
where a much
much
much
better writer
wrote the brothers karamazov.
but have no fear,
these itty-bitty revelations will not keep us brilliant apes
from continuing to club each other over the heads
until our brains splash out in the blessed
desert.
keep beating, keep thumping those clubs now,
until you get your precious little
armageddon.
I was taken from this life
in the black night, blindfolded
to be clubbed to death
so that I
might be born again
in spirit song, dance and name
given by my great ancestor
who, ten thousand years ago or more,
crossed the Bering land bridge from
Siberia to Cowichan and the Salish Sea
warm land of the raven,
the black bear and the salmon.
I have suffered
four hundred years
of dislocation of the soul
in this barren culture, nameless
but for “primitive squaw.”
I have lost
Tamanawas, the sacred ritual dance
the Potlatch feast of giving and
my children and my language.
I will endure
four days and nights
confined and cold and hungry
while all around the rhythmic pulse
of elders’ drumming, chanting
guides me back in time and space
to voices still resounding
stories of a dancing flame
light upon the earth
And I will rise in cedar forests
and walk the clamshell middens
feel our language on my skin
and see with startled eyes new life
the Soulfire I’ve been given.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This was for the Shaman's Way contest but I think I missed it.
Cowichan --used to be pronounced coWEEchan now it's usually said like, Cow i chan.
The Canadian government outlawed many Coast Salish practices until the 1960's--the Spirit Quest, Potlatch feast and
Tamanwas dance among them. Children were placed in residential schools, away from their families, and were forbidden
to speak their mother tongue. More recently, the spirit quest ritual has been revived as (loosely) described in the
poem. However, it is also now used as a form of "intervention" to help address an array of problems frequently
attributed to colonization (e.g., drug and alcohol misuse). So, where in the past, young people would go off into the
forest voluntarily, it is now often the case, (at least in Cowichan) that young people are taken from their beds in the
night. Initiates are first symbolically "clubbed to death" then "reborn" after multiple days of ritual practices.
Professor Hapgood’s studies on ancient maps were fixed
Einstein said his theories should be added to history’s mix
Perhaps it proved too big a leap for other minds to take
But his ancient culture findings, Hapgood would not forsake
6000 BC, before Egypt’s pyramids were built
Millennia before Pompeii’s lava had been spilled
Or small fishing boats hugged the Mediterranean Coast
And Columbus’s “daring” voyage was not even close
Ancient seafarers drew with astounding accuracy
Maps of the world they once knew, the fishermen’s legacy
Antarctica sans ice and closer to the equator
The Mid-Atlantic Ridge once an above-sea sky scraper
Siberia touching Alaska with no Bering Strait
(Palin could have seen Russia without snow from her back gate)
Cuba, England, Sweden, too, on these maps appear clearly
But Sweden’s fully glacial; England’s blanket an ice sheet
If we believe Hapgood, a civilization once thrived
Thousands of years before language; maps keep memories alive
Technology to chart the seas was lost in ancient times
With latitude and longitude measurements quite refined
Sea kings’ cities may have succumbed during the last Ice Age
Surviving nations lost their skill when history turned a page
Geography to be found again when the Earth had healed
“Discoverers” reinvented the forgotten ship’s wheel
Magellan, perhaps not the first to sail around the globe
Admiral Byrd not the first man to visit the South Pole
Spirits from a colony of seafarers can be found
From deep beneath Antarctic ice, they try to spread the word
But laugh they must as scientists forecast global warming
And man attempts to alter life and heed their dire warning
Shifting poles? Natural cycles! Men would be well advised
To study the maps Hapgood found and open their closed minds
To learn more about Professor Charles Hapgood’s map studies and the comments made by
Albert Einstein, you can visit http://www.crystalinks.com/crustal.html.
In Nursing School
In nursing school they have us learn all the proper medical words,
Because in Greek and Latin we defecate, but we never make turds,
And what's worse than learning about all these dreadful diseases
Is forgetting my English to replace it with obfuscating medicaleses,
Lest we forget that great chemical known as adenosine triphosphate
Which is the powerhouse of the cells, or did she say an exudate?
And though I've been to India and seen the river Ganges,
I never knew my fingers were really called phalanges,
And we must learn about colitis, encephalitis and diverticulitis,
But I hope these germs don't decide to get up and bite us.
You can't find out a lot about someone by palpating the patella,
Not even if the patient is female, or if he is a fella.
And we must distinguish anemia, diarrhea and gonorrhea
From the almost identical condition known as leukemia.
Sex is one thing, I think, not one of us has time for,
For after school it's off to work until you're blind or
Wishing you had never heard of cellular necrosis,
Not to mention the hundred kinds of psychoses and neuroses.
And then there's that other major hurdle called getting adequate funding,
And if you can't get a loan or a grant they'll have you do the plumbing.
It seems the clinical locations are never really near ya,
In fact most of them are deep inside Siberia,
And if out in the Sun recall that your skin can get tumorous,
For the study of medicine is serous – very, and hardly ever humerus.
Your medical books will have you believe you've every disease known
From autophobia to an ecchymosis to cerumen on the bone.
But at least there are no bullies insisting we are all big wimps,
For studying things like urine, saliva, bile, blood and lymph;
And if there's one more part with the outlandish name of buccinator,
I think I'll lose it all and become a hallucinator.
If you want to keep
your expanding
civil liberty weight down,
we suggest you try the alphabet dictator soup
It’s demagogue-approved to keep the
public scrutiny town hall gavel pounds off of you
The letters F ... R ... E ... E are not in the can,
and radical talk chowder is totalitarian banned
You best clam up, if you know what’s healthy for you
But the split-lip pea soup tastes great liquefied,
if your jaws need to be wired shut
Fat ideas of human rights
will get you shipped to Siberia
on a dissident Weight Watchers bus
Sugary sweet intoxicating wine of independent thought
will get you government-issued gulag cloth
So don’t get drunk on too much First Amendment talk
Here’s something else you might want to try on the menu,
our peppery, Black Boot fascist veggie stew
It’s guaranteed to give you a mean kick
Only 100-percent propaganda tofu
is offered in this meatless, bicameral dish
No harmful voter allergens to alarm you,
and it’s debate-free healthy too
This totalitarian menu will slim your political weight
down so fast, it will shock you
Just watch what a few rubles a day can do
I know you still have cravings
for some red meat democracy
Need I remind you: this is a
media roast-free, autocratic dinner party
You will be amazed at what
a few influence-peddling dollars will buy
But please be advised:
Stay away from any amended second helpings
of the rich, decadent General Custard pie
Aw, shot ... it’s double-barreled delicious,
but it got major health concerns,
no Krispy Kremlin lie
Too many Constitutional calories
in each serving of this American dish
We urge you ... implore you ...
demand you not to give it a try
Those who taste too much sweet liberty,
tend to kick their totalitarian diet to the curbside
A man walks into a new generation gangster town,
there were guns, amoe, drugs, explosives, and allot of bad people, and that's all he found.
He looked around the streets and saw allot of African American people running the show,
he walks into one corridor and into another city, and he welcomed the flow.
The new city, to him it wasn't any different than the one he just came out from, there were Muslims,
they wore gold chains and hiphop music was playing every where, the mostly dealt cocaine, and said fuk them.
there women were so beautiful, they would walk around in heals and panties were ever they went,
the man walked though all the gorgeous women and thought to him self, "no I can't".
The man walks into a new city, he walked into "The Slums" it was the hardest and the baddest outlaws of the nations,
the man looked around and right away he did not like what he saw there, everything was dirty and without and patience.
He couldn't wait to get out of there, the women were nasty and smelled like they haven't showered in years,
The man put his head down and started walking out of the slums with nothing in his eyes but tears.
The man walked into "Siberia" Everyone living there saw the man come in and they all rushed to great him,
at first the man got a little scared, but than he saw there smiles, so he smiled back at them.
Everyone was living there was dancing to a death mettle Hip Hop music, while drinking and sniffing cocaine with a gun on there sides,
The man walks to the bar while looking at all the beautiful women that are dancing and giving him a sexy look.
Than the BOSS of the city comes up to him, pores him a drink and tells him how he is the BOSS of the whole West Coast,
the man looked at him and smiled, he put his hand around the boss, looked at everyone around and said, "Let's Toast".
1.
Rumor has it on heavens above
Among the angels’ divine sphere
That God after very much though
Decided in man’s life to interfere
2.
For He has observed Man’s mistakes
Which lately too many came to be
To endanger the whole of creation
Act with which God can never agree
3.
So the Lord has most recently chosen
The book of life before long to reprint
Revising certain of its very old chapters
While others out will leave, He has hint
4.
The concern of humans is now to know
Which chapters the book will not contain,
Which are going to be, somehow, revised
And which intact will forever remain
5.
What was heard through the vine though,
It was Man’s huge and unbearable vanity
That made our almighty Lord and creator
To finally exclude the chapter of humanity
6.
The reason our God in His infinitive wisdom
Reached such unexpected for Mankind conclusion
Is the fact that Man during his reign on earth
Has hurt our planet with his insensitive intrusion
7.
It might still be time for Man overall to be saved
If he started correcting his many mistakes soon
Beginning by respecting life and the whole planet
And stop behaving like a dim-witted buffoon.
© Demetrios Trifiatis
06 July 2021
*The planet's average surface temperature has risen about 2.12 degrees Fahrenheit (1.18 degrees Celsius) since the late 19th century,
Most of the warming occurred in the past 40 years, with the seven most recent years being the warmest.
Last week temperatures in Canada rose to 50 Celcius and more than 50 Celcius in Siberia.
** According to UN “We are in an era where climate change isn’t some kind of future hypothetical, ” and that “Nobody on this planet
is going to be untouched by it."
IF YOU THINK YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE…
“A quiet and modest life,” says he in German, the most successful of them/us all, “brings more joy than a pursuit of success bound with constant unrest.”
Albert Einstein’s hand-written tip to a courier at the Imperial Hotel
Tokyo, November 1922
If you think you’re the only one to record the way the world’s run
Know that every top’s naked spun when the wrapped string’s outrun
Everyone’s in such a hurry to step out of this collapsing quandary
Even if the one and only query is left without comforting certainty
Everybody wants a piece of posterity to be part of everlasting history
Even at the cost of mimicry if only to keep shoring up sheer vanity
Fire burns out in an empty shell the way the poem slim content quell
Who reads for meaning to feel well means to read more feeling swell
Roads lead to where one wants to go, lines come to an end in vertigo
To each ego own voice sounds best, who renounces the will but hobo
Tell this to a Cervantes five years in quarries after the Battle of Lepanto
Confront Dostoeyeski with firing squad again after four years in Siberia
Tear Theo from Van Gogh’s bosom after Gauguin’s bullish loud hysteria
Tease Mozart in his deathbed with the sleepless scores of his concerto
There’s no quiet in a modest life for billions will step eager on your face
Our world honours the sham strong the phoney the fake the half-baked
The weak work all day not to crave success but to fend off all disgrace
No true mother harassed by rape abandons the baby for rapists’ sake
Success is always drenched in sweat except for those fils de Putes
Who inherited the earth long before the oldest profession followed suit
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Orang Bangla, Orang Bangla
Whither goest thou?
Poor Orang!
Need a job, right now?
Come hither, come hither
No worry, at all
Money is calling you, dear Bangal.
Sweep my premises, cut the backyard trees,
I’ll sacrifice full ten ringits.
Need you lodging?
Why am I here, Orang?
Go thither, go thither
Live with the cows, there’s dung
Only, innocent animal litter.
Coming straight from Kualalampur?
What?
From Muradpur to Kualalampur?
I see, you speak some English,
You educated? Want to establish
By working in Ringitpur?
Ok, Orang, start journey
To feed your family distant
You need to eat on this instant?
Long journey? Long time?
Orang, so what?
Need you rest?
NO, Orang, do your best.
I’m a kind Malay-Tamil,
Ok Orang, take two biscuits for meal.
What? Tea? No tea, no tea,
Life’s not so easy.
Now Orang, lets talk business,
Give me your passport
Life, after all, is not all easiness.
Ten ringit full
And live by the cow and bull.
What? More?
Payment on weekend?
You’ll get it at your life’s end
In Malaysia.
Hey Orang, what? Eight weeks’ ringit?
Look Orang, you have no account
Even cows steal here
To me your money is safe and sound.
What? Need to telephone to home?
Why bother them? Here you are at home.
Tell again-
You have a sweetheart? Need to phone her?
NO. Go and work-
She has no wings to fly elsewhere,
Bangla’s Tunku Zafar.
Will not work?
Your father will work.
Want to leave Malaysia?
Without passport you are in Siberia.
Why persist, Orang?
You came here through water and forests dense
On Tarzan visa.
Should I call your father, police?
‘Hello, Inspector Tansri Wahab’-
What? Will work?
You naughty, orang otang