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Poems

MARK RIORDAN Feb 2017
THE TRUMP CHRONICLES WILL BE
A VERY BEST SELLER FOR SURE
50 POEMS ON THE RISE OF TRUMP
CONTROVERSY INTRIGUE AND MORE


THE AMERICAN PRESS WILL BE OVERWHELMED
ON AN AUSSIES POETS VIEW
THE AMERICAN PEOPLE MAY NOT AGREE
THE BOOK WILL NEED A REVIEW


BUT ONE THING IS FOR SURE
THE TRUMP PRESIDENCY WILL CHANGE THE WORLD
AND PUT US ON A DIFFERENT TRACK

SO LETS HOPE AMERICA WILL STAY FOCUSED
AND PREVENT A WORLD ATTACK
THE TRUMP CHRONICLES IS NOT MEANT TO OFFEND JUST A COLLECTION OF POEMS FROM A AUSTRALIAN POET LOOKING IN ON AMERICAN POLITICS.
Andrew Parker Dec 2013
Follicle Poem
December 6, 2013

A mental relapse occurs.
I see hands plowing through my head of hair
They continue to grasp at the roots,
as if attempting to expose a truth hidden underneath.
But what secrets could bequeath a hair follicle?
Well, one might tell a tale.

Scared of the dark, a 6 year old Wynn laid awake in bed.
He prolonged the inevitable destitution of a dream state.
No longer wanting to accept a reoccurring nightmare,
he took to a dreary exercise of staying awake in the dark.
One hair follicle today may tell of how,
on that night it did not rise in a panicked state.
Wynn had finally conquered his fear of the dark.

"Something felt different today," said Follicle #567.
A new shampoo.
But more than that, strange scissors.
"Who is this new person cutting Wynn's hair now?"
remarked one hair follicle,
"I wonder what happened to the usual lady?"
She had passed away.

An emerging chest hair observed the extended family has grown recently.
"Darker relatives who look different and live in other regions of the world.
Who are they and why do they get treated differently?
Nobody has heard of the ***** region in the southern hemisphere,
or armpit land where our hair family members supposedly smell weird."
The perspective of a follicle in puberty.

"The loud sound of electricity and gears grinding scares me.
There is a storm which ravishes our lands.
First, a foamy cloud surrounds us.
Next, comes a sharp stinging sensation,
not a pleasant feeling to be set free from your roots.
A tidal wave crashes, washing away my follicle friends and family forever.
Then, the lightning strikes - dooming us all."
A ****** follicle's worst fear.

"We are a persevering bunch.
We cling to our conventions and grow, grow, grow.
But recently Wynn has done something new.
We thought he was feeding us honey,
so treacherous.
Sticky goop and stiff paper will be the end of us all.
Nobody wants to admit follicles are second-class citizens to smooth skin."
Waxing prematurely takes the lives of several million follicles annually.

"A rebel group of follicles known as the 'In-Growns' are up to no good.
They scheme with the pimples, plotting when and where to strike next.
I worry about Wynn - wish he could know we aren't all so ill-intentioned."
Follicle culture is derived from parenting, not just biology or anatomical location.

"The last of my kind, I have been contaminated with chemicals.
My color changed to blue.
I've heard the ancient legends about follicles once turned blonde.
We need to appease the summer sun god.
The others have all shriveled up or been brutally betrayed by the locals.
In hiding, we worry the scissor insurgents will discover our locations.
All I wanted was the freedom to express myself,
to be seen for who I really am - not just some color."
Follicles experience discrimination for numerous reasons.

"Drugs.
I can feeeel them in my DNA.
Something about me has changed and I like it.
Living life on the wild side these days.
I don't shower and don't care if I am greasy.
Every other follicle’s fears are irrational.
I'm gonna spread the word and grow out a bit.
Because that's what they expect of me, isn't it?
I mean, what good could come out of a drugged up follicle,
other than more waste of scalp space?"
Follicles who use drugs recreationally receive negative labels and harsh stigma.

"The wavy goodness from a gel rub,
is the highlight of the week.
We are fine, fresh, and fierce, ready to set the standard for follicle fashion.
If you are one of those lower class follicles,
who can't afford gel.
No worries - some might trickle down...
Just kidding!
Spray supports our monopoly on hair care products."
Fashionable follicles are extra sassy and have socio-economic privilege.

The relapse ends.
My head suddenly feels heavy,
swarmed with the hair follicle chronicles.
And the hands running through my head of hair become inspired.
They begin to tell their tales of times passed in Wynn's life.

Perspective means everything.
John Graham Jan 2015
THE CAMINO CHRONICLES
( Sidhe – Spirit, Ard Ri - High King, Tir na nOg – Land of eternal youth )
JUST A MOMENT AGO
Just a moment ago, it was just a moment ago
Father in Time embracing Mothers Melody to rhyme
Birthing Sidhe candles smile, lights of love, souls glory
Stars dancing with joys release, Sidhe awakening to loves destiny
Just a moment ago, it was just a moment ago
I stood upon Erins western shore amidst constellations considerations
And dreamed I had sailed again across the eternal sea
To Tir na nOg there returned to be
Oisin the Wanderer no more, ever seeking my beloved Naimh’s shore
Queen of the Sidhe, her consort again, Ard Ri of Eternity
Ah my heart demands my Sidhe sings of Naimh’s wondrous beauty. .
Her Eyes Like Twin Candles Dancing
Lips Full Of Mysterys Promise
Her Hair Bound, Crowned With Lustered Glory
A Smile To Die For . .
She Moves . . Sidhe Moves . . Like Poetry . .
Aie, Her Voice, Her Voice, Like Honey and Cream
Just a moment ago, it was just a moment ago
When love was a rose without thorns
Before tides of centuries tears
Swept us apart
Just a moment ago, it was just a moment ago
The glorious moment of our days glory
Our age of grace
Father in Time embracing Mothers Melodys Grace. .



INTO THE DARK
What does a candle remember . . .?
What does its flame recall . . .?

Aiee Aiee . . . Akhenaten Flee We  . . . Nefertiti Aieee Aieeeee
Flee . .Flee . . . Undone We . . . Betrayal. .Flee Flee
Akhenaten Akhenaten . . . Must Flee We . . . Wee Wans Take
Nefertiti Holds  . . . Flee We Must . . . Fleet . . . Flee Fleet . . .

Harps heart has chambers that sigh with grief
Ashes of roses burned with weeds
Remains of our loves day
Harps heart by hearts harp no music moved to test
Hall of memories by no one chorus caress
No whispered echo no candles smile no Nefertiti
NOW MY CITADELS HALL I MUST NEEDS MY IRE
RETREAT TO WHERE NEEDS MUST ABJURE DESIRE
Once more to recite survivals bitter creed
By heartstone embers to gnaw betrayals cold deed
WILL TO BEAR SILENT DEEP EMPTY DAY
HARP HEART STILLED
by no Nefertiti played.