Tramples Poems | Examples

The Killers of Happiness

The Killers of Happiness

Psychologists didn’t want my life, because I love God
They didn’t want my life here.– I respect the ancient past
The modern psychology tramples my life, because I love God

God gave my life; he created. Not a man, not a human. God didn’t create
He is eternal, I am not evil, but this is my life. God gave life

Not for psychology. Never. Just for the live. The life
Yes, life is pure without psychology. Psychology is demonic

Must
Destroyed

Life
Is winner

God, I know you do a lot for me, please forgive me
Never
Never

But
Destroy
This psychology

I don’t need
Parasites
In my life

God, I know I am a curse of your creation
God!
Never love me!
Just do justice!


Your commands are trampled underfoot by modern psychology
I am suffering

God, I suffer from modern psychology.
Because I love You

God
I am a victim

Of
Psychology

Where Are They Now?

In this country

	Politicians line their pockets from back-door deals
	Sports figures kneel with raised fist, and protest our flag
	Hollywood celebrities exclaim they will leave our country
	Silicon Valley tramples on free-speech norms
	Corporate elites rig systems to transfer wealth

and live more royally than kings of yore, while

Children hunger
	for food
	for love
	for protection from abuse

Where are the marchers,
the protesters with cardboard placards
funded by big money,

Declaring that these,
the youngest of us
have a right to a life?

That simply being born
is not enough?

	Where are those God-fearing pickets?

Rattle

In light industrial units, sheet-metal roofs
ping under the rising heat of the sun.
Sounds of tin stretched into rhythm.
He tumbles out of a fuzzy dream
tramples over himself, sucks in
half-digested thoughts.
Morning on the edge
of a medium-sized mid-west city,
Mourning doves throttle a coo or two.
This late chiming morn,
he shares a first-rate breakfast tea
with the chug and chur
of a de-frosting fridge
wallows awhile in flabby abstractions.
Minor keys ding aluminum sidings,
gradually low-grade whispers
stutter into words, a kind of poem
he can almost hear.

rich man's blue

Rich man’s blue

A problem when a person meets someone
 seriously, they lose their logical sense when 
the rich person speaks to them or smile
They are ready to agree that the person says
is the truth, if we accept what he says
He makes mundane of going to Mars
 we know his timeline is wrong
 but what the heck, he foots the bill
I think of Elon Musk, who has become 
the new Shreck role Putin had 
But it didn’t sit well as old Putin looked cultural 
Wear a nice tie and is a dog lover
His foray into German politics is brave and timely
 the AfD can lift Germany out of the hole 
she is in now and is making Germany strong again 
As for his intemperate opinions about the UK
 one can say they stirred up the reaction that 
one thinks the British public was in favor of
 if not the political leadership in that country. 
We can ignore Elon Musj when he tramples 
on our precious  dignity
 like the Vatican, he has no army divisions.

When shall we learn to recognize the truth

When shall we learn to recognize the truth
That we are being preyed upon by beasts
Whose sugared words are not enough as sooth
For our wounds that rather increase like yeasts?
How many roads or bridges need to fall,
Or lives to lose fighting in others’ wars?
How many children need grow in the hall
Of ignorance, or tending their own sores?
When we go to the polls, let’s turn the tides
And put aside thoughts of personal gains;
Let’s break partisanship that just divides
And tramples on what decency remains.
     They feed the beast that vote for selfish end; 
     They let the wound fester and never mend.

Shrinking World

Safety, comfort, food and offspring
Is that all they need ? Could be!
Doggies bark, the birdies sing
Feeling happy, they can’t see
Anything that spreads disturbance
Evil species of wrong kinds
Cause it would disrupt concordance 
In well balanced little minds
They don’t need minds fluctuation
Taking life without complaint 
I don’t have such consolation
In the shrinking world I gained
Hard to boast about the mission
Of the restless human race 
Who believe that competition
Is godsend, and fall from grace
much too often, in their faith
That the fittiest survive
And the weaker must obey
If they plan to stay alive
Wars and troubles, nations power
Tallest towers, I can’t bear
I am jealous of wild flower
As it grows without a care,
Living free, until some soldier
Tramples it by accident
And my world gets little older
In accordance that was meant.

Sliding to the First Day

It is summer,
and the umbrella men
are selling hotdogs.

A good-looking priest
enters Saint Pat's,
gangly girls giggle,
then make the sign of the cross.

Thursday is All-You-Can-Eat pizza day,
the joints will be too crowded,
the slices rushed out, slapped down
way to early or late.

Office workers flock
from the second floors of everywhere,
huddle shoulder to shoulder,
to spread rumors,
then return to gaze at desktop
computer games
or TikTok –

**** is a compensatory privilege
of the under paid.

The year hurries on,
rats scurry behind neon facades.

Downtown is slip-sliding,
it used to be a place to get noticed,
a gated area for outdoor passions.
Modest ladies now
hold the hem of their skirts down,
and not because
of any up-lifting wind.

Dope is in the air,
thieves hustle to get their share.
Tourists meander dazed,
as the stark exposure of the city
tramples over them.

Winter bites its chill tongue.

Come December’s last glittering moments,
that glass ball will hang by
the thinnest of threads.

~~~~~~~~~~~

(new edit)

The Crows Are Singing

Now it is dark January and the crows are singing.
A river runs through my heart,
where thoughts drown too soon.

My mind plucks old green hats,
out of the frosted air.
the hats belong to dead leprechauns,
doppelgangers lost at sea, trying to get here,
to be me.

Sometimes the sky is too brilliant,
it hurts old wounds.
Today the sky is a grey gun,
and as hard as gallstones.

January tramples over snowmen
scatters then into phantom blizzards
or stickmen, holy thorns of dark brier
crowning their twig-pointed heads.

Soon this freeze-framed pantomime,
will be known as February.
The birds will die and recover,
and so shall I.

The People's Choice

We silently watch as our nation bleeds

Warring factions of race, color, and creeds

Discontent tramples each and every town

Misinformation will bring us all down

People believe lies despite the facts

Encouraged to commit criminal acts

Why are we blind to a repeat of history

The answer to that remains a mystery

The war's not between the left and the right

The haves over the have-nots started this fight

Challenge all politicians hypocrisy

Before we witness the death of Democracy

Even the Sparrows

Even the sparrow has a place to lay it's head,
So why should I lay worries on my breath?

All the world's colors laid with such ingeniousness 
so why should I live in gray grievousness?

Oh God! you even crafted nature's music in brilliance!
 Then how can I be overcome by my monotonous silence?
( It was my silence, a strangling silence,
Unpeaceful, condemning, rooted in me with defiance.)

-Storms visit all forests.
 But trees are anchored with firmness.
 So when anxiety hits me hardest,
 trees teach me calmness. 

Even how the tides dance over the oceans, and how they crash and thunder!
So small I feel, and insignificant, 
that pride cannot be a blunder.

To the short-tempered man,
                                    I'd advice,
 look to nature and her device.
To the jealous 
                               I must teach,
 How all creation will live in joy and peace.

And those who hate must consider 
that Life always tramples the bitter 

Hence what I know is this:
        Man is witty, and crafts many things
but has forgotten to think about all his       blessings.

Power of Meekness

It is not
so weak so falls

It is not
so strong so tramples

It is to
go way with others.

The Stand

A man still in the darkness
Who has never seen the light
Is better than a man toying with darkness
From the vantage point of light

One knows and lives with the pain
The other sees his own injuries and bleedings
One only reaches for whatever to hold and retain
Another well sees the paths and their leadings

One a stickler for the ways of the ancestors
Better he who remains until he finds new conviction
Than he who tramples on God as one of the gestures
Of one feeling free of need for his accumulation

If the worldly want to keep their worldliness
With cunningness, insistence and assertion
Ye called by God's Name keep your godliness
With faith, the Word, assurance and meditation 

Whoever know what to do and doesn't sins
Whoever lacks by rejecting knowledge perishes
Yes, endowment can come to one who gleans
And a gleam can lead to the light that virtue relishes

K. Muitherero

I Am a Tree

I was hoping for just a caress or maybe a stroke  
but all I got was noises, smoke, and restless rebuff 
I was wishing for a tree hugger who would 
place their arms around me and love me 
but all I got was misaligned baseballs and tramples  

My limbs expand far and wide 
and my roots are deep, part of everything down under   
still they walk around as if I don't even exist 
as if I'm just a stump, standing there like a bump on a log  

I get moonstruck at night by the beauty of the sky 
and warmed by the sun when the dawn arrives at will 
I rejoice at the sound of a child's laughter, 
or when someone takes a nap beneath my full branches. 

I am a tree who loves people, creatures and things, 
even a misaligned baseballs, better that then nothing at all.

Against Oikocide

Release me from the claws of bigotry that strangles my breath 
For its looming shadow longs for the sound of my death 
Its chauvinist mind wants to enslave the sound of my voice 
Its sickle wants to rip the echo of my choice 

Even if I'm already swollen and fallen 
Its clout still tramples on my limbs that were broken 
Rip the vein that runs through its prejudiced heart 
Make its vilifying tongue depart 

For how can a light be useful in the land of the blind,
When the only voice that matters is one from a slave mind? 
Take me to a place where conviction is not a ticket to die 
Where I can freely spread my wings and fly 

Where color of skin is not the measure of being human 
Where people do not judge on basis of their clan 
Where the sounds of little voices really matter 
Where everybody shuns the pessimism of a hater 

May 7, 2023

Charity

Your intentions are meant for goodwill
Your heart is as white as snow
Seeking to identify and bail out
For selflessness is your part
And opportunism is your sworn enemy
Like rain droplets
You come in plenty
Secrecy is not your portion 
Laying bare your desires is your game
Change is your other name
Since, impacting and changing lives is your goal
A purposeful road you careful lay
Indestructible by any weight 
But tramples on any form of obstruction
Seeking to limit your potential
Sieving your targets from the masses
Like chaff being separated from the grain by the wind
Out of the sea of humanity 
You avail those befitting your support
A ray of hope to the disadvantaged
You restore their will for survival
Reviving in them the spirit to fight on
Throwing in the towel is discouraged
Are you heavenly sent?
You give everything freely
Demanding nothing in return
You are our love
For you have created a space for yourself in our heart
Igniting a flame deep within our souls
Since we can hear shouts of your name
A beauty we wish to have known early
Forever, your memories will be kept alive
For your deeds are outstanding!

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