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There is a gentle thought that often springs
to life in me, because it speaks of you.
Its reasoning about love’s so sweet and true,
the heart is conquered, and accepts these things.
‘Who is this’ the mind enquires of the heart,
‘who comes here to ****** our intellect?
Is his power so great we must reject
every other intellectual art?
The heart replies ‘O, meditative mind
this is love’s messenger and newly sent
to bring me all Love’s words and desires.
His life, and all the strength that he can find,
from her sweet eyes are mercifully lent,
who feels compassion for our inner fires.’
Donall Dempsey Oct 2018
THE MOMENT BEFORE THE MOMENT

( for Linda Rose Parkes   )

The sea stands
by my daughter's side

like a huge monster
she has tamed.

"See...sea...my friend?"
she pats and pets it.

Both of them smile
for the camera

as if either
could never die.

This the moment
of the photograph

that fixes them
both in place

held in a forever
of black and white.

The moment
before this moment she

had ****** her hand
into the sea's massive body

and like a surgeon or
a magician

brought forth
a shell.

To her it is
a little miracle.

She plunges her hand  in again
conjures up a bikini top.

Blue with white
polka dots.

On her next slight of hand
she creates bladderwrack

with such a casual
nonchalant magic.

"What is..?" she
enquires of me

She falls in love
with its sound.

Will "bladderwrack...bladderwrack...bladderwrack!"
all the way home.

She is my tiny God
making a universe in her own image.

The camera clicks
captures the creator in the act.

Her pet sea gazing at her imploringly
like a Kraken on a leash.

She pats it with a splash.
A wave licks her toes.

The sun shines in glorious
black and white.

Her laughter
my prayer.
***

Dawn and the the sparrows balancing on the very tips of bamboo had come to welcome me to a new day. It was going to be our last Jersey day so I wrote this as a thank you poem to Linda Rose for not only having us in her home but for (hopefully ) surviving us.

We had such a delightful time with Linda Rose and hubby Mike. Life was like the most glorious sax solo.

I love the way her mind plunges into her unconsciousness and plucks forth an image or a thought that will startle you into an awareness of self that encapsulates the very essence of being. She is so brave in her concepts and prepared to take risks that bring about such ideas and with such a generosity of soul.

Her writing reminded me of my little girl seeing the sea for the first time and amazed at what she could pull out of it.

She looked after us with such kindness and caring that we are still glowing with it all.

And such poetry and such audiences! Such a pleasure to be able to read and hear others read in Jersey Opera House.
cheryl love Feb 2014
Life is all about fitting in.
A new day at school
Sitting amongst total strangers
for a good couple of hours.
The powers that be say
Do not break any rule
at any point in the day.
Following guidelines
is not that bad,
There are times
when one is sad.
But we have acceptance
and that is all good.

A new day at the office
Sitting with total strangers
For more hours than you know.
The powers that be say
Do not break rules
anytime, any day.
We all follow regulations
It is not that bad
But the time to go home
When the whistle blows
Makes one feel glad
Blood pressure glows
"Good day love?" enquires she
"Time went quick" replied he.
Better when I have acceptance.

Acceptance brings friends, laughter
Makes time whizz like a spinning top.
Brings hope ever after
especially when time starts to drop
Accepted into society
Where trust is the king
Acceptance in life
well that is a different thing.
When on the sandy shore I sit,
Beside the salt sea-wave,
And fall into a weeping fit
Because I dare not shave -
A little whisper at my ear
Enquires the reason of my fear.

I answer "If that ruffian Jones
Should recognise me here,
He'd bellow out my name in tones
Offensive to the ear:
He chaffs me so on being stout
(A thing that always puts me out)."

Ah me! I see him on the cliff!
Farewell, farewell to hope,
If he should look this way, and if
He's got his telescope!
To whatsoever place I flee,
My odious rival follows me!

For every night, and everywhere,
I meet him out at dinner;
And when I've found some charming fair,
And vowed to die or win her,
The wretch (he's thin and I am stout)
Is sure to come and cut me out!

The girls (just like them!) all agree
To praise J. Jones, Esquire:
I ask them what on earth they see
About him to admire?
They cry "He is so sleek and slim,
It's quite a treat to look at him!"

They vanish in tobacco smoke,
Those visionary maids -
I feel a sharp and sudden poke
Between the shoulder-blades -
"Why, Brown, my boy! Your growing stout!"
(I told you he would find me out!)

"My growth is not YOUR business, Sir!"
"No more it is, my boy!
But if it's YOURS, as I infer,
Why, Brown, I give you joy!
A man, whose business prospers so,
Is just the sort of man to know!

"It's hardly safe, though, talking here -
I'd best get out of reach:
For such a weight as yours, I fear,
Must shortly sink the beach!" -
Insult me thus because I'm stout!
I vow I'll go and call him out!
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2015
2nd to rise, she enquires
you ready for coffee?

it's only 6:22am

if you're having, I'm having...

she quiet disappears

thinking coffee's coming,
when to this layabout,
it occurs,
she's making
coffee in the ****?

get up, make myself presentable,
track her,
the coffee aroma pulsating,
radar signal emitting

sure enough,
coffee in the ****,
grinding, dripping...percolating

but what I see is
contrast and
definition

appliance white
stainless
steel chrome gleaming,
walnut wood cabinetry warming in
Vermeer sunlight window in-streaming,
a Chagall and Botticelli duet,
freshly filtered
thru a Manhattan sky
and flesh,
freshly filtered

flesh
is not a Crayola color,
or
if it is,
it's more a spectrum,
than a single shade

but this moment morning
flesh is more realized,
as if recognized for the first time,
by a newborn old timer,
who senses the
comprehension tension of circumspection
circumcised differentiation,
flesh knowledge gradation gained

this poem,
a first attempt at
painting a ****
in words

appreciating  task enormity,
for there are currently
insufficient words,
too many striations,
all cannot be straitjacketed to the
vocabulary palette

this then,
but my first definition of many,
of
flesh

so many canvasses,
so many undiscovered shadings
awaiting
****** recognition definition,
composition
July 22, 2015 7:26am
Brittany Romero Jun 2014
Took a while to realize that my words revolved around desires
worlds apart were my enquires and my heart on fire

As I claimed to be searching for enlightment my hands were grappling infatuation


In denile I stood, claiming myself to not be hood but doing good and only slightly misunderstood

Mistaken I was

Lacking a clear perspective, a fool I was
As time progressed I became more effective when it came to reaching my objective

Because unless you're slightly introspective, and selective of those you allow to surround you, my life can do without you.

Ignorance isn't bliss
Abhi ASAP Dec 2019
----
There is no Hamster #1-3
----

The Hamster wakes up,
pounces straight out of bed.
He oils himself up from hip to head.

He goes to work in a big machine.
It turns and turns, round and round he churns.
Rodent mouths stand agape at his speed.
He’s an important hamster; he has his own wheel.

There’s a card on his desk, it’s his one year birthday.
“1-year-old me? I thought it’s just another Thursday.”
All his friends join in, from rodents to whales.
There is a big party, he even gets some tail.

Next morning he wakes, it feels like a new dawn.
“One year? I can’t believe it… A third of my life is gone.”
He has a moment of crisis – “Is this all there to life is?
It’s time for me to face the bitter truth.
Just for money, I’ve given up my youth.”

He skips work and goes for a sip in a bar.
From the corner of his eye he spots a Sloth.
Just idling on the couch, chewing on a leaf.
It could be food, but more likely it’s ****.

Next to him sits a dog, slobbering.
“Excuse me Mr. Hamster, sorry for bothering.
I couldn’t help but notice, you seem to be in a mood.
Your furry whites are a shade too blue.”

The Hamster says, “Let me ask you something.
If you could do anything, what would be that one thing?”
“Oh dear, I don’t think about this poo.
I am a dog, I am happy, no point thinking through.”

Eavesdropping, a parrot glides in.
“Why, that’s a silly attitude my friend.”
Life is what you make it, says the bird.
And promptly flies away, dropping another giant ****.

A Tortoise strolls in, and takes a seat.
“No rush, Bartender. I’ll have a whiskey, neat.”
Struck by awe, the hamster enquires.
“Sir, did you ever find what your heart desires?”

“Ah young Hamster, there is no magic spell.
Every night before I sleep, I look inside my shell.
I don’t know your truth, but one thing I can tell you:
it’s that you should look inside your shell too.
It takes time, and you do have to go far.
Before you were born, I was already on my way to this bar.”

The hamster leaves to do what hamsters do,
Ticket to India: “hello, just passing through.”
Spend a week in Goa, and start doing Yoga.
Takes care of his mind, and no sugar or soda.

And so after a week, the prodigal pup returns.
His mind is clear, he starts his own little firm.
He makes time to be outside with his horde,
Energy renewed, not a single day he’s bored.

Another week passes, and all is well.
Many pits of despair, he saw but never fell.
And one day he finds a large present in his room.
“Where did this come from?” – no one has a clue.
He feels a wet tail, as it starts to reveal,
“Oh my god, not this, not a Hamster Wheel.”

----
Hamster Facts:
- Hamsters have a lifespan of 3 years (depends on breed)
- Hamsters have scent glands in the hip area. They groom themselves to spread the oils secreted from these glands all over their bodies.
- A baby Hamster is called a “pup”. A group of them is called a “horde”.
- Wet Tail is a common disease in Hamsters, usually caused by stress or a sugary diet (but may have other causes)
----
Sesilia Makumbi May 2013
You talk to me like a kid,
taking advantage of my courtesy,
You forget that you are just human and imperfect,
yet you take advantage of my generosity,
you make fun of me and we all laugh together
but yet you should know where to
draw the line.
Perhaps, do you want me to set the boundary line?
i didn't think so..
In as much,the atmosphere will no longer be as refreshing
as yesterday.
However, today i am laying my emotions on this rostrum.
Where no one enquires me on this platform,

Hence i liberate myself thus.
Ghazal Oct 2014
The look in your eyes
Sets a soft, mellow
Musical pace that
Our hands follow
And rhythmically
They waltz,
My fingers partnering
With yours,
I shiver when
Your eager fingers
Turn adventurous,
They settle and linger
Over my lips that
Reflexly part,
My heightened breaths
Mirror my heart's
Frantic desirous
Almost climactic state,
Our fever grows delirious,
It won't now abate,
Until and unless
We satiate
And soothe it,
With fire, passionate.
I'd rehearsed this moment
You probably had too,
But as you lean closer,
Everything's impromptu,
You're nearer than
You've ever been,
Overwhelmed I stare at
Your intoxicating sheen,
We grow bolder and
The moment draws nigh,
But just when we're about to
Reach that amorous high,
I suddenly withdraw!
The silence enquires.
I'm sorry! I'm sorry!
But I don't know why!
'I've ruined it,
Like I've always done,
Our beautiful instant,
Our moment has gone!'
I rue to myself,
When you take me aback,
And with renewed vigor
Breathe on my neck,
Then, as your gentle kisses,
To my lips, slowly progress,
I note, when it's Love,
The moment never passes.
James Rainsford Nov 2010
How easily,
The irresponsibility
Immediacy requires,
Begins small fires.
Which turn to pyres
Before reality enquires
The cost.

© James Rainsford 2010
Copyright. No reproduction in any medium without permission.
Contact: james@jamesrainsford.com
cheryl love Mar 2014
A gentle squeeze of the hand
A blushing cheek meets his eye
His heart aches, her cheeks blush
Like cherries in a hot pink pie.
He kisses her face, on the side
of her itsy bitsy nose.
She giggles, plays into his hands
Which is holding a **** rose.
His blood rushes round,
he enquires of her intention
She looks at her diary, free  next week
the next day does not get a mention.
Disappointment darkens the hour
He fiddles with his tie
She grabs his tie and pulls him closer
and her wet sparkly lips taste of cherry pie.
So sweer the embrace, so full of "I want more"
She relaxes, his hand slides down
and unlocks the key of the door.
That key is stiff he thought
better loosen the grip
She pants, he blushes and
finally reveals her little slip.
So silky, so divine, it falls to the floor
So passionate, so forgiving
and she bolts hastily through the door.
"Come back" he shouts, but she has gone
"Not likely" she retorts, what's your game?
He is confused, as men usually are
"But I thought you wanted the same".
Men and women are from two planets
Men from Zog and women from mars.
Men, well we cant do without them
their annoying habits and love of cars.
Women, we are good stuff, I have to say
But at the end of the day, we're all the same
We like our love in the old fashioned way.
Julius Nov 2012
Don't overthink, they say
How funny they are!
Don't they understand?
I'm too far gone,
Lost in the storm
Now I have to think about thinking
What will they pile upon me next?
Layer after layer of thought
Yes, with each new discovery
Must come a discovery of my previous ignorance
Tell me more!
My mind enquires!
I must know!
I must see fact!
All else makes me turn with thought
Writhe within the taut skin of unknowing
Yet with each puff of the bag
You impose isolation
My mind grows deeper
Gives me more space to lounge in
To cry in
I will hurt for an age
I'm already weighed upon
Already stuck inside a cage
I have built this around myself
You have not piled the bricks upon me
I asked,
Sought after every little thing to make my life a misery
Had I only stayed in the flowery patch beyond these walls
Ignored the problems which had me recede,
Away from the world
To hide behind confidence
(The confidence of knowledge)
Tommy Carroll May 2015
"Konnichiwa"
A voice calls out,
foreign, disembodied.
Once again but louder-
"konnichiwa!"

I walk dripping from the shower
to the bedroom.
Upon my bed a fresh white towel
lay folded and
upon that my 'phone.
Vibrating,
It's her.

Two women in my room
-one does the bidding
of the other-
The ring-tone
female and Japanese.

I place the 'phone
upon the dresser,
take the towel
from off the bed
and dry myself.
I lay upon the fresh sheets
and sigh.
She calls again.

The voice enquires:
"Konnichiwa"
the tone becoming
increasingly irritable.
I stare at the ceiling.
She calls again.
I turn my back on her enquiry
and lay staring
with my eyes closed
waiting...


re-edit
words and foto Tommy Carroll
Terry Collett Jun 2015
Who was she?
Netanya
asks Benny

who was whom?
Benny asks
sitting in

an armchair
that woman
who has just

dropped you off?
she works in
home and ware

at the store
Benny says
so why'd she

drive you home?
Netanya
enquires

moodily
I don't know
she just asked

if she could
Benny says
I bet she

fancies you
or much worse
I bet you've

been inside
her *******
Netanya says

don't be daft
she's pregnant
Benny says

is it yours?
is that why
she's friendly?

Netanya asks
are you mad?
we just work

together
at the store
Benny says

so you say
but you would
wouldn't you

Netanya says
steely faced
Benny stands

and walks off
into the
back garden

Netanya
follows him
I’m sorry

I should trust
what you say
she tells him

that's ok
he replies
he didn't

know the girl
who gave him
a lift home

a least not
in the sense
Netanya

had implied
so in that
sense Benny
hadn't lied.
MAN AND WOMAN AND A LACK OF TRUST
Donall Dempsey Jan 2016
ZAK'S PRAYER


Little Zak
(just a little scrap of a chap)    
with a deep Barry White voice

enquires(as he enquires
about everything) :

“Why is your hair white? ”

He listens patiently to the explanation
how after a head injury

“I went white overnight! ”

Being a good Christian child
he tells me

he will pray for me
for the “black to be back! ”

I’m very tempted
to dye it for the next day

just to prove his prayer
right.

When his fervent prayer
doesn’t turn the situation around

...he frets:

I tell him
God & me

are both happy
with it…like this.

“Really? ”
He asks.

“Really! ”
I affirm.

“Have it your own way then
but man...

It makes you look
old & grim!"

I grin
tell him that I am what I am

but that I can live with it:
"Ok..!" he sighs "...have it your own way!"
antxthesis Aug 2014
Hi,

You must be wondering why i began with hi
It's because that was the first thing i said to you..
When i met you for the first time..
'Hi' with a silly 'boy I'm crazy over you smile'
It's funny how i kinda wanted this relationship to end,
Because i didn't feel ready
Or because i didn't think i could satisfy your aching soul,
Or even because i thought you were moving too fast,
Cause i was on a little bicycle
While you were in a Ferrari going at maxima velocidad- full speed.     

Now, I'm having sleepless nights And millions of fights with my twisted telephone cord mind
It's as if my mind is not capable of sleeping,
Since the day you left...
It's making a million enquires..
'Was i that bad?'
'Were my demands too much?'
I know i wasn't able to satisfy your needs,
Cause you wanted nudes
And all i wanted was love..
I guess our interpretations of love were different..

I miss you
I miss you

My heart cries your name each night
I think its voice is getting hoarse.
Cause i can hardly hear it anymore
My heart misses you
I ****** miss you..
I miss telling you what to do
I miss you falling asleep each night
And i miss cursing you for it the following day..

I miss telling you my poems
And I miss you telling me how much you adore them
I miss you being mean to me
I miss your silly jokes
I miss you talking about our make belief future
And how you wanted 16 boys..

I miss your stubbornness
And i miss you telling me 'k' when you didn't like what i said, like fifty times each day..

And i don't know why you left,
I don't know
You just said 'goodbye ms swan',
Like i was nothing
And you just just left me hanging there like the sigh in my breath
After you repeatedly do something that i told you not to do again..
I guess I'm just good at letting nice things go

I wanted you to fix me
But i guess no human can keep me  together cause I've been broken since i was born..

And to my surprise
I've never cried since the day you
left
Not over you and not over anyone
Cause i think my eyes are tired and they knew what was coming..
Instead of teared filled pillows and swollen eyes,
I experience a swollen heart mind body and soul
And millions of headaches..
I experience sleepless nights, ****** tissues and swollen wrists
I experience depressing songs and teary eyes
Cause yes, the tears do come, but they just fill my eyes
And then they disappear
Just dries up..
I wish my feelings for you were like that
I wish they'd just vanish.
I'm not always like this you know
No
Some days I'm like 'yes I'm over him' but then some days I'm like 'i miss him so much'

And to be honest,
I'm not usually like this
I'm not usually heartbroken, no
In the past, I'd make you sit and wait at the door to my heart
I'd make you wait,
And you'd bang and bang and I'd never let you in
But this time was different
You stole the key
You took it
I guess i should say you earned it ?
Or
You deserved it ? ..

But it really chopped me like
a sword when you gracefully danced out of my life
And since then I've written what 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,
10 poems ?

I guess having someone is really a win win situation for a writer,
When they're here and when you're all in love and happy you have inspiration
And when they're gone..
You still have inspiration..

Why does it hurt so much to let you go ?
I know one day i will and that day I will be the happiest person alive.
Donall Dempsey Sep 2015
My reflection
looks back at me

from the winter
darkened window

every now &
then - borrowing a bus

or a passing truck
to use for a brain

& then: the emptiness
of night flooding

in again or
a clutch of pedestrians

huddle against
the driving rain

drifting through my face
like long lost ghosts.

Rain
turning to sleet.

"So..?" my reflections
enquires of me

"...what are we
going to do then?"

A BMW
its accusing eyes

I watch the traffic
of its thoughts

having to admit
that it hurt more

than a
bit

that, I "...just
don't know..?"

Some crazy zombie leaves
throw themselves at the window

as if trying to
devour my face.

I hope the glass
will hold.

My reflection saying
nothing, but:

I could see it
thought I was

a disgrace
as to the who

the hell
I thought

I was

a police siren
screaming through the smile

I had nailed on

I could feel
I was not

going to
like me

for a long, long
time.
Reflection is the change in direction of a wavefront at an interface between two different media so that the wavefront returns into the medium from which it originated.
Raj Arumugam Sep 2014
Mr and Mrs Proper Smith
are at the gallery
and the next work in line
that confronts them
is a **** woman with green leaves
to conceal her privates

Mrs Smith moves away
with quiet and dignity
but Mr Smith lingers, eyes on the leaves
Mrs Smith clears her throat
and enquires politely:
What are you waiting for, dear?

And comes swiftly
the reply, equally polite:
*Autumn
Donall Dempsey Apr 2016
NOW, WE IS: 60!

A Year 8 child
enquires how old I be?

"I be
just...60!"

He gasps.

"My God...you're very active
for 60!"

60 for him is
a distant planet

in a galaxy far far
from here.

Yea...another
dimension.

I smile my 60 year old smile
perfected by now.

I am starlight
that will only reach him

when he is
60 himself

if he ever
remembers what he has

long ago
forgotten.
Dark n Beautiful Jun 2019
Every house has a story:
Every piece of land has a past and also a story to tell
When l was a little girl:
I would dig deep into the earth looking
For proof to these stories: a perfumed bottle, a piece of rag,
You name it: I know there was a story.

I remember our first home,
After, moving out of my grandparents’ home
An old run down board house, with the open ceiling
Two bedrooms, no build in bathroom,
Somehow, my parents made it our home
For my siblings and I:

Something about the Iron bedhead caught my attention
The color of black, a little rusty, on the rims
But, l likes that old head board.
My parent got rid of the old head board
Just to keep up with modern times
I wish I could have kept that thing
I know where it is buried: in the gully
Those childhood memories of me
Digging into the earth for artifacts

Every piece of land is unique;
As well as every person is different..
Even the poet within me, seeks,
Not for treasures, but for answers,
I recently made some enquires about
Old man town man piece of land
Everybody wants it, but nobody can get it

Lots of stories can be told about this land
But not enough about the man character
They is lot of things I wish I done different

As a young adult, but I guess,
it wasn’t meant to be:
Today I am calm, yesteryears I was
That, poem that never was publishes.
M Solav May 2020
In a tectonic motion
Mountains have formed
Ridges deepened
In the blink of an eye
In the breadth of a gasp

I recognize myself
Asking why they assume
That we find who we are
Within the singular grasp
Of a mere single soul

For I feed a thousand of them
And they feed themselves alone

Your so-called meditation
Must be taken elsewhere
You must see that it was
Never yours to begin

Watch the rearview mirror
As it enquires the wisdom
I am but a multiple
Left merrily unresolved
Written in May 2020.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
__________
ZAK'S PRAYER

Little Zak
(just a little scrap of a chap)    
with a deep Barry White voice

enquires(as he enquires
about everything) :

“Why is your hair white? ”

He listens patiently to the explanation
how after a head injury

“I went white overnight! ”

Being a good Christian child
he tells me

he will pray for me
for the “black to be back! ”

I’m very tempted
to dye it for the next day

just to prove his prayer
right.

When his fervent prayer
doesn’t turn the situation around

...he frets:

I tell him
God & me

are both happy
with it…like this.

“Really? ”
He asks.

“Really! ”
I affirm.

“Have it your own way then
but man...

It makes you look
old & grim!"

I grin
tell him that I am what I am

but that I can live with it:
"Ok..!" he sighs "...have it your own way!"
Yenson Mar 2019
Viva our Anarchist, viva our Revolutionaries
those magnificent dudes in their underwhelming cabral
with shining mad grins showing unwashed brown teeth
they devised another supernova anarchical dastard deed

Here comrade

we anchor his neighbour to his parked car outside
remember the neighbour is same national as the Mata Hari girl
we make the neighbour engage him about the car
just casual enquires and info about the car and knowing a possible
buyer for the car
off course there's no buyer
all this is just the anchoring bit

Then

We steal the car,yes we steal the ****** car
No one's gonna talk, we have them all in our pockets
we already told them he's loaded and a parasite
a leech bleeding us the working classes
everybody hates him, there are all on our side

Bingo.......!

He's gonna go spare, that will do his ****** head in
he's gonna think neighbour has something to do with the theft
he gonna hate that neighbour, he may even go confront him
but not only that, he's also gonna hate the Mata hari girl
because neighbour and Mata hari come from the same country
so that's his love life ruined and no friend for our man
Isolation quickens mental breakdown plus all the grief and stress


Ahh....is that devious or what ........
we're not anarchist for nothing
we create emotional hurt and pain for the man
we give him grief and stress, we frustrate the ******
we foil his plan to go meet the Mata hari gal
it's all suffering and depression all the way......

( But we know he's not meeting the Mata Hari girl,
we know there's nothing going on in that end )

( Yes, we know that, silly, but the punters we are using
as gang stalking perpetrators, don't know that)

(Keep up with things, we manipulate them and all the other
foot soldiers with lies, delusions, distortions and make them all think, they are controlling the man, do you want further training
we are rogues and con-artists, that's what we do, silly!)

Our intrepid leftist Anarchist have foiled a non-event again
The used and manipulated crowds are all smiling in satisfaction
A car has been stolen with community approval, another Tax they say.
The man has not hated or blamed his neighbour he is not an emotionally immature or unintelligent  fool
the man has not anchored any of this to Mata Hari, who is also
just a pawn as are all the other contributors to this saga

This is how the Anarchist Leftist divide people and infect communities with Hate, division, unrest and ill wills all round

This is the politics of Hate and Division
This is how things roll in Modern britain today......!
Little Bear Oct 2020
"Heart for sale"

One heart for sale, one careful lady owner.
Reasonable condition all things considered.
A little worn, a little weary but still a few miles on the clock.
Beats well when loved.

Has been broken but due to much care and attention is now available to a new home.
Looking for payment in kindness, happiness, love, smiles, companionship and respect.
Occasional chocolates treats would be desired but are not entirely necessary.
Will beat as long as you love and cherish it.
Will always beat for you and only you.
Will make your life endlessly happy given the chance.

Comes with free packaging.
Although outer wrapping maybe mistaken for packing noodles and bubble wrap, it is essential to hearts well being..
and as such must be bought together as one item.

All enquires to the number below.
Kingsley Jun 2017
THE MAKE UP ARTIST

She staggers battered and bruised, neglected but subjected
A one time beauty, an enigma full of grace
But now a simpleton,a travesty admired by dogs and spied upon by scavengers
As she trudge on in line with debris leaving her shanties

Alas beckoned upon by a stranger, so charming but too good to be true
She enquires, are you another "sweetsayer" with vision 2030?
In defiance admist a covered nose saved from rotten breadth
He says I am a Make-up artist. A maker of beauties and  a moulder of youths

Lets go to my parlour of dreams
Let me wash the mud off your feet
Treat you like a queen so nice and sweet
Restore your youthfulness and bring the world under your feet
Put food on your table while i watch u sleep

She feign a sigh and wonder
Have met this stranger four years ago
With charming smile and lips glossed with blood of dreams  aborted at foetus
He asks if I'll need a manicure or pedicure
But will it cure the madness of of poverty and battered ego?

Follow me to my parlour of dreams he says
And let me watch away dirt off your feet
It's a poem that sets to castigate Leaders who make promises to the electorate but not fulfilling them
Ryan O'Leary Dec 2018
It is just past 07:30
and dark of course,
we are in Ireland.

Looking out the window
at our famous mist which
doesn't exist,

My lady enquires
of the weather:
" Rain Dear " ?

Bit late for that I replied,
Santa Claus will be long
gone by now!
07:31 25th December
Mallow Co Cork Ireland.
Donall Dempsey Jul 2019
NOW, WE IS: 60!

A Year 8 child
enquires how old I be?

"I be
just...60!"

He gasps.

"My God...you're very active
for 60!"

60 for him is
a distant planet

in a galaxy far far
from here.

Yea...another
dimension.

I smile my 60 year old smile
perfected by now.

I am starlight
that will only reach him

when he is
60 himself

if he ever
remembers what he has

long ago
forgotten
Donall Dempsey Apr 2017
ONE DAY...AT A TIME

The night
enters into the house.

It has the soft voice
of summer.

The moon, obedient
waits outside

tells a bird to be quiet.

The night enquires
about my health

asks me how
the cancer is
treating me.

I grin.

“We’re strange bedfellows
but...we get on! ”

“We have our
...moments.”

The night smiles
softly to herself

chats easily
as I fall asleep

listening to her soft voice
of summer.

When I awake
she has gone

and morning
grins

talks loudly
in that sunlight & birds
voice of his.

“Well, well
look who’s still here! ”

I grin
again.

“Hello...yourself! ”
Donall Dempsey Jan 2019
ZAK'S PRAYER

Little Zak
(just a little scrap of a chap)    
with a deep Barry White voice

enquires(as he enquires
about everything) :

“Why is your hair white? ”

He listens patiently to the explanation
how after a head injury

“I went white overnight! ”

Being a good Christian child
he tells me

he will pray for me
for the “black to be back! ”

I’m very tempted
to dye it for the next day

just to prove his prayer
right.

When his fervent prayer
doesn’t turn the situation around

...he frets:

I tell him
God & me

are both happy
with it…like this.

“Really? ”
He asks.

“Really! ”
I affirm.

“Have it your own way then
but man...

It makes you look
old & grim!"

I grin
tell him that I am what I am

but that I can live with it:
"Ok..!" he sighs "...have it your own way!"
It spouts with my fervid blood,
The pain of losing to touch.
I betrayed myself and God
And now, my heart is losing time.

Death enquires my heart;
Choice made bestows judgement
I betrayed the one, intimate;
And now, I forfeit my atonement.

This baneful lie I shant convey.
The truth I shant unveil.
I betrayed Love in dismay,
And now, I pray, Grace to repay.
Donall Dempsey Jul 2018
NOW, WE IS: 60!

A Year 8 child
enquires how old I be?

"I be
just...60!"

He gasps.

"My God...you're very active
for 60!"

60 for him is
a distant planet

in a galaxy far far
from here.

Yea...another
dimension.

I smile my 60 year old smile
perfected by now.

I am starlight
that will only reach him

when he is himself
60

if he ever
remembers what he has

long ago
forgotten.
Donall Dempsey Jan 2020
ZAK'S PRAYER

Little Zak
(just a little scrap of a chap)    
with a deep Barry White voice

enquires(as he enquires
about everything) :

“Why is your hair white? ”

He listens patiently to the explanation
how after a head injury

“I went white overnight! ”

Being a good Christian child
he tells me

he will pray for me
for the “black to be back! ”

I’m very tempted
to dye it for the next day

just to prove his prayer
right.

When his fervent prayer
doesn’t turn the situation around

...he frets:

I tell him
God & me

are both happy
with it…like this.

“Really? ”
He asks.

“Really! ”
I affirm.

“Have it your own way then
but man...

it makes you look
old & grim!"

I grin
tell him that I am what I am

but that I can live with it:
"Ok..!" he sighs "...have it your own way!"
He was a lovely sincere child who pitied my whiteness of beard and hair. I basked in his pity...it was so loving and tender. And just where did this tiny skinny little child get that Barry White/ Shaft voice! One of my nicest moments in teaching.
Donall Dempsey Oct 2023
"IT’S MY FRIEND!”

It’s Tilly’s first
football match.

She watches the ball
move amongst men

as if it had a life
of its own

and laughs at
the players chasing it.

At half time numb
fingers clasp a Bovril.

I ask her: “Well. . .
what do you make of it all?”

I see myself reflected
in her 3-year-old eyes.

She smiles and says”
“I like the way the grass is!”

“Oh. . !” I say
in my adult way.

She now
down on her belly

eyeballing the grass
at its own level.

Each blade
a green individual self.

“Daddy, how.  .  ?”
she enquires of me.

“. . .many blades of grass. . .”
“Eh, yeah. . ?” I encourage her.

“. . .are there
in a football pitch?”

I hazard a guess
“Oh, two million and. . .2!”

She likes
the exactness of the fact.

Happy with her
Daddy’s answer.

Trusts he’s right
down to the very last two.

“I like grass!”
she announces.

“It’s my friend!”
she smiles.
Jeremy Ducane Apr 2021
Let me change my life. Slide down underneath the table
Of the right and proper. Rejoin the child
Happy fitting things together. Unfamiliar. But joyful with fat fingers.  
Hidden by the cloth
While the grown ups crown their cups with words
I do not understand.  

At any moment shoes may shift.  An edge goes up.   A monster of a face enquires.

I stare back. Smile to make them go away.  They do not know

Someone else's toes do though.

I will talk to you.
Donall Dempsey Apr 2019
ONE DAY...AT A TIME

The night
enters into the house.

It has the soft voice
of summer.

The moon, obedient
waits outside

tells a bird to be quiet.

The night enquires
about my health

asks me how
the cancer is
treating me.

I grin.

“We’re strange bedfellows
but...we get on! ”

“We have our
...moments.”

The night smiles
softly to herself

chats easily
as I fall asleep

listening to her soft voice
of summer.

When I awake
she has gone

and morning
grins

talks loudly
in that sunlight & birds
voice of his.

“Well, well
look who’s still here! ”

I grin
again.

“Hello...yourself! ”
Donall Dempsey Sep 2023
INTERFACE

My reflection
looks back at me

from the winter
darkened window

every now &
then - borrowing a bus

or a passing truck
to use for a brain

& then: the emptiness
of night flooding

in again or
a clutch of pedestrians

huddle against
the driving rain

drifting through my face
like long lost ghosts.

Rain
turning to sleet.

"So..?" my reflections
enquires of me

"...what are we
going to do then?"

A BMW
its accusing eyes

I watch the traffic
of its thoughts

having to admit
that it hurt more

than a
bit

that, I "...just
don't know..?"

Some crazy zombie leaves
throw themselves at the window

as if trying to
devour my face.

I hope the glass
will hold.

My reflection saying
nothing, but:

I could see it
thought I was

a disgrace
as to the who

the hell
I thought

I was

a police siren
screaming through the smile

I had nailed on

I could feel
I was not

going to
like me

for a long, long
time.

— The End —