In the vaults of my mind is fog,
that grey speckled layer I scan,
vague vision a frustrating blur,
six sided ice crystal baleful,
a hindrance to glowing recall,
aerosol dangle, ground floater,
me beggar of radiant sun,
to banish that cloudy chaos
For the pen refuses to write;
Even struggling doesn’t seem right.
And for all one cares, I see no light—
Yet these legs walk, fortnight after fortnight.
However strong one’s mind seems,
At unending, nerve-wrecking scenes it dims.
For all supports appear blurry, even strong beams,
Striking uneasiness and swaying wherever the path leans.
But breath goes on—uncaring and unfeeling,
Offering no remorse, no solution, not a thing.
Every rotation carries its own unsorted fling,
Yet breath goes on for this wretched being.
That`s not Safe
I dared to battle with the wild thunder
Where flashes of lightning could blind the eyes,
Where I escaped being torn asunder
And darkish clouds veiled the crest of the sky;
In this inner tempest that wrecked my heart
Every burst of wild wind echoed deep pains
Tearing the strata of my heart apart
While I struggled with stinging stress and strains.
If woeful storms turn the days into night,
Will summer sweet sunshine be far away
To spread its glow on earth and shed its light,
To guide man along the virtuous way.
Battling with thunder, I learnt that`s not safe
With due lessons learnt, this can be vouchsafed.
wildflower
wet wildflower wagging with woeful wild winds warms my wretched heart.
Lo, do I grasp with my wretched fingers,
Onto where my heart it still lingers,
Tendrils hold as though a parasite,
With it's life causes my blight,
Even withered it does not die,
For its mother hears its cry,
Nurturing back to good health,
Yet it is I who have dealth,
Suttle thoughts fuel the proliferation,
Making death its instrumentation,
Rest from it comes with the welcome of dirt,
To a place where the heart shall not hurt.
We are here sorrowfully happy
We are here crying and smiling
We are Rich only on TV
We are Rich only on newspapers.
Where are they says the leaders
Give them the remnants to eat
They deserves a natural glass of wine
And something to take as protein.
We are here living happily happy
With our swollen faces smiling
Lest we appear wretched on TV
Wearing rags with tissue papers.
Cleaning the toilets of our leaders
Inorder to afford bread to eat
We drank their pee as wine
And ate their poop for protein.
• Hum a little tune
• As you wait for the bus
• When it sings something wretched
• Don't stir up a fuss
The wretched bow their head
As they shuffle along unled
Lost to the world without souls
No longer counted or enrolled
Once they looked you in the eye
Their knowledge gained held high
But now beaten down instead
Their only world now full of dread
Who now will take up their fight
Going forward with the right
They wait for a leader to rise for them
For it is unknown how it will end.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Spitting venomous words
Like sour milk leaving an unsuspecting mouth
A face contorted into an unrecognizable creature
Tears pour from reddened eyes
Entity of a woman gone mad
Thou wretched spot, thou churlish little knave,
canst thou in truth believe thine own deceit?
Engendered by thy lusts, thou art a slave,
ensconced by thy morality’s retreat.
Ye target those placed trusting in your care,
such innocent, inquisitive young minds,
yet lurking in thy cerebellar lair,
a single thought, corrupting all it finds.
Thou seekest normalized attraction thus,
outraged when thy detractors say ye groom,
yet utilizing TikToc to discuss,
there plastered on the walls, thy queerish blooms.
Thou maledict, thy curse flies off my lips:
now pass through blades and lie among the chips.
—————
for the Shakespeare in 2023 Poetry Contest
sponsored by Anoucheka Gangabissoon
written on 01/08/23
I do not belittle good
A little good is a lot
The smaller the better.
The consequence of goodness is good
Nothing saves us from calamities
Like the good we do.
Get use to good
Good is usually good
He who does good reaps good.
Greatness & goodness rarely meet in one man
Goodness is not in greatness
Greatness is in goodness.
The one who gives charity when he dies
Is called “WILL” not goodness.
The best way to compel people to say good about us is to do good.
If you do good - cover it up
If you get good - spread it
Do something good - throw it into the sea
If the fish ignores it - God will protect it.
Freedom is the best - it enables us to enjoy good
It’s better than a feast in bondage.
The good at dawn
Is forgotten at night
Do not complain
Keep doing good
The beautiful imprint remains
Even if its owner is absent.
Putin, Putin, yes I want you,
A marked man, with another few,
So busy creating your own demise,
Brazen, proud of your war, no disguise.
Putin, Putin you are going to hell,
And your marching clones, I foretell,
Will all, hear the sound of the calling bell,
For where you are bound, is no hotel.
Putin Putin, yes I want you,
A disgrace, is your heartless robot crew,
Inhumane cruelty is your only way,
The devil in blood he’ll want you to pay.
Putin, Putin you’re going to hell,
Hear me, your flesh will burn and smell,
You have won no war, you will succumb,
History will refer to you as infamous scum.
Had an epiphany this morning and yet, the screeching and scratching of the voices is always at hand.
The only thing I can trust this day and age is the walls talking to me. Ceremoniously, I want my consciousness to die.
Alas, it lies wake and unfolds the lashes concocted. From the whips of a tormented psyche.
I was alive and well this morning. The clicking of a stopwatch is the split frames of time that rip apart my wretched soul.
Part ways with the thought of living the days without the switch. Up, down, left, right. Goodnight.
Always unimpressed
Never cares about others interest
Ever willing to get you suppressed
Often desiring to be defended
Oh human existence
Joy of the wretched
Tears of the opulence
Man is ever unsatisfied
Life is beautiful
Life is meaningful
Some are insatiable
Certain behaviours are unbelievable
Work while the light fades
Work with life in the shades
Reap the fruits of your labour
Leap the joy of your harbor
An Ijeoma Ikonne's poem© 2021
As night falls
Fear begins it’s ghastly calls
Demons come out with bloody claws
On my brain evil relentless gnaws
The mountain of darkness is steep
I climb it longing for sleep
I desperately fight
Trying to reach the light
Tumbling through my black plight
With every hour
Darkness will devour
At the summit I reap
The withered fields of sleep
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