RUSSIA - UKRAINE
Russia invades Ukraine showing power.
No way, but to defend! War to start.
Tanks entering,.bomb blasting in shower.
Other nations are becoming alert.
Who will stay neutral or strength to exert.
Peace of World or piece of land to conquer.
Russia- Ukraine conflict where to anchor!?
When and where to find out the syndromes!
For cease of war will both countries concur?
" COVID" ! NATO - USA fight from home.
03/08/22
NA
' Kyiv' Contest
by Kai Michael Neumann
Your Second Chance 2nd Submission
By Soto Poet
What is there left to accomplish
When the highest clouds have been touched?
There is such victory in silence
compared to the sound of your thoughts.
Dodging the cracks in the sidewalk
Nearly led me to my death.
The world is my captor and
Has embraced me in warm deceit.
Suppose all around you suddenly vanished,
And you realized you were standing alone
In the twilight of your years feeling banished
Like a pilot-less, rudder-less, helpless drone.
You knew your life was mystifyingly dreamed
With many questions and answers few,
You know everything was not as it seemed
And you scarcely know exactly what to do.
The lot of many elderly in our nursing homes
Removed from the familiar, in a strange place
Victims of memory loss and various syndromes
Suddenly feeling like they are in outer space.
Many spend their last days lonely and sad
Feeling unwanted and deserted, I am told,
And some of these places are horribly bad
It makes me fight to keep from getting old!
Appeared in "It's Still Poetry"
Poetry Soup Anthology - 2021
Propellent syndromes rotating with energetic drum
the winds of time begin to churn your soul begins to hum;
Through the portal of time you go regressing, progressing
forever moving forwards, you are a tiny little string;
Dangling at the edge of time, waiting for the big rebirth
with the sun, moon and stars hung around your girth,
you slowly decline at the doorway of heaven's nook
and enter mothers womb as she delivers you with shook;
Ferris wheel cries cracking the silence of dusks headdress
the dawn is a blush of bruises but the eyes, oh! the eyes
they are two luminous stars of love, here is no surprise
the old soul has done it again, thundering back in, mortal
as you once were. Immune to taste, sight, and smell,
a propelling syndrome rotating with energetic drum,
the winds of time has brought you back, now hum.
June 7, 2021
Vindication by arguments of choice,
controlled egos justification by voice.
Behaving that provide a power decision,
circumstance to create false vision.
Presumed facts to align justification,
politics and its pathetic sensation.
Inferior reasons crying for an acknowledged act,
attention seeking become an criminal fact.
The names of the desperate decorating every corner,
for the state of justified great job mourner.
The accounted right of just, free from guilt,
the act of the state in the name of God to be killed.
Justification of human rights in wicked hands,
perjuries and its titled legacies in demands.
Fanatic delusion from colorful comic books,
not justified hero syndromes in tragic pain as it looks.
Impossibilities and its boundary limitation,
the human mind in dark consideration.
Responsibilities by conscious action,
are worth more than any justified distraction.
War is the spookiest Thought that I know
Lingering and dreaming deep down below
Blood ridden bodies with death at the door
Each bullet with a name written on the ammo
Sleepless nights wondering if you get to go home
Or be placed in a coffin with a flag atop a dome
Wind driven choppers carrying the dead back home
Today could be your last day of all spooky syndromes
Contest: Eight Lines of Spooky Rhyme
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
Date Created: 10/24/2020
As a child I loved to have mother gently rub my hair,
and head;
eyes closed I would allow her soft hands
to carry me away into an’ other mothers’ arms.
That never happened.
I mean the mother thing, and that other mother
turned out to be mainly just a lipstick smeared cloud.
Now I am bald,
and that other mother, whom I never met,
she who gave hand jobs to the marines;
I might have liked her,
in a weird Oedipus Rex sort of way.
I bet her hands were professionally skillful.
The mother who had no motherly impulse
to rub my head, is also bald and dead.
Sometimes I imagine rubbing her skull, until it sings
like a Tibetan singing bowl.
It sings to me now
of faraway mothers and their loving hands;
hands that like magicians’ doves
brush my invisible hair
somewhere in the never-never.
PSYCHIATRISTS’ SONG
Let us join in song of praise for all psychosis
It’s the leverage that gives us a good living
With a fragment here of mania or neurosis
That we bevel, hone removing all misgiving
Let it not be said we’re derelict in reason
For committing someone to an institution
For of syndromes we’ve a bountiful accretion
We have voted for and passed by resolution
So take care not to accuse us of a crime
As we relegate to sinkhole a sad creature
For your words betray a sickness we define
You are suffering from illusion - that’s a feature
Submitted for 8 word challenge contest
Words:
psychosis
leverage
fragment
bevel
derelict
resolution
sinkhole
illusion
3 June 2019
Syndromes of the crazy Shepards
S-saying the truth is right
Y-yet
N-not for our
D-dangerious
R-rulers in africa
O-over and over they keep
M-making us suffer
E-even when is ovious we
S-see their lies
O-on our life's
F-for
T-the only truth they bring is
H-hell on our soul
E-every time so they
C-create and
R-rise confusion
A-as their
Z-zeal
Y-yet we cant
S-shout them down or
H-hell will rain on
E-every
P-protest we potray to
A-ask for our
R-right as i wonder
D-does it do us good to remain in
S-silent all the time!
Inspired…
It feels good to me,
To be alive in oneself, to be set in actuality.
Free from worldly expectations and corporational thoughts,
Able to set goals for oneself, let loose from wrought.
Distraught, and set into motion by the world’s needs,
Told how to live one’s life through social media and news feeds.
Agreed fear of change when change is the preset,
To reset, everything our parents raised us to become.
To change us into a social class clone.
Indifferent, numb...
Overcome, Victory!
It lives again, in every man’s heart,
To revive what has been torn apart.
Like water, rushing to bring alive the right,
Insight to be more than staying up on these sleepless nights.
Enslaved to an addiction, with emptiness as chains,
Explained by syndromes, fancy medical conditions.
Convictions no longer ashamed of the change of the reanimation of his title.
Idle regurgitation of all the foul slang and the hate and the pain.
No longer conformed but transformed by his Name.
To be set free, to be…
Me.
Syndromes
Syndromes are the stained glasses
that the others gawk at
Syndromes are check ins and check ups
of any given individual
Syndromes are the scattered brains that lead to
The unjust Beginnings of their demised breaking points!
Syndromes are the artifacts that judges
judge without the consideration or the care
Syndromes are the struggle, the pain, and the tears!
Syndromes are the rule benders that lead
a help in hand to a life of torment.
Syndromes are the real and not real,
that broke into reality unlawfully
Syndromes
Syndromes
Syndromes
Syndromes are the pain living giving
right of any person
Syndrome is the defined meaning
Of the "struggle is real."
This is what the word syndrome
means in my world.
comment on how i can improve my poetry
Why vote for governments
That uses you
That abuses you
Confuses you and refuses you
Why vote for governments
That doesn’t respect or defend your rights
And fight with all their might’s
Why vote for governments that are not contrite
And feel their evil doings are alright
Why vote for governments
That steals the meals off poor people’s plate
Yes I know you can relate
You lobbyist and you rich conglomerates
You leaders brought this world to this state
You closed equal opportunity gates
You email-gate, water-gate, racial profile, hate!
You collaborate to devastate by inaugurate debates
And brain washing mandates
You empty and launder it
The treasury’s financial reserves hey wait!
You vaingloriously defend your scandals eh mate
Yeh! You really forced me to explashiate
Against fractured cannibalistic nature politics
Syndromes of “eat ah food” government’s historics
Past and present, you categorize and polarize
Our society for your sooooole benefits
Eh why vote mate?
©Copyright August 27, 2014 by Brian Pierre-Alexander
© All Rights Reserved
She wears nice clothes and waits for the next thing to happen.
No more hospital beds or quarterly syndromes to cry.
Now that you’re gone - she's divine and she's fine.
Rags and traps are washed from the tears you drop.
And she wears them in a ballroom as a beautiful red gown dress...
Before you tell her to stop.
Waiting for the dark man to dance with her.
Oh, what a beautiful and sorrow pain that flows.
Fresh, new, assimilated.
Lovely ballerina.
White lily.
Timid young man.
They’re in love in the starry night.
Admiring the sky together.
Wondering if this time they’re right.
Bright eyes.
Sweet smile.
And their affection can finally climb and shine.
West has supported us
sinserely and honestly
planting seeds of democracy
and sustainable society
in our crude land,
but hearts of our people
still attached very strong
to old illusions,
and Kremlin genius
very artful and virtuoso
manipylated and played with our post-soviet nostalgias and syndromes,
pushing us back in USSR on and on.
We have hated our freedom, alas,
and greed for instant hot money along.
Humiliation not the word,
tell me, experts, how long
this tragicomedy in 1/7 part of world prolong?
Beautiful stories full of lies,
All falsely true.
Stimulating syndromes….
I know no happy ending will come,
Living in a book to escape.
Dreadful dissolution….
Happiness for a minute,
Should have seen the end coming.
Fitting forge….
Stuck in the road between realities,
Where to go?
Pose paranoia….
My life in a fantasy,
Will it be worth my while?
Broken be….
Not part of the propaganda,
Only the promise of pain is predictable.
Counter conclusion….
One last time,
One last happy thought.
Wonder the world….
How will it end?
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