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“What a wonderful world”, so the song says
yet its ruled so unjustly by mankind’s selfish ways.
Men in boats across our wide oceans sail
for the profit of killing just another Whale
and corporations with such a money lust
turning mighty rain forests into deserts and dust.
Tigers, Rhino and Elephants roam a land filled with sun
but there numbers diminished by a man with a gun.
Gorilla’s on mountains that border Zaire
populations so low that they soon won’t be there.
People on horseback follow dogs on a trail,
the prize of this ride is a dead foxes tail.
With pollution we destroy the layer of ozone
forgetting that this world is our only home.

“What a wonderful world”, so the song goes
but for the poor and deprived full of misery and woes.
Company’s lie in wait for an oil strike to reveal
whilst many young lie in graves for the lack of a meal.
Poverty, greed, ****** and hate
another dictator lying in state.
Honoured for his military might
of keeping a nation locked up in fright.
And for the young soldier who killed twenty-four
he’s made a national hero with medals galore.
The righteous who try to speak out of this wrong
are killed or rotting in prison cells for so long
and the holy who care for the lepers and plagued
they receive little thanks for the lives they have saved.

“What a wonderful world” so the song said.
Yet into our own destruction we seem to be led.
The priority of “our leaders” is to **** and destroy
treating our world as their unbreakable toy.
Billions of pounds spent on weapons to ****
whilst so many people lie dying or ill.
Governments globally tell us all lies
as an innocent child in a civil war dies.
This climate change that we call Global warming
Is the earth giving mankind its final warning.
For this world knows that it would be a far better place
with the total extinction of the human race.
Without mankind all other life would thrive.
Without mankind this world will survive.
Another poem my wife wrote many years ago. Zaire was the former name of the Democratic Republic of Congo... I still prefer Zaire though.
This poem is copy written and has been published with her kind permission.
I was a blind man!
But now i can see.
No stick or hound
not blind literally.

I just never stood back.
Never really took note.
Just watched as humanity
cuts its own throat.

Was I not looking?
Were my eyes closed?
Is my own contentment
so superimposed?

This life I enjoy
for all that its worth
so no notice was taken
to what happens on earth.

Gorilla hand ashtrays
adorning my home,
might it be an idea
just to leave them alone.

If we just didn't buy them
and I’m really not joking.
We’d keep Gorilla’s alive.
Perhaps just give up smoking.

People paying good money
and thinking what fun.
Watching our wildlife
through the sight of a gun.

But if things turned around,
it was you in that sight.
Could you ever imagine
sleeping at night?

Drilling for oil.
War's off afar.
Is it all worth it
for fuel for a car.

Children are dying
its got to be said.
While some fat oil baron
sleeps contented in bed.

Perhaps he might dream
of the poor of this earth?
Use his millions to help
and thus prove his worth.

How many more oil spills
can this world take?
How many more species
can we continue to break?

Now in this age.
Death for lack of clean water!
While Governments rule
with a firm grip of slaughter.

You reap what you sow
is something they say.
Then should we not consider
a different way.

Enough is enough.
Something must give
or this Planet called home
will be no place to live.
15th Sept 2011 posted Aug 25th 2014 © Copyright Christopher K Bayliss 2014.
All I want for Christmas
is some food to eat.
Oh what a treat
to have some meat.

All I want for Christmas
is clean water to drink,
stuff that doesn't stink,
that would be cool I think.

All I want for Christmas
is the bombs to stop,
no more to drop.
That would be the top.

All I want for Christmas
is for our food to grow,
the plants we sow
now that would be a show.

All I want for Christmas
is to be free to learn.
Not to be a germ
because I want to learn.

All I want for Christmas
is some medication.
and some dedication
from the United Nation.

All I want for Christmas
is to grow up strong.
Am I so wrong
wanting to belong.

All I want for Christmas
is some equal rights
and somewhere to sleep
through the coldest nights.

All I want for Christmas
is to earn a crust.
With employers
that we can really trust.

All I want for Christmas
is a chance at life
for a man and wife
not to live in strife.

All I want for Christmas
is oh so far away
and on this day
this is what I pray.
12th Nov 2014
Poppy, oh poppy abundant and flowing
across all the fields you're still constantly growing.
As your seeds blow and find their own bed,
they're reminding us of the most glorious dead.

Glorious in the contribution they made.
Glorious for the price that they paid.
Glorious for fighting for what they believed.
Glorious for the terrors and hell they received.

Standing their ground in the eye of the storm.
Standing their ground whilst receiving the swarm.
Standing their ground in the mud and the vile
Standing their ground through the horrors and toil.

The death and the blood flowing like a river.
Like the fields of the poppies the breeze does now shiver.
The seeds carry on into a new time,
an horizon of red the future will entwine.

Poppy, oh poppy so winding and red,
reminding most deftly of our glorious dead.
You are constantly sowing your own little seed
as those who had fought did for those who were freed.

Although many thousands of lives they have gone
your legacy will  like that small seed go on.
Although now in history and most never met
you can take it for granted we shall never forget.
11/11/2014
In tribute to 100years since WW1 and every other encounter when our troops and allies have given the ultimate sacrifice for their home and countries..
I sit here in silence
trying to write
a task that will see me
far into the night.

Struggling with lyric,
wrestling with word
finding all my idea’s
absolutely absurd.

My mind a fiasco,
scrambled and locked.
Sentences stumbled.
My talent is blocked.

Though I sit concentrating,
my mind being a fighter
but there still is no tapping
on this old typewriter.

If just one idea
should reveal to me
an happier person
I know you would see.

If some lyrical phrase
would just come to my mind,
no longer amnesiac
and no longer blind.

I would wear out my fingers
typing what I desire.
Digits covered in plasters
whilst machine is on fire.

I would pick up a pencil
so I may carry on,
scribbling madly
till the lead is all gone.

But alas there is nothing
not even a grain
or anything else
floating round in my brain.

My nerves they are screeching,
my sinews in shock.
I pray never again
do I get writers block.
28th July 2013
 Nov 2014 unwritten
phocks
a warm dawning sun
rises slow on hazy horizons
with winds wildly
blowing
down endless
interconnected currents
we wake up
to birds singing
timeless songs of morning
and our forgotten past
leaves us hanging
like willows weeping
in the rain
from this year's nanowrimo novel
http://phocks.github.io/nanoisms.html
Weeping Willows was selected as the daily poem November 10, 2014
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