"brokered" poems
Oh Henry
What a star you are!
You always loved to be at the center of attention
Your accomplishments in diplomacy are well known
You brokered the peace treaty between Israel and Egypt
You effected detente with the Soviet Union
You opened up the way for Nixon in China
You negated the Communist threat in Chile
You said it yourself
"Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac.”
You have admitted that mistakes were
"Quite possibly made"
By administrations in which you served.
You have questioned whether, 30 years after the event,
"Courts are the Appropriate means by which determination is made".
And Cambodia Henry?
You were complicit
In the illegal carpet bombing of neutral Cambodia
Which sowed the seeds for the murderous Pol *** regime
Pinochet was indicted for human rights violations
Diplomacy is a ***** business
You did what you thought needed to be done
You remain cold and secretive
Do you have any remorse or regret?
The old Russian proverb is wrong Henry
Time does not heal all wounds
There is blood on your hands
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 11:06 PM UTC
The day a lightning struck my home in September 2010
I read in it signs of bad time grave misfortune’s ill omen
Early morn it fell the night though didn’t hint of a bad weather
Jolting us further a bereaved family my father had died that year.
Spitting fire it chipped a chunk of attic struck dead an arecanut tree
Blew the TV dead lights and fans fled it vented such awesome energy
What had we done to deserve such a deal why befell us the curse
Redoing the roof replacing dead wares it was taxing on our purse.
They say it’s too bad when god goes as mad as to strike your home with lightning
You must have sinned to incur his wrath more misfortune it probably would bring
So we brought a priest for peace and worship we had to appease the deity
In our quest to strike a deal with god’s will was forgotten the arecanut tree.
The house was mended things returned to shape we brokered a peace with god
It all looked fine the mishap forgotten no calamity struck our abode
As a relic of that time stands the arecanut tree without a leaf on its head
Mutely it bears the brunt of god’s fury so is the way it is made.
One autumn morn there was a tapping sound on that tree’s hollowed dead bark
As I peeped through the window I saw a woodpecker its beak was busy at work
So many times I had thought to cut off the tree for it could never grow its root
The bird has got a nest for little ones’ rest god’s will has borne a sweet fruit.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 6:38 AM UTC
Connections bring out the worst in me.
Sitting next to you, dark brown eyes
that light up too readily, lips turning at the corners
and a laugh that brings out mine, instinctively.
Secrets shared and confidences brokered
as we lean in and whisper, co-conspirators
facing the world, as a unit we rise together,
my thoughts mirrored on his face.
Tongue in cheek exchanges and insults
parodied and paraded between cross-roads,
intersects as we dance verbally, smiles
all too often exchanged as I know, now,
that I am heading for the fall.
That one that I always anticipate, the one that
has only happened once before, excitement
coursing in my veins as I try to tell myself stop,
think, take a breath and see the wall where this ends.
I can't help it though, his presence is like lightning,
as I glow from within enjoying this brief moment.
Desolation brews, but it is future-bound and I give
myself to the moment, pleasure paid for with future pain.
He is not mine, nor will he ever be,
we will never dance again and our eyes will not meet.
I am trying to find pleasure in past moments
but now gravity claims me, my loss is only my own,
as he falls back into the non-existence from whence he came
and all that now remains is the absence of him.
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 3:49 PM UTC
Rumours were flying all around
Someone was moving in
They question at the table was
Just how long has it truly been?
Windows boarded, papered over
Not a good sign most times
But, there in the shop window
Coming soon "Broken Spines"
The street folks all were questioned
By other street folks who
knew nothing of the tenant
On the whole, nobody knew
The Bluesman worked the alleys
finding out just what he could
But, in the end, he came up empty
And here, empty was not good
The building had been vacant now
For at least ten years plus four
It was at least the old millenium
Since someone used that door
The building was a shoe store
Selling discount boots and shoes
A new tenant or an owner
Gave the street some cherished news
The bartender told the others
She tried to see in on her way
But, the window was well covered
That was all she had to say
No one knew the agent who
Brokered the deal at all
They were surprised someone was coming
Most new stores went to the mall
Cy, the Pawnbroker ventured
It must be a medics shop
No one understood the name
And the questions wouldn't stop
A young woman in the corner
ordered her breakfast and sat back
she listened closely to the council
and followed them on their mind track
She had coffee from Gianni
He served it up himself
Joe had cooked her breakfast
"Two eggs, bacon, and a shelf"
The Bluesman coughed and ventured
We'll know all we need to know in time
I'm off to have some med-cin
and rest my weary spine
The others laughed at his words
Saw him off and watched him go
He went back out to his alley
Away from where the wind did blow
The Captain followed closely
He was heading to the bar
The others closed the meeting
before he ever got too far
The woman in the corner
Paid her bill, and left a tip
She left ten dollars on the table
With a yellow paper slip
She also left beside it
A small card of olive green
She was gone and on her way
Before the little card was seen
Gianni, read it , looked around
There was now nobody there
So he read it to himself and smiled
No use, just reading to the air
It said "Catherine A. "
Seller of used books
Owner of Broken Spines
Books in need of second looks
Gianni didn't know the name
But the store just fit the street
Everyone here was damaged, flawed
Second hand....to be discreet
There has to be a story
To go with our young Catherine A
I guess we'll find out more
On the street....another day
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
Time journeyed through the seasons sublime
Brokered days the trellis of life did climb
Tendered hours but grainy shards without rhyme
Token minutes spindled through the hour glass of time
Each tenuous second garnering only a passing stime
Bartered moments the continuum of existence did wantonly prime
Availing sky's porous rotunda filtered each, ageless ream through spectrum so fine
The hoary sun spilled it's vision into each, vacuous line
Gilded moon, celestial mariner did shadowy expanse twine
Bended stars, twinkling sprites from stealthy perch did antediluvian streams re-align
Primeval planets in their sanctioned orbits perpetuity did assign
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 11:29 AM UTC
Throw your children to the fire again
and leave them to burn for all of your sins
Tangled in this wicked web we spin
with wars waged against ourselves that we cant win
Are we too numb to succumb to these feelings anymore?
Are we so apathetic that we forget whats in store?
Hoping, pleading
now in retrospect
Broken, bleeding
from all the neglect
Why should I stand with my heart in my hands,
just to see it get ripped from my grip once again?
And over again
Is this something we can not evade,
standing here upon our last legs?
Taught from the cradle to the grave
that this is the way we should be
The way we should be
Are we so bartered, brokered, bought and sold as if were ******
Selling ourselves bit by bit, piece by piece to the core
Hoping, pleading
now in retrospect
Broken, bleeding
from all the neglect
Why should I stand with my heart in my hands,
just to see it get ripped from my grip once again?
And over again.
Is this something we can not evade?
Standing here upon our last legs
Taught from the cradle to the grave
that this is the way we should be
The way we should be
This one is the first single from my bands upcoming Hard Rock album, you can check it out at the link below if you'd like. Our name is Negative Feedback
http://www.reverbnation.com/negfed
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 9:25 AM UTC
.
Fevered the winds on a shadow bled morning
A heart lies in pieces now slung to the path
Fractured are dreams of our yesterday questions
The waiting in stages, a long aftermath
Photographed wishes in frames on the mantle
Ashes below are the same as before
Dousing the flame while a child is missing
Charred are the matchsticks of news brokered war
Staring aloft as the moon freezes over
Memories counted abort the night sky
Falling on tears of the words never-ending
Oh can’t you see, they were too young to die
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 11:16 AM UTC
I am the wolf of Wall Street
I am a woman
My empire, my rules
You invested your heart
And I brokered it for another
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 7:35 PM UTC
Jan folded the letter
running a finger
along its crease.
She looked up-
somebody was explaining
functionality,
She stared:
the new argument was
written on the white board
she returned to the letter-
another fold
another plane
pressing and creasing
opening
rereading
vertices missed,
words realigned.
Sentences brokered
with each new
configuration,
yet its meaning
reformed.
He- was disengaged
she- was misplaced.
Incongruent.
She rose
and left the room.
There would be
many such lessons.
Tommy Carroll
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 6:06 PM UTC
“...But Turkey is part of the story of Trump’s treachery. Erdogan, like Putin, Kim, and Zelensky, has learned that in the United States-- as in other authoritarian countries-- only one man really matters.”
______________________________
I wrote this after the brutal ****** of Jamal Khashoggi. I highly suspect the timing and the players of this backroom agreement:
The timing of Khashoggi's disappearance and the release of the Evangelical pastor, Brunson are not coincidental. The players were all there and the timing in place.
Here's what I think happened:
Turkey plays middleman, gets rid of bad press and high-pressure detainee, American Pastor Brunson. Saudi Arabia gets rid of its problematic critic, the newspaperman, Jamal Khoshoggi. The United States gets Pastor Brunson back plus the huge photo-op with Trump on his knees right before the election, claiming to his evangelical base, “See what I did for you? Does that buy your votes?” Everybody gets what they want, except Jamal Khoshoggi, who is tortured, killed, and dismembered in the Saudi embassy in Turkey.
Too diabolic and smooth for Trump alone. I think Russia and high level, intelligence brokered this deal. The agreement for it came between Saudis, Trump, and Turkey's Erdogan. Russians standing just out of sight on this – waiting.
________________________
Gotta wonder what our economy is based on? More-so, the morality of our government. We should be outraged and deeply ashamed!
Feel terrible for his fiance--not knowing-- not even able to bury him.
Support the free press everywhere!
...Latest: Trump's response:
But Trump also reiterated his earlier concerns that any punishment of Saudis shouldn't impact trade with Saudi Arabia, signaling that cutting off U.S. military sales to the kingdom may not be an option.
"I don't want to hurt jobs," he said...."
Fast forward--
10-8-19:
Now we learn a little more about what Turkey wanted from the deal.
Open season on the Kurds, anyone?
Trump's letter to Erdogan all but threatening him to cooperate with cease-fire in Syria allowing Putin into the territory he wanted. Not sure who actually framed Trump's words as he is a a blabbering ******* Jared perhaps?
The letter does Not promise reward for cooperation-- but in carefully couched words-- threatens Erdogan that he could end up like Khashoggi. As Michael Cohen testified, “Trump never says anything directly. Sorta like a mafia don-- everything is in code”
Oct 24, 2019
Oct 24, 2019 at 12:11 PM UTC
It’s a time payment concept
With compounding interest
That gets harder every year
And puts faith to the test.
It’s brokered by agents with
PhDs in fancy double-talk
That everything is God's will
And you’re not allowed to balk.
It’s sort of like the tax people
Only the rules are not so fixed;
No good calling attorneys up
That’s action’s definitely nixed.
The deal is that you can’t win
And must suffer with piety;
Give your money and thanks
To a fat cat you cannot see!
In exchange you get to go to
Play dress-up every Sunday
And pray for the senselessness
God is supposed to take away,
Or maybe remove diseases
That **** the good and innocent.
But you’re allowed to pray that
Your Lotto ticket wins you a mint!
Either way, you’re blameless
When it gets to be holiday time
And nothing changes as politics
Becomes the scene of the crime.
So drop another couple of coins in
Some sd homeless person’s hat,
Because God will take care of them,
And that’s where religion is at.
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 6:03 PM UTC
I do not write of sunsets,
Those farewells of weary days.
I will not speak again of forests
Or golden sunlit glades.
I have said my piece on oceans.
Brokered peace among the flame.
I have walked many an idyllic garden
To find each flower's scent the same.
At times the grass appears the greener,
A feature of how light strikes the blade.
The sabre seems as great a teacher
In the sunshine as the shade.
So I shall write again no more of sunsets
Those farewells of weary days.
I lay down arms against the evening.
To the dreaming
I cast my gaze.
May 12, 2024
May 12, 2024 at 3:51 PM UTC
I think of ways and roads oh my!
And paths to take and travel by
And ways both false and sometimes true
But none of them leads me to you
Am chased by ghouls and wraiths of yours
The thought of you is now my curse
You never said we'd chart this course
Now am pursued by ghosts of you
Why? I'd ask. And my reply
Would be that love does multiply
And hearts are eager to comply
Am chased myself but not like you
I was captured and my captors taunt
They let me leave then set to hunt
They give me all the things i want
But deny me sweet old thoughts of you
The faces here are sweet and fair
The leaves are green and flowers here
Here's fragrance more than I can bear
But all is not that's not of you
All the land that has you not
All the games that played you not
All the tales you hadn't taught
Are false and so cannot be true.
I see your pain and feel it too
You swore as I and daily do
This depth that aches with woes and rue
Cannot be whole except with you
I know, but know thee I am naught
Then what? Pray tell becomes my lot
Am gone and life is what you've got
But life alone is life with you
I've broken turns and brokered terms
I've come to great tormenting harms
I've waited, prayed and done the psalms
Just to be again with you
Been years since your teeth were beams
And since my tears had streaked in streams
And since the earth had claimed your hymns
Since I'd been lost in dreams of you
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 2:52 AM UTC
In your parched desert land
As the pendulum swings
And your friends are all gone
Still you’re moving right along
Like it doesn’t mean a thing
In your parched desert land
Thinking life’s unforgiving
Why not swallow your pride
Take an honest look inside
Join the land of the living
In your parched desert land
Your manufactured death valley
Kind response was so important
Yet your manner was discordant
Isolation’s blind alley
In your parched desert land
When they take the final tally
You’ll surrender the fight
Find exquisite delight
In your brokered finale
© 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
Mar 12, 2020
Mar 12, 2020 at 12:10 AM UTC
there's me looking
at life and western society
100 years from now -
and how ******* ridiculous it
will seem 100 years
from now...
how: the spirit of the times
(zeitgeist)
will continually
attack the congregation...
how a Napoleon will shape and shave democracy
a ******
a Mao,
i call them
the courageous men -
viral infections - otherwise
suited and booted to be D.C. comic
spokespeople - and isn't that a carnival.
spend your words in Las Vegas....
because that's where they're worth a
betting chip.... sometimes your
people only understand a monetary probing
differential - when the good-life
aquatic centres close does the job -
that's when the panic does the: knickers off routine.
working your way from the Antichrist's
zeitgeist: spirit of the times...
into the spirit of the untouchables...
then came the Wahhabi's with:
sounds of tornadoes and earthquakes was
the touchstone of liking music with a Satanic ******
what a bunch of wankers....
therefore worthy prohibition...
that's the last time i hear them sing on the mosques'
minarets... they sing no more...
they can state their case without a call to prayer,
if they're puritan Wahhabi...
call to prayer without song... go on...
abstain from music... get to grips with a mad Iranian....
who loves poetry, music and alcohol...
never thought the Saudi nobles brokered and
subsequently broke all the Koranic laws:
have you heard the familiar law: the rich
are allowed all the laws to be kept and be broken?
what the poor get? as jesus said:
justice is a Catholic association with god -
omni- etc., it gets to see, given it was once blind;
dynamism of hellish pursuits ensues -
then the jokes, then the choking, and after that?
chestnuts.
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 10:07 PM UTC
It died anyway
caught out in the
heat
and this day was
not for worms.
We rocked it on the surf line
swam for a short time
lazed to the slow beat of
the transistor
raised a glass and drank
to pass
what remained of the fun.
When the shadows stopped dancing
on the grains of hot sand
we all gave a hand to clean up
got up
moved on and
each in his or her own castle
battled the evening ahead.
Russet red skin and sweet was the sin
if it was
so
then it was.
We moved quietly together under the
eiderdown of stars that brokered
softness and light
and
kissed goodnight
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 4:42 AM UTC
Retrospect.
The dangerous game,
I play for pinks,
With sanity in the stakes.
Royal Flush,
My house is full of jokers.
Brokered a deal with the thoughts who spoke whisper'd cutthroat scenes.
Intraspect:
Everyone is perfect.
Except for me.
Jan 31, 2020
Jan 31, 2020 at 7:45 PM UTC