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Bekah Halle Apr 24
I am fury, and
I rage.
I jump up and down,
Attempting to disengage.
From the idols,
The expectations,
And internal damage,
The oppression.
I am scorn, and
I lash out,
I scream:
Those ‘******* idols’ I shout.
Ashwin Kumar Apr 11
I look up to you greatly
Thou art an amazing lady
In you, do I see a fire
That refuses to die, no matter what
You lay your soul threadbare
Wit, is one of your greatest assets
Never do you back down from a fight
In a tunnel full of never-ending darkness
Are you the light
Which keeps emptiness and depression at bay
And puts us firmly on the path to happiness
Come what may!

I look up to you greatly
Your writing is so fiery
That it can spark a raging inferno
Full of righteous anger
Against all the injustice perpetrated by the Indian State
The lynchings that refuse to abate
Poor and underprivileged children dying of hunger
People being denied homes due to their caste
While the government has the sheer nerve to boast
About its so-called achievements
Your poems are a testament
To the famous saying "The pen is mightier than the sword"
Very hard-hitting indeed, are your words!!

I look up to you greatly
Never dost thou fail to amaze
Every story of yours is a maze
Full of character arcs and plot twists
Ensuring we get hooked very fast
And by the time we finally put the book down
Our minds would have been blown!!

I look up to you greatly
Never dost thou fail to raise your voice
When it cometh to social justice
Yet, somehow do you manage to maintain your poise
In the face of never-ending malice
Which is constantly thrown your way
The way you keep your detractors at bay
Is something we must all learn
Thanks to people like you, have I gradually started to unlearn
Certain things I once considered gospel truth
Excel do you, at transforming the narrative
When it cometh to our Hindu myths
For your community, do you live
Not yourself
Hopefully, more books of yours may soon adorn my shelf!!

I look up to you greatly
Thou art a wonderful role model
Bestsellers, are your novels
You love your profession
As much as Israel loves to lie
You yourself are an institution
And always do you aim for the sky
So much have you done for our society
With an absolutely brutal honesty
That beggars belief
Your writings provide some much-needed relief
In these dark and difficult times
Where even mere dissent is often treated as a crime!!

I look up to you greatly
For you, is impossible nothing
And social justice, everything!!
By the Grace of God
May all your dreams come true
And may you have nothing to rue
Finally, must I say
More power to you, Meena!!
Poem dedicated to Meena Kandasamy - award-winning author, poet, translator, anti-caste activist, intersectional feminist and academic; and one of my idols.
I S A A C Jul 2022
goon in love
too soon to trust
that's my inner dialogue, just a fire moving along
gazing above
wondering what watches over me as I repeat the mistakes set out forth for me
generational trauma, nature works in cycles
generational drama, focus on plastic idols
daydreams in the white room
unfaithful to the divine fruit
Ceyhun Mahi Nov 2021
There are many ideals upon the earth,
Who're praised for utmost truth, without a flaw,
Taught to the ignorant childeren since birth,
Meant forever to be a sacred law.
Today they said, "it is forever going,
It can't be wrong in this lasting design!"
A thing that history is never showing,
Which displays the ruins of church and shrine.
I can't follow idols of fickle men,
Adjusting agendas each day and night,
Not written down by light-scattering pen,
And not commanded by Divine Might.
    Let the world spin, again a thousand years,
    And they will fade away, from hopes to fears.
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2021
But their idols are silver and gold, made by human hands. They have mouths, but cannot speak, eyes, but cannot see. They have ears, but cannot hear, noses, but cannot smell. They have hands, but cannot feel, feet, but cannot walk, nor can they utter a sound with their throats. Those who make them will be like them, and so will all who trust in them.”
Psalms:4-8



Who knows? Who knew?
Marched, dragged, ordered, bottom line, taken,
to the synagogue was I abducted, every Sabbath;
on the Festivals, this Psalm recited, catching the
child’s eye, the words symmetry, the conceptual
contained, struck and stuck, and seven fingered
decades, he stumbles once again upon it, this time
in his file of poems yet unwrit,
aging along with the poet,
for almost the last five years.

the prayer book, black covered, thumbed well worn,
by father-supplied, periodically page number is whispered,
my childlike eyes gravitate to the English translation,
though Hebrew versed too, the English verses whip my attention,
the concept of the Lords invisibility, a super power in my mind,
early taught by storied Abraham’s idol smashing,
and the futility of idolatry,
since invisible God is everywhere

these days of memes and trolls,
idol worshiping grows strong,
the fast thirst to recognize, admire,
yes,
to worship;
plaster, alabaster, clay, marble,
even gold & silver

pay them no mind,
trained early on to covet only
what we cannot see,
sources of the pieces within of the divine surreal
that perfect our flawed shapeliness,
the electric human touch,
the simple kindest gesture,
the tender embrace,
the ineffable softness of child’s cheek
an old man’s childish innocence,
the love of all carved-by-hand woodwork
for beauty only,
the artistry of good, mastery of emotion,
all to perfect your vision to witness
what only the heart can envision


You do not understand the contrast contradictory?

You will.







____

Silvio

Silver and gold
Won't buy back the beat of a heart grown cold
Silvio
I gotta go
Find out something only dead men know


      SILVIO: WRITTEN BY: BOB DYLAN AND ROBERT HUNTER
                                                        ­                                                                 ­                        <>

Said the shepherd boy
To the mighty king
Do you know what I know?
In you palace wall mighty king
Do you know what I know?
A child, a child
Shivers in the cold
Let us bring him
Silver and gold
Let us bring him
Silver and gold
Let us bring him
Silver and gold
Do you know what I know/
So you see what I see?
Do you hear what I hear?



“**DO YOU HEAR WHAT I HEAR?”
LYRICS LEONARD COHEN
§§§§§§§§§§
poem conceived on December 2016
in New York City;
completed July 2021,
Shelter Island, NY.
Melody Jun 2021
No devil may care for me tonight'
roaming, hunting a soul.
It is only a tinge of light
illuminating these corridors;
filled room to room with confessions,
murmurs adorn each one of their frames.
Truth be told I cannot tell
why people, each and all still fail
to see the twinge, the strain of their neighbors bear,
blinded by prejudice and leaders they declare?
MDtheWordsmith May 2020
The journey is so harsh and long
A test of your mind and might
A test you can not pass, if you think you’re always right
If you make it, you will be strong

Earning your place, you’ll now belong
You aced the test and put up a fight
From now on they will see your light
Immortal, they will sing your song

Immortal, you can do no wrong
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