Grief anchored in stone,
tears in layers frown to heal,
burdens drag me down-
growth slows down in ooze of filth
lungs choked, deny me air.
Bile and amethyst
wash the past into the now,
eyes can only weep
only sadness strikes clearly
vision veiled by endless pain
Future sanitised
emerging strong and careful
grief is cauterised
puss expelled with painful squeeze
sorrow becomes a weapon
Categories:
sanitised, angst, anxiety, grief, sorrow,
Form: Lyric
We all have beginnings somewhere,
a place where the soul first took root
and drew its history, fixed a compass
point, a pin in a map to mark its home.
For me it was here
where the horizon began
in a haze of mangrove trees
and broad tidal flats
and boats bellied in mud
when the sea sucked back the river
leaving its gums grinning
under a warm sun. It was here
where my ancestors landed
more than a century and a half ago.
Now manicured to prime real estate,
the tides keep to an orderly flow
within grassy banks overseen
by multi million dollar views.
The mangrove forests have gone,
the swamps sanitised to lawn.
I look across the glistening reaches
of a man made lake to where
the slow drift of sailboats scrape
the bottom of an evening sky.
All seems out of place, not home
and yet I mull as to whether
there is any other beyond this one,
beyond the little sailing boats
and the barking dog nearby.
Categories:
sanitised, history, home, river,
Form: Free verse
History books rewritten,
pages turned, truths overturned.
Past reconstructed.
Memories are planted like seeds,
carefully cultivated.
Reality harvested.
Leaders cast long shadows,
dark spots conveniently erased.
Selective illumination.
Monuments rise and fall,
stone faces weather time.
Legacies carved in flux.
Archives are sealed tight,
skeletons locked in national closets.
Dust settles on truth.
Oral traditions whisper
voices echo through generations.
Unwritten resistance.
Media spins its web,
catching minds in sticky narratives.
Information trapped.
Textbooks sanitised,
rough edges smoothed away.
Comfortable fictions.
Anniversaries observed,
some celebrated, others buried.
Time's biased march.
Nostalgia is a rose-tinted lens,
focusing on the golden ages.
Present found wanting.
Trauma is passed down,
And cellular memory encoded.
Inherited burdens.
Collective amnesia spreads,
Convenient forgetfulness is contagious.
Society's blind spots.
Memory becomes a battlefield,
mind's eye the spoils of war.
Consciousness colonised.
Yet, truth persists,
stubborn seeds in concrete cracks.
Remembrance rebels.
Categories:
sanitised, memory,
Form: Free verse
Come to live in Kent
A lovely place to be.
Close to the continent.
Next the lovely sea.
The garden of England
growing houses fast.
Come to see what's planned,
while the stocks last.
Houses on the down ridge
what a lovely view.
Not for the average,
only for the few.
Live next a reservoir?
Where's the water gone?
But here's our saviour,
bottled waters on.
Travel easy everywhere
on congested roads.
enjoy a slow journey. Beware
those heavy loads.
To the coast, enjoy a swim
in the brown smelly sea.
Only fools would jump right in.
Consequences not foresee.
Woods and fields all gone.
Sanitised in parks.
Streams no longer flow along,
now underground in the dark.
Come visit us before too late.
See our beauteous countryside.
Your senses still it will elate.
Soon downhill we will slide.
Ted Pries August 2022
Categories:
sanitised, 1st grade,
Form: Rhyme
It happens over there,
a suburb, a state or half a world
or more away from where I live
in a quiet street with roses and hedges
hanging over front fences
with newly planted trees spaced
along a footpath the council truck
waters once a week.
For anything to get past
and make it to here must be filtered,
sanitised and packed in biodegradable
pouches and come with conditions
clearly stated in print bold enough
to see at arms length and most
important of all, have an off switch
that can be activated by an app
on a phone or a remote control.
What's more, it must be kept short
not taking too much time for it to clash
with commitments I previously made
over a coffee at the gym or make
me feel bad by its content or tax
my nerves by taking me to a place
which I have no desire to go.
So, I would be pleased if you kept it
over there, housed within the confines
of a television screen and sandwiched
between ads and promos for the latest
"Reality" show. And to keep
my conscience pristine, provide
an address I can send
a small donation to on my credit card
with a receipt so I can claim
the expense on my next
income tax return. Thank you.
Categories:
sanitised, home, social,
Form: Free verse
They move from house to house
with a mask on each child's face,
knocking on the doors and then
all shouting 'Track or trace?'
The people opening the doors
all have masks on as well,
who's celebrating Halloween, well
nobody can tell.
The sweets are handed out upon
a palm with rubber glove,
can't see a smile that shows whether
they're handed out with love.
Maybe there is some gentleness seen
in the giver's eyes,
the kids rush home to eat them
after they have sanitised.
They may have made the effort to make
Death and horror fun,
with squeals and lamps and pumpkins
as from door to door they run,
but this year as they lie in bed
they know, and they can feel
the horror all around them and
that Death is really real.
Categories:
sanitised, halloween,
Form: Rhyme
Before it was Camp Justice and a U.S. military base,
Diego Garcia was a peaceful paradise, a beautiful place.
The U.S. and U.K. wanted the island swept and sanitised,
Depriving the community from basic supplies.
Never an uninhabited island, the residents were secretly expelled,
First they killed their dogs, a warning to those who rebelled.
Forced off their land onto a filthy cargo ship,
The slums of Mauritius, the beginning of their hardship.
Others were deported to the Seychelles to live a life of poverty,
No food, no water, not even a piece of property.
Ministers and officials mounted a campaign of deception,
Showing the citizens of the island no love or affection.
26 families dead by the end of 1975,
While the rest done their best just to survive.
In 1982 they demonstrated in the streets of Mauritius,
A peaceful protest that really embarrassed the British.
Bruce Greatbatch and Harold Wilson had no conscience or no shame,
And there’s plenty of more involved, just too many to name.
Taken from their blue ocean and beautiful white sand,
Now they’re British citizens who can’t return to their land.
Categories:
sanitised, beautiful, depression, horror, humanity,
Form: Rhyme
Consumption
Scurrying between gleaming malls,
sniffing through the latest bargains,
that are crucified onto sterile walls,
crawling amidst those sanitised aisles,
glazed eyes darting frenetically, hungry,
leaving not a trace on the polished tiles,
gnawing at the endless, dead queues,
shirts, skirts, jeans into trolleys flung,
then straight to the closet to be hung,
pompous odours foul each aroused breath,
scraping, bowing before these mute deities,
an intoxicated swirly haze of lustful gaieties,
it never ceases, this relentless, frantic surge,
always unable to quench the insatiable urge,
stopping briefly, only for an occasional purge,
as we continue, & continue , to numbly splurge
Categories:
sanitised, happiness, happy, parody, political,
Form: I do not know?
Behind sweetest smiles, deceit does hide!
All on a summer day.
A friendly nod, yet one knows not
The lot that waits along the way.
No fashioned track or stair to go
Or signpost to consult.
The way is life, the road is vague
And knowledge too precise..
To fight and find, use might and will;
The people reason right..
Yet all “despite” and all the fight,
And employed the utmost will.
A turn to take, a road to run,
That never brings you back,
I’ll think we will find it ever so,
This mortal life to “hack”.
To understand is dangerous,
While change is sudden death.
And through it all, don’t dare call the odds
Or they will hit you back!
To autumnal haze or winter days
In chaos, toil and strife,
The fruit of truth is often squandered
Or sanitised in black.
And though they paint the page of life
As light as white can be
The lines on it will smudge
And run, into lies as needs may be..."
ammended 15th 4th 2012
© Joe Maverick 16-09-2010
Categories:
sanitised, allegory
Form: Free verse
Nature tamed, organised, tidied and serving
Consummately sanitised for human consumption
Nature bent unnaturally to suit the human nature
Every pretty maid and ducks…in a row
Florid facilities for townsfolk to fantasise
Looking without seeing, treading without looking
Stepping upon the very thing that they seek
Nature expertly hidden to create rustic bliss
The gravel path isolates shoe from dirt to avert mess
A discreet suggestion to look but don’t touch
Controlled decay, stage managed for impact and effect
Nature has been preserved…in a human natured sort of way
Categories:
sanitised, animals, nature, places, social
Form: Free verse