Long Warmonger Poems
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It could simply be a midnight musing,
where these ears are not!
A life floating in NAY-Nay sound
is also a simpering one, throughout!
I call it: Just a “mood swing”,
and it feels overwhelming, quite often these days!
Everyone is nailing my thinking mind,
hinting I might need a screw to keep myself sane and strong, upright.
And I kept pondering about the London bridge, the glory of being prestigious and proud,
And what a picturesque sunset should be in prevailing route! Farthest need from a crowd,
Nevertheless
It is simply a drilling sound; Not a single stanza more than that to be traced.
Pairing hands, inflicting in moaning, and groaning in continuing hours of extenuation.
The window blinds according to the work-order of today. Replaced and rejuvenated.
And it is all about these sounds. One of a gentle kind but …. Noisy too,
corrupting need of a warmonger. A competitor.
Truthful sounds of functionality of life.
Where disposable are dishes, dancing in hunger.
A handyman deal is just a mere deal. In black and white, one kind of that.
And I knew one sunset sky , after all these days of mending and blushing.
Also unfolding in rueful efforts of expiation, quite a zealous one. Promising.
The Lord knows the laws of land, everywhere. Along every way of possibility.
And the Lord knows the exceptions are also true. For sure. a forbidden tree.
Assuring me about the night. And shoes of a handyman are also an earned chore,
where life still code-switches on a pristine door.
On a night, someone could turn into a sculptor.
In subjugation and humility.
We are nothing more than pleading hands in prayers, whim and much more,
A long, lonely walk along a longer shore of life. A duality residing on a memory lane.
where different dimensions are still there in methods of boiling broth, in Can-opener and can,
On a housewarming eve of some other Santa's. And festive seasons are in, chiming otherwise.
Inspired by Bruce Dickinson song Darkside of Aquarius
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the wings of the first hellrider rode venom —
so copious it stained sky and moonlight,
making mothers bolt their doors
against the eastern warmonger's hot gust.
From molten rock and flaming seas the second rode,
hawking evil wares; his tongue a forge of lies,
spinning promises, seeding secret agents
to rule and mislead in every land.
The third came as a preacher of war ~
turning brothers on brothers, sisters on sisters,
tilling the soil with blood to make it ready
for the fourth — who carved theology into terror.
I tried to run — my feet sunk in wet clay.
Then a lone silver surfer appeared:
from starlit sky or silver sea I could not tell;
he drew me from the mire, breathed strength into my arms.
I vowed to reinvent the wheel:
let fascists taste their own venom, feed their children poisons they brewed,
slay kin with the swords they bloodied.
Death will kiss them in their sleep.
tryst of the moon and the stars
- oh how far
off, when the greed of war
spoils with feldspar.
eruptions of not the loins
but clashes of steel —
political coins
care not how one feels.
a lightning grip on lovers,
mocking, celebrating their aloneness.
the dark hovers
over the waters of Loch Ness.
spouse weeps.
tears constantly fill
the freshwater deep.
the warmonger monster would’st kill.
any great and honorable name
that can be caught in the web —
her man would never be the same,
adrift in the ebb.
she tries to reattach limbs,
pry open his hopeful eyes,
fish for him with sermons and hymns
but he believes in Nessie-lies.
tryst of the moon and stars
-oh how far
off, when the greed of war
spoils with feldspar.
1/13/2021
Amalek is the archetypal enemy of the Jews and the symbol of evil in Jewish religion and folklore. Amalekites represent an "eternally irreconcilable enemy" that wants to murder Jews.
Israel begins a war against Iran
The battle rages on, it seems
The time has come, can wait no longer
Must stop the threats’ unending streams
From Tehran, Middle East warmonger
They’ve added fuel to the fire
And paid big bucks, attack Zion
Atomic bombs prepare, aspire
Their demise begins at dawn
Rise up, the land of lions, roaring
You waited long enough to fight
Stay on the map you must be warring
And ruinous deliver smite
Amalekites, the vicious slayers
Must never gain the upper hand
To answer Jewish fervent prayers
In truly Biblical last stand
No one to know what future’s holding
But let this be a swift defeat
We watch events as they’re unfolding
May Zion’s victory be sweet
June 13, 2025
It seems appropriate that our children visited Michelangelo’s marble statue of David yesterday…(from the hotel where they’re staying…David was just a stone’s throw away.)
Everything the Israelites had…the philistines wanted to obtain…it’s a lot like what is happening today…With Russia and Ukraine.
But they fought their war a little differently back then…if we are to believe the scriptural writing…each side sent out their strongest warrior…and he would do the fighting.
The philistines sent out Goliath…the preeminent warmonger…confident that in all the world…there was no warrior stronger.
For 40 days Goliath taunted the Israelites…for he knew…and they knew he was much too strong…until a young boy with a sling and five stones…his name was David…came along.
The culmination of the story is certainly well known …David slew Goliath…brought him down with just one stone.
David was not supposed to win that battle…everyone, except David, was convinced…giving hope to every underdog whose faced a mightier opponent since.
Proving the amount of size and strength a person has…although an important part…is not as important as the size and strength of the courage in one’s heart.
My prayers are with you…the people of Ukraine…in the midst of a battle unlike any battle you have ever seen…as you…the modern day David…face off against the stronger Russian philistine.
As you come face-to-face with your giant… may the courage in your heart never stray…and just like David may you win your battle in an unusual and surprising way.
So one day when my children visit Ukraine…as I have no doubt they will do
they will seek out the landmarks of your great country…
and stand in awe in front of a marble stature
sculpted to look like you.
Positive mindset satiates my hunger,
In dark clouds, it finds silver linings to see.
It carves out success, not as a warmonger,
And its bravery swirls like tides in the sea.
Walking its paths fuels daily ambition,
With it, no time again will my self-trust fade.
No setback can stir the winds of submission;
My will makes failure retreat, deep in dismay.
Struggles create success of long duration,
That spark is a flame that I hold to chest dear.
Lasting success will demand dedication,
I pray that God's favour will keep my path clear.
Their gatherings draw me, my footsteps align,
For there, their uplifting voices rend the air.
Their kindness and courage in harmony shine,
Building new bonds through the wisdom they all share.
The hope in their lives remains my guiding light,
Proof that all dreams can be within easy reach.
It isn’t just how long one groans through the night,
But how one learns from the lessons life can teach.
Thank you, Russia.
You stood up to a bully.
You faced the warmonger
that calls itself America.
To defend the weak
is true power.
Venezuela has suffered
under American claws
for many years.
Their pain
is becoming fuel.
Their sorrow
is turning into strength.
America—
even your dog in the White House
knows the truth:
you are not in Venezuela
for democracy.
You are there
for oil.
How many souls
must die
under your holy lie?
Iraq burned.
Libya bled.
Now Venezuela
stands in your crosshairs.
You call every leader
you cannot control
a dictator,
a criminal,
a monster.
But the world
knows your game.
Your crimes
have become your shadow.
Chávez stood tall—
you smeared him.
Maduro resisted—
you cursed him.
All you wanted
was a puppet
to kneel at your feet.
But the world
has changed.
The Global South
has awakened.
Your tricks
have expired.
It’s not that we worship Russia.
No.
It is because, today,
Russia stands
as a shield
for the poor nations
you have exploited
for a century.
Millions pray
for your downfall, America.
They whisper it at night.
They cry it in silence.
They carry it
in the wounds
you left in their lands.
Their prayers
will reach the sky.
Their tears
will knock at your door.
And when sorrow
returns to you—
as you sent it to others—
your ending
will be slow,
loud,
and unforgettable.
The materialist item creates anger
Is none other than ‘Money’, ogre.
If it is available with us meager
We become a source of hatemonger.
It can make us sit or stand with finger;
It can taste sweeter than sweet sugar;
If in hands, it makes its owner stronger;
So that he can fight with wildest tiger.
You have it, and live even longer;
And will be called even younger.
The materialist item creates anger
Is none other than ‘Money’, ogre.
With it tensions, no doubt, linger
A lot of worry and threats augur,
What use is Salad without vinegar.
More joy of money leads warmonger
Lack of money people did malinger
The mundane things calling it vulgar.
All those who to receive it eager
Know well that demon in it appear.
The materialist item creates anger
Is none other than ‘Money’, ogre.
(the following extrapolated
thought thread exercised,
NOT utilized to intimate
how Fats Domino belied,
and wowed a crowded house as-sized).
as a former ace procrastinator, i abhor
putting off doing what best ought
to get immediate attention bar
ring some extenuating dire circumstance,
sans mishap with flying car
pet case in point being unexpected a bomb
bin able crisis necessitating
hypothetical individual impossible
to remain calm
while in the process
(assisted with good ole mom)
to hoist self with one's own petard,
which emergency best warrant a re ward,
otherwise if fate doth NOT
require one to break
from ordinary business as usual
to enlist the "FAKE"
help of a grenadier,
who doth make
his/her livelihood
risking their life,
and limb without quake
king (obviously compensating bravery
as he/she doth stake
out mortal danger with adequate adorn
ing mortal kombat
with ample legal tender and/
or promising first born)
for unstinting mettle,
especially tolerating accompanying
martial baritone horn
player screech (like fingernails
scraping blackboard)
in close proximity - eliciting a scorn
ing glare from soldier spy
tinker tailor with a torn
smile while trained
special ops named Bjorn
incurs deadly hazard from one morn
to the next amidst adversity
shouldering care worn
Marine's motto semper fidelis,
which unnecessary loss of young life
predicated on add
age, viz being at the least,
a day late and dollar short egad
inadvertently dooming
princely valiant warmonger,
a mere stripling lad
whose mourning brings
heavy pallor of sad
ness, which imagined situation - aye
tangentially congruently analogous by
and by to the butterfly effect,
or sparrow's swan song i.e. die
destiny wrought, when one dost espy
a single occurrence no lie,
(the flickr ring, instagram
ming, kickstart ting well nigh
linkedin shutterfly of a butterfly)
say twerks catcher in the rye,
hence no matter how small, thee or thy
can change the course
of the universe forever,
no idea how nor why!
“The battleline between good and evil runs through the heart of every man.”
~ Alexander Solzhenitsyn
Call me outspoken, blunt, forthright,
But I’ll say it as it is,
Straight-from-the-shoulder,
No wishy-washy, no beating around the bush;
It might hurt some feelings, upset a few
but freely I speak my mind and no preview…
The only solution is to tell it like it is,
Only way to make a clean breast of it.
Man, they say, is made
in the image of God,
But inherently
he is more malicious than the beast--
The epitome of evil.
Lurking in him is
A Jihadi, a Crusader, an Inquisitor,
A rapist, a ravager, a marauder, a warmonger—
The very incarnation of the Devil!
Man is godly
albeit with the beastly instincts,
Universally perceptive
albeit narcissist in nature,
Benevolent yet bedeviled by his demons
Eternally yearning for salvation yet
intrinsically entangled in a web of self-delusion,
Neither able to adapt to the earth nor earn the paradise,
Garnering good deeds but scattering them to the winds;
God must surely rue the day He created man!
~02/10/23
~Contest: Writing challenge "E" word
~Sponsor: Constance La France