Politicians, a necessary evil:
you can't live with them…
and they won't let you live without them.
I finally realized why some of our
best actors are so dis-likable off screen --
I think it is self realization,
and a desperate need to escape
I often moan about my job,
a certain colleague, and my boss -
I wish I didn't have to go
to work (I wouldn't mourn its loss).
Without a job I'd be quite skint;
it puts the money in the bank -
I think of that and carry on
(unsure of what or whom to thank).
written 9th November for Julia's Unrest of Spirit contest
GENOCIDE: A NECESSARY EVIL
When the East caught fire
Deafened by the noise of their own sun
They said healing was natural
Because Ojukwu was their son
Bitter leaves spread over Umuahia
In numbers that could set the world ablaze
If you found love in Kano
It must have fallen from a bird that lost home
Kano was a city of differences
And tribal similarities
That was where a friend died
Chest blown up, smelled of virgin blood
Freedom was the moan of a girl
Who hid the sun between her legs
She would burn
But farewells beckoned to her storm
Eastern Nigeria was buried in warm skin-
a corpse whose feet still walks today
Every bitter song has a note of joy-
a beauty that once belonged to the Israelites
A hope that the land where dryness had dissolved
Would soon wear the wet shades of light
There is half of every dawn in the moon
A proof that white skies rise from dusty roofs
History is a boy with three balls
“The rise, fall, and rise of Biafra”
Have you never tasted hunger
Tread the alleys with the stealthy
Cried the tears of someone younger
While you dined among the wealthy
Shuffled through the papers
Through the pages of despair
Embittered by the capers
Neglect, hanging in the air
Step with me through the sadness
Let me open up your eyes
Weave, careful past the madness
Past the sorrow and the lies
The chains of bondage tighten
No future's in your sights
Do you wish to be enlightened
To embrace those dizzy heights
Piled high upon the pyre
The lost and the insane
The corpses piling higher
Entombed in the mundane
The root of all that's evil
A meaning to their end
More money than they'll ever need
More wealth than they can spend
The scales of justice tipping
With the deadweight of their sins
The wings of Angels ripping
As the final count begins
The boatman treads the water
As you wade the river Styx
The silver in your pocket
For to score the Devils fix
Lost in this sea of torment
While Hell exacts its toll
Your name is etched, inclement
On His register of souls
clangor
repeating noise
echoing in my head
raucous alarm awakens me
bringing back turbulent reality
stirring anger and resentment
strident, clamorous noise,
starting day of
clangor
By: Joyce Johnson 5/28/12
For "Sound of Emotion" Contest
My words have traveled
into the valley of
the rendered Caesars.
I have turned my back on my
own words because of rejection.
Peace,since, has never been
found.
Being silenced is neither a gift
nor blessing.....
it's being a human less state of breath.
when all is chore,it is the betrayal
one seeks.
for the plight of my own soul
is mine.
How is it that I can cross
the threshold of its Golden purity,
live in the expression of artistic faith?
back to lands filled with epic gods,
valiant lords and nurturing maidens.
I seek my breath once again,
hear me advocate..
hear my plea.
Necessary Evil
Cold and calculating, it thrives
On increasing dependency and knows
It will own you and your very lives
The more you love it, the less it shows
Use it for you and you will be used
Save it, building up false hopes
Abuse it and you will be abused
It has no mercy for foolish dopes
It is elusive, then fleeting when caught
It creates and destroys on a whim
It will insist that all may be bought
And seduce you when the odds are slim
It will demand itself as sacrifice
To reward even the heartless one
It is never enough to suffice
Because there is never enough fun
It is virtuous to those who have sung
It’s praises; to them it’s sweet honey
But money replaces love among
Those who are in love with money
It robs you of precious time
It tells you all is well
My message for it in this rhyme
Is that it can go straight to hell
take this blade
and cut your wrists
make escape holes for the devil
let him leave you
through the bleeding
make the world then somewhat level
it's a sacrifice
most unholy
but for the good of all mankind
so take thy soul
unto the slaughter
and you'll find i'm right in time
sure i'm just
your shoulder demon
and yes i've fallen from what's divine
but no lives
will get saved this evening
'less you're willing to cross the line
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