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winter sakuras Aug 2018
Sometimes I get this sensation
as I take my bare feet
and place them
into tight enclosed shoes
to walk a cold grey
concrete path
still rigid to the shards of
   broken dreams
and promises
scattered along the middle,
the sounds of other people's footsteps
drown out my insecurities
and the
insignificance of
a person who feels small
as I try to grasp at merging
into the person full of
light and meaning
who has a spark in her eye,
     destined to do and make great changes
instead of falling into her own world
of isolation and despair
glancing around myself, wondering whether or not
I actually belong
I don't see my name on the board
with my peers
standing in the crowd,
waiting for the crosslight
to let me walk
walk with them to the other side, but
somewhere along the way
do I get lost
or am I just destined to walk
the wrong path
just so I could be with my peers
who are, of course,
the future
who will change the world
who will introduce a revelation that will change
the biased courses of humanity

but as for me

the deafening screams and words of
other people's
lives, moments, recollections
and livelihoods
cover up my hushed pathetic cries
and calls for help
as I question all that is taking place
in every which way I look
somewhere out there
a mom and her growing daughter
become closer
as my own mom falls apart on me
unknowingly ripping apart my right to establish
an identity of my own
somewhere out there
a dad can tell his children
about his life experiences
of the virtues and humility within that led to
their blessed ways of life now
as my own dad
who deserves, at least
everything the world has to give
works harder and harder every day
and every second
to continue our "blessed" ways of life now

but despite all of that

I am told No-- just focus on yourself
make sure you don't miss the crosswalk
make sure you make us proud--
but they don't see
they are what matters
when it comes to
a kid hoping to grow into a better person

there are colors;

some old and chipped
and falling apart,
on the frames of people's
subconscious
while fresh new colors shimmer
in the evening
starlight atop blue waters
just waiting to be discovered, like a
blind person experiencing sight for the first time

but how can I see the night stars
and fall in love with
the moon's beauty
when I'm too busy staring
at the sun
trying to make my way
up to the very top
running, taking jagged steps,
bent over all broken and
crawling

just hoping to be remembered

as a great sign of the times.
08/28/18

I'd be grateful if people lended me some warm words of kindness. I don't get enough to sustain me these days.
John Tan  Jan 2021
The New Normal
John Tan Jan 2021
I feel the warmth of the sun on my skin,
Every time I leave home,
I feel the gentle breeze caressing my hair,
Each time I leave for work,
Yet, the distant morning don’t feel the same anymore,
For things are no longer the way they used to be.

Family & friends are no longer faces I see every day,
Neighbours are no longer people I meet & greet,
And colleagues have now become occasional struggles,
What’s more?
The outbreak has truly destroyed our livelihoods,
Leaving us with nothing but hope.

Hope for all of this to end,
Hope for a miracle in these unsolicited times,
While we push ourselves to the core,
To stay alive in this uproar.
Chris Thomas Jan 2023
"A patient man bides his time,"
Theodore tells the man in the mirror
Tomorrow, all the levees will break
And all the fables will be told
Of distant Decembers and forgotten fathers

Livelihoods will be threatened
And remorse will fall by the wayside
He watches as icicles on the awning
Melt away into puddles on the ground
"Warmer every day," he thinks to himself

He hangs up his scarf and overcoat
The way a simple man, with complex demons, is wont to do
And as his wants devolve into needs
And as all his anchors deteriorate to rust
Her smile unnerves a once-settled man

To think of the quality of glove necessary
To hold onto the wagon in this day and age
So Theodore pulls the door to,
Leaving Chopin's "Horseman" to gallop in peace
And in pieces

He watches her from across the courtyard
"Such sweet bliss in her footsteps," he sighs
And it seems to him as if the snow dissipates
Just from the warmth in her steady gait
Just from the radiation behind her brown eyes

He slides open the dresser drawer
A haven for scattered trinkets, odds, and ends
A place of respite for the weary souvenir
There, amidst all the corroded memories
Lies a corroded pistol, unspoken and unburnished

"And a lonely man drinks his wine,"
Theodore says, as intrepidly as he is capable
For there is a time when fathers stop teaching
A time when mothers stop singing
And a place where the sins stop searching

A last breath is deeply inhaled
But never again will find its escape
With a thud that echoes to Seymour Street
Theodore crumples to the cold wooden floor,
A simple man, finally free of complex demons
This is a poem about hopelessness, unrequited love, and the sense of loneliness that accompanies every loss.
I
Hear the story of our oil –
Hail to oil!
From the glory days of Drake well we recoil,
To see seabirds flap and shudder,
Dolphins, turtles flop and sputter
With collective dying groan.
Hear our population moan
When the gasoline price geysers to the sky.
Still we drive, drive, drive,
To keep consumer binge alive,
Amid a maritime disaster fast evolving from the spoil
Of the oil.
For the oil, oil, oil, oil,
Oil, oil, oil,
For the gushing and the oozing of the oil.

II
Smell the ancient dark crude oil
Stinking oil!
Engulf the products made refining from a boil:
Guzzle gasoline flambé,
Drive-through fast food every day,
Raise our carbonated toast to Arctic roast…
Then drill more oil!
GM corn and corn-fed beef --
Both born of oil,
The shaving cream I slather on my face is made from oil,
Toothpaste, vitamins and lipstick,
Tires, everlasting plastic,
Come from oil;
All American affliction
Petrolopium addiction –
Truth is stranger now than fiction
And it does not set us free;
We are prisoners of oil,
And as slaves to OPEC pricing we all toil,
For the tapping and the lapping
Of the oil.
For the oil, oil, oil, oil,
Oil, oil, oil,
For the drilling and the swilling of the oil.

III
Soak in news of spilling oil –
Offshore oil!
In grim images of damage that the television splays;
First blow-out slimed in sixty-nine at Santa Barbara Bay
Then ten years next blew Ixtoc
In the Gulf of Mexico,
Two-ninety day gush tick tock
Slick slopped thousand miles away
To Texas shores!
In Alaska’s Prince William Sound
Exxon Valdez ran aground in eighty-nine;
Full tanker load erupted,
Left the rocky coast corrupted –
Prudhoe crude!
Seals and otters stuck in goo
Seabirds suffered coatings too,
Cruising tourists supped in view
Of the oil, oil, oil,
Thickened slick encrusted oil
On the shore!
How it clings and clogs and covers;
All aquatic life it smothers
Marsh and beach are left in cataclysmic mire!
Still we “drill baby drill,”
All our gas tanks gotta fill,
We must shop, shop, shop,
Lest our wasteful lifestyle stop,
So we run, run, run,
Take our car vacation fun --
At the beach…
See the sheen -- how it shines!
Pretty rainbow-colored lines
From the oil!
We love our oil, oil, oil, oil,
Oil, oil, oil,
For economy cachinging in the oil!

IV
Hear the praise of offshore oil,
Miles deep oil!
For the goal of independence on our oceans now we toil,
Till ungraceful conflagration
Twenty April rocked the nation
On the Deepwater Horizon drilling rig.
Eleven lives were lost in blast
As the deep crude spewed out fast,
Gushing Hell!
Couldn’t stop it with top ****,
Junk shot, golf *****, caps wouldn’t still
Gushing well,
And the spreading, spreading, spreading
In a steady surging crawl,
Gulf coast residents all dreading
That their livelihoods might stall,
Now the fish and shrimp are ill,
Tourist business will be nil,
And still oil spews…
We must thank God that there’s *****,
For there’s nothing but bad news
And the ooze, ooze, ooze
Oily ooze.
Who will pay, who will pay?
Who will make this go away?
Who’s to blame? Who’s to shame?
Many pointy fingers aim –
Lefty points to rich BP,
Righty points to rock Obama,
And there’s six sticks pointing back at you and me!
We will pay, pay, pay,
At the gas pumps we will pay,
So we can drive, drive, drive,
And keep America alive;
Despite the grim disaster that arises from the spill,
The way we live and spend won’t easily end;
So we’ll still say “drill baby drill,”
Each time our gas tanks get a fill,
And we will shop, shop, shop
To do our patriotic duty --
Spend our *****, *****, *****
For the oil.
For the oil, oil, oil, oil,
Oil, oil, oil,
For the gushing and the oozing of the oil!

Drafted 6/8/10, revised 6/14/10
Best read to the "tune" of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Bells"....with apologies to Poe for repurposing his meter scheme for a theme less cheerful!
we wuz celebratin
40 years of Hip Hop
at 5 Pointz

dashing tags
reclaiming the
lost land

speaking for a
community of peeps
routed from their
last stand

making statements
about remembering

tellin stories
about ourselves

giving the drab
dead industrial
sarcophagi a
a face lift

freeing the
entombed
mummies
to let em
walk with
the living
again

seein things
in a new light

reciting our
biographies

writing an epic
autobiography

splashed across
3D murals

spoken in the
lexicon of
gobsmack
multicolored
neon graffiti

testifying to
the ages with
our urban
hieroglyphs

the symbols of
life in the hood
may history be our
witness to aromas
rising from cracked
pavements teaming
with bodegas,
public projects and
store front fantasies
played out in all its
grueling detail
on the corner of
walk don’t walk

them snaps
real down home
expressions
of real people

until some
capitalist
*******

his pockets filled
with low interest
money

whitewashed
it away

he thinks he
owns the
5 Pointz

he thinks
he can
erase our
memories
with a gallon of
Sherwin Williams

he thinks
he owns our
perdido
graffito

and is well
in his rights
to launder our  
epiphanies over
with the bland
tag of privilege
he thinks his
dollar bills
can buy

we raised this
place from
the dead

that old warehouse
where men and women
once earned a paycheck
was murdered by
Michael Milken
and his posse of well
heeled predators
busy leveraging
livelihoods by
offshoring them
to Third World
plantations
transforming
the natives into
wage slaves
tagging this
strange alchemy
progress

now this
latest incarnation of
Morley’s Ghost stalking
Bloomberg’s Metropolis
haunts the neighborhoods
with a wrecking ball
of entitlement

razing our hood
to build soulless
high rises where
they'll warehouse
dead people
ginned up
on pilates,
chai tea and
elevating
themselves
through life
scoring the
latest fab
yoga gear
on the
urban outfitters
website

the frackers
are gobbling
the land

strip miners are
gnashing away
at the mountains

now the predators
are eating our art

always famished
never satiated
the beast gnaws
away at its
**** scattering
the bones of
of the living

but this
half assed
midnight
whitewash
will never stand

already images
of the holy ghosts
scrawled onto
the Wailing Walls
of 5 Pointz are
bleeding through
the veneer of a
landlords greed

and as the
future tenants
of the proposed
highrise columbarium
snooze away the night
dreaming of leading roles
in star studded schemes

we’ll be taggin
the streets
reciting our
righteous presence
until our last dying
aerosol breath
escapes our
paint stained
hands

Public Enemy:
Fight the Power

Oakland
11/20/13
jbm
http://nypost.com/2013/11/20/5-pointz-fans-try-to-retag-legendary-graffiti-building/
the curling smoke
from warming fires
rise into the slate
gray sky of the
Beqaa Valley

sheaves of
rising prayers
expire in twisted plumes
dissipating into the
gloom of an ever
looming winter
overcast

refugees from
the Arab Spring's
uncivil wars
gather for warmth
around waning embers,
smoldering in the underbelly
of the lowliest bottom of rusted
steel drums, tended
with scavenged debris
some thought better
suited to fortify the
faltering hovels of
last resort

the fires
join us in
communal rings
straining the
tenuous links of
brotherhood, the
politics of men
assiduously tear
asunder

we count ourselves
among the fortunate,
blessed exiles recused
from the acrimony
of desecrated cities,
welcoming the
residencies of
bewailing lullabies
of colic infants, the
searing hunger of
stunted children and the
incomprehensible babble
the elderly eloquently
speak in tongues
of a desperate
exasperation

our nagging impotence
swaddle us in ambivalent
inabilities to master circumstances
profanely denigrating our humanity

privation is
our daily bread
the bitter manna
feasting on the
animosity the banquet
of rancor generously
prepares for
peace starved
pilgrims

in these
refugee camps
the cold cuts deeper
hunger pangs
grow sharper

our blighted dignity,
vanished livelihoods,
and the presence of
recently interred
loved ones trudge
through our mean
encampment as
fully enfranchised
citizens in our
distressed
kingdom

what was lost can
never be recovered
our homeland leveled
yet doors still stand open
silently pleading all
to cross a new
threshold

the full restoration
of our hope,
the reconstitution
of our flagging
humanity, the
spark of the
holy spirit
willfully uniting us
in the salvation
of reconciliation
is nigh

we are
the divine children
stoking the embers
tending the fire
that light pathways
through the cold
darkness of a
broken world

Oh come
Emmanuel,
dwell among us
Oh come
Emmanuel
ransom once
again the
poor captives
of Israel….

Selah

Music Selection:
L'Accorche-Choeur, Ensemble vocal Fribourg
Veni Veni Emmanuel

Everywhere
Christmas
2013
jbm
Blessed Christmastide Greetings
to all beloved HP friends
peace and prayers
to all
love, jimmy
Big Virge Nov 2020
Ya Know Peoples’ Behaviour’s...
Getting... Stranger And STRANGER... !!!

NO... Away In A Manger... !!!

But PLENTY of DANGER... !!!
In... Peoples Behaviour... !!!

Because Corona’s Brought Flavours...
When It Comes To THAT PAPER... !!!

That Are A... GAME CHANGER... !!!

So Some Peoples Behaviour’s...
Beginning To Tailor...
Itself Towards... Vader’s... !!!

Because of DICTATORS...
Who Have Now Endangered... !!!
MORE THAN... Livelihoods...
Now Lives Have Been Took...
That’s EVEN SHOOK CROOKS... !!!

So Behaviours Now Look...
Like They’re Ready To Cook...
MUCH MORE Than PROTESTS...
When Leaders Send Feds’...
To Now Fire BULLETS... !!!

At WOMEN On Front Lines...
Who Now STAND AGAINST...
Racism And Violence...
That Lead To Black Deaths... !!!

By... Taking of Breaths...
By Some YES Policemen... !!!

They’re Behaviours ATTEST...
To Delivering STRESS...
To Lots of Blacks HEADS... !!!

So OF COURSE Some Are VEX... !!!!!
About Treatment We Get... !!!

But... Protest Behaviour...
Has Got... INSTIGATORS...
Who May Be IMITATORS... ?!?

And... CONTAMINATORS...
Used To Be MUTILATORS... !!!
of Behaviours Now Caused...
By BLATANTLY FLAGRANT...
ABUSE of THEIR Laws... !?!

Hold Up... Let Me PAUSE......................

Did I Just Call Them... " LAWS "... ?

What Do They Stand For... ?!?
Cos They’re CLEARLY NOT Made...
To Now PROTECT The Hoards … ?

I Mean... MASSES of People...
Who Seem READY For WAR... !?!

In... Different Locations...
It Seems That Behaviours...
Are Now Fighting For...

MORE Than Freedom of Thought... !!!
IT’s... FREEDOM To TALK...
That’s Now Being Cut SHORT... !?!

When Clearly Behaviours...
Should OPEN UP MORE Than EVER BEFORE... !!!

But THESE MANIPULATORS...
Have Their Perpetrators...
of Behaviours That Walk...
With Talk That Is FALSE... !!!

From These CORONA Wars...
To These CLOSED Corridors...
Where Decisions Are BOUGHT !

I Dunno Anymore... ?!?
If We’ll Ever ENFORCE...
Behaviours Like Jailers...

For Traitors Who Break Laws... !!!

ESPECIALLY When...
They Are Leaders And Lords !!!

Instead of Behaviours...
That... DESTROY The Poor... !!!

We NEED CASTIGATORS...
And... Coordinators...
Whose Behaviours Are PURE... !!!

Instead of These FAKERS...
And... New Age ENSLAVERS... !!!
Who Drive These Creations...
of Thoughts That I TAILOR...

To Speak On These Subjects...

Like Peoples’...

.... “BEHAVIOUR”....
They are getting STRANGER !
Raghu Menon Jun 2018
Quiet flows the Brahmaputra
But violent and angry at times
At the ruthless manner in which
The man destroys the nature...

Quiet flows the Brahmaputra
But angry and turbid below
At the greed and arrogant manner in which
They carry out "development"

Quiet flows the Brahmaputra
But sad and lost
at the poor lives and livelihoods lost
At the hands of the rich who creates the catastrophes

Quiet flows the Brahmaputra
But helpless and depressed
At the ignorance and stubborn attitude
Of the people who aren't willing to learn from their mistakes.

Quiet flows the Brahmaputra
Sometimes overflowing and destructive
Time and again, to teach the humanity a lesson
In not learning from the past, learning from their mistakes
Because, history repeats itself..
And we are suffering today at the hands of the
People who are not creating a welfare state
But extracting, extorting, exploiting the commons
And the common people
To the benefit of a few, arrogant, "smart" rich...

There is something wrong somewhere..
Unless we learn ...
Unless we change...
We get what we deserve...

So if we need a change..
Let's change first ourselves..
Our action, Our decisions, Our choices...
There is nobody to blame..but ourselves...

It is not enough we give our choices
Once in five years ...
And then blame everybody else
For what we get out of our choice...

Quiet flows the Brahmaputra
He is a teacher, a friend, a father (and a mother)..
A brother, and a God (if there is one)...
Let us learn from him, the nature...

Quiet flows the Brahmaputra
So magnificent and great..
Angry at times..Destructive at times...

Still the lifeline of the people
Quiet flows the Brahmaputra.
Brahmaputra is a river in Assam, and having a male name unlike most rivers having female names. The river is known for its flooding and destruction year after year, due to the unplanned "developments" that is done.  Inspiration: My friend's poem "There is something wrong ..." https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2513480/something-wrong-need-to-start-it-again/
Bob Horton Apr 2013
I – Rain Over the Dying Empire
The Weather Forecast looks grim today
This mess won’t clear up any time soon
So button up your jackets and turn up your collars
And mark up your calendars for a time of grey skies
There’s a storm on the way
We’ll all be blown away
The reign will never end
Until we’re washed clean off the map
But don’t you worry darling viewers
Just find yourselves a shelter, you’ll be fine
Don’t go scrambling in the smog to find hope: it’s always there
It pains me to be the bringer of bad news
Oh! Dearest Public I always pride myself in saying Tomorrow will be a brighter day
But oh! My friends I also promised I would never lie to you
We have serious weather warnings on the way
They will ravage your livelihoods but don’t let them take your souls
We stand strong against the tide of the oncoming gale, the hail and the thunder
If they weather away each tiny bit of all you hold dear
Raise your fist to the angry sky and scream for what is right
I promise, one day, sunshine will be legal again
I’ve tried to make you laugh and I’ve tried to make you cry
But it’s difficult when describing the movements of cold air across the land
If you ignore the hot stuff blowing out of parliament these days
It’s possible to force a smile: a fraction of happiness for hollow promises
They know nothing of how to save the world, they just want to escape
They’re harvesting the strong so they can find another home
Sure, they bejewel their guillotine as it hangs above your throat
Because they think that you’re impressionable but my advice is let them think so
Because Nature wants out of the pact she made when God abandoned us here
And they just want revenge because she’s stronger than they’ll ever be
The Mother they used to love, that they cast down, has come to kiss them with her poison passion
She won’t ask for their forgiveness as she beats them down, begging for hers
I’ll leave you with my darkest secret since you probably won’t see me again
As they surround me I want to let you know it’s been incredible
Striding through the desert carrying you upon my shoulders
And so I’ll thank you and blow a goodnight kiss to you
If there’s anyone they’ve left alive
They have finally come for me
Goodbye

II – The Broken Figurehead Speaks
We interrupt this broadcast with a message from the high command
Good evening noble people, please ignore what you have just heard
And keep on working for our greater good
For as we all know, it is better than theirs
Regrettably, my tolerance is thin for behaviour like that of our darling Weather Reporter
And my mercy is negligible for those who stand against us…

III – Martyrdom for Sunshine**
As I stand above the ocean, with the army at my back, looking out at this sunset
It feels like the first time I have seen such beauty
Though waves gallop into the cliff below there is a malleable peace
It penetrates to the deepest corner of my heart
As they load their guns and prepare to fire, I think of the others who they have killed
And how privileged I am to have the sun as the last thing I see
If God will have me I’ll happily join his angels now
I look down the crippled rock face to the water, miles below
What have I got to lose?
I’m going to learn to fly…
Published: 17.05.2012, The Poetry Society, YM: New Work in Poetry, Issue 7
Michael Marchese Dec 2017
This dot kami’s ‘Nam when I see you’re all neutral
To futile lords still passin’ Acts of Removal
Pretentious performers as if upon stages
Of casting call characters caught up in cages
Like ****** who off-shore **** the poor on vacations
I’m diggin’ up dirt on the founders’ plantations
When bail-outs are ballots and bullets are mallets
Why not be a rabbit hole in Hefner’s palace?
And dare call it talent, a gift or a passion
Just model behavior for slaves to a fashion
Show running the breadlines when crimes are a dime
In the dozens of ***** Weinsteins on your minds

Instead of the felons when court is in Sessions
Instead of the under-oath treason confessions
In rapid succession they feed you the buzz
Until nobody cares what the debt ceiling was
When the roof has been raised for the privatize party
The right wants us dead and the left shows up tardy
I’m sorry “you people” are making me sick
Guess I’ll just pop a pill from the cabinet pick
Like has-been Michael Flynn’s and these Ex-Tillersons
Resource hogs cloggin’ bogs up with smogs of odd jobs
They’re the slEASIEST Slytherins still seemin’ Jesus
Pro-life until *** aid is the fetus
Egregious excesses of who the **** needs this
Huge 2nd place trophy wife ivory tower
Big guns for a stickless diplomacy coward

Here’s my ******* tricklin’ down your faces
You blatantly ****** repeal and replacists
You war-profiteering, grand **** of old Racists and fakers, uranium cakers
Still stuffing the stockings of doomsday clock-makers
With melting North Pole lumps of coal-hearted cash
‘Till every last Christmas trees nothing but ash
As the fascist machine builds its pyramid scheme
On the dreams of the themes of your Disney World screen
But the credits will roll as the talking heads stroll in
The shoe bombs of Terrorist’s livelihoods stolen
But I leave ‘em spinnin’ like Christopher Nolan
Raghu Menon Jul 2015
Oh Dear River
How many faces do you have?

The pleasant calm face
With the undulating waves

The happy face
with the life thriving inside you?

The playful face with the Kids
Swimming in the river?

The vibrant face
During the downpour?

The kind face
Blessing the dark thin fishermen?

Or

The sad face
With the dark effluents let in to you
By the greedy industries?

Or the pale face
With your inflows being reduced
due to the catchments
being encroached
by the real estate mafia?

Or the angry face
With the ***** politicians and thieves
Who plunder your sand
And destroy not only you
But the livelihoods
of the poor farmers and
the water resources of the people?

Oh Dear River
How many faces do you have?

Don't be angry with us humans
because we don't care for anybody

We live only today
and we don't care for tomorrow
nor do we care about
our children of tomorrow.

We are the only inhuman species
On this earth and we wrongly
Call ourselves
As Humane beings..
http://tprmenon.blogspot.in/2015/07/faces-of-river.html

— The End —