I am guilty for the nation
I’ve no business to the world
In a play of no sensation
I’m a prompter of one word
Who would share a consolation
For the character of mine
I’m a proof of antination
Well disjointed from the time
Mental tenant of the era
Of the sixties – seventies
I’m that boy who smashed the mirror
It was fun to see it splits
Fatherland and motherland
I just can't relate to both
I belong to Nowhere land
That’s my real place of birth
That’s my peace, my joy and sorrow
Nowhere home, and garden I
Used to know, meet no tomorrow
Only yesterdays comply
Nowhere woman, nowhere man
Doing all the best we could
Stayed together till the end
Till it has become too good
I’m no more applied to this
My Arcadia I’ve seen
I’m a question you would diss
There’s no answer in the wind
I’m a petal of her rose
Orphan of the dying breed
I have loved, and loved I was
What I know I doubt you need
It's not that luxurious solitude you can choose against a background of sea or desert, a mythological desolation like in Antonioni's film, with that subtle taste of beautiful hopelessness in the subliminal search for identity that ends with a shotgun.
That's not the case in Cainland.
It's the loneliness of exile into the reduced self, into the emptiness of cutting all ties, and your so-called identity is whatever progressive humanity wants to see, but it's always not you. .
You have to deal with another kind of existentialism, just breathe, and while you're alive, carry on if you can, or if you can't, no one will notice, including yourself.
No press screening, this movie was financed with dirty money stained with oily fingerprints.
The working title was Cursed for the Place of Birth, but in the final version it was changed to Exiled - a less dramatic, more conventional title.
The rare audience watched apathetically in silence, distracted from time to time by the flickering of their cell phones they couldn't resist reacting.
One drunk laughed at the end.
She sings her heart out
Every night at the club
He brings down the house
With melodies of God's perfect love
She opens her purse
To anyone in need
He runs a ministry
That continually feeds
...the hungry
Hungry, everyone's hungry
.............Hungry, HUNGRY....hippo
Starving souls seek solace
A balance between operations
Realms of gods and men
For protection, offerings of libations
Power and control of the unknown
For fear of the finality of death
Hope in the Resurrection
For the chance of breath
...return
A system anew, arises
One of the old, laid to final rest
Where followers on both sides
Place peace on power's vest
No more up and down
Condescension pressing worth
All of LOVE's children
Move in their place of birth
...accordingly
Music......can you hear the MUSIC
................SINGING SALVATION SETTLED SLAVERY
Written by Trudy Schrader on 02-19-2024
No matter the country we were born in
We're all inhabitants of earth
Maybe ashamed to admit it sometimes
Our much treasured place of birth
Since time began we've battled each other
For what I haven't a clue
Just look around at the beauty you see
An astounding vista we view
Is there something this old guy is missing
Am I alone in my love of living
Am I a lonely voice in the wilderness
This land is so forgiving
We abuse it and misuse it every damn day
This God given paradise we share
Disgusting behaviour is being exhibited
Destroying our planet without care
Certainly not fair for us peace loving souls
Our cries for love go unheeded
But surely we shouldn't give up the fight
Some common decency is needed
Maybe before my day is finally done
Paradise will finally be at hand
When all good people of our dear planet earth
Will as one each treasure this land
it is as though
they saw my beauty,
full and radiant
lasted only in the
rich soil i was born in.
so they picked me and
stomped the roots dry.
one survived
nature nourished it
with love.
we are the race,
the only race,
forever searching for
our place of birth.
No matter the country you were born in
We're all inhabitants of earth
Maybe ashamed to admit it sometimes
Our much treasured place of birth
Since time began, we've battled each other
For what... I haven't a clue
Just look around at the beauty you see
An astounding vista we view
Is there something this old guy is missing
Am I alone in my love of living
Am I a lonely voice in the wilderness
This land is so forgiving
We abuse it and misuse it every damn day
This God given paradise we share
Disgusting behaviour is being exhibited
Destroying our planet without care
Certainly not fair for us peace loving souls
Our cries for love go unheeded
But surely we shouldn't give up the fight
Some common decency is needed
Maybe before my day is finally done
Paradise will finally be at hand
When all good people of our dear planet earth
Will as one, each treasure this land
Could there be vast realms of unknown nebulae
Beyond the farthest reaches of space exploration,
Only distant patches of gray density in distant sky
Giving discussion to theories of unending cogitation?
This expanding universe appears to go on forever
In space and time beyond our beleaguered experience,
Encouraging us to think we are more than clever
Who postulate on the fringes of common sense.
Have we hosted strange visitors from that outer space
Unbeknownst except in myriad tales of lore
From those who witness in various and sundry place
Eerie phenomena and UFOs never seen before?
We might suppose, despite unconfirmed evidence,
That taken altogether something seems amiss
Some purportedly real but have no precedence,
And most of us do not know what to think of this!
For sure, the universe is vast and holds the key,
Perhaps, to the future of every living thing on earth
It behooves us to explore, to boldly go and see
What lies beyond our horizons, our place of birth.
HONORABLE MENTION
"It's a Big, Big, Big World" Poetry Contest
All Poetry, September 13, 2021
He turns words in to lyrics
Emotions into vowels and nouns
Feeling into verse
He’s a words and music alchemist
A sprinkle of angst
A chorus that would make the angels sing
A phrase that’s stays in your mind
He’s a words and music alchemist
He whispers to your soul
Plays with your brain
Touches your heart
He’s a words and music alchemist
Music is a language
We all can understand
Regardless of your place of birth.
He’s a song writer. An alchemist.
We are not the best judge of our worth
God’s attention is for this alone
That we find our vocation on the earth
Clearly some are born with a grave curse
Others have been keen to cast sharp stones
We are not the best judge of our worth
Accidents of time, of place, of birth
Lack of vision,nowhere to call home
Disrupt the virtue of our life on earth
Important it may be to enjoy mirth
To laugh at our pretensions, grin and groan
We are not the best judge of our worth
There is no linear scale. we should not stress
Some may discern value we don’t know
Acceptance is the aim of life on earth
And when we’re stricken by a heavy blow
Inside our little hearts is one who knows
We are not the best judge of our worth
We must love and work to heal the earth
We are not the best judge of our worth
God’s attention is for this alone
That we find our vocation on the earth
Clearly some are born with a grave curse
Others have been keen to cast sharp stones
We are not the best judge of our worth
Accidents of time, of place, of birth
Lack of vision,nowhere to call home
Disrupt the virtue of our life on earth
Important it may be to enjoy mirth
To laugh at our pretensions, grin and groan
We are not the best judge of our worth
There is no linear scale. we should not stress
Some may discern value we don’t know
Acceptance is the aim of life on earth
And when we’re stricken by a heavy blow
Inside our little hearts is one who knows
We are not the best judge of our worth
We must love and work to heal the earth
No Losers here
England versus South Africa
I hope you are looking down Dad
He was the real Rugby lover
Played it in the Navy
Mum used to clean the team's dirty kit in
her washing machine
So it's fitting his adopted Home
South Africa the Rugby Springboks
Play England his place of Birth
For the Rugby World Cup Title
So no losers here but i know whom he would support
With a Castle Beer in hand surrounded by Family
But i am sorry Dad
England are going to Win
South Africa are going to have to
settle for 2nd this time
Otherwise what was the point of us beating the All Blacks
No Losers here Dad
Either way we will all be thinking
of you over a Beer
As a winning or loosing tear
Reminds us all of the wonder year's
When you were here
I have heard it said that home is where your story begins
Can it not also be that home is where your story ends?I
I tend to buck the trends and ride contrary winds that have taken me to places unplanned and unforeseen
My place of birth was a hard and poverty laden place
My place of education and wedding bells was a most
challenging place. The place of our first child's birth
was a quiet and pleasing place. The place of our second
child's beginnings was a hard and stressful place
The place of our third child's birth was a pricy but lovely
and beautiful place. Our present place of 33 years is a
gracefully welcoming and homely place. So I'm feeling
At home now in a place I have come to love,
Even more so than the place of my beginning.
09132019cjPoSoup
Born privileged into great riches
A pure accident of your place of birth
You won at life's roulette.
No hunger pangs
or a life cut short.
you had an education, and a job that pays
No master race
No grand plan
It's all about your dad and mam.
no privileged earned
just your rights at birth
when you popped into this world.
those Right wing politicians
think they can pick who wins
they put there money all on red
and up came black instead.
Miss Bahamian Culture
a woman who pledges loyalty
to put Bahama land from the time
she was conceived out of the womb
Miss Bahamian Culture
a woman who sheds the blood
of gold, black and aquamarine
straight from her veins
as she wakes up each morning
to the pulsing beat of Goombay drums
and cowbell singing in her ears
Miss Bahamian Culture
a woman who is a true cultural icon
always clothed in either Androsia Print
a costume of cardboard and crepe paper
or gold, black and aquamarine attire
from head to toe
Miss Bahamian Culture
a woman who is a pure nationalist
who always remember where her navel string was buried
in her place of birth and tropical sanctuary
regardless of where she travels in the world
whether it be in Miami, Cuba, Japan or Vancouver
Flashing lights, and men in green.
Rescue a man from a crash scene.
Angels greet him at the hospital doors
he must look like a victim of some great war.
X rays taken wounds are dressed
All his ailments are put to rest
No insurance premiums or bills to pay
The good old nhs as saved the day
Mums in labour, grans in wards
Paupers or members of the house of lords
Matters not your place of birth
Your reputation or monetary worth
The nhs is for us all
So, its great big Happy birthday
From us all.
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