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Natasha Jul 2015
through years and tears
  tiny arrows spinning round and
    round insignificant numbers on
       a flat face, staring back at me.  
         a field of wild grasses and flowers
           only followed by another single
              field, no rolling hillsides
             but only industrialism,  
         mindless materialism
      that numbs you so softly
   and slowly
you barely
notice
it

already

has
happened.
Will you survive in this world of empty rewards and little consequence ?
Dear Mr Cameron, what are you trying to do,
you are getting rid of soldiers by score.
You are turning "Good Old Blighty"
into Europe's private Loo.
and on the side you want us all to go to war.

With the cut-backs,
will they get there.  
Do we know if they can swim
                         Perhaps ask your mate OBAMA                         
may let them ride with him.

It seems that you "Prime Minister"
forget who pays your wage
You want to spend those Billions
on a brand new railway line
                                          
You will save, what, 30 minutes
which is really not an age
But like many of your policy's
you'll very likely change your mind.  

I find a piece of paper
would help you without a doubt
If the things you write seem stupid
                           when you read                                  
and the figures don't look viable
                 you could always rub them out                  
This would then leave lots of money
for the things we really need.    

Didn't anybody tell you
when you did first get the     job                                                                  ­                                                       That "for" the British people
                                   you are meant to do some good.                                  
Not to make the poor get poorer
                and be forced to go and rob .              
Should we re-employ that man
called Robin Hood.      

Get a grip I say to you,
do yourself a favour.                                                          ­                                                        Perhaps staying in this country        
you may not lose out to Labour.          

You penalize the unemployed
who cannot get a job.                        
But for the rich
you keep the taxman from their door
and for your mate the banker you
will save him a few bob.                                                             ­     
How about some time and effort
aimed a little more at the poor.  

We all know what Obama
really does expect from you,      
but remember every now and then
it's good to tell him, No.                                                              ­                 You don't have to walk behind him
doing what he wants you to.    
It would be nice if you politely
could tell him where to go.      

Also!
Brussels cannot rule
this country any longer.                                                          ­                           Who do they think they are making
all these stupid rules.          
Whilst we weaken this UK
they get stronger every day,  
do they forget we won a war
and we are far from being fools.    

I do hope "Mr Cameron"                                                         ­           
you might think about today        
and contemplate upon the issues
that I and others raise.          
Then instead of pleasing Europe
and the good old USA,                          
you might keep that job of yours and
warrant a little praise.
A poem that was included in earlier anthologies. Written when David Cameron won his first term as Prime Minister and just after the failure of the then Conservative government to take our troops into Syria after the Labour party voted them down.
Cori MacNaughton Jun 2015
Frustration is having a government
that was created of, by
and for the People
that's been hijacked by money,
holding We the People in contempt.
The third of nine short poems written before I got out of bed this morning.
c.2015 Cori MacNaughton
katie Jun 2015
Father and son.
Both verbs when you abbreviate their names.
Share a last name of course.
Even a first letter.
One, the current homophobic governor of Mississippi.
The other, a happy interior designer of Austin.

I wish in my Mississippi public school I could teach,
That Shakespeare ain't got nothing on this kind of irony.
Brent Kincaid Jun 2015
Micah The Mouse was a rat;
At least that’s how he behaved.
If he didn’t get his way every time
He’d holler and he’d rant and rave.
He got to be such a big mouse
That his head swelled up too.
He became so hugely obnoxious
Other mice didn’t know what to do.

They held a spontaneous election.
They needed to elect a top mouse.
Micah bribed the weaker leaders
So, Micah got the run of the house.
He kept up his pattern of bribery
And threatening those in his way.
Without anything like scruples
He’s still on the throne to this day

Micah The Mouse takes with both hands
And it’s too bad if anyone disagrees.
Those who think he cares about complaints
Will spend a lot of time on their knees.

In Micah got horrendously fat
By overeating just a tiny smidge.
He got to be so much like a big rat
He grew too heavy to cross the bridge.
So he roared and ranted and raved.
And blamed everybody around him.
That he was the cause of his problems
Seemed to completely astound him.

The wonder in all of this sad story
Is why the other mice could not see
That Micah was only in it for himself
And not for members of the citizenry.
Micah got to eat while others starved.
He got what he wanted, moved on
Yet somehow those that elected him
Never quite seemed to catch on.

Micah The Mouse takes with both hands
And it’s too bad if anyone disagrees.
Those who think he cares about complaints
Will spend a lot of time on their knees.

(Image from www.sharktacos.com)
Vivian Jun 2015
They will not take my gun.
Get me their guns.

I have a right to my property.
They have a duty to obey us.

It is my responsibility to stand for what I believe in.
It is our responsibility to make them submit.

I hate them.
They will love us.

I say, break the law!
Do they dare go against us?

I petition; I riot; I will not go down without a fight!
We beat; We arrest; We will not lose this fight!

Alas, I am the only one left.
One insubordinate citizen remains.

I fire my gun for my freedom.
I fire my gun for our respect.

My only defense clatters to the ground.
I knock the gun out of his traitorous grip.

I fear what they will do to my family and me.
It is much safer to be feared than loved.

I take one last act to retrieve what is rightfully mine.
I take one last act to retrieve what is lawfully ours.

Then we both reach for the gun.**
Then we both reach for the gun.
In no way taking a side; simply expressing different views in the best way I know how. Through the art of poetry.
epictails Jun 2015
Here's to the ones who loved and just forgot
Broken promises, easy endings, no tying the knot
Perhaps they lost before and that was their shot
Around and around they go, the ever loveless lot

Here's to the ones who never thought a thing
About heavens that soar and angels that sing
Gates up in the clouds and a heavenly king
Smothering the ungodly flames that hell bring

Here's to the ones who are above the rule of order
Steering clear and clever from the symptoms of cancer
Minding, winding their stories into their own favor
Rather than to the social systems they know better

Here's to the ones who are devoid of anything good
Whatever path they lead—will always be misunderstood
The eternal monsters and demons of their neighborhood
Not even the exorcists will save them even if they could

Here's to the ones who look at life with a skeptical screen
Something bad must have happened in between
Distorting their eyes once so pure like crystalline
Soiling them with a reality unmendable and obscene

Here's to every nonbeliever in this world both beautiful and sorry
Believing in their own terms glorious and free,
though rather* **painfully
I'm with the ones who are shoved at the back for their beliefs. I have some pretty liberal and weird beliefs myself. I'd say I am not a conservative person at all so I could look on to their beliefs as an extension of mine.
Brent Kincaid Jun 2015
Sing a song of slick men
Pocket full of lies.
Four and twenty fat cats
Terribly unwise.
When the truth was spoken
They don’t even try.
They’re immune to reason
And they get all the pie.

Sing a song of no sense
And how they persevere
How they get elected
Year after year
Still they have no scruples;
Ethically impure,
They still win out in the polls.
Why is still unclear.

We should build a big fence
And lock them all inside.
Then impound their fortunes
Wherever they hide.
Let them see for sure how
Crooks we can’t abide.
See if they can stand each other
Living side by side.

Sing a song of statesmanship
Nearly gone extinct
Senators and gangsters
Not so distinct.
The rich still had their millions
We lost the kitchen sink.
Brought us all to near defeat
And pushed us near the brink.
Sing to the tune of the old nursery rhyme about four and twenty blackbirds.
I'd like to keep near,
the ones I hold dear,
And keep them all safe in my heart.
To show them compassion,
in good loving fashion.
Is where my intentions did start. H
Yet empathy takes,
as much as it gives,
and is harder to find in the dark.
But the love that can grow,
it breathes,
and it lives,
like fire
that came from a spark.
Its wondrous glow,
will wave to and fro,
and keep us all safe in its light.
The ember that burns,
so deep in ones soul,
allows us to see in the night.
A heat so intense,
it heightens your sense,
and in darkness,
you'll gain back your sight.
Embracing the flame,
will test if one's sane
and show you
your true sense of self.
I love all I can,
and stick to my plan,
to keep you all under my spell.
I believe what I feel,
is something that's real,
a sensation that grew from a sound.
With all my ability,
and deep positivity,
I'll spread my good vibes all around.
And In time I've found,
we're all tightly bound,
to all of our actions and thoughts.
And in living your life,
you'll discover less strife,
without the should haves,
and did nots.
So go out,
be free,
leave nothing to chance,
try out some new things,
partake in romance.
Don't give in,
to this dull,
dismal setting.
You may as well play,
against what they are betting.
They think we have dwindled,
expended our souls.
That our minds live a dream,
that our brain never knows.
They've tricked us it seems,
and it's starting to show.
So grab your life back,
don't ever let go...
I want to compel,
all the people to tell,
of their travels,
their hardships, b
and times that went well.
The love that was shared,
and hate that was bared.
Is a part of your life,
if you truly cared.
Twas fear
that berated the souls of the earth.
With pain contemplated,
the flame lost its hearth.
But when claims no one stated,
begin to unearth.
The stains we created,
start losing their worth.
For what is fear without worries to fuel it? Darkness may make it,
but governments mule it.
Realize,
this fear isn't real,
and misinformation,
is all you've been fed.
Then you'll start to ponder,
is this life even real?
Is there any legitimacy,
in all the things that they've said?
There is nothing hiding
in your closet or bed.
And there are less evil people,
than in the news that you've read.
This idea was created,
so they wouldn't be blamed.
But you won't be jaded,
you cannot not be tamed.
The people that faded,
that still are unnamed.
You fight for their memory,
cause they'd do the same.
You Stand for their ideals,
And keep them all close.
Feel all of the feels,
cheerful or morose.
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