As the fires burn up our forests
and the deadly floods ravage our earth
All the traitors inside of the WH
give America new fascist birth
Our brothers and sisters patrol us
with the weapons of war that we made
As the songs they once sang about honor
about freedom and liberty, fade
They are building an army against us
search for people of color to blame
Armed with weapons of war in our cities
hidden faces are proof of their shame
As Republicans lie to the people
some reporters reply with a wink
And the viewers are all left to wonder
what was truth, what was lie, what to think
This is now a complete insurrection
being led by commander in chief
And the GOP Sedition Party
falls on all like a blanket of grief
We must all tow the line for our freedom
march together and then stand as one
It is now our time to be heroes
show the world how democracy’s won
some people make good prisoners
I would not be one of them
most people never get caught
I would be in the unusual half percentile that does
Some people like a roommate
until they see their open toilet
a roommate would hate me
I am up and down all night and gassy
I try to tow the line
I do not break into houses
or hurt people or steal things
for these and hundreds of other reasons
Angry Choices
You swooned at me, and I fell in feet first.
You made me feel as if I was brilliant.
But it was all a hoax.
My thoughts meant something once.
Now it's nothing but silence from me.
You taped my mouth and made me obey.
We could have been so much together.
You closed the door on, my opinion.
Wished me to tow the line and never fall.
Perfection is what you reach for, but I thought I was perfect before you touched me.
I long for discussion and human contact, but here I sit with no one in site.
I cry alone at night right next to your side, but you never hear my lonely cries.
My ears hurt from the screaming, but you seem to think I am deaf.
I follow behind you with my head down and I think what else could I be.
I have chosen this life, and I live it every day but when will I be allowed to speak.
My heart has broken into a million pieces, and I hold it in my hands looking for the solution.
I wanted love and happiness but here I sit with anger and bitterness.
You had me at hello, but will I ever say goodbye.
To the line that reaches eternity
the line standing in front of me
I left myself to wonder
while hopefull dreams I ponder
I love you reached an I love you back
this I treasure in a loving sack
and add to it the many hugs
That signal me a secret love
I reach for things I might not posses
With each opportunity put it to test
And with each success put doubt to rest
the love I seek and nothing less
A state of limbo for that, that crest
My poor heart hopes for the best
When love is met with humbleness
And proceed to love without regret
Don't leave me with this terrible debt
Uneasy with a heart just left
I am willing with words and deeds
I'll confess it is you I need
my love for you has become a creed
I only look for feelings agreed
With that my deepest love succeds
And I will satisfy my deepest greed
You can shout it from the mountain tops
While you dance and sing
Serenade me ‘til the music stops
It still won’t mean a thing
You can light up all the words you say
Maybe mingle in my rhyme
That might’ve worked but not today
You won’t persuade me not this time
You can tell me that your world is mine
Even beat on my own drum
You may promise that you’ll tow the line
And not delay my kingdom come
You can wave your wand if it still works
Cast your spells of false delights
You can say you love me ‘til it hurts
But I’ve learned that your love bites
~Billy Hitz~
Sharks in the ocean, killer whales -
prevalence of predators in knee deep water,
all because men know better.
They, we - bring disaster to the shore,
to the salty, silty, haven
of children, couples, the old and young.
The fascination of jaws, rows of sharp teeth,
claws at our imaginations; not as lovely
a ride as a dolphin does bring; gladly
gambolling along with a friend.
Sharks bite, out for a midnight snack…
even in the sunny hours.
Back to the salty, silty, haven -
the vacation spot, vacated
or kept on the land, not
wanting to become surf and turf, not
wanting an arm or leg
to be separated in the foam,
in the thrill of the wave.
The wave washes onto the coconut beach.
Ebb and flow of romance.
Dark shadows, inviting
and dangerous. Riveting, breathless -
the tide is precipitous. Washed up,
a half-eaten board. Bored or not,
keep limbs on loungers, toes
out of the sea. Don’t tow the line.
6/14/2023
What’s happening? A bystander asked the McCormick sisters, unduly soused.
They lost a bet, Wilma and Lucille said as the other two grunted and roused.
You mean they must pull that cart all the way to Marshalltown today?
Yes, and the horse was so happy she did a celebratory sashay.
Do you McCormicks often make your siblings tow the line like this?
It will make them much stronger said Wilma, an enterprising miss.
Lucille kept quiet, because she knows the mind of women on the street.
And seeing her sisters struggle to pull their cart was an enormous treat.
Once freedom vanishes down the broader way
And shoulders start to droop, sore backs are sure to pay
Once fingers grip and dig, then lust for a stronger hold
Hearts tend to falter and “ The Titled” become prudish and bold
Weakness welcomes the pride of a wicked, controlling state
Men strive to mask the policies, hiding conditions they already hate
Standing to yield to corruption with a hand that salutes the brow
Risking their future to tow the line, and only if the governor allows
Once it’s over and done, freedom will never again revive
It's like a mean bronco bucking high, many find it hard to ride
Once it’s over and done and a great country looks back on the vote
Memories coveted from another time when people weren’t ordered to cope
Words spoken by the insane yet, passing over with hardly a wink
The trainer repeats his message, the chain breaks at the weakest link
Lies and deceit are sure to wear and unravel like a ball of twine
But the damage is done, all is lost, given over to a reprobate mind
Read all about it
Our days seem filled with death and destruction
While hate and war go hand in hand
With what?
Politics and past deeds?
Religion? Tribal ties?
Races go head to head
While people die from others dreams of power.
An omnipotent human trait perhaps?
Neighbours look back over their shoulders
Determined to keep past grievances alive,
To set things right, to turn the tide,
And so it spreads
A cancer that nothing can cure
Ingrained in this, the 'daily' life we lead.
The living and the dead join hands too
So Keeping that hate alive in every corner of this
Our world.
Families feud, and so it grows
Since first we walked, then talked.
Kin, villages, clans,
Borders spanned by tongue,
Or colour, or creed.
A never ending battle for what?
Tow the line, kill or be killed,
Just follow the thoughts of men
Who crave dominion over each other.
A downward spiral
Leads to who or what we are, or were,
Or think, or dream.
Brothers and sisters in arms
Driven by deeds long past to haunt the sleep
Of the living, and the dead.
If history takes care of itself,
Then what of the future?
Gran stands over me whilst I eat my corn
gee, I’ve hated corn since I was born,
but my Grandma says it's good for me
so she’s cooked a huge pile for my tea!
Gold kernels get stuck between my teeth
all my friends laugh at me especially Keith.
He’s lucky he doesn’t have to eat the stuff,
I’m sick of eating corn I’ve truly had enough!
I wish that I could be like all the other boys
I have to tow the line, mustn’t make a noise,
I’ve lived with Grandma since I lost my Ma and Pa
So in all honesty my Grandma’s a real super star!
Image 3 chosen
Realism Art Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
10/4/19
Shhhh whisper
Cause I love your very breath
Your whispers breathes into me
Nothing sweeter not even death
The wisps of it glides over me
Tickling every inch my silken skin
Making me reach out to you
As I try to pull you in
Shhhh let's not speak no more
Let's lay within our embrace
Looking into the eyes I adore
As fingertips trace your face
Let our souls do the talking
Like only they can do
Let your fingers do the walking
I trust in you I know your true
Shhhhh let our bodies mingle
Let's share each other's sighs
How your touch makes me tingle
In such simple hushed replies
Share your essence and I will mine
Let's go in slow motion
As our bodies start to entwine
Sweat feeling like satin lotion
Shhh let ecstasy tow the line
Let our beings articulate
The passions so Devine
Shhh let's stimulate
1st place
STRAND SELECT 7 any form,any theme' Poetry Contest
Sponsor;Brian Strand
The Man in the Mirror
Don’t you live at your mother’s place?
Are you in the basement or the room upstairs?
Are you still taking a year off from school?
How is that going for you?
How many is that now?
When your mother stops doing your laundry,
will you start to stink?
When she stops making dinner and feeding you?
Will you then be skinny again, as you need to check the mirror?
We were friends. We still are. You need to remember that.
That means I am here to tell you the truth.
I have no reason at all to lie. I have no agenda.
You are on a bad path. That is clearly evident by your lifestyle.
If you are okay with that, fine. Not much more to say.
If you are not…
I am here.
Not to coddle you, but to make you tow the line.
I will not be kind in the manner of which I choose to end your days…
As a bozo clown.
Grab a pad. A pen. Find one! Now!
The key here is a reference point. I am going to give you that.
From there… you will be in free fall until you fly.
Or…
Die.
At the top… write, “pray”.
Now we begin.
Journalism
The tellers of the truth
Those who take this to heart
End up working
In underground newspapers
Alternatively, the internet.
Some journalists think they
are intellectuals
Few of them are.
So many journos in the big press
Follow the press
Faithfully write about
The brief they have been giving
Also, do not bother to look behind the screen.
For them, it is a job
That pays well thinking deep is not for them
They tow the line and are respected.
This clique of men and women feed off each
Other in a narrowing world.
Contempt for them is the right word
So, don’t think reporting is journalism.
To be. To feel.
To feel, to love,
To love. To rage,
To rage, to die
Like a good Romantic, or to sleep like this,
Ghosting about
Like a loose plastic bag
That flaps on a windy night
Under a sodium street lamp’s
Eerie all-submerging light.
O Shakespeare, pity us,
O Wilkes, O Pope,
O Voltaire, O Heine,
O Byron. O Shelley,
Shed tears for us.
We have mislaid the liberties
You fought for.
And the truths you taught us.
The Board of Standardisation
In the interests of this nation
Will suppress the imagination.
Like ranters at Hyde Park
We’re still good for a Sunday lark.
Our patrons are benign
as long as we are innocuous.
They’ll allow a little room for satire
(as long as we keep our hats on)
Just to show what sports they are.
Toothless protest’s just a cliché,
But don’t let slip a waspish quip,
Or “Sirrah, Sirrah, the whip!”
Tow the line. That’s fine.
“Douse that prophetic fire by nightfall, sir,
Or the neighbours will complain.”
A D-Notice served on the brain
deadens every joy and pan.
Cross the heart with this red pencil
And with this stencil write:
THE END OF ART.”
A rock and a hard place between,
It seemed a limited choice,
But a burning bush he had seen
And lo it was he found his voice.
And though unpopular indeed
With constituents one and all;
Courage enough to take the lead
And for what's right he'd take the fall.
For children dying on the streets,
No longer as a hostage held;
Party politics with the deadbeats,
The lies alas must be dispelled.
For rights of others, yours and mine
To walk in safety come what may;
Never more to tow the line,
He's standing up to the NRA.
A hero of the people yes,
In a filibuster what suspense;
This Republican who god bless
Has finally shown some common sense.
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