#charlie
In the ruins of a broken dream, where shadows start to creep
The laughter fades to mournful screams, a promise hard to keep
The ones she held so very dear, now lost in smoke and fray
A crushing weight, a burning tear, they've taken them away
No gentle hand to hold her tight, no wicked jest to hear
Just emptiness in fading light, fueled by a rising fear
The hope she built with loving care, shattered on the ground
A silent, raw, and deep despair, where love was once profound
But in the depths of sorrow's chill, a different fire gleams
A power waiting to fulfill, fueled by her broken dreams
The gentle light begins to dim, a fierceness takes its place
No longer soft, no longer prim, a change upon her face
With heavy heart and eyes ablaze, she rises from the dust
Through sorrow's dark and winding maze, a new, determined ******
For those she lost, a path she'll tread, where darkness starts to bloom
A legacy of fallen dead, escaping from the tomb
Jan 17
Jan 17, 2026 at 1:01 PM UTC
He stood
Atop a supremacist podium,
Handsome in flesh
But hideous in spirit,
Delivering hideous messages.
Hypnotized humans
Huddled
At the foot of the podium
Listening to his hideous messages.
Humanity is one,
Yet Charlie Kirk divided humanity
On the basis of skin colours
And stained the skin colours
He didn't like with inferiority.
The sound of gunshots,
The pandemonium,
The yell,
The splash of blood
And the security show off.
A horrendous human
Holding a gun
Kicked Charlie Kirk to hades
And kicked his hideous messages
Off the supremacist podium.
None deserves violent death,
Reincarnation is real,
Charlie Kirk will reincarnate
To make amends.
Sep 15, 2025
Sep 15, 2025 at 11:25 AM UTC
As you fade into memory;
become a part of history;
i learn to live without your presence;
inspired by your mastery.
Will pain abandon me one day
the way love's always done.
Will it reject me in all ways
that only love's known how.
Is 'once upon a time' a thing?
Does 'ever after' still exist?
What happened to those princesses
After they got their prince?
As you fade into memory;
become a part of history;
my faith fades alongside of you
all i am left with - misery.#
Mar 9, 2024
Mar 9, 2024 at 6:27 AM UTC
ধর্ম মানে তুমি বৌদ্ধ, আমি খ্রিষ্টান,
ধর্ম মানে তুমি হিন্দু, আমি মুসলমান।
ধর্ম মানে টিকি আর দাড়ির গোঁড়ামি,
ধর্ম মানে তুমি ভুল, ঠিক আমি।
ধর্ম মানে এক নিরাকার নার্সিসিস্টের দাসত্ব,
ধর্ম মানে তুমি মিথ্যে, আমি সত্য
ধর্ম মানে চিন্তার পরাধীনতা,
ধর্ম মানে তোমার ধর্মে আমার অসহিষ্ণুতা।
ধর্ম মানে মানিনে আমি বিজ্ঞানের তত্ত্ব।
ধর্ম মানে হোক না আমার ভাষা অকথ্য।
ধর্ম মানে আমি মানবো না যুক্তি,
ধর্ম মানে শুধুমাত্র আমার ধর্মেই মুক্তি।
ধর্ম মানে আমার ধর্ম শ্রেষ্ঠ,
ধর্ম মানে তোমার ধর্ম নিকৃষ্ট।
ধর্ম মানে ধর্মগুরুর চোখরাঙানি,
ধর্ম মানে তুমি কিছু জানো না, আমি সব জানি।
ধর্ম মানে প্রশ্ন করা পাপ,
ধর্ম মানে চোখ বন্ধ করে অন্ধকূপে ঝাঁপ।
ধর্ম মানে আমি সংখ্যাগুরু, তুমি সংখ্যালঘু,
ধর্ম মানে আমার ফাঁদে তুমি ঘুঘু।
ধর্ম মানে ছবি আঁকা বারন
ধর্ম মানে শিল্পীসত্বার হত্যা অকারন।
ধর্ম মানে যদি করো নবীর অপমান
ধর্ম মানে আমি শয়তান নেবো তোমার প্রাণ।
ধর্ম মানে হতেই পারি আমি অমানবিক
ধর্ম মানে কিন্তু আমিতো ধার্মিক।
Nov 4, 2022
Nov 4, 2022 at 1:01 PM UTC
When Leonard Cohen Met Charlie Daniels, The Devil Went Down to Georgia
~~~
The Devil Went Down to Georgia ¥
https://youtu.be/wBjPAqmnvGA
Charlie Daniels, the country music legend who died July 6, 2020, was part of the 1970 Leonard Cohen tour. (see notes)
This one is a gift to a recovering addict and a poet, for whom that peculiar, par-articulate, addictive passion, thank the Lord, got no cure.
<£>
two country boys, ok, so different countries, but both intimately
a-cquainted with the Devil, his song & music-making-copious
a-bilities, his other trois backup ass-sin-tants, The Sin Sisters,
a/k/a wine and women and sweet poetry...
now the Devil mostly gets his due, you pay his price twice, in daily
wear ‘n tear on body and soul, always trying to keep one step ahead,
taking his best, sometimes leaving the rest, but ha! not always cause sometimes a...
bargain needs keeping, gotta keep your word honest, still if you can find a wile e coyote-wriggle-way to be a tad faster, keep them ten fingers crisscrossed, you might steal a tune or three, before you chanter la finale, sing/pay the last installment...
now these boys were multilingual, one spoke french, the other, southern, but two-gether, they could harmonize the Lord’s Prayer on a banjo, fiddle and a guitar, in une langue ancienne#, formerly spoke in those United States and Canada, now only in the heavens above...
cannot truthful say I ever saw them play on the same stage, no matter,
cause the parallels are clear as a night sky starry moon, the stories they told, in lyrical verse, different cuzins, slightly incestuous, and
infectious too, cause you catch yourself singing redneck in a foreign
language and you’re liking the way women looking at the big star on
a tour bus...
now the devil wanted these bad boys real bad in his pantheon, went
down to Georgia and back up to Montréal au paradis, said to them “no more diddling, just fiddling and singing, time to make that finale payment, principal and interest, come to collect my country boys and all what they got left...alors allons en enfer mes bébés..”##
now the sounds they made was just too good, the Lord heard it, it was like Picasso painting the sky, and came to collect Charlie yesterday, (07/06/20), Leonard had come up earlier, and if you need to learn how this story ends, well, there’s a poem listed down below avec tous les détails.
but as my straight laced pappy, use to say in his German accented english, in his morning suit, striped pants and Homburg hat, all’s well that don’t end in hell
or something like that anyway.
Jul 11, 2020
Jul 11, 2020 at 10:53 AM UTC
"i don't want to rule or conquer anyone;
i should like to help everyone if possible —
jew, gentile, black man, white
we all want to help one another;
human beings are like that."
charlie chaplin wrote these words for
"the great dictator" a political satire
the nazis didn't want to hear anymore
but the dictator's speech went viral
in a wehrmacht's cinema, partisans of tito
made fun of ****** and exchanged
a propaganda-film for chaplin's video
an audience of nazis raged
a flash of fun in a ***** led by
insane murderers on stimulants
***
mr. chaplin i do thank you for
your outcry emerging from
human tragedy.
good bye...
R.I.P. Charles Spencer Chaplin
✞ December 25th 1977
God bless you.
Dec 25, 2019
Dec 25, 2019 at 3:34 PM UTC
Nobody's want to take blame,
I've got a trigger finger itching to shoot
Spitting out a paper that says Bang!
Push down the weird kid,
Until he steadies himself and takes aim
Then we label the child insane
Maybe everyday he would get knocked down
The teachers all watch, the kids all watch
Nobody is making a sound.
Retaliate and they recalculate their attention
Get punched, nothing, punch back it's suspension.
Expulsion, they revolted. The other child,
He's been wild but his parents donate so he's got pull, kid.
It doesn't matter the matter, let ethics shatter
But dont be surprised when brains splatter.
And write a news story,
How could this happen?
Everyday they say, how could this happen?
Kids are brutal, resistance is futal
They march like militia to hit you
With just enough to hurt but not enough to snap
But once you lose sanity there is no going back.
Tragic.
Nov 26, 2019
Nov 26, 2019 at 12:07 AM UTC
You shouldn't carry your radio to school son.
You can enjoy your music when you're back home.
You'll just get in trouble with the headmaster again,
You know I want the best out of you so as your mother.
Avoid bad company,
Don't be suspended again,
Study, get an education... that's the way it is these days.
You don't have to smoke in school to show them you're a man.
Avoid alcohol as well,
Come home early, we will have some dinner tonight,
We will play all the songs you want,
Stay in the spare room, I will have ***** connect some wires through the ceiling for your own radio so you can enjoy your songs all night if you so wish.
Look, I did send you down to a good boarding school,
But you wasted your chances there,
Now you have to walk like everyone else to this school far away,
You got it though, you make me proud out here, Ok?
Come over during the weekend,
I will teach you and ***** some carpentry,
We will fit this ceiling and repair these coffee trays,
We will paint every room different colors except the kitchen, your mother has to decide that.
I picked three colors for your three mothers,
Red for Mama Margaret, Green for Mama Jane and Blue for Mama Helen,
I don't have a favorite color myself, to me all are nice,
But dove grey on the corridor ceiling does good lighting from the East,
Dutch-Blue in the bedroom makes our movie afternoons quite stunning.
Then there are these carvings that Noah and Robert sent down from Nairobi,
Every other furniture must look like them, we will vanish all of them,
We will pick some old chairs from Mama Helen and repair them for my sitting room,
These reeds aren't strong enough,we will replace them with plywood.
I've had Mama Jane sew some clothing for the chairs and this cards table,
We will play all sorts of games here with your sisters,
I will teach you how to play monopoly and solitaire.
You have to learn how to invest son, its how i got all these you see we have,
Work hard for your money, be true and fair don't rush for quick money.
Oh! Dad...
Jul 26, 2019
Jul 26, 2019 at 5:08 AM UTC
Hallo is it you *****
I am trying to reach Robert but his phone is off,
Noah cannot pick either, bet he's still sleeping
Try getting hold of them and tell your brothers Charlie has just died,
His house burned down last with him inside.
The children saw it when they were going to school this morning
I have sent Mama Jane down to see
Wekesa, our house help is here but cannot speak,
That is Mama Jesca wailing,
I don't like screams, off you go Jesca, stop the wailing
Its a sad time son,
Plan and come down here as soon as you can
Quickly tell your brothers,
I want you all here with me,
The family needs each of you.
The askaris have come to take away his body to the mortuary,
They're also investigating the cause of the fire,
I cannot go down there with my swollen feet,
I just hope he did not do it himself with the petrol he was stealing from the generator,
He had gone to take ***** with Turkana the night guard.
My poor Charlie,
I don't know what I feel right now
I am sure Mama Helen is devasted,
It must be so hard to loose a son, I was not ready for this,
I don't know *****
We will lay him on the left lawn with pink frangipani trees
We will have to chop down a few oleanders and mulberries
We will make him a small house over his grave
After a year I will work on his tombstone with help of you boys
I will write the epitaph myself.
Jul 26, 2019
Jul 26, 2019 at 5:02 AM UTC
Mr furry prince
You know I will miss
Your sweet hello
Charlie please don’t go
Mr purry king
My friend, my love
You know I will miss
The way that you kiss
Your sad goodbye
Try not to cry
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 4:03 AM UTC
Bird's flight
Tight light
Be op do op and all the light
Over the tired and torn world
The shingle-tingles
Peg leg harms
Needles beadles
Pawnshops mattresses
Brownstone runs
Past and reeds
Diminished incliner
Augmenting disarranger
Kali and calipers
Ricoh fives fire knives
Air recess
Dying confess
Less swing than gallows
Racing tracing
We passing
Futile asking
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 7:12 PM UTC
I’ll be home soon
I’ve been on this trip for a while now I know
Longer this time then last time that’s for sure
But I promise Chuck I haven’t forgotten where I live
I just can’t imagine myself there right now
I must disappoint you greatly
Out here in space dodging asteroids and avoiding life
Some days it all feels like progress
Other nights it feels like shame
I know what you’re gonna say but Chuck I tried
Well, I mean, I thought really hard about trying
And I can still see my son’s lighthouse on the kitchen table
I could get home if I really really really needed to
I’m sure of it
Listen I’m not some lost cause
Left drifting through galaxies with no hope of return
I’m E.T. and I know where the pay phone is
It’s just I’m not done up here
I’ve got more to find and more to see and more to discover
Sure Chuck, I’ll prove it
Home, it’s right there
Past that nebula and through that asteroid belt and around that comet
See
See
I could’ve sworn it was right there just yesterday
Where’d it go
Oh **** Chuck
Now what
Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 11:51 PM UTC
Won’t the real Charlie please stand up
And put one of those pencils in each hand up
Je suis Charlie too, but Charlie bit me
And for that they rip me
They want to get rid of me
But I’m not them
And they’re not us
But we’re all one
So don’t count up
Put those hands down
We don’t need to see another case of Michael Brown
Yes, protest
But protest with peace
And take the jobs of those you wish you could leash
Give emotions rest
Love is the best defense
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 4:32 AM UTC
How did I get here from where I was before,
A little weekend dabble and never wanted more,
I cannot become addicted, too good for that I'm sure,
But looking back I underestimated the power and the lure,
Half a packet here and there become 1 or 2 a week,
The lure of the white powder, I start becoming weak,
Sneaky packets in the day, trying to conceal,
Then when caught, convincing people that it's no big deal,
Lying to your loved ones, lying all day long,
Hiding from everyone and singing the paranoia song,
Once I pop I cannot stop till all the powder goes,
Doesn't seem to matter that I can't smell through my nose,
Nobody understands me or what I'm going through,
To them they think it's just a joke and don't believe it's true,
But I can confirm I'm an addict and I want you all to know,
And help me get away from this evil pure white snow,
I want to stop, I want it gone, I want it out my life,
I want to be a decent Dad and have a loving wife,
******* has been so evil and sneaky in its way,
Never think that you are too good to be lead astray,
Addiction is for junkies and skanks I used to spout,
Now I realise I didn't know what I was talking about,
I've nearly lost all I love and never felt so low,
I really need you to go ******* you really have to go.
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 3:58 AM UTC
Charlie Charlie.
Can you hear me?
Charlie Charlie
Can you play?
Charlie Charlie.
Are you real?
Charlie Charlie.
You're killing me.
Charlie Charlie.
What’s the big idea.
Charlie Charlie.
Can we stop?
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 11:43 AM UTC
When our system finally is done
I am traveling through the sun
Painting my body to destruction
But then there are a new system in construction
Seeing the world in a new light
Have to keep up in a hard fight
We settle down under the new orders
Trying to find safe behind friendly borders
Bombs and worriors are hidden everywhere
The enemy does not even care
About the cruel way of killing people of innocence
Now we must live under barbaric violence
Now it's always just jihad in da house
And then I die like a weak mouse
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 6:29 PM UTC
Comes to pass my picture of the Middle East
(one minute and twenty one seconds of television news,
much less than I had thought)
is an inaccurate representation of people
and the individuality of their experience.
How does one measure the merit of
I am offended?
If all I know are snapshots, misdirecting
the issue, changing path to digest murdered cartoonists
killed with Allah in mind
(another misdirection)
and I am not outraged.
Sadness manifests as thick fog
blocking artificial light, splitting the rays,
opening up and flexing, the truth as is,
the sole truth we must attain;
we are slow, dying creatures.
Inborn freedoms dissolve.
Did Salman Rushdie beg forgiveness for
images of his head book-ending a spear,
or did he die a little in secret?
Suppose I am a rouser marching the streets of
New York City, a gold pendant of two
falling towers adorning
my chest-cave, Je Suis etched into my forehead
(black felt-tip).
Do you defend me?
Relish in your torment of words?
Will you bury the fire in your belly
for sake of freedom?
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 7:04 PM UTC
beholding
the tipping
Big Dipper,
with its
dangling
handle,
traverse a
midwinter
northern sky
rising
in concert
with a
steadfast
sword
wielding
Orion,
mooring
the southern
firmament,
I stand
atop a
splotch
of black
macadam,
straddling the
equidistant
expanse of
all
ascending
celestial
spheres
Music Selection
Charlie Parker
Estrellita
Oakland
1/23/15
jbm
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 10:27 AM UTC
Irresponsible behaviors.
Civility of civilised on test.
Much arrogance and pride.
In extremes who's the best?
Insensitive to alien customs.
Insensitive to other's belief.
Then why teach tolerance?
Kindly explain, please debrief.
**** anti-Semitic cartoons!
Didn't it led to Death Camps.
Can we call this Freedom.
Ask yourselves, O Champs!
I am Charlie! I am Charlie!
The echoing words I hear.
I am Kouchi! I am Kouchi!
Might be heard I fear.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 1:34 PM UTC
Can we call it freedom if it divides?
Is it correct to ridicule revered name?
Was that in defence of freedom?
Or was that for easy money and fame?
They went on with their provocations;
And justified it with arguments lame.
Numerous hearts were agonised.
But few turned wild, difficult to tame.
Extreme provocations and insults.
In the name of ' Freedom of speech'
Extreme response and harshest reply.
To avenge the insult and to teach.
When one's ' Freedom of Expression ';
Gives one the ' Freedom to insult '.
Hatred and dissension are promoted;
And can lead to horrifying result.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 1:29 PM UTC
The many voices of the evening
gramophone the sky voice the cell phone
the tablet the notebook, that monotone
observer of mutations purveyor of maladies
the persistence of memories, pale pink light sink
burning in the fires lighting up the skies
an old pang, smitten clang, the pain balm
mug-life, pen-knife, kettle-strife, all the sheaves
them echo-songs that haunt the drill-wells
that are cut wounded and wear fetching
chants, to an yearning oblation
bay leaf, curry leaf, yes, them colander coriander
there's a rhyme of charlies, looping from
our holy wars to now our holy hours with
the ombudsman, the omniman, the only God
who used to thunder for the ****
old Zeus, the Lord of Betelgeuse, him who we
called dead, exhumation, exculpation, exaltation
an ancient loneliness that calls from the nether
depths, now science, now freedom, now pagan.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 3:20 PM UTC
In a city full of beauty, in a country full of life and a culture full of art and love - strangers have set foot upon the land - where poetry thrives, artists dream and music is composed.
They are burning the books and bringing the flames of hell upon the people...
They are covering the beauty so no one can see it and be tempted to take it away...
Children are shaking, the windows are breaking and the thunder is being silenced once again.
When will it end?
This hatred that is spreading like a cancer?
When will it end?
These questions which have no answers?
When will it end?
For the artist, the lovers and the romancers?
quand cela se arrêtera?
quand allez adorer revenir à la maison et dépasser la haine ?
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC