Desolate clown's
traveling train
tours famed cities
onto quaint towns.
He mimicks glee
for his ousted
heart's sutures
are dismissive
frowns.
Balloon twisting's
what he knows--
cause joggeling act
makes kids mope;
And sparking globe-nose
bombards
the Top's bleachers
with plumes
of blinding smoke.
His onesie sports
ink-stains for color;
And oily-face
with white base
sweating turns
cream-soupy butter;
Shoved and ridiculed
by crowds-even peers,
cause he studders.
His Mass Bay clown
soles have holes--
with grimy socks,
torn by nails and corns.
Grey's his story--
when a caboose's
the only corner
where he
can call home.
He'll tumbling fall
to gain their laughs-
cringing weeps
in silence--
from prying eyes.
The show must go on--
cause he's a star;
Like his forefathers
before him-since then past on.
There's always one, maybe two, and sometimes three
But there is definitely one__
That 'One'
That daughter or son
The one that carries the indomitable light
The one willing to do the shadow work and fight the 'Good Fight'
The one that's often ridiculed,
But she or he is not afraid to enter the dark, cold vestibule
And enter they will, with that radiant light
Steadfastly they walk, shining bright
They're ten toes down when it comes to God's work
They move ahead in the face of the worst vitriol and all the hurt
There's always 'One'__
Whether daughter or son
There's always 'One'
For Mother-----Frances Demopoulos
The USA is a
nation of immigrants
It has been our strength
since the beginning
of this wonderful country
Even my mother came
from Greece when
she was only 5
and could only speak Greek
She was ridiculed by
the other students in
her class as she learned English
Immigrants have contributed
so much to this land
while building it
Why can't we give them
the respect that they deserve?
My grandfather brought his
family here for a better life
as so many
still do today
They forecast that love would not last
yet sixty one years have now past
Since the magical spell was cast
reaching for our star.
I was ridiculed, my heart drowned
when a certain one was around
‘Twas hard to cope, the star not found
and yet here we are.
Be happy:
To bless your look's gleaming desire with joy.
Laugh when you still have teeth, lips and tongue; toy.
Be sad:
To wash away your look's painful sorrow.
Cry... when your eyes can see through tears aglow.
Don't be defined by situations cum life;
No situation ever wants breath via knife-
Be strong.
Dont be careless of circumstance's prank;
Before at an instance, your clues go blank-
Be alert.
Don't be deceived:
No one knows tomorrow, not even you.
Keep it cool and tough but kind through all blue.
Don't be discouraged:
Best lies in the film of a shameless dream,
Where fortune swims at ease to warm the stream.
Through fear of taking chances lies real deal,
By uncertainty quietness to be heal-
Don't be frustrated.
Through luck, you draw goodness watching afar...
Before deadly hope burn down the staged bar-
Don't be ridiculed.
For all enduring hearts evaluate ;
Anger never sort with threatening submit.
Such desire is ridiculed by many.' Mainly those who innately organize.. yet there is
In the deeper recesses of human coizence
A spark? A tickle of sorts..That allows the
Idea.? A wild card.? Maybe a wild card leader.? Would break the morbundity.? Breathe life into me.' So you ended up with
Trump..But he was made an asset years ago.. Look around.? See what don't go.?
You...Maybe you.? Are the wild card you need.?
Shouldn't New Year's Day be in the Spring
when earth awakens and spreads her green
As sweet rain pours so flowers bloom
Nature's sleep ends as life resumes
Birds return with song and glee
and the warm Suns' light feeds.
Why January 1st in bitter cold
when earth dormant layer in snow
Winds that chill and temperatures freeze
as life hibernates through Winters' seize
Ridiculed as an April Fool you silly thing
if you celebrate New Year's Day in Spring
It is what it is and won't change now
so Happy New Year's Day anyhow.
Enveloped within the ambiance of night where the moonlight comforts my soul—the absence of anyone else around leaving me at peace.
“Stay for as long as you need to”, a quiet voice whispered, “for no one can hurt you here.”
In that moment, I felt safe and a sense of freedom to be just who I am.
Amongst those stars, I found refuge and a place that I could now call home—the hours of darkness redefining its reputation.
And within that time, I became grateful for the silence of not being ridiculed amongst a population that normalizes cruel intentions.
Leave me here and let society carry on, for when the sun takes its position in the morning, I'll be a memory that daylight was never meant to hold.
I write better than I speak
And yet my words are still weak.
I write to be free, to feel seen,
but in the end I feel so stupid for
thinking my words could strike your heart
like cupid. My anger is only fueled when
I'm ridiculed for trying to express myself,
to someone else. I wonder why, explaining my
emotions feels like I'm crossing dangerous
oceans, but all I could do is sit and cry.
You tell me to get out of my head, but I
can't even get out of bed. I lie here, tossing
and turning, waiting for my eyes to stop
burning. The tears in my eyes stream down
my face, as I pray for your warm embrace.
My fears, will only deepen the
wounds in my fatigued heart,
the ones I've had from the start. To be unheard
is absurd when I'm surrounded by people
who love eachother, but they're
not you. And yet I still write, hoping my sad
words will some day meet your sight.
I would rather keep mute and act like dumb,
Than run my buccal open; widely numb...
For more fools to become fooled-
Those seem wise, be ridiculed
Even to unattained feats, their mouths drum.
"The wound is the place where the light enters you".
As a woman, been hurt many times,
Rejected, ignored, ridiculed,
Still, if there is a rebirth,
If I return to this earth again,
I want to be a woman!
I never knew words can be so hurtful,
Words can inflict wounds as cruel as a dagger can.
When I was bruised, I learned to bear that pain,
Staying unperturbed, upright and strong.
In those moments I realized,
It’s not only the agony I am going through,
I am being enlightened by suffering,
Disillusioned with human nature,
Humans can be as cruel as animals,
Sometimes may be more.
Those wounds were not life-threatening,
Nor were they damaging for my mental health,
They did not break me.
Instead a serene light entered into me,
My vision of the world became unclouded,
My confidence in myself increased many folds.
The drooping flower did not fall on the ground,
Petals were not crumpled,
It opened in its glory.
Peace, peace, and sincere peace
We all wish, dream and confuse about peace
Are we really serious, thirsty and hungry for peace
Even though the gunships and cannons are set and ready
To go, to attack the weak and the imagined enemies?
Do we truly want a world of brotherly harmonies?
Yet, superpowers invest their time, ingenuity, and moneys
In smart drones, powerful guns and well-trained armies
Are we sure that we want lasting peace?
This world is made of corrupt goons, polygamists, liars and bullies
Warmongers are hypocritical, strange, sneaky and devious
This agitprop about peace is delusional headlines or breaking news
To startle or to dimwit elderlies, idealists, and crying babies
Politicians are godawful sensationalists on steroid
Where muzzled reporters and anchors are ridiculed and toyed
By elected pogromists in search of free publicities
Yet, yes we yearn for peace and tranquility in the burgs and cities
Peace is about coming with clean and caring hands
To share the streams, the land, the sand and the highlands.
A world without them- BB Baloyi
How happy could we be,
Free from the suffocating grip of patriarchal might.
Living in harmony, with hearts full of light,
Full of life- sure we won't lose
In the hands of our "protectors".
Living in a world we call home,
Where we are not objects but humans,
Where justice rolls like thunder, shaking the ground,
Where we're free, confident, and unafraid.
How happy could we be, as women,
To live for our dreams, not just to survive?
To live in the present, not fantasize about tomorrow-
A future we may not see but only imagine.
To live in a world where oppressors are held accountable.
Where speaking isn't ridiculed
And our voices aren't just loud and clear but HEARD.
How happy could we be to exist,
Not as enemies of men, but friends of life?
In a world where our happiness matters,
Regardless of the ovaries we're born with.
How happy could we be?
Not in imagination, but in this nation.
How happy could we be?...
Yet, we'll keep living, hoping
For a better world for us.
Yesterday is gone
Today to run
Tomorrow will wait
also to smile at
the veteran mocker
or the jubilant joker.
But tears of a clown
always to roll down
with heart beats of the joker :
A veteran mocker.
Dull days are spent by the Joker.
A veteran mocker
amusing the spectators
hiding his tears
flowing continuous
with each heart beat
making himself fool simultaneous,
showing himself ridiculous.
It's his job
none to listen his heart throb :
always to be ridiculed by mob .
Tears of a clown
rolling down
in opulence ,
intense or immense
yet hidden
as forbidden
to express !
His strain and stress
If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor – Desmond Tutu
The Trumpet of Parrots
Patriots rally to the trumpet sound,
its blare echoes the lies that bigots breed.
Perched in power, pipers, in pretence gowned,
their hatred spreads, disguised as noble creed.
They stoke the tribal fire in ancient scars,
while hissing hypes to mask the stench of greed.
Their chorus of lies taints Venus and Mars,
who like pawns follow blindly the king’s lead.
Their victims vilified and ridiculed.
Protesters branded as dregs of the state,
by troops of diehards loathsome and unschooled,
As crony capitalists preach their hate.
So, mark the flock that flaps where conscience sleeps:
A nation full of parrots gently weeps.
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