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 Aug 2014
jeffrey robin
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In praise of DIVINUS

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I walk with measured steps
Thru the childhood days

Past the **** heads dying in the park
Thru to the cutters and the depressed kids

Who write of lovelessness
Here on hello poetry

///

On the brink of World War III
Wounded to the very heart

Telling of the pain of Loneliness
(   Such deep and penetrating loneliness. )

••

The tenemented poverty
The isolation


The continuous onslaught
The reverberations

The utter lack of hope
The utter abandonment of faith

/:/

The frighten refusal to see
The universality of the dissolution

The pandering to collectivity
The "me-too" egoism

That says
Sadness is enough
misery is qualification enough

The lack of rebelliousness
The turning of suffering into normalcy

The steady worship of authority
The denial that there will be a reckoning tomorrow

••

All the hippies are gone
Replaced by violent lovers and *** addled addicts

The plight of lemmings
Going over the cliff
Into the sea

///

Dear people
There is

Something
Much better

Much finer
Neater

More holy
And satisfying

Than to simply
await death

While telling each other
Nothing of significance
 Aug 2014
Poetic T
The swing, moves unaided
Back and forth,
Forth and back,
Where children played,
Fun was there only worry of the day,
But the rain fell, and play no more,
The spinning wheel a tangled mess,
Twisted,
Distorted,
Jagged,
Metal blooded dry in the sun,
A place of fun,
Now of silence, only the rain falls
Then there is fear in others eyes
Craters left where each one ruptured,
Where each one fell
It destroyed the fun as
Twisted metal,
Earth runs red,
Laughter now screams,
The fun is at an end,
Hiding from the noises
Seeing things not meant to be seen,
The swing, moves unaided
Back and forth,
Forth and back,
The rain fell near by,
Pushing the swing,
That the children no longer use any more.
 Jul 2014
lX0st
When people see
Romeo and Juliet
Die together
They think
"How poetic".
Want to know
What's really poetic?
The sound of the chords
That resonate through the piano
When I take a hammer
To its keys.
Or the way my heart
Reshapes itself
To wrap around your soliloquies
About how you don't need me.
You see,
When two people
Fall desperately in love,
It isn't poetic-
It's the things we do
For those who don't
Reciprocate that love
And the ignorance we hold
Against their disinterest.
We **** ourselves every day
For those who live just fine
Without us.
And that's stupid.
That's life.
That's poetry.
 Jul 2014
Poetry by MAN
I want to write something great
Manual to eliminate hate
Words that permeate
So we all can create
I want to live in the love
Emotions of doubt rise above
Be at peace no longer feel the rub
My life is not wrong
Or words in a song
In us all lies a new dawn...
Rise like a Phoenix feel your soul burn
Ashes our memories it's how we learn
Know who you are...In you a star
We can go far..Don't need a car
Greatness in all..we rise..then fall
Some of us stall don't hear the call
We all have the tools even the fools
Can't lock up minds for breaking your rules
Politics and laws corruption the flaw
Governments and borders separate us all
Lines in the mind real is a crime
Common sense is even harder to find
Too political..This poets satirical
In us all lies multiple miracles
Here is a taste of the talent we waste
Judge not the generation of cut and paste
Silly my rhymes fracture defined
Free is the style that flows from the mind..
M.A.N 7-29-14 Had the day off today wrote a quick freestyle the more I read it I want to edit sounds better spoken out loud slam style..♏
 Jul 2014
Jeremy Bean
I would rather
drown alone
fighting the dangers
of the deep end

Than seek acceptance
among the numerous
safely wading
on the side of the shallow
 Jul 2014
Tark Wain
A plant grew in a forest
beginning as a sapling in a crowded opening
two inches tall
with no idea of what it was becoming
it rose slowly
but consistently
as others rose above it for light
it reaped the benefits of leftovers
this plant grew
not to be the tallest
not to be the prettiest
but it grew
It took in carbon dioxide
and released oxygen
it did its job
it was a good plant


eventually like most things this plant died
after being trampled by a young boy
this boy visited this forest everyday
its nature was his greatest toy
he knew the surroundings by heart
from the tallest tree to the smallest shrew
he saw all in his dreams
he knew all the plants save for a few
one of those few was our plant
although it stood tall, it was not tall enough
although it was pretty, it was not pretty enough
it died unremarkable
it was a good plant
it did its job
but it died without a trace
because it never risked to take another's place


and so the boy grew older
he left the forest for an office
in the hopes that one day
he’d be rich enough to return
so he climbed the ladder
and said all the right things
he was a good man
he did his job
until he met a girl
a girl so powerful
so unmistakably perfect
he had to rise above the others
he left his job because he hated it
he stood tall to reach the sun
he took risks not because he had to
but because he wanted to


this man died poor
he did not succeed
there was no beverly hills
no millionaire mansion down the street
this man never climbed that corporate ladder
never got lost in the rat race
never missed the birth of his son
never broke a promise to that boy
he took a risk he shouldn’t have
an unnecessary leap of faith
he looked back on his past
the trouble he left in his wake
he remembered that plant
the one he didn’t see
the reason he is who he is
the man who became a tree


take risks because you should
because one day you will die
buried under dirt
while your life has passed you by
life is too short
too precious
to be a good man
to just do your job
Many have come before us
many to come after we leave
don’t wake us from the hush
traveler here silently grieve.

Time washed we came on the shore
to our place ‘neath the moss laden stone
when our dreams soared no more
down here we lay cold alone.

Hold here traveler your breath
forget for once all the strife
hear the peace of the world beneath
death in the midst of life.
we are in death.
 Jul 2014
Maya Angelou
A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.
 Jul 2014
bones
If today
the anxiety
boiling
my head
boils it
inside out
and today
is the day
looks
really can
****, then
today I
shall have
to be
careful
to avoid
at all times
still water
polished metal
plate glass and
people in
sunglasses,
because today
(or any day)
I don't
want to
be a victim
of reflective
suicide..
The screaming
children of Gaza
torment the sleep
of a troubled world,
and remain a real-time
unending nightmare;
anointing The Levant’s
fevered brow
with a diadem of
incessant grief.

Gaza is a burning
ankh that sears the
madness of sorrow
upon Egypt’s skull.

Gaza,
an unblinking
third eye
of shame,
peers into
Lower Egypt’s
closed window
ever reproaching
it’s turbulent
conscience;
chiding fellow
Muslims with
the ugly memory
of abject affliction,
the endless images
of a living Guernica
suspended in the hell
of indefinite imprisonment
all Palestinians are forced
to suffer.

As Zionists ***** the
steep walls of Apartheid to
extend its occupation
of Palestine, it
condemns the youth
of Gaza to a life of
incarceration with no
possibility of parole;
hardening the hearts
and steeling the resolve
of a new generation of
militants to demolish the
walls and the wardens
that imprison them.

The Zionist jailers
bestow upon
Ishmael’s Children
phylacteries of shame,
wearing the rolled
prayers of wailing pain
scribed with bits of
dust from the
the broken walls of
demolished buildings
and desolate homes
beyond habitation,
now housing grief
of trampled souls,
forcing recitations
of deliverance
to Allah while
davening an
incessant drone
of anguish at
the Wailing Wall
of Resentment;
decrying the
blood lust of
undying acrimony,
victimization and
the slaughter of
innocents, carried on
with the imperial license
of state sanctioned impunity.


Father Ibrahim's
feuding children may
share a sacred paternity
but remain the
divided brothers
of different mothers;
stoking a sibling rivalry
more bitter then
Cain and Abel.

Our anguish
never dissipates,
the gnawing
impulse of empathy
to assist the distressed
of Gaza is dashed
by omnipotent
powers recusing
the ability to act.

Sympathy is
embargoed
in the black
obfuscation
of religious
partisanship
while timely
assistance
to aid the
distressed
lie netted in
blockades of
realpolitik
affinities.

Gaza, where
Hashim is granted
his eternal rest,
restlessly inhabits
his unknown grave
from the destitution of
his profaned homeland.

Ghazzat,  “the stronghold”
countlessly conquered,
falling to Roman Emperors,
Lionhearted Crusaders
Ottoman Caliphates,
and British Mandates;
slipping from Egypt’s
geopolitical grasp as
as a casualty of
The Six Day War.

Gaza is now a stronghold of
resent and desperation for a
desperate conquered people.

Ghazzat, the prized city of
the western Mediterranean,
a four star Phoenician port of
caravansaries now unable
to trade with any partners
due to ungodly blockades.

Gaza, has grown wholly
dependent on the largess
of UN aid and meager
subsistence portions
doled out by well
meaning NGO’s.

Gaza, the foot stool of
the Levant and surely
the pathway Father
Ibrahim, Jacob,
Joseph and Jeremiah
traveled to escape
Canaan's famine;
finding at the close
of their sojourn
a table set with the
plenteous bounty
the Blue Nile
unconditionally offered;
the veritable feast
of abundance,
the generous yields
of the blessed delta
that sustained the
Prophets of Judah
and a thousand
generations of the
Nile’s Children.

Gaza, the Achilles
heal of Middle East
peace, land of the
Canaanites, Philistines
and Old Testament
heroes.

Gaza, a fortress for
Philistines who
imprisoned the storied
Sampson, revered for
breaking the chains of
imprisonment and righteously
destroying a pagan temple
in a suicidal act of heroism.

Gaza, where the myths and
legends of rapacious
holy crusaders captured
the western imagination
with the chivalrous gallantry
of religious warfare and
valiant last stands of
Templar Knights employing
the tactical imperatives
of terrorism in service to their
higher God.

Gaza, an oasis
by the sea now
lies dry and brittle
as the precious Hebron
waters of Wadi Ghazza
are diverted to serve
the agriculture of
Judah; condemning
a dehydrated Gaza
panting of thirst
to an imposed drought
and a war of
self preservation
to remove
the dammed rivers
of justice controlled
by intractable powers
laying upstream beyond
Gaza’s mean borders.

The Qassams
lunched by Hamas
are desperate
expressions of
exasperated people,
eager to call
world attention
to the growing
insufferable plight
of a people living
in a perpetual
state of siege.

Its a modern day
David slinging rocks
against an armor
clad Goliath.

Each Katusha
serves as
a justification
for Zionist
intransigence
and condemns
any possibility
for peaceful
coexistence
of a Two State
Solution.

The pointless attacks
invite massive
disproportionate
retaliation and succeed
in prolonging and
increasing the
measure of Gaza’s
agony.

The mystic grace,
the divine power
of satyagraha
-a non-violent
response to the
cruel enforcement of
Apartheid- is Allah’s
way to secure the
moral high-ground
and the surest way
for Palestinians to
expose it’s unholy
adversaries innate
contempt for civil rights
and a refusal to
recognized the
shared humanity of
all of Father Ibrahim’s
wayward progeny and
recalcitrant prodigal sons.

Mubarak’s fall
has allowed the
Rafah Gate
to swing open again.

The concertina
wire that separates
Gaza and Egypt
has been removed.

The prisoners
of Gaza have
an open portal
of freedom.

It is a Day of
Jubilee, a day
of pardon for
for the inmates
of prisons built
for victims.  

It is a day of
possibility for peace.  

It is a day to declare an
Exodus from the land
of bitterness.

Humanity is
offered the hope
of escape from
the prisons of
acrimony, to
freely move across
the staid borders
of intractability
and exclusion.

The hearts and
minds of Palestinians
and Egyptians
are free to connect
and unite once again.

Liberation is
possible only
when we uphold
and honor the
affirmation
of all humanity.

Music Video:

Silk Road
We Will Not Go Down

Oakland
2/9/12
jbm
a poem from the epilogue section of Tahrir Square Voices
 Jul 2014
Pearls of White
A word is just a word
if it's just one word

A word is just a word
be it seen or heard

A phrase, just a phase
a few minutes, hours, days

A phrase, when misplaced
leaves a man disgraced

A verse won't make a song
with no melody playing along

A will, however strong
cannot prevent all wrong

A way, when it is found
makes strength of will abound

A rhyme without reason
is like giving order to chaos

A sea is nothing more than
an infinite number of drops

A life is so much more than
a speck in an infinite cosmos

But a word may just be a word
silly, pointless and absurd
 Jul 2014
Pea
I am so young
Yet so strong
Strongly salty
Like the seawater
Strongly lazy
Like the wind

I am dull
As a knife I don't have worth
Even pen can stab but I cannot
I am the seawater; I am the wind
I don't need to explain my worth to you

Every morning I wake up with poetry
On the tip of my tongue
On every clip of my nail
My fallen hair
The dead cells on my bed
My greasy face

I open my eyes with poetry
This heart beats in poetry
These erythrocytes carry poetry
I breathe poetry
I live in poetry
I do not need words
Not all poetries are words
And that's enough
 Jun 2014
SG Holter
I've measured her right
Little toe. It's exactly 16mm.
When she grinds her teeth in her
Sleep, just rub her jaw gently.
She'll stop without
Waking up.

If you read to her in bed, she'll
Watch you wide eyed from
Your shoulder; study your features
As you speak.
She'll stop you if you lose her
Between two words she doesn't
Quite understand.
She'll thank you for explaining.
She's worth it.

She's allergic to sugar, dairy, gluten
And eggs. I'll mail you a hundred
Recipes I've created for her.
Tell you all the tricks
So I know she'll eat.
You get used to the hassle.
She's worth it.

She's crazy about cartoons.
Let her watch them; seeing her
Laugh beats the game
Hundredfolds.
She'll love you for letting her
Read for hours and tell you about
The story.
She'll be so beautiful
When concentrating.
Give her space. Yours included.
She's worth it.

Let her grow.
Let her learn in her own time.
Let her be who she is.

She was weaker before me.
Now she's strong enough
To stand up and do the right thing,  
Though both our hearts broke
In the process.

If she goes, let her.
Help her out, send her off
With blessings.
Say to yourself I'd rather see her
Happy without me than
Unhappy here.
You'll
Mean it.

You'll cry your eyes out
And scream at the skies. Then
Thank God for every minute
You spent as her man.
They were worth it.
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