"abolished" poems
What a city I murmur to myself looking at its map.
We approached the city known as Dis,
with its vast army and its burdened citizens.
At last we reached the moats
dug deep around the dismal city.
What destroys the poetry of a city?
Automobiles destroy it,
and they destroy more than the poetry.
Dante and Virgil chased by 7 or 8 dangerous devils
Grumpy, Happy, Sneezy, Sleepy, ***** . . .
Our heroes reduced from metaphysical philosophers
interested in god and what man has done to man
to improvising primitive tools for survival.
Hope abandoned, we rate our chances of expiring
in the nuclear fire – excellent –
during the decline of western civilization.
On the other hand, I hope
our current problems are only temporary
and it’s just a matter of time before
the public ignores the 24-hour news cycle.
Bad news sells but the good life’s all around us.
One feels love and devotion
even for the 60 million who voted for our opponent.
Vaclav Havel said with a wisdom well beyond brilliance:
“Either we have hope within us or we don’t.
It is a dimension of the soul, and it’s not dependent
on some particular observation of the world or estimate of the situation.
It is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart
that transcends the world as it’s immediately experienced.
It is not the conviction that something will turn out well,
but the certainty that something makes sense
no matter how it turns out.”
It resembles grief. But it's not quite grief. I'll give you grief.
Certain days planned to be eventful I look forward to for weeks.
Let the peaceful transfer of power proceed. The sorrow and the pity.
Never may the anarchic man find rest at my hearth.
When the laws are kept, how proudly the city stands!
When the laws are broken, what of the city then?
We are moving through some allegory between a City of Hope,
where history has been abolished, and a City of History,
where hope can be slipped in only as contraband.
Failing to achieve understanding, we're searching
outer space for an entity to unite us as humanity.
That person, or city, is consciousness.
Two ancient female poets are a revelation,
the clarity of their complaints: lost lover, lost city.
Our enemy eventually becomes our brother,
his misery lifted by coming to her city.
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 9:23 AM UTC
Dear Poet Friends, Here is a poem by a young Canadian poet named Darien, which I found while browsing the Net! I would like to share this with you as a prelude to my poem about the 'Rise of The Third Reich', - which I hope to post on this Site shortly. Thanks, - Raj Nandy, New Delhi
World War II - ADOLF ******
by DARIEN, Aug 21, 2006
Austria raised a man so vile and vicious
His life was dark, callous and malicious
Passions of hatred engraved in his mind
As he plotted to create his own mankind
A soldier for Germany in World War One
War to end all wars had only just begun
The National Socialist Party appeared fast
Their numbers grew rapidly as time passed
Charismatic oratory and propaganda his tool
False promises made, people he would fool
Were Nazis the one to bring hope? Perhaps
Without their help Germany would collapse
The Reichstag Fire would be a stepping stone
Germany's President died, he took the throne
He became the fuhrer leader of all Germany
And would start the worst war of the century
War had been started with a Nazi-Soviet pact
Together with Russia, Poland they attacked
England and France were not ready for war
Marching of Nazis soldiers was not ignored.
Mussolini became his ally and supported him
For all other countries their chances were slim
Many countries were defeated in a few days
the Fascist and Nazis would give him praise
Blitzkrieg was a strategy that worked most
In defeating all his enemies he came close
The Nazis would spread all across Europe
But it would be at Stalingrad they would stop
Communist regimes were one group he did hate
Yet it was the Jews he would try to annihilate
In all cruelty, bloodshed, war would soon end
There was still so much for people to defend
On V-Day he saw all his armies demolished
****** and fascism in Europe was abolished
World War Two ended the areas were secure
From that evil, monstrous beast Adolf ******
- By Darien. (Canada)
..........................................................................
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
Eternity is closed !
- come back another day with
flower smears for eyes and sincere
passion on your
palms (weathered)
I need another Russian Doll -
Princess to frequent curtains
fashioned from fire & lead
equaling out to crimson folds
which mysteriously call to
the mystical hierarchies of
imagination
Silent requirements signal beneath the steps
which welcome
one (a stranger/
an Ibis-Beak cane & dark coat
stamped with August rain)
They arrive unexpectedly, as if to play the game
of cliches, they carry promises fashioned in foreign ports
tapping my knee
instead of my shoulder
having only known or recognized
entombment
(there is no hyperbole which lacks within
Nature's haunted heavens)
My strange visitor leaves / glass umbrella
in hand / to privacy / our brief interaction begins & ends with simple eager undertakings implemented
in the afterword
What is in another's contemplation of me?
whiling in manifest Theosophy -
- Thought form -
Primal child-rage / whisp of violet smoke &
inksplotches abolished, mutually panting.
Our decorated
four-legged hunter
has arisen and impatiently
craves for the Earth to partner at last with
the Sun
..The Sun a blazing dime
I can smell crispness
in the air
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 1:20 AM UTC
Rivalries are an excuse for animosity to be abused.
A tradition to explain the irrational and depraved.
A justification for future insubordination
Of logical arguments by the sane.
Beasts competed with one another through physical altercations,
But we have evolved to call everyone our brother.
So why is it that we must see fighting between one another?
Why is it that we may not all show that we're lovers?
Is there something wrong with the tolerance of each other?
Whatever rationalization is created for the promotion of hatred,
Should be abolished and ashamed,
That it may show its head and become a vein for placing blame,
Is unsettling all the same.
We are all too similar, and that should not promote altercations of an individual,
Rather it should be used as a connection to the familiar.
It should be used in stride with the builder
Of peace, and a reason for all this nonsense to cease.
We have developed into adults,
and it is time to show this with amiable results.
By citing a rivalry as traditional is exactly the reason
It is sinful.
One day we may see the end of this spitefully built fence,
By breaking down the wall separating far too many of us all.
I hope it is my lifetime here, for failing to unite us,
is my deepest of fears.
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 5:12 AM UTC
Texting somebody close to you,
Gossiping,
Chatting,
OMGees are all flying around,
LoLs flooding your tiny box,
Yet you're determined to stay aground.
I always have wondered why to limit,
Why to cap English or inhibit,
Replacing good ol’ words with some wicked text,
Emoticons they call,
Insipid, dull, and sluggish,
Emoticons they’re called.
Although indolence has reached its bounds,
And although my vote is utterly trifling,
Admit it,
Concede it,
Conclude it,
Emoticons’ presence should be abolished.
May 3, 2012
May 3, 2012 at 7:30 AM UTC
Tears linger in these scars
My ambition never goes to far
The glass is shattered below my feet
I see my reflection where the cracks meet
Torn, abolished just like my heart
I'm broken, finished, I'm ripped apart
I bleed to bleed inside my dreams
I slowly lose what it all means
In the creeping shadows, a peaceful bed
I lie inside to rest my head
I'm dead already, can't they see
The skeleton fighting to get out of me
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 9:54 AM UTC
In this Developed Nation, a 19 year old woman sleeps in a bag in a door way.
In this Developed Nation, a working family of four relies on the local food bank.
In this Developed Nation, grandmothers live on a pittance and die lonely.
In this Developed Nation, my friends use drugs to fill a spiritual chasm.
In this Developed Nation, stateless refugees are kept in cages while processed.
In this Developed Nation, slave labour is abolished, but persists.
In this Developed Nation, the media patronizes and panders to the lowest common denominator.
In this Developed Nation, the unscrupulous employers bulldoze workers rights.
In this Developed Nation, the population is kept divided and ineffective.
In this Developed Nation, ‘I’m not a racist...but...’
In this Developed Nation, black people are stop/searched nine times more than whites.
In this Developed Nation, under four percent of **** reports end in conviction.
In this Developed Nation, seventeen percent of adults take anti-depressants.
In this Developed Nation, suicide is the biggest killer of men under fifty.
In this Developed Nation, children cut themselves to relieve pain.
In this Developed Nation, I’m a snowflake if I care.
What has this Nation Developed into?
Aug 16, 2020
Aug 16, 2020 at 10:41 AM UTC
The civil war's not over
The sides are re-arranged
Those who once were allies
Now, they are estranged
The uniforms don't matter
It's now the colour of their skin
That's put the country back
To when the trouble did begin
Slavery abolished?
Have you looked outside your door?
Just take some time and ask yourself
Just who you're working for
The civil war's not over
It didn't ever end
Just watch your local nightly news
and see it's continuing my friend
America is burning
The flames are getting higher
The country's feeding on itself
Throw more fuel on the fire
Ferguson and Baltimore
are the start of the new pyre
America is burning
Throw more fuel on the fire
One percent to ninety nine
That's slavery to me
It's not just racial segregation
There's more than that to see
The civil war's not over
It's continued rolling on
It will stay there in the background
It's the country's most successful con
Johnny comes marching home again...hurrah, hurrah
Johnny comes marching home again...hurrah, hurrah
The country will be burning when he comes
From a war where no one really won
As another town burns, for all the world to see
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 11:17 AM UTC
Marijuana smoke fills the air
I play with your hair
You're here, I'm here
Aural pleasure, your voice in my ear
Sirens play, crippled with fear
Ten kilos of ****** lay right here
Why would you be friends with a writer?
Ever so pretentious, ever so righteous
Only come to play in the night time
Coming down and nodding off as it gets lighter
Pacifists the lot of them, not one fighter
Oh but many shall be knighted
We're here on a Island, each one of us banished
Authors of the west were long ago abolished
We've had our share of bloodshed
Alas, it's all fun and games until one of us is published.
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 4:59 PM UTC
The heart filled with love,
Dying, unable to protect it, decaying as the ash it has burnt out to,
All what is left is destruction, the emotions birthed by the abyss of an empty chest, such is the fate of one who has lost his ability to see, the ability to love love, now destined to be alike the undead,
Blind hatred raging with a dusty tone, forgotten and untouched in ages to come, undead wandering around, yet with no goal, no aim,
Feelings are but a blessing, without them one could be ruined, for even if they do bring joy but also pain, the experience to have lived through that, grown and understood their meaning is human,
"Give it back" she yelled whilst her blood drenched words stuck in her throat, seemingly unable to breathe by what took place,
A rotten heart may be dead, pitch black and left without notice, care
Sworn to change she cried her blind eyes out in the greatest despair,
While it ended with a brilliant smile, as pure as ash being scattered by the wind, her dreams were laid to rest and had abrogate, abolished,
Waking up in sweat, tears and joy from something which seemed to be a nightmare this girl tries her best not to end like her dreams,
After all, everyone is deserving of a second chance.
~ Umi
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 6:00 PM UTC
this is a poem about the Tulsa Race Riots
terrorism doesn't compare to self destruction.
disaster between the slaves, and their masters
we're richer, but they're smarter.
black wall street abolished, its name never in vain
although we remember, we'll never understand the pain
with our own eyes, it would leave us blind
by flash bombs, envy, discrimination
and hatred of our own kind.
gunpowder made buildings fly against the street lights
red and green, bombs still singing, ears still ringing,
we might as well be deaf.
the grass is always greener,
but our skin will never change or fade away
and to live in the past destroys our future
because just when we started to rise from the ashes
we burnt ourselves down again
from opposite sides of the city,
north and south
attract like polar opposites
wasting away green with envy
you can try to forget
because theres new paved concrete
but its still the same street
we owe to the stampede
jealously, destruction, revolution, prosperity
worn out buildings and bricks trapped us
but we're still free
under state laws
but only conditionally
the city sleeps when we do
but stays up late with disdain
days wasted and blown into the air
like concrete and fame
its a shame that
race riots black wall street and greenwood share the same name
it can't stay this way
one day, tulsa you'll change
you'll paint the streets again
faces engrained on
black walls like oil spills
treading new roads
buildings towering above
there are bodies below our feet
but that doesn't mean we're above them
and one day we'll breathe again
we'll write the names back into our history books
their sacrifice on our tongues
remembered, never in vain
like saviors honoring the pain
but never throwing it away
greenwood rising again.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 4:46 AM UTC
Your voice is my favorite sound
Your eyes are my weakness
Your smile spins me around
Everything about you is flawless
I've fallen so hard for you
And I can't just turn back
It's sad that you have no clue
You're the only thing I lack
I tried so hard to make this rhyme
But I hope my efforts aren't worthless
Because I spent a lot of time
To make this poem not meaningless
I may be just another girl
Who cares for you without your knowledge
But for sure, I am that girl
Whose love will never be abolished
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 8:51 PM UTC
When I came to, it was already too late.
Tumbling at the speed of sound and pointed
at the only thing I ever cared about.
Home.
Readjusting and stabilizing
the shot towards earth,
I remembered what was packed tight
in the cargo hold with the titanium alloy exoskeleton.
It was a matter of total energy.
So powerful,
that I used it to come see my home world
even though it was long since abolished.
The destruction was a mystery up until now.
As I hurled towards earth with my incredible dangerous load.
My only hope was that I could come back and save my family.
I would have never considered
that I would be the demise of my entire species,
nonetheless all of the underestimated subspecies that would die too.
"Captain."
The vessels computer was attempting to revive me.
“Impact in thirteen seconds.”
The ship commanded in the most perfect womanly voice.
"Ten."
"Initialize magnetic gyroscopic shielding." I say.
"Nine."
My planets surface was closing in.
I could see the coastline waves
rolling and ebbing with the moon.
"Eight."
At this moment I considered my probable demise.
"Seven."
“Captain, interdimensional equipment
charged and awaiting coordinates.”
She said,
as her other voice commanded,
“Five seconds till impact.”
Collapsible was the style of our Universe.
All I had to do now,
was tap the controls and I would leave the atmosphere instantly,
taking me in between the folds of particles.
The hull was losing integrity as was I.
And on that thought,
I simply pressed the button
and started my return to my lonely place in time.
Alone in the distant future and in the silence of space.
The passing eons of space-time were rattling my very bones.
But I ascended to the very place in time
where I would have been.
And there she was in all her exaltation.
Earth.
Untainted as I once recalled.
That’s when it struck me.
It was only logical that my life had been
looping all these years.
Destroying and saving humanity
all at the same time.
So typically me.
"Computer, set a course for San Francisco."
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 6:09 PM UTC
Headed in the wrong direction
seeking out a prince to make her a queen
Little does she know she rules without a King
The crown she wears made of the purest of gold
harvested deep with in her soul
chipped out of that giant heart she firmly holds
no one can come near it
last **** who did tried to exploit and extract
she never seems to step back
strong willed as ever
she's met some nobles but she deserves much better
No Need to share the throne you've done it all and more while being alone.
stop and think everything you've ever accomplished has been on your own without needing a hand to hold
much greater than I only word to describe you is bold
Out shine the rest out grind the rest
Chin up crown nice and polished
hold that head up high let every one see the pain you've abolished
Queen of Love and all kinds of malice
let some pawn try to woo you all they can do is run back and say their effort was valiant
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 11:14 PM UTC
I
Originations of consciousness whir into a moan of torment.
A sudden bombshell of consternation;
her eyes burst wide.
Baby?
Sleep-laden, post-finals brain gravy:
No, can't be. Could be. Shouldn't be. Want to be? No, can't be.
Lurking beyond the reach of terror, realism slithers closer.
The hysteria deteriorates as deduction brings lucidity.
******* eggs.
They are abolished, and never heard from again.
II
Suitcase tetris, smothering each layer.
She moves without direction,
or a lazy child with ADD.
At long last, the shimmering sink full of death beckons...
Dissatisfaction erupts in a symphony of fragmented drinkware.
Her assumption lingers, cresting into prediction.
Her expectations are met.
A thorn in her paw.
The dishwater weeps.
III
Her rage is tangible, hissing in her ears,
bashing her skull when it is ignored,
clawing at her spine.
She abandons the silverware.
They never did anything for her.
The loathsome bag swings threateningly.
She ignores it, giving it a silent challenge.
Fate strings before her eyes, yanked taut and thrumming
with inevitability.
Crimson satin sheets tangle lovingly from the rift of tender peel.
Cake-batter-in-a-mixing-bowl splatter,
the dissimilitude of children's laughter.
Wobbling, fawn-like under the density of rage gnawing at her lips,
she retreats, acknowledging her submission.
She begins as a tree, but rapidly degenerates
into grotesque dysmorphic spasms on the cheap veneer.
Hysteria threatens to burst forth, frothing, but no.
This is not my day.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 4:47 AM UTC
Billionaire: I were
been Corollary,
at the party,
and petition,
where populism,
there is no discussion,
and abolished
and the average,
the epicurean scenes,
beloved my testamentary,
and I partisan,
and raw balance of my profits,
and my diploma,
my university triumphs,
I am the planetary star,
skin and clothing
protozoan,
Legionnaire
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 11:01 AM UTC
I played witness to a society crumbling
streets cracked and schools shut down
the landscape has grown beyond troubling.
My litter stains the earth just as
the blood stains the streets
and still no one takes notice.
Every anti-action can be guilt free
when not one person considers this place
or how it’s become a monstrosity.
Who, now, will watch the world end?
Your future children, or theirs after?
How long can we hold this green-patched trend?
How long before the affluence takes hold?
Or has it got it’s grips on us so hard
that everyone believes what they’re told?
Everyone has someone to answer to
but no one can provide an answer
that speaks a complete and honest truth.
Discrimination has not yet been abolished
but the modest effort can be seen
where it’s been masked and lightly polished
to be put on display as a once-was.
Politically corrected and cleverly disguised
but I still see a still-is that’s nearly silenced us.
What has occurred cannot be undone
but I still want to change the world
at least before my hate crime comes.
Dec 13, 2009
Dec 13, 2009 at 5:23 PM UTC
A tragic simile to compare
An unfortunate situation that left me bare
Attempt to ****** me, you wouldn’t dare
A rumor that abolished my affair
The blaze that melted my lip stain
Red and purple upon my window pane
An enduring week that has me drained
In order to live I had to abstain
Your trust in me was just a dream
You ripped open the heart of my seam
Shot down by your merciless beams
No generosity for me, intolerance it seems
Revenge in your heart was in the past
Malevolence is sure to last
A never ending resentment cast
Upon your heart full of grief
Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 2:37 AM UTC
Bodies abolished
Floating souls
Space wind
Spirit bones
Waiting hidden
Beyond blackness
Wherein darkhails
Find Yourself
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 1:26 AM UTC
Washington was the first, helped emancipate,
His skills as a leader, nothing less than great.
A founding father, during the Revolutionary war,
America's first general, British trouble was in store.
Crossed the Delaware, while the English slept,
On the Limeys army, his troops had crept.
This historic victory, both clever and tactical,
Thoughts of independence now were practical.
Now victory assured, not bowing to the king,
Colonists were free, here there voices sing.
George rule the colonies, we put you on a throne,
Let's start a new democracy, he said in a gentle tone.
Served as the president for eight strong years,
Loved by the voters, respected by his peers.
The next great man, to hold political reigns,
Was our counties leader, during the time of great pains.
Born in the woods, his character strongly built,
His passion for equality, never did wilt.
Families torn apart, North against South,
The Emancipation Proclamation, wisdom out of Abe's mouth.
The Civil War now over, abolished was the slave,
The social order of the States, beginning to repave.
Lincoln wasn't alive, to see freedom abound,
Shot by Wilkes Booth, the world mourned the sound,
Heard at Ford's theater, that fateful night,
His spirit is alive, it continues to fight.
For freedom and justice and the American way,
Both Washington and Lincoln are honored this day.
Visit poemsbypaul.com
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 1:09 PM UTC
The Girl from Coronado
Dark brown eyes the brownest hair the most captivating was the faraway look in her eyes the painter
Searches for her in lost dreams she materializes on the sharp trumpet blast then she lingers as it turns
Softly as the street in front of the Saint Louis cathedral in New Orleans she was as wistful she was the
Bleeding torment held in battle field shadows her way had the razor sharp that cut through pretense to
The real the meaningful what was that certain something that held you in awe was it the southern sea
Breeze that was absorbed the enfolding touches that were exuded from her depths there are still
Waters then there is Gloria is it fondly promised like flowers floating on the tide the sweet smile that
Cuts and divides the waves like a surfer coming out of the Banji pipeline her brown hair blows softly it
Has enlightened on the breeze as fragrance unspoiled unidentifiable it enthralls as she walks the sandy
Sea swept beach in the distance she passes as a spirit cast improperly in a human role to disturbing to
Fetching she makes appearances in Celtic dreams of misfortune she brings trouble as a winged wonders
Those that are not for evil but hidden in them are clandestine secrets that open new corridors of
Simplicity that brim with honor they are the culminations of promises long deferred now they are at
The door to restore she possesses powers that are seemingly strange but they are beholding the
Glimpses she allows trigger eager disruptions the common falls before her gaze you find establishments
That seemed impossible could she be Isis presumably not but just bearer of her traits one who gives gifts
Of the natural world to artisans from normal items joy is in them as fluid emotions they suppress but
Only for the pure cause of making greater results occur the tiresome is abolished the clay is gold even
Though it be hidden from many to the few it is cherished sought and redeemed by love in a sea side
Town on the southern coast of California her alluring beauty you too can possess this just open yourself
seek the opportunity to give to others your name will be favorably spoken like the graceful girl from
Coronado
May 12, 2012
May 12, 2012 at 3:00 PM UTC
Lord, I am waiting, weeping, watching for Thee:
My youth and hope lie by me buried and dead,
My wandering love hath not where to lay its head
Except Thou say "Come to Me."
My noon is ended, abolished from life and light,
My noon is ended, ended and done away,
My sun went down in the hours that still were day,
And my lingering day is night.
How long, O Lord, how long in my desperate pain
Shall I weep and watch, shall I weep and long for Thee?
Is Thy grace ended, Thy love cut off from me?
How long shall I long in vain?
O God Who before the beginning hast seen the end,
Who hast made me flesh and blood, not frost and not fire,
Who hast filled me full of needs and love and desire
And a heart that craves a friend,
Who hast said "Come to Me and I will give thee rest,"
Who hast said "Take on thee My yoke and learn of Me,"
Who calledst a little child to come to Thee
And pillowedst John on Thy breast;
Who spak'st to women that followed Thee sorrowing,
Bidding them weep for themselves and weep for their own;
Who didst welcome the outlaw adoring Thee all alone,
And plight Thy word as a King,--
By Thy love of these and of all that ever shall be,
By Thy love of these and of all the born and unborn,
Turn Thy gracious eyes on me and think no scorn
Of me, not even of me.
Beside Thy Cross I hang on my cross in shame,
My wounds, weakness, extremity cry to Thee:
Bid me also to Paradise, also me
For the glory of Thy Name.
1.6k
I saw a myth destroyed
Actually, I saw it demolished
Stomped on, crushed
and totally abolished
We've all heard that
you look slimmer in black
Nope...big, fat lie
One myth is taken back
I went to a funeral
And the myth died
and joined the corpse
where it lied
Short, dumpy women
looking like dried out asphalt,
with matching wedge heels
crying and wandering about
hair colour from bottles
dressed as lumps of coal
the black dress, it hid nothing
like that 13th stomach roll
little round faced women
crying little round faced tears
in hockey puck like dresses
they all went and bought at Sears
there were blondes and
there were red heads
flaming briquettes...all there
to bury a myth with the dead
some, and by some...I mean few
dressed in black...looked nice
but the myth that black is slimming
you can put that one on ice
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 7:12 PM UTC