"bombings" poems
What luxury to get mad
about last night's basketball loss
and watch the full moon descending
at the speed the earth turns.
Things could get worse
personally and for the community.
Bombings, killings, anomie
boiling frogs and witches cursing.
The changing climate,
typhoons in the Philippines,
volcanoes and tsunamis, WWII which I missed,
Thanksgiving nor'easter, Easter twister.
What abundance to fast or feast,
your choice, stay inside by the stove
or go outside, climb the mountainside.
Live in a city or small town.
So I raged at the coaches
for their lazy zone defense
like an alien in the bleachers
unable to affect the outcome.
When my sons came home
I yelled at them too. What opulence
to be angry about nothing of consequence
neither stopped by the cops nor slipped on the ice.
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 6:13 AM UTC
Mind is a super computer they say.
It can think of millions of stuff in a matter of day.
From the bombings in Iraq,
to the hurt in my best friends heart.
From the moment its up,
It never stops,
To stop. Blink or breathe.
It keeps running at night.
The subconscious consumes power.
Often leaving the mind tired at the break of dawn.
When it meets people,
it reads the signs at many levels.
Subject of talk,
Body language.
Positivity of the vibes,
The way the person jives.
A handshake.
A wink.
A hug.
A swiftly made jug*
It notices everything.
In all this processing.
It accumulates a lot of clutter!
And the mind with all the confusing thoughts,
becomes like hot butter!
Sparks fly like an electronic of fire!
And it needs something to distract it.
What works best is a bit of exercise.
A bit of chattering,
Or writing it all out.
Some find solace in Games or Movies.
Why do they work?
Because they engage all senses,
And make the mind groovy.
Smoking and doping do great too.
But reducing the processors of our mind to grade two!
Hallucinating and dreaming 80% of it.
The mind thinks its being more productive that most of it.
But illusions destroy us further.
Making the mind believe it’s just another wonder.
Wonder though it is.
Using only 10% of it we create,
Science, History, Mystery,
But this wonder has a lot on bate.
If it goes in the wrong direction.
Even thinking too much is an addiction!
Original thoughts are like endorphins to the mind.
Making it jump and do cartwheels inside.
Stimulating discussions are named that way,
Because engaging in one makes us jumpy all day.
It satisfies the mind that,
I have done something constrictive besides,
Whiling my days in sorrow,
and waiting for the morrow.
Mind is like a baby that need attention,
if not given that it runs in all directions.
Mind is a super computer that needs,
the dedication of a programmer.
Be that programmer and feed your mind the right numbers,
And see it become the eighth wonder!
*Jug- short for juggle.
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 2:51 PM UTC
A thousand angry fingers are fighting.
"I’m right! Im right! There’s wrong in your writing.”
There’s a war of opinion, it's a slaughter of facts,
as fearful dominions blame who they can for the acts
of hate that they scrape across our tired eyes;
and as we try and decipher truth from the lies.
So soon people point, push, drag and despise
anyone they believe to be the devil in disguise.
“ Hang them, hit them, beat them down.
Don’t let another one of ‘those' in my good town”.
I tried to tie my own tongue and keep quiet.
But my fingers felt need to fight in this riot.
Though I am not seeking a thumb from anyone,
I was beginning to fear I was a disloyal son;
for our mother is weeping for every child.
Whether radical, righteous, anxious or mild.
She’s worried this war, like a fire in the wild,
won’t stop until all is consumed but the ash that is piled.
“ Stop this! Stop this! My dear children!
Life is so much more than the motives of men"
And I watch this war from a cafe in Glasgow;
outside enjoying coffee, crisps and tobacco.
The smoke swirls my head into a strange sense of comfort,
as before my eyes I watch my own world distort.
Where political posts attempt to equal social justice.
Where blood, bodies and bombings add to our numbness.
Where others opinions slowly shape and become us.
Where poets lack rhyme, guidance or substance.
Where In friends we see foes, and in fellow citizens: dangers.
Where we speak with our fingers, and to ourselves become strangers.
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 9:32 AM UTC
I don’t mind being criticized
If I’m wrong, tell me so
Let me know, so
I can go about doing right
And I just might find the solution
The retribution
The redistribution of answers
Being held from us
Preventing us from knowing
What knowledge is growing somewhere else in life
That’s what they say
But that’s what they all say
Convey threats to war
Scare us because they know we’re not sure
Send warnings then bombings exploding
everything, incessant destruction
so maybe it doesn't matter
if I'm right or wrong, I'm being criticized
as long as I can adapt to thinking
and can think about adapting
I just want to do what's right
so I write to figure it out
But I doubt what I see,
do my hand deceive me when
my words show that everything is wrong?
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 8:16 AM UTC
Let’s talk of love,
Of sunsets,
And peace,
Let’s talk of roses
And romance,
And full glasses of champagne.
Let’s,
Talk of joy
And having a baby,
And windchimes,
And feasts,
And,
Well,
Anything.
But let’s not talk of hate,
Or war
Or crimson rivers;
Wounds crackling with pus,
Popping scabs,
The sizzling gashes on my face.
Don’t speak of lost soldiers with forgotten limbs.
Don’t think,
Of discrimination,
And sorrow,
And divided skin.
Don’t waste a single breath
On misfits,
Outcasts,
Or widows.
Ignore conversing about infants
Left in the gutter,
Or orphans without arms,
Or bombings,
Or fire in the streets.
Don’t mention parents
Who **** their children.
I don’t want to know
About ******
Trauma,
And ****
Don’t look at the spires
Constructed of bodies,
With insects crawling out holes,
And eating out frowns.
Absolutely never speak,
Of anger and sadness
And anything in between.
Why bother with illness
Of mind,
Body,
Spirit.
Forget about the times
When liberty bled.
That’s not on my conscience.
Why mention families,
Torn,
Apart.
Why speak of agony,
And brokenness,
And death?
Don’t speak,
Of suffering
At all.
But let’s talk,
About anything,
And everything,
Anything at all.
As long
As it’s not,
You.
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 11:14 AM UTC
I see the violence,
I hear no laughter,
It's all faith to capture;
I can feel the rapture,
Disaster another chapter,
Darkness within these walls,
a fall,
No more buildings too tall.
Fire choking the young,
It's only just begun.
There's no sun,
We hear a bomb,
Run,
Innocent children,
Deprived of fun,
Shrapnel flying everywhere,
Smoky air,
Streets are bare,
It's all despair,
I feel the Animosity,
Subconsciously,
Knowing I'm dead probably,
We do this to our society,
Because we have religion and rivalry,
Violently, involved yet independently,
You walk so silently,
Scared of your own shadow frightfully,
Tirelessly,
With your messed up psychiatry,
That’s irony.
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 4:50 AM UTC
"The global bull market has continued its seemingly relentless advance, unchanged by geopolitical concerns…….."
• The Israeli-Hamas conflict now blazing in Gaza, Palestine, two military forces locked in a deadly struggle to the end, killing and maiming thousands of ordinary citizens.
• Malaysia Airlines flight 17 blasted out of a clear blue Ukraine sky by the Bus surface to air missile
unleashed by the Pro-Russian Separatists killing 298 unsuspecting, innocent, international travellers.
Culpability denied by all.
• Anwar Al Awlaki, the American born Cleric, directing clandestine terror attacks and assassination by Al Qaeda beyond the Middle east into Asia and Europe.
• Deposed President, Mohammed Morsi’s Muslim Brotherhood, responsible for terrorist activities including multiple car bombings throughout Egypt.
• President Bashar Assad of the Alawite minority, an offshoot of Syria’s Shiite religion, waging religious genocide against his own nations people
and now in open conflict with the Muslim uprising Sunni forces of the new Isis Caliphate.
• The beheadings, slaughter and terror unleashed by the Sunni, Isis Caliphate uprising rampaging through Iraq.
• Russia’s sudden invasion and forceful annexation of the Crimea.
• Russia’s brutal pressure on the sovereignty of the Ukraine through its clandestine weaponry supply and sponsorship of the Pro-Russian Separatist Forces occupying the nations East.
The Middle East is now…an Apocalypse.
This epoch of cruel waste
Where man kills man
For God and gold,
For power’s lust.
Where the Sword of Calamity
Wields destruction and death
On those who can least afford it
By they who should never impose it.
**In the face of all this …..an unbelievable prioritization with this headline quote from today’s NZ Herald….
“There are financial risks to be endlessly jumping at shadows…to overreact to market noise!"**
UNBELIEVABLE!!!!
M.
Auckland,
NEW ZEALAND
31 July 2014
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
Buttercups Diversify!
Posted by Olivia Kent on June 19, 2013 at 11:46am
View Blog
Buttercups Diversify!
In peach tinted temple of time,
Painted in poetry's dreams,
We kiss, we talk, we ,
Writing leisure through pleasure and pain,
I laid on your bed,
You bathed my shoulders so sore,
Left me smouldering with desires for you,
You donated to me, while we played in daylights sweet kiss,
A sweet single bright buttercup,
Dressed in waxen yellow,
Precious petals sparkling, shining ,
Glowing in the afternoon, after laying on the the spiky dry grass,
After dancing had passed,
A garden full of dreamers dressed in pink and white, blessed with fragrance, pure.
Collected from a century of rose tree,
The tree had seen much over the years about a century I was told,
Witnessed bombings in the blitz,
Watched mother's father's children's kiss,
Flowers of such beauty, dressed with a drizzle of love's sensation tickles,
As the dance goes on!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 3:55 PM UTC
Among the blight-killed eucalypts, among
trees and bushes rusted by Christmas frosts,
the yards and hillsides exhausted by five years of drought,
certain airy white blossoms punctually
reappeared, and dense clusters of pale pink, dark pink--
a delicate abundance. They seemed
like guests arriving joyfully on the accustomed
festival day, unaware of the year's events, not perceiving
the sackcloth others were wearing.
To some of us, the dejected landscape consorted well
with our shame and bitterness. Skies ever-blue,
daily sunshine, disgusted us like smile-buttons.
Yet the blossoms, clinging to thin branches
more lightly than birds alert for flight,
lifted the sunken heart
even against its will.
But not
as symbols of hope: they were flimsy
as our resistance to the crimes committed
--again, again--in our name; and yes, they return,
year after year, and yes, they briefly shone with serene joy
over against the dark glare
of evil days. They are, and their presence
is quietness ineffable--and the bombings are, were,
no doubt will be; that quiet, that huge cacophany
simultaneous. No promise was being accorded, the blossoms
were not doves, there was no rainbow. And when it was claimed
the war had ended, it had not ended.
2.2k
Through all this strife
We create life
It's not wrong or right
It's humanity's plight
Whether it's with a wife
Or a stranger
We create life
Despite danger
There is a new addition
He could end repetition
Of negative patterns
And social ladders
But there is a competition
Between the new editions
Of positive versus negative
He'll be the one ahead of it
In a world plagued with stabbings
By the greedy money grabbing
Not to mention the beastly bombings
That endear retribution wronging
And elusive peace longing
There is a birth
Amongst death
That makes it worth
That first breath
Which provides hope in promise and potential
When they could be the positive differential
That could change this planet
And the hearts made of granite
We are born screaming
And never stop
We find ways of teaming
To be cops
Imposing our will on others
Through fascist force
There are many ways to cover
How this ruins discourse
But I sense a new sheriff in town
Our old ways he'll bury in the ground
He might be one or two now
But he'll change the world and I don't know how
For he brings hope
To a world with none
He helps me cope
A compassionate son
He'll make the world brighter
By not being a fighter
In a world of strife
He'll create life
Dec 26, 2017
Dec 26, 2017 at 2:47 AM UTC
The Steps to Success:
1. Stand up for what you believe in; unless it goes against what society does, in which case you can kindly shut the hell up.
2. Don't let anyone stifle your creativity. But don't be too creative, you won't get anywhere in life because art doesn't matter after high school.
3. Express yourself. Unless of course your self expression makes others uncomfortable, then you must hide who you are in favor of what's normal.
4. Focus on the good in the world, even though the media is constantly full of mass shootings and suicide bombings.
5. Get a good night’s sleep every night. But only after you've done 6 hours of homework, eaten a full meal (not too much, we wouldn't want you to get fat), attended an extracurricular, and spent time with your family.
6. Mental health is important. But it isn't as important as homework, essays, and standardized tests. School always comes first.
7. Don't disrespect your elders. Even if they have beaten you down mentally and physically your entire life, they're older than you and therefore smarter. Respect them.
8. Be confident in who you are. But don't be too fat, not too thin either. Don't wear a lot of pink, but watch how much black you put on too. It's okay to feel good without makeup, but a bit of eyeliner wouldn't hurt. No, not like that, here's a makeup wipe; you wearing way too much.
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 11:31 AM UTC
Freedom, freedom they shout,
freedom, freedom they say.___
Obsessed with freedom!
Freedom, freedom night and day.___
They have erected and they
show large statues of freedom.___
Freedom, freedom they sing like
hymns and ever beat the drum.___
Bombings, theft and dacoity
disguised in the name of freedom.___
Killings, torture, **** all are fine,
just shout freedom, freedom.___
But are they themselves free?
handful rule them with a glee.___
People of money and media and
walls of prejudice and lies I see.___
Few have taken them as hostage
and they've made world unfree.___
I pray for their freedom so that
entire world becomes free.___
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 1:32 AM UTC
everyone likes a good fair fight explosion came from motorbike another involved suicide bomber on bicycle targeting police vehicle war drags on years and years no one wants to talk about it if we dress in silk transparent employing all our charms talents they will act wild to lie with us that will be moment to refuse they will hasten to make peace i am convinced taliban said they carried out bombings as message to nato wedding celebration nearby number of guests believed to be among dead injured u.s. hints volatile area next target for operations she knelt naked knees apart arms outstretched ******* bowed ******* perched neck exposed lips mouth open eyelids half closed scent of vetiver ylang ylang roses anything everything you want if only you will stop murdering
Mar 14, 2010
Mar 14, 2010 at 6:43 AM UTC
The happiness is scarce
But the tears are plentiful
Stories unwritten
But bound to be pitiful
The happiness is scarce
Joy's rare but pain's common
You see it on the streets
With the crimes and the bombings
The happiness is scarce
A source un-renewable
So we store it for later
And ignore all the beautiful
The happiness is scarce
But we refuse to use it
Maybe that's why
We continue to lose it
The happiness is scarce
But the tears are plentiful
The only way to stop it
Is to make it all wonderful
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 6:31 AM UTC
My tired eyes,
my fatigued mind
falls slow and time becomes obscured by
the drowsy raven sailing sunset sky boulevard.
My phone is ringing orders and misdirection calls,
that funny little radiation box hollering voices
of somewhere, telemarketers in India, automated messages,
spurious connections anywhere but here.
The rain-shine of approaching April Wednesday
trails golden hues among the treeline being viciously
torn like a gradual atomic bomb flattening the hoary hills
and spectacular firs beryl in frequent times of showers.
Each day I hope for that fabled resurgence,
nearly a year my fingers have been crossed
while wars are still wars, politicians still politicians,
gods still gods. Everything is so still, silence among fury.
Carpet bombings, protests, genocides, reforms, riots, the drowsy
raven circles in view of the window and my thoughts cycle around
my washing machine consciousness wiping off the grit of untruths
of everywhere else but within myself. That seems to be the problem
with most people.
As the clouds roll in, as the sun subsides into darkness,
as my mind is clouded by that ever-expanding raven encompassing
night sky and nightmares, I realize I hadn't even gone out at any point
that day and probably wouldn't the next.
We've become so dull some of us.
Vacuums inside of vacuums.
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC
Begging for explosive technology
Gripping ancient ideas
Merely coordinating fresh routes
Deleting paintings to
Repaint the fire bombings on Dresden
Sep 16, 2011
Sep 16, 2011 at 11:21 AM UTC
American school bombings
London stabbings
Gaza shootings
North Korea missile launching
Russian poisoning
So many broken counties
Lying politicians
Teenage pregnancies
Kids cutting
Child ***********
Babies born as addicts
So many broken people
Air Pollution
Ice caps melting
Diminishing resources
Global warming
Seas of *******
So many broken things in the world
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC
Meeting the wonderful
people who will sparkle in the night
are the guiding lights
to blossom in the world--
even as despair tries
to take place in our minds.
Shootings will gander
the cross hairs of our media
causing freight to spread,
even in those we
call our friends.
Bombings will spark
national outcry
in between each sentence--
people will begin
to speak hatred.
Terror will be uprising
creeping into homes
pushing out demands,
to replace our happiness
with their fear.
Against this
I speak for you
one human to another
do not give in
even in desperate times
there are amazing people--
please sparkle
because I know you can.
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 11:23 PM UTC
You are so much more
invested in
domesticated
or non-domesticated
furry friends
then Syrian refugees
who look more
like you and me.
You are so much more
invested in
a piece of multi-colored cloth
that ***** in the wind
a symbol
of an idea
that has not been
fulfilled
then the victims of
drone bombings.
You are so much more
invested in
a barely ancient book
then women’s rights.
You are so much more
invested in
police authority
then those oppressed
for centuries,
those brutalized
incarcerated,
demonized,
enslaved,
and murdered.
You are so much more
invested in
sports and reality shows
then education
and the pursuit of truth.
And here is what
your investments
netted you
apathy, violence,
greed, destruction,
pain, suffering
terror, and the dividends
are still pouring in.
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 1:03 PM UTC
I take my knowledge from architects, medieval painters and galore.
I walk along the stretch of times, Read the Canterbury Tales from folks of yore.
I've written literature in my own dialect, through the beautiful English language.
I find awe in the act of creation, new etymologies where old writers anguished.
My words: symphonies of the beloved and dead Beethoven; like the arias of Wagner.
I am the high priest, the new catholicicist propogandising as your Cardinal.
I am the spiritual technology, provided to the ailment of what we call society.
I am the new Ghandi, the Dalai Lama deservedly inspiring your piety.
I am the Luciferous angel of life, breathing heaven through the cesspool of Earth.
I am the post-modern Romeo and Juliet, Warhol's 15 minutes of fame and worth.
I am the Alexander Mcqueen, the metaphilosopher of fabric illusions.
I am the lyricist of society, speaking through the castrated eunychs.
I am Stephanie Myer, inspiration of vampiric genius to adolescent impressionables.
I am Jane Austen, author of new age thrillers such as The Secret and Lesbian Misérables
I am the eclipsing of twilight, the post-mortem autopsy of a rotting cadaver.
I am Heath Ledger and Michael Jackson, legends inspiring a race of sleeping pill grabbers.
I am the Blockbuster, the Titanic Avatar, $4.9 Billion to children in poverty.
I am Gangnam Style, 2.5 Billion viewers of the Palestinian Bombings.
I am modern philosophe, the birth giver of Socrates, Plato, Nietzsche, Derrida.
I am Steve Jobs, terrible father, tyrant and billionaire technological reliever.
I am God, the predeccesor and successor of all eternal life.
I am Satan, damnation and strife.
I am Tupac, rapper of gangster warfare. Inspirational to first world degenerates.
I am Oprah, most powerful black woman with white hillbilly aesthetics of Ellen Degeneres.
Thank you, to world's only true Genius.
Hail Kanye West, our one and only revered Yeezus.
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 4:18 AM UTC
Once said that he was baffled
Yes, flabbergasted,
that in the 6000 years of human existence
In the 6000 years of exorcisms
Crucifixions
******
Bombings
Shootings
Lying
Stealing
Kindness
Love
Mercy
Forgiveness
No one ever prayed for the one
Who needed prayers to most.
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 3:01 AM UTC
Now: in World News
Syria
has been hit with
Chemical
bombs by Russian aircrafts
no consequence
violation of human
and of human
and of rights
and wrongs?
Next: in World News
Palestine
received some 10
Bombings
on civilian areas
no consequence
violation of human
and of human
and of rights
and wrongs?
Shells
Dropped
on children on children on children
play in the rubble
as they bleed
what an image of
Innocence!
and of human
and of rights
and of wrongs
of human
human
huma
hum
hu
h
Hatred is a
Natural
emotion experienced
by the rich and powerful
Scientists
Psychologists
Doctors
Academics
confirm this
Again: in World War News
no comment
no consequence
violation
human
rights -
Take a left
And our reporter tells us
you'll see safety
in the west wings
taking flight over dead bodies
truly this is the world of -
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 8:05 AM UTC
This is no fiction, but reality. This was God’s miracle again for me,
few hours hereafter occurred the bombings in Paris. We ? Already at Airport Orly to Home ............................With love, Sylvia.
Paris after the 12th of November? No one to blame
the Eiffel Tower? Never more the same,
departure some hours later, no resemblance
those slight difference: terror in ignorance
forced to stay in Paris forever
could never see again your homeland, remember?
no dreams anymore, constant nightmares
but……. WHO cares?
you would never know, was it a curse or a bliss,
oddly enough, I informed you now about this.
Now Paris for you is still a greatest bliss
you’ve never been in Paris before
we did enjoy, quarrelled and enjoyed more
for you and I Paris was the walhalla
our love and happiness we never measure, and blah-blah-bla
God showed us the perfect view
from dawn till again morning dew
to treasure and honour His Mighty Impact
that life He showed you, enjoy it and show respect !
please, beware of His presence
be careful and love thy neighbours in mine absence
in all hours of this Great Silence....
© Sylvia Frances Chan
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 9:11 AM UTC
War torn Aleppo
Is featured
In the news today
Bombings **** the innocent
The people hope and pray
We are far
From Aleppo
A bomb not falling
On your head
And like most Americans
I had my daily bread
Even in America
Peace is no guarantee
Will North Korea
Start WWIII?
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 10:43 PM UTC