Sneaky and weak,
his soapbox does creak.
Integrity eludes,
a future so bleak.
Attacking women,
will children be next?
Will his ego be able
to cash this check?
Poking and hiding
covering his tracks.
Arrogant and smug,
he stabs in the back.
Pathetic and weak,
no longer can he hide.
Does he actually think,
he's above you or I?
There is one who can see,
what is there in the heart.
Hypocrites and soapboxes
quickly will part.
Categories:
soapboxes, anti bullying, society,
Form: Rhyme
Warmth,
The other side has called
her winter's finally born
the geese are flying east
the pain has left her mark
X's no longer stay
they just go
as the hurt
forages on
and eats their own
too much
it's too much
burning darkened soot
pulling out the roots
it's death
by default (nobody's fault)
but that's what they beg
leaches getting wet
attached to every midnight song
and soliloquy
their favorites play
continuously
conspicuously
on repeat
pull the plug
disembark the spark
set them straight
to the confessionals
but that's all a little too late
words are just words
no matter how arranged
or the author deranged
this good book says jump
another one says run
little Billy jumped off the bridge
bullies on soapboxes
shooting guns
acting like skirtless nuns
sitting around the old wobbly card table
picking our hearts with dirty spades
it's not a game to be played
listen
nature's call
a soothing lullaby
listen
shhhh
just listen
let it be
let us all be
free
Categories:
soapboxes, bullying, love,
Form: Free verse
The time has come to damp down gridlock and polarization
For the country's citizenry to treat each other with basic decency
To stop resorting, at the slightest offence, to righteous indignation
The time has come...
The time has come to stop shouting and screaming, to restore civility
To stop finger-pointing accusations and character assassination
To stop the invective, the slander, the libel, and to act with dignity
The time has come...
For leaders to get off their soapboxes, to cease the endless bloviation
Not to promise 'free everything,' to promote fiscal prudence, feasibility
To acknowledge the populace's apathy, to lift the veil of total frustration
The time has come...
Categories:
soapboxes, hyperbole, inspiration, judgement, leadership,
Form: Roundel
STORIES IN POTTERY
Bluebirds above the azure lakes
Burleigh cups - willow pattern trees in gold leaf -
Once with mashed Sichuan oolong,
And on their side plates, shortbread tiffin,
While nephews in white laughed loudly and played tennis on the lawn.
George V Silver Jubilee mug and plate (1910-1935)
Found by slum clearance machines
In a small kitchen overlooking the slipway at Wallsend -
The mug was dropped once and chipped
On the stone floor, toasting the returned Mauretania -
The plate was never used again,
The Mauretania was never used again.
Chipped but uncracked ; dust coated, but loved.
Shapes and pictures that hold more than hot tea.
Saucers deep and smooth, or shallow and scalloped
With painted delicate petals.
With oolong long cooled,
Cups with flared bell-mouths buried
Under crumpled newspaper stuffed
In soapboxes advertising Daz flakes
Categories:
soapboxes, memory,
Form: Free verse
Winds constant through the trees, grounding
Designer's chemtrail plans, if just for today.
Fresh air reminds me of forgotten hope, when
Dreams ran on laughter's wings, and everyone
Was free.
No speeches rang from State Fair soapboxes,
Imploring masses to wake from their slumber.
The daily grind was once more fresh-brewed,
Without even a hint of deep-underground
Military-bases.
Generations secure, water and air protected
By honest politicians, reflecting our vote.
There were no clandestine schools for crisis
Actors, false-flag disasters weren't needed
To dis-arm the people.
Tho stock markets were crashing with a familiar
Clang, trust was unwavoring, faith in our captain.
If only today, life lived in a dream, I'll savor this
Moment, to pause for peace.
08/23/15
Categories:
soapboxes, allegory,
Form: Blank verse
He is screaming from his soapbox again.
His voice carries heavily through the air,
like a cloud of sulfur, soot, and disrepute.
He is old and he is fuming,
and he must do what old folks
do best, other than croak.
He must yell at the lost souls
of the newest generation
of degenerates and sinners
who will all surely burn in hell,
who will die writhing in agony,
and none of whom give even half a ****.
He may not even know the source of his
vitriol, but goddamn it, its there,
and he is going to spew it everywhere.
These are not opinions. There will be no discussion.
Our own soapboxes will remain unused.
Our politics all silent and subdued.
We do not want to make a scene.
Categories:
soapboxes, america, christian, crazy, religion,
Form: Verse
You and I are volatile.
I struck the match to watch it burn;
I kissed your mouth to watch you turn.
You pulled away to watch me yearn.
You and I are liars on soapboxes.
Hypocrites on a streak;
Martyrs for the meek.
Sober for a week.
You and I are as forbidden as happiness.
As strange as fate;
Hopelessly late.
And O, how I wait.
Categories:
soapboxes, love,
Form: Rhyme