Long Sticks and stones Poems
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I've discovered why you hate them so:
You felt they delivered you a blow.
Not with sticks and stones; but words indeed
That you let obscure your friends in need
Who sing release when you let hatred go.
What have they done to warrant such disgraces
That you refuse to see their tearful faces.
Did they disobey your sacred rule?
When you offered love, did they act cruel?
Inflict on you a pain that's most invasive?
Now you shut them out of sight and mind.
Only wish that they respond in kind.
Now their gentle voices sound absurd.
Offer solace you do not deserve.
Offer you escape you failed to find.
Give yourself the break you've always earned.
Reason offers you a chance to learn:
You look on a world you felt betrayed
The darkest moral code a cynic craves...
I wait patiently, and voice concern.
Is it my imagination, that all is fair in love and war.
Is my imagation that sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me ?.
Is it my imagation that there is humanity in the world.
Is it my imagination that a smile cost nothing but cheers another person's day
Is it my imagination to think big and set high goals in life .
Is it my imagination to think respect one another as you would yourself.
Is it my imagination to fly like a butterfly and sting like a bee!
IMAGINATION is a wonderful and powerful
Takes you to new heights and lots of delights
Your Imagination can set your next goal or career.
IMAGATION IS BELIEF
BELIEVE IN IMAGINATION.
a dark underbelly cloud sweeps past the trees
as they bow down then snap like minds gone crazy
defenseless on the hills they no longer stand
powerless to the storm
a violent wind screams out in tempered gusts
before the sky lashes out its bottled rage
it slams against the ground, bullets raining down
destruction everywhere
hail the summer storm that took us by surprise
made us see our weakness beneath nature's wrath
as we grab our sticks and stones cursing her name
a rainbow arcs the sky
June 30, 2020
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#2 A Dark Underbelly
Here’s the man in the marching band
Fiddlin with sticks on his petty hands
Marching, marching round the street
In the middle of the glazing blazing heat.
Here’s the man in the marching band
Here’s the man. He’s in command
With a little syncopation & intonation
Here’s the man in the marching band
Here’s the man in the marching band
Here’s the man when he’s on demand
Walking in the steps of a child’s handstand
Dancing to the beat of a broken watchband
Sticks and stones might break his drums
No beat, no soul, no rhythm, no goal
Maybe one day, he’ll break his bum
Thanks to countless talented taps he stole
Here’s the man in the Marching Band
Confidence looking so high and grand
Here’s the man in the marching band
Next time he plays, the drums will be canned!
What hurts the most
Isn't harsh and cruel words
But words of a another kind
To them we are blind
but we need to see
the reality
these are words
more potent yet
sugar coated words
that mask the bitter truth
words dressed up in style
beautifully crafted designs
that shimmer and shine
they seduce reason
alluring, sublime
they mislead
they make one feel
false security
they testify of enduring love
of being special, unique
when the truth is quite bleak
undress those words
and see the naked truth
a love that has died
nothing can hide
the ugly truth
that's even more painful
than harsh words
that might be born
of love in pain
still fighting to live
and give
giving away
sugar coated words
love on display
trying to nourish
a starving love
with empty caloried sweetness
sweet to the lips
bitter in the stomach
it's just wrong
throwing back a bone
after love's feast is done
is so much worse
than sticks and stones
sad but true
the naked truth
isn't
pretty
Eileen
Discrediting plausibility
by shredding their humility
to a place of vulnerability
devoured by inabilities
cowardice incompetence
showered into consciousness
empowered causing confidence
validation found in compliments
a false sense of accomplishment
resort to intense punishment
to knock down their competitors
who speak of truth not metaphors
that could reverse their actual course
see them falling through floorboards
far from craved credited applause
a status low as though blackballed
on salaries always needing more
survival gifting no rewards
a personality to be ignored
social skills which leave them bored
testing humans to their core
needing a win but cannot score
electrical without a cord
no plug socket or power source
as management you were assured
entitlement had power stored
defensive walls they reinforced
the canon fire rains then pours
constant drainage of resource
when liars reign without remorse
demonstrate through acts of war
axing allies no friends of yours
switching sides ending support
backtracking and invasions fall
forward thinking backward thoughts
two faced fronts fights are fought
defend positions within the fort
saving supply routes to the port
lowered standards poor results
lose respect face the onslaught
enclosing can’t escape assaults
laced with disgrace of dense insults
unsatisfactory falling short
the cost of power steeply soars
run out of bullets fight with swords
sticks and stones not canon balls
back to basics of infant schools
learning how the mighty fall
turns out you might be a fool
from the authority you adore
to unemployed and lost it all
from big and powerful to small
once important not anymore
once arrogant above the law
apparently now unloveable
a tyrant silenced by rivals
the outlaw downfall locked indoors
freedom within the prison walls
abusing boundaries horribly
so far beyond authority
explicitly and vicously
fully of inefficiency
faults and inability
soulless animosity
dethroned without the sovereignty
lost lonely in unpopularity.
I don’t start off thinking it’s a priority to insult
so if you end up offended it’s probably your fault
opinions can be devisive
one will speak and another won’t like it
offensive views are realised
Someone’s mental state is in a crisis
Start throwing sticks and stones
Hire a wolf to blow down homes
Easily offended and always prone
vacated adults who like to moan
We live in a world of victim mentality
grouped together in a cause for humanity
those historical tales filled with the brutality
though not our experience or actuality
as a white man I’m supposed to have it easy
the call for equality means no one sees me
because I cannot call on some ancient history
when I had the advantage in a previous century
A single man isn’t given a house to live in
that the same man with children would be given
raising kids on benefits who don’t make a living
and yet no one cares if single men are driven
When girls become pregnant they are given homes
A gifted blessing though the father’s unknown
while these single men must survive on their own
and they say equality favours the man alone
Men disagree and the situation turns physical
women disagree and spread tales that ridicule
so what if men and women are disagreeable
advantage to the female practiced at cynical
Because men don’t play mind games with men
it’s just too much effort to ever waste on them
whereas women play these games over again
the opposite gender that males can’t threaten
so LGBT and women are historically lesser
and we must respect Black Lives Matter
in a white mans world white men are better
though at a disadvantage if they ain’t clever
In todays world the cause gets prioritised
at the piles base every white man alive
the message we bully and must step aside
making up for history before we were alive
And yet we are not victims and are not offended
I guess my grandfather lived a life most splendid
and my generation are now expected to mend it
in a white mans world that must be defended
Don’t ever forget just who built this city
with the sections of it now demanding pity
who have equal rights and the same opportunities
you should reap the rewards not focus on scrutiny
Morning breaks through the door
like restless pigeons jumping up and down on the floor
Destiny doesn’t know which way to choose
But paradise sits calmly on the ice and melts slowly as
Strange phenomena explode in the sky.
Doors open wide and gun shots pelt like
Rain beating on windowpanes
men with gun drawn chasing one another in the lane
And paradise was not the same; people began to scream and
riddles bullets bodies lie next to the stream as men create
Mayhem at dawn, and blood running like flood on the open lawn.
dead bodies lament over their lost dreams, with mouth
Open wide and their weapons attached to their sides.
They have been planning for months to spill revenge in the street
And disrupts the cities heartbeat
Havoc roars like hungry s in the street,
screaming and bawling resonates from afar
And weeping and sobbing penetrate the clouds
And heaven was no more,
the sun disappears and the universe
Starts to fear, men of sorrows cover their head
And the elderly grip tightly to their bed
While bullets continue to blaze over their head
Total confusion grips the town and the villagers starts
running around with sticks and stones
and baton, to confront the rogues.
There was just nowhere to hide
the gun men took over the street
and some of them uses empty house to cover
With long guns pointing out the window
The morning has left me soaking wet
without a chance to catch my breath
Friday’s paradise has lined the sky
but I am not yet ready to die
The world is moving around on a thin line
but I am convinced that
Everything will be just fine.
The hardest advice to take is your own
This must be why my heart never listens to my mind
I wish it would
Because if it did I wouldn’t have to keep asking God for a sign
But my heart hypnotized me and I gave in to the trance
Only to have my heart recycled because love just used me over and over
Time spent can never be bought back or returned so all the memories mine as well be burned
Love has been tugging on my heart strings and I know I shouldn’t keep holding on but my heart clasps tighter
Love is always playing games in which I am the mice
Love has a face but no legs, slithering around for love drunk mice
Such as myself now reciting the mantra sticks and stones may break my bones but love you forever hurt me
But this is the last time, love is now in a coffin
Buried with all my plans for her
I hope you rest without peace…
8/26/16
I gazed beyond the hills smiling at the daffodils, screaming at the rain as it thundered on my window pane, nature erupts beyond the valley, carrying sticks and stones and fishermen dead bones; they have been fishing at sea with big boats and big nets and a gigantic fish flattering on the deck. The ocean with all its glory is choked with fashion and pride, the waves are getting high and the wind is raging havoc in the sky.
I watched the waves come and go and the boats dancing to and fro as the terrified passenger grip firmly to the side, waiting on a miracle as they fight to survive.
The water kept climbing and the sun kept shining and the captain of the big boat make a roundabout turn and break the course of the wind.
Courage stood strong as the boat speed along, running a hundred miles per hour with the wind cutting through the sweltering temperature, the people stood still looking at each other. They knew something was not right but they were determined to survived; what do you do when you are trapped in the middle of the sea and you have nowhere else to go? You have to persevere with the will to survive.
The water began to rise and the boat began to dip and dive, the passengers began to panic but captain Jones kept his composure. Water start flowing into the boat and the people began to shout but the captain kept ploughing on hoping to reach dry land.
They had no phone signal and water was up to their waist, but they all bind together and held each other’s hand and start to sing a woeful hymn, like the one John Wesley sang when he was out at sea and desperately needed company. And just as they thought of it a miracle appears out of nowhere.
An empty boat came along and save them one by one; the captain was the last to let go, he releases the steering and climb over into the other boat and they watch the boat slowly disappeared into the ocean floor. The hills beyond the valley is deep.