we are angels and demons
victims and villains
warlords and peacekeepers –
we have been all of it
incarnation after incarnation –
playing out the game of life –
*war!! war!! war!!*
War will only tear,
make people live in fear,
so brethren’s be aware.
war brings death,
some have to loose teeth,
war does not sooth.
we are one blood, one nation,
so lets have ve+ reaction,
without race or denomination.
may thy peace reign,
let it fall like drops of rain,
love be found in our vein.
war is all about thinking,
make peace and unity the king,
have power of differentiating.
If we must, lets fight hunger,
And learn to control anger,
From it, comes danger.
let us all preach peace,
tell warmakers in the face,
we are one piece.
God bless all,
For peace belongs to all,
warlords must fall.
Politics is not partisanship...
In the delirium of these dark times, the badness of the bad
lost fear of punishment...
The kindness of good people,
lost hope...
The Good Conscious
we should practice as much as possible
for the impossible...
For the omission of the benevolent
is the rejoicing of evildoers...
Conscious fight without shedding blood,
Warlords with spilled blood...
We must not remain neutral
in the face of injustice,
Let's not compact with the oppressors...
not wash our hands
for our evils,
is to be christian,
wash them is to be
Pontius Pilate...!
Created animosities
scattered hearts
in the fields and streets,
broken wires...
maimed
the disillusioned roots
shape lives
now empty
reconciled lives
no direction and right route...
reality created by
warlords !
In the heart of a war-torn country,
A mass grave awaits to be filled.
Piled high, the riddled cadavers,
Of the many citizens killed.
Their unrecognizable remains,
Haunts those assigned to the task.
To bury their friends and neighbors,
Each wearing a hideous mask.
There were many that prayed for peace,
But the Warlords would have their way.
Their methods of horror increased,
And became the trend of the day.
The bombs the enemy launched,
Would land on Ukrainian streets.
Destroying a thriving city,
Where its pulse no longer beats.
As they arose to meet the challenge,
Their lives were put to the test.
But their courage couldn't be thwarted,
And their will inspired the rest.
Now this country's character shines,
For the eyes of the world to see.
And the battle will never cease,
Until all of Ukraine is free.
the nuclear snakes
slither into disaster
warheads waiting
in the dithering wings
~~~!~~~X~~~#~~~>>>
light explodes
darkness erupts
fiery projectiles
obliterate without mercy
the reptilian warlords
fumble through flames
apocalypse waiting
amid withering declarations
There's little or nothing to do,
it's a February rainy day,
Danny molds Batman out of brown clay;
snow is melting after Saturday's blizzard...
I spot a hopping lizard
chase a scary hoopoe!
I strum on my steel guitar
a new melody unique and sad...
who knows it might be a symphony
with the simplest melody;
I'll add lyrics, thinking they are swords
that scare and defeat vicious warlords!
I play it on a snowy night in January
when no sounds are heard
and thoughts aren't muffled...
by the presence of a gentle wind
that doesn't scatter the snow and goes far
to caress with its cold breath a jealous star!
There's little or nothing to do
on this rainy February's day,
this guitar keeps me company
and strumming its strings,
it gets me through this long Saturday's blizzard;
nobody will wake up: they are chasing dreams,
nobody will see my monotony...
but Jessica who listens sends me a Kudo!
There's little or nothing to do,
it's a February rainy day,
Danny molds Batman out of brown clay;
snow is melting after Saturday's blizzard...
I spot a hopping lizard
chase a scary hoopoo...
that has a broken wing and fears to be prey!
I strum on my steel guitar
a new melody unique and sad...
who knows it might be a symphony
with the simplest melody;
I'll add lyrics, thinking they are swords
that scare and defeat vicious warlords!
I play it on a snowy night in January
when no sounds are heard
and thoughts aren't muffled...
by the presence of a gentle wind
that doesn't scatter the snow and goes far
to caress with its cold breath a jealous star!
There's little or nothing to do
on this rainy February's day,
this guitar keeps me company
and strumming its strings,
it gets me through this long Saturday's blizzard;
nobody will wake up: they are chasing dreams,
nobody will see my monotony...
but Jessica who listens sends me a Kudo!
Libertas in the hands of warlords,
natural hardship, in the name of war,
License to kill.
For those who can gain lots,
obtained legislative favor,
overall pattern of bill.
Even rogue army cords.
In the end of guns gore,
Bloody warheads refill.
Red are the eyes
of the bloodthirsty
warlords...
Unforgivable are the eyes
of those who pervert life...
but the eyes are clear
of children and angels...
Blue are the eyes that
shine in the morning sky...
these are the eyes
of the supreme
guardians
of the universe...!
Sins of the Fools
Whichever God their dice shall chose
judgment rendered all the same
guilty of crimes against humanity
its a sin and not a game
No one is chosen
all life is precious
against warlords, uneducated and the cruel
man developed the vaccine
saved the child, the family, even the fool
from fairy tails and zealot jesters
There are those telling lies
spreading hate and falsehoods
for this, many had to weep and cry
countless relatives had to die
Regimes and third world places
one would think fall prey
to the snake oil salesman of the day
sadly its the good ol' USA
full of morons following foxy Carl's play
Even the wily coyote
would know carrots are not black
Fox news though plays for the sap
get vaxxed, and stop eating sugar
if conspiracy is your diet
I ask you to reconsider.
Wooden half-desk folded down into place
Textbook open, pencil poised
Einstein poster on the wall observing
Equations flying across the blackboard
Cumulonimbus clouds of chalk dust
Float across the classroom precipitating knowledge
I am an eager student with eyes fixed straight ahead
Teach me
Compare and contrast:
the Art of a sunset
the Astronomy of a total eclipse
the History of former warlords
the Architecture of new beginnings
the Geology of relationship tectonics
the Archaeology of buried dreams
the Poetry of first impressions
the Sociology of boy meets girl
the Physiology of a first kiss
the Calculus of two bodies in motion
I am an eager student at the Academy of You
Teach me
written 15 Jul 2021
*Image of Tennyson Cross, Isle of Wight provided by Pixabay.
Forlorn Hope
Poetic Form: Sonnet
Divined amassed, thinly advance their scope
bloodlines warrant one soul's intended quest
persuades enhanced history, constants hope
pastoral guides sculptors essence is blessed
Readiness spurs insights, smoothing passion
unforeseen tests that fool-hearted, not them
their unbidden stare on death's face, cash in
pushed e'er determined, tensing a rose stem
Unchecked horses, intrepid horsemen burst
barrage relents as foe feared those affirmed
lurked rears castle shadows most accursed
chance lights an afront darken all confirmed
Bold few opinions charged submits warlords
fruition won swords gained Heaven rewards
2021 May 08
*1st Place*
ALL YOURS (May 18): Judged 2021 May 18
~~Brian Strand
*2nd Place*
This or That, Vol 2
~~Edward Ibeh: Judged 2021 May 13
*HMS checked 10 syllables x 14 lines.
Very soon marmosets and moose
will get their vaccines.
A lone gnome fishes in a Koi pond.
The light of the moon
has been dimmed by a Chinese switch.
Elite bands of cockatoos
fight for free speech, but just for themselves.
Preening jackasses bray in the green rain
and the songs are all the same.
A fearful old man stammers in the dark.
So far the greater apes are in ascendance
however, a turtle and trumpet alliance
has formed a combo of resistance.
Four masks a day and a cup of instant propaganda
keep us hiding behind a surreal subterfuge.
Afghan warlords wander empty streets
handing out relief packages.
Birds rent-out tree space to killer bees.
Belfry’s are bankrupted by fleeing bats.
Harpies and stool pigeons
turn in their stools for further interrogation.
King Kong whimpers inside a skyscraper closet,
too shy and lonely now
to swat even the smallest of biplanes.
It is the witching hour.
There are no breezes in a windowless house.
There are no shadows in a cave devoid of light.
There are no dreams in a sleepless night.
It is the witching hour.
When our endangered psyche roams.
When we are captured by pernicious spells.
When we are easy prey for rogue chieftains.
It is the witching hour.
When warlords game the system.
When sorcerers gaslight the faithful.
When conspiracy conquers fact.
Only the crestfallen sense the seamless
interval of peril.
Only the dejected resist the wizardry
of the despot.
Only the discouraged view the counterfeit
wallpaper of rot.
Only the discontented shout the truth
against the cacophony of sophistry.
But Stonehenge, the domain of the dead,
will always know first light,
will always vanquish the ruse of our sanctity,
will always sweep away the opiate specters
of tyranny.
The witching hour no more.
Light, the detox to our Stockholm syndrome.
The witching hour no more.
Democracy survives
to live another day.
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