Above the beaches of Normandy
In ordered rows they lie.
They came to fight for freedom,
And for that many had to die.
They also lie in rows in Libya,
In Italy and Greece
The soldiers of democracy
Who died fighting for the release
Of millions locked in a tyranny
Oppressed by an evil mind
They died so that enlightenment
Could guide the future of mankind.
And in the East many more
Monuments stand in memory
Of the many millions of bravehearts
Who died in the fight to be,
Rid of the monstrous evil gang
And their racist and murderous ideaology,
Which planned genocide for these people
In order to steal their whole country.
And here we are almost seventy years
Since the end of that terrible war
Looking at election results which ask
What was all that dying for?
People in free democracies purchased
With those millions of victims blood
Have voted for the same ideaology
That will trample in the mud
All the freedoms for which they fought
And for which they gave their lives
It is as if history has never been taught
And that sheer ignorance above all else,thrives.

Tom Higgins 27/05/2014

Could vous just take a second, a moment, one solid instant
to visualize the boy in the stall with more felt lacerations than words of admiration.

Could the bold, bright, beautiful ones start singing
because I'm sick of the loud talk that goes through the motions of lingering
in an echoed room as they "try" to save the oceans - tell me, did we
litter on the way there? There's a forgotten world in stories told of heroes, breathing clean air.

Could the world give one more shot (a mountainous event) because history needs valor.
But technology is further than requirements for bravehearts to trigger a gun. Envision
a man four foot high, who stands a flag where poppies lie because he was that lucky man
who watched his fellows die
I'll say, weaponry wields death to We, naught could prove me wrong.

Could the world be a little bit more tight; bring back the mystery of gentlemen.
We're too loose and on the edge of loss, and the cost - oh, the cost
is sentimentality that somehow became disconnected when
baring your soul and stripping bare became two
and when I meet the one, my mind is plagued that we shall only amount to half.

Could the world be about more than the new, the sophisticated
or have too many eye closed to the life before the Dodo's died; now only
one view: to screen the disease from the rescued swingers, sinkers and singers
ahhhhhhhhh! basking in captivity: to compensate, we take back by metabolizing habitats.

Could the world be about to - because me and mine are everywhere,
but mind: the brain's likely to reach revelation. Clap, we will excel. After all,
when the world explodes and we reconnect, I'm sure each will preach and teach and leech
until it's known - We'll thank Gutenberg as needed, but printer is no master
when the minds are intertwined. But P'haps it has been a bad morning because I've known you
and you've bled true - long been fixing those around, so they aren't torches who warn off monsters,
instead they shave down fangs of loathing, there's no - not one! - beast they burn.
And don't I wonder? Ah yes, I do wonder: that now
Could the world be about to turn?

painted bright as a poppy drops
on water in winter armour

endeared with pins through daring
words emotives that would fly

scramble. alert.
stand down

flutter arrested
attested to tempt;
at rest the
compression lump

chunks of red muscle lie against
wanton parting pout born by eyes.
there is no offer.

petals drop as remembrance
of a bi-partisan battle. disorder
beaten by bravehearts

that did not fall but threw themselves
on into slurry of sharp parts
slowly giving to drops of familial blood

parallel sympathy endeavor
peaceful and untroubled
achieve ballerina twists
comforting serenity
pull a fast one on
elixir sip sucker stiff
tiny hornswoggle mulct
grandfather clock rich rock
chimney chalk ziggy pop
sirius kid dolls cudi feet tall
artists whirl revolution vet
wolf convincing sheep curve
non believers starting flames
horrid instant ways even livid
fears queen fairy dust spiral
wick gladness warlock king
abide nostrum wake flesh
archangel passion feans
world web crack addicts
mankind teach nine
nail soundness round
raiden uppercut fortify illegitimate
swine heedless being being beaten
headless ***** eyes hub pivot
nerve endings eager enthusiasm hitch
pitch outermost central swain free gist
intrigue archbishop market black illicit
red hot chili peppers implicate explicit
inundating problematic seniority cast
systems hook boom haze tomb prune
embrace bravehearts impale in arms
side by side shield elastic coats grace

Pariah dogs pain me.

I feel for those mute sufferers
But can’t fill their life.

Many a times I have dreamed of
A doggery in my backyard
For those giver only friends.

Do for them something tangible

Send appeals to kind souls for charity
Creating a kind of NGO for these bravehearts
Giving them something from the more
They deserve.

I haven’t done anything of these.

Under twinkling stars
I feed them scraps
And mourn

When one is less.

when I wrote I rearranged the stars in heaven for you

I made them shine in your eyes and dance in the skies in honour of you

I pulled the colours of the sunset out of the sky and wrapped you in them like a hug

I fought demons for you and I cast them out into the darkness where they came

i forgave you for all the stupidity  and  unintentional cruelty,

I even let you take my world and twist it into your vision of our future

and still, still, you can not seem to remember what it is you did wrong

you say your sorry but I can never believe you.

the violation of trust has become the expectational norm.

its so hard to get close to you when you keep snipping at my heart strings

please dont untangle me, Ive grown to love this mess

Its my home. its not much, not even comfortable in most ways,

but its all I have and I insist to myself its enough to keep drawing more from myself to give to you,

and still, still I wait for that recognition.

that instance of realisation

the lightning bolt

the one that makes it all so worth it.

the one where stars fall at your feet,

like when the sun crawls out of the sky just to see you wake

where the words wrap themselves like flowers around you

and the only darkness is the one scattered with lights

arranged in random love notes, a love immortal.

and still, still where only bravehearts fear not to try.

Good girl at day,
bad boy at night.
The true voices of rebellion
where are you at?

Where's that magical place
where's no one judged by their face?

When the stars shape the line,
bravehearts beat as one.
When everything is all right
the planets align planetarium.

and in Pennsylvania a federal holiday.

"...I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America. And to the republic for which it stands. One nation under god indivisible with liberty and justice for all...."

Ever since setting foot in the classroom
at Audubon Elementary School
(circa mid ninety sixties)
first thing in the morning
witnessed all the students
holding their right hand
over their heart
as a form of respect
for Country and Flag
and uttering the above words
in quotation marks.

Now as a grown adult
(not quite three score years)
since initially being inaugurated
into my country tis of thee
acquiescing without protestation
the blood, sweat and tears
signified courtesy stars and stripes,
though now I feel squeamish
blindly, fervently, obediently...
uttering those thirty one words.

Awareness about the ****** history
delineating when "discovery"
of forty eight contiguous states
usurped by roving band of explorers
since soured sentiment to experience
native obligatory patriotism.

Rather yours truly
a passive activist
exhibiting quiet riot mien as
rebellious nonestablishmentarian
Pennsylvania doodling Yankee...

dismissed as anomalous ill fête
recognition came rather late
in his life, yet he cannot
craft literary endeavors
at a fast enough rate
to appease the sudden
pleasantly unexpected spate
of request, which hesitation
on my part cannot wait.

Pacifist bard of Perkiomen Valley
regaled at Alpine Fellowship conclave
regarding erosion of Democratic rights grave
alarming usurpation of power - Republicans
each and every one a nasty and brutish knave
intent to pronounce decree sentencing
every **** sapien to pave
(courtesy their lovely bones)
back breaking laborious ****** path
trumpeting, signaling and attesting slave
versus master linkedin relationship
essentially scuttling emancipation proclamation
lifetime of human *******
forced to pledge flag of servitude
amidst wreckage broken souls
washed away courtesy totalitarian wave.

Foreclosure on purported inalienable rights
life, liberty and pursuit of happiness
though hard won freedoms crimped
foregone conclusion demanding
fealty and loyalty to sovereignty
therefore necessitates electorate
to stage coup d'état
and overthrow autocrat
ideally thru peaceful modus operandi.

Though aforementioned verses hypothetical,
mine overactive imagination
can easily envision governmental,
née societal debacle
witnessing yours truly,
an extremely shy
Norwegian bachelor wannabe
gobbling up ample powder milk biscuits
to acquire courage to protest
(no matter the temperature
seasonably cool today June fourteenth
two thousand and twenty three)
and stand firm against
one unnamed political party
aiming to upend voting rights,
thus disenfranchising
most economically vulnerable people
(predominantly) persons of color
to cast their vote for representation.

Absolute zero chance for change
unless even those risk averse
(such as one garden variety wordsmith)
to protest without resorting to violence
and staking a claim to denounce
opposition against exercising
freedom for citizens
to elect eligible candidate.

I too would join aspiring bravehearts
(each of us participants
tightly grasping an amulet),
not looking for fame nor fortune,
only martyrdom and sainthood ha,
nevertheless able, eager, and ready
to risk life and limb
in an effort to preserve
(even at expense getting into a jam)
principle figurative bulwark buttressing
buzzfeeding land of milk and honey myth.

Throughout American history
many patriots as well
as indigenous tribes bled,
the latter viciously tracked down
nsync with ominous dread,
no matter how fast they fled
taking refuge courtesy
sympathetic and empathetic abolitionists,
who silently motioned at (hiding) in hogshead.

Outspoken voices helped spur
Emancipation Proclamation and
subsequent manumission
diametrically opposed to bedrock
attitudes, ideologies, prejudices...
kept in check by scare tactics
thus disallowing formerly shackled
to experience full fledged freedom,
whether enjoying opportunities

available to the leisure class
or exploring inherent potential
to amass learning
and become financially successful,
which suppression of free will,
(within parameters of self expression -
artistic, literary, musical et alia)
gives credence to notion of white privilege
automatic guilt linkedin with skin color.

Each generation of oppressed,
especially those who break the color barrier
subjected with bigotry
(ofttimes subtle mistreatment)
challenging well earned freedom
rightfully bequeathed from forebears labor.

The ghosts of Africans,
who suffered pre colonial rule
(namely European exploitation)
robbed of their national identity
will forever haunt the offspring,
whose forefathers/mothers
brutally suffering desecrated haven housing
rightful autochthonous men, women and children
livingsocial within their own Lake Wobegone.