"campaigning" poems
***
Way to fleece…
A taxpayer
They’ve got us singing the blues
And we’re not down for all that jazz*… leave that to the Sax player
We remain mind boggled by these selfish ‘leaders’
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… ‘Dude! Way to bleed us!’
We’re already scraping the floor for crumbs… are they trying to run our finances into the ground?
“You work for us you pompous ********** it’s not the other way around...”
Midnight meetings in secretive silence
We preferred it when their nonsense made a sound
We’re ashamed and infuriated
But what makes it worse is that we’re not surprised
It’s like they strive to be truly hated… and yes, they've gotten themselves despised
More and more by the day
As each day goes by
We would throw them all out if we could
And our actions would be understood
Unfortunately we can’t do this for they are skilled at defiance
Masters of political science
And at it they are that good
Liars
Cheats
The campaigning politician...
Seducing us with deceit when he comes out on the street
To make his energetic speech
And then...
The elected Member of Parliament...
Only campaigns for his financial gain
Once he’s assured that for a whole term his position is permanent
That’s where they've slipped up, and I thought they were a smart lot
Schemious at least
Such a wrong move in an election year
Do they not fear… getting dropped by the voter?
Two hundred and twenty four MP’s… dead weight in deep water
And can’t swim
Should they have asked for my advice prior, I would have told them to simply cease and desist
“Do not dive in…”.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 3:53 AM UTC
In a world where two people get down on their knees
Both in the business of selling themself
Both hoping to be blessed for the work they put in
One called a preacher
The other a *****
But only one is seen as a sinner
And one gets paid to say what anyone can read
I been around both so I'll speak for me
Ten percent seems high just to sit and listen for sixty minutes twice a week about a make believe world that nobody will ever be able to say it even exist for sure
I'd rather pay alittle more and get straight to point with the working girl
Sweaty men in cheap suits don't do much for me
Besides I need the relief of a release
Their worried because she has kids
Talking **** as they drop their kids off to Father Ben
Never noticing the nuns
That's mental and physical abuse showing on their face
She's trying to get paid
While the church gives millions to cover up their peodphile ways
Moving them from place to place
Making the devil take the heat
Wait
Is that why the devil even exist
So you religious sinners have someone to blame
Black people being racist
Then crying about slavery
White folks mad because they will soon be the minority
Campaigning for a white lives matter movement
The Spanish stay yelling P.R or NY
Not sure why they even moved
Straight people angry cause they can't go both ways
Gay people hating for still being blamed for creating aids
Old don't like the new
And the new to dumb to have a clue
It's all petty **** and a waste of time
Like voting for an election of any kind
They control us by keeping the hate between us
Because I bet if religion didn't make a dime
Religion would be gone faster then the evidence they had aboit JFK being shot
Look back and see the past got us here
Now look ahead with a different plan
Respect yourself to remove the label they selected for you
Give these kids hope for a bright future
Or might as well give these kids the rope so they don't suffer in the future
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 6:50 PM UTC
i pick up flowers from the pages of the calendar
and scatter them on the picture-frame
of my dwelling place
sometimes the spring comes
sometimes the buddhist monastery
along the pitch road of the city
thousand counts of uproars
the mess-building that is situated
on the top of the coconut-tree
has also joined the march-past
and who miss the last train
i offer them glasses of tea
as an anti-war campaigning
the plastic-made afternoons
hoist the flag of nail-polish
as there is no water-bottle
around your neck
the assembly of choosing
one’s bridegroom oneself
has rejected you
Oct 5, 2010
Oct 5, 2010 at 5:23 PM UTC
WHISTLING AND SNIFFING SIMULTANEOUSLY
Whistling and sniffing at the same time
Can’t hold hands or rather get married
United and collaborative in any case
This duo may perhaps land into the life of some person
The kind of man whose who acts,
Performs duties of the shepherd on the flock.
Like his initial master,
He condemns wickedness,
Goes against what is religiously evil,
And exults the righteous.
But he soon he craves for another pair of his robe
For he does accumulate an avalanche of resources,
His eyes are soon blinded.
Would his robe evade being soiled?
Co-operative sniffing and whistling,
Can hatch into temptations to anybody,
Even the half-human, half God
Did he not get tested in the wilderness?
Our big man opens his eyes one day,
Finds himself campaigning and competing for,
Trying to woo for citizens’ keys,
Essentials for serving the people in a wider circle.
Perhaps his whistling guides his path.
Brings him in the companionship of
Other servants of the people.
Any devoted service present in that house really?
Brotherly whistling and sniffing,
May make one’s conscience slither backwards,
Two or more steps into mud.
He is now influential,
A famous societal figure.
His fat salary seconded with some allowances.
Or even thirded with public developmental resources,
Guarantees him total luxury.
Is this not an opportunistic opportunist?
Our Sniffer and whistler is contended,
Complacent with his success.
Jubilant with him servant is his ‘first Master ’
For keeping to the ‘sacred’ scriptures.
The vehicle which carried him straight,
One way to heaven gets crippled,
It can’t manage to hit the road
Like its American, British and Chinese counterparts,
His sincere promise goes unfulfilled
Unmet due to his pretentious pretence.
His ‘second’ Master gets extremely mad.
For loyalty and faithfulness denied.
And furiously plucks him from glory.
Simultaneous whistling and sniffing,
The ‘initial’ heaven can’t simply put up with them.
A wise servant of the masses
A true leader should only whistle at a time,
Sniff at a time.
But not sniffing and whistling simultaneously.
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 3:28 AM UTC
The willingness to speak objective truths!
Born out of the prejudice in experience.
He is no god, but a man who speaks to you.
The people, who are proud to be Americans.
He is our ruler, in Trump we trust.
The abused, the lied to and put in harms way.
The dead homosexuals and Christians.
The ministry of truth, the CNN.
The white lynching at the protests.
And the weak Clintonites are abandoning ship!
Had she won, we would stay and endure.
They run, we stayed under Obama.
The dead are finally leaving.
Lets see if Trudeau can treat them better.
He is hard spoken, harsh and a man of the people.
Build the wall! More like fix the wall.
Deport the illegals, they are not Americans.
Stop the muslims who are killing my people.
This is not out of hate, but love. My love for truth and happiness.
Maybe now we can have a country that values both.
Not a lying ***** who silences **** victims.
Oh, give me strength!
Strength! To save our childrens schools!
Strength! To save our children from hate!
Love! to bring love, not resentment for humanity!
O, give me truth. The truth that humanity is not horrible.
That my whiteness is not a feature to describe me.
That my heterosexuality is not a privilege.
That I find my own life, not the lives of the pacific.
Give us, to trust our country to a man who has raised successful children.
Let him be our role model, not that which seeks to lecture me on sexism.
God political poems are trash. Just like your hatred. Let it go, only admonish the actions.
It's current year.
**** Obama for campaigning for his replacement.
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 4:12 AM UTC
Tell the moon not to complain,
go to the sun and leave a note,
We are not a broken piece of poetry
campaigning for love and affections,
we are crystals, lest you forget!
clear rays penetrating into hearts and souls of humans that seek to make themselves gods into godhood.
we are not grasshoppers to be chopped by a lazy legs printing a falseful legacy.
We are the elephants of the forest of wealth.
Never slaughter the thought of our lives
We are the breath of humans & fire searching for what brewed within men.
We are poems inked with tears and sweat
But those tears are of our bravery, &sweat, a joyful noise made by the skin for celebration of our kind.
We ****** hope in the palms of children,
yet filled with love and its synonyms.
Our lives are the poets who rhymed & colour the sweet lyric they were made to be.
We are the boy children, the hope; least you forget.
The moon of tomorrow,
The sun on faces of a beaming girl
The stars carved on the smile of the sky,
We are boys whose shadows recreate
We are boys whose palms are route of greatness & roadtrip of principles.
praise singers in the slippery wet floor,
nightingales singing lullabies,
bread feeding all mouth to satisfaction
When heronic names are carved look and see ours rightly placed.
we are braver than earth
we can pull it up and down like a tree.
we are the reptiles that wriggle down the hill of success and roar like a beast in a beautiful pail palm of dreams.
our fathers' tattered sins could not hold us down,
our mother's splitted fire guides our course of life!
We are the boys of tomorrow , the warriors of words hyping the hashtag of praises.
who has seen us has seen light,
He who behold us has nothing to fear.
We are mountains in praise of hope
we are oceans of mysteries and hidden treasures.
Have our words and actions in your words for we are time bomb against failure.
BOYCHILD, the sun that glows on every face that needs help.
©John Chizoba Vincent
From_ A_Pen_Refusing_Frustration.
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 1:42 PM UTC
pasty white ghosts haunt
the corpse blue cornfields of Iowa
whispering wisps of smoke
shimmering shadows of the past
setting the pace for the rat race
that is the 2016 U.S. Presidential Election
senators billionaires doctors
frauds liars fools
campaigning for selection in an
archaic and outdated
form of governance
witness the spectacle
the orgastic worship
of solipsistic oligarchs
bloated by their own
sycophantic rhetoric
it's just another form
of all-American
entertainment
each orator's charismatic adage
froths forth from a
throat like a grave
pragmatism throttles hope
as we stoke the fires of
self-indulgence and neglect
the fact that we acquiesced
as another deceiver stole votes
we're choking on placebo pills
every ballot cast is another act of apathy
escapism pleading vainly for a
savior to rescue our sick society but
these hands didn't evolve so we could
collect a representative to lead us
blindly into one fiasco after another
these fingers penned
humanity's symphonies and
these calloused palms have
toiled for years under an apathetic sun
we learned to make love
using our fingertips and
with these fists
we could chart a new path
but only if we raise them in
defiance
our only chance is leaderless resistance
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 12:05 AM UTC
black is my mind my body and soul
white the light but it still looks yellow
past the point were turning back is not an option
revenge is only folly if success is valid conquest
belittling immigrants
who settled for scraps off our battlements
preposterous pledges by parliament
only campaigning for the next election
correction only acting for praises by thespians
who digress me again its a mess, sin.
what I'm saying is puppeteers puppet them
and they speak in voice roll
440 A is what rock sold
watch the room get cold
but even if I said it you still likely wouldn't know
its old
giving rhythm to a message, that predates me
but the soul
pours forth, so as for digging my feet
I may as well be digging a hole
like a mold compulsion
perpetual veritable intervals
in a vexing verbose
burying any chance for understanding
overwhelming cowardice
forces most to just live with it
a mask makes a brave man
so one day well rise again
hiding in sub-text
my plain sight re-utterance
if you do nothing you change nothing
now shut up and forget I said anything
gooble gobble
Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 6:49 PM UTC
Apartment recommendations for a city I’ve never smelled
in my mailbox. Empty wine glasses and static electricity
the air, the dust, the heart, the tip, the flotilla----------------
mercy.
me.
mercenary. bible camp.
jacket, jacket, hobble; ****** keys.
You’re a smudge, you doornail, tack.
Tack-- tack, tack. Honey, a floating bungalow========)
Pull off the danger, rose, it’s a time for campaigning.
Awash in grassy knolls, you hidden scavenger.
Grassing, grassing with watering hide, you scrivener!
Jun 6, 2011
Jun 6, 2011 at 8:05 PM UTC
I have no protest signs or support groups.
No one is petitioning for me in Congress,
Or campaigning for my equality in the hallways of my high school.
No one throws bible verses at me,
Or pushes me into lockers.
For the most part, no slurs are slung at me
No repent demanded.
But I face the same as every minority.
I am the Quiet Repressed
Lack of notariety only adds to my persecution,
I have no sisters in suffering to hold me up.
The insults called me
Are called by me.
Whispered in my mind when the fear flickers in someone’s eyes.
Freak. Unnatural. Too much.
I cannot hold a protest sign.
I cannot demand my rights from the people I’ve terrorized.
I cannot ask to be respected.
Do not think of me.
I do not live in you.
Deny my existence, suppress my need for understanding.
I am the silent presence, smothering all I touch.
And so, chaotic, I can touch nothing.
Nothing.
(Cassandra- “she who is ignored”)
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 7:34 PM UTC
Be prepared for anything
For loss of lives with no reason
an imposed treason
on your very existence
You'll feel like you are
the blackest or the whitest man on earth
racism shoved down your throat
and the hate keeps coming
Peoples morals will be axed
principles thrown out the window
we'll do anything
to get everything
Tyranny will have allies
Your complains will be put
"under advisement"
for you matter not
then you'll truly know
order, brotherhood and love
was nothing but a speech
and speeches are for campaigning
So I say
you quickly and quietly
Open that can of coke
and drown your emotions on a failing heart
like you've been taught
Or open your eyes
to the deep slumber of disillusionment
you've been subjected to.
And then you'll know
for the sake of peace
you gave up your freedom
Sep 27, 2017
Sep 27, 2017 at 4:35 AM UTC
shoot the moon
the sky is falling
he doesn’t have a clue
he can’t figure it out
he doesn’t want to
holding on to the past like crutches
punched, choked and slammed
like a Saturday night smackdown
he was his father’s “favorite”
wrestling verbal belittlements of brotherly shame
“Stop crying. You’re acting like a female.”
his mother escaped the battle cage and sent for him later
abandonment and authority issues
anger internalized and rising to a peak
he dropped out of high school
a crumpled, broken man-child
a stone child
having only dreams left intentionally vague
falling to his addictions and ****** anesthesia
afraid of moving forward
he likes it in limbo
waiting for life to happen for him
expecting others to help
but he won’t help himself
exploiting every excuse
words and actions biting the hands that feed him
pushing people away
assigning blame with pointed fingers
campaigning for sympathy with crocodile tears
tip toeing silently
the years creep up and sneak by
he’s a full step slower
like an aging prize fighter
unable to bob and weave society’s jabs
punch drunk he says, “no más”
withdrawing to the streets
he says, “no más”
“no más”
Del Maximo
© October 8, 2009
Jan 18, 2010
Jan 18, 2010 at 9:48 AM UTC
Countries fabricated
by roaming people drawing
borders behind them,
trails of hostility
to select those who would cross
rims after them, to keep
resources to themselves,
lands of prosperity
on which to build, greed
homes to shield,
newly engendered families
xenophobes,
induced to believe
by governors they are different,
they are better, superior
and ultimately worth
much more, than any stranger
standing on the other side
of imaginary lines, they are barbarians,
unbelonging
to great civilisations, against whom
we need protection,
stealing scientists
left right and centre,
research peddled as development
promising a high from nuclear weapons,
bombs called mothers to adore
campaigning over a grand potency
participating in, an international
mallet-measuring contest
whilst signing accords,
for those who have to keep
and those who don’t
not to aspire, to acquire,
a prize for populations
who have successfully or can
destroy approaching aliens
simply by, pressing the right button
on a joystick suitable for games,
of mass destruction
ten thousand nuclear warheads
ready for use.
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 6:55 AM UTC
Labour are red
Tories are blue
Both need the Liberals
Their votes were too few
We want, we all said
A hung parliament coup
Carelessly wished for
Now all coming true
There's economic dread
So what shall we do
We can't decide which we like
Yellow, red or blue
Campaigning not bed
A decision to rue
More sleep is postponed
So Clegg they can woo
The rivals must wed
A coalition stew
Strong stable unity
Or chimps in a zoo?
Some policies now dead
Others they'll pursue
The only thing certain
Is that cuts are in view
So raise up your head
And herald the new
And if someone's in charge
Please tell me who.
May 7, 2010
May 7, 2010 at 2:38 PM UTC
~
each step
purposeful
no longer can discontent rule
when that has become the norm
we must remember
unity
promises coated in smelly swamp mud
lay disheveled after spoken
no one is expected to remember
words carry meaning
it seems I have been cursed
with an inability to forget /
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 12:13 PM UTC
im ****** wine
your champagne
were both drunk
and not careful
what our bodys campaigning
but lust filled eyes
and ****** desires
is all we want
in this romantical attire
but im cheap wine
and your champange
and by the end of this
we'll part our seperate ways
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 9:16 PM UTC
Grow, grow, growing grow
Taller, wider, deeper, steeper
Topsoil cracking
Foundations creaking
Interstitial water leaking
Gases pluming
Sun too hot
Birds forgetting how to fly
Flies all set to multiply
Central heating turned up high
Fish recumbent on the sands
Hail brave campaigning elephants
Who rampage through
the concrete jungle
eviscerating 4WDs
with tusks awry
trunks outstretched
eyes akimbo
Vanguard of a worldwide army
of feather scale and bone
all stitched up
By might is right
into a threadbare tapestry of deprivation
Today we spread, we glow, we grow
In rampaging delight we gag
on feather, bone and scale
We suffocate ourselves
Tomorrow
The earth will fry
And so might I
Is this the way to end our poem
© Diana Korchien 2012
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 7:39 AM UTC
Rhythmic reiterations and the rats are racing
Pacing, erasing, charging the crowds, bracing
Foul stench waving and vexed kids pacing
Sunshine suicide, the motives need tracing
Milk bottle crashes to the ground so final
Cyanide tears of men at the ******
Crying now, fears, the mother's semifinal
Poison in the veins, poisons tap spinal
Further step back, story needs explaining
Little boy weep as his father keeps caning
Crying over spilled milk, could it be staining
Tears of a boy, bent over, straining, maintaining
The composure in him is slowly draining
A life of campaigning, refraining and engaging,
Little boy sees sunlight painting, so illuminating
And a sunshine suicide is what he's entertaining
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 12:30 PM UTC
Can there be intimacy without proximity?
Empathy without vicinity ?
Can we live without touch,
keeping brothers out peripherally?
No, that path only leads deceivingly
further into living life more miserably
So rather than espousing self-sufficiency
let's discuss band of brotherly
A brother unity that unconditionally
maintains a mature masculinity
A unity revealing a core fragility,
yes - a humility that risks indignity
I'm talking about an increasing capacity
a growling capability
for actual manual connectivity
I'm calling for a comprehensive solidarity
that embraces fierce timidity
You see I stand against living artificially
I'm all for living purposely
Yes, I'm here loudly
Campaigning
Against anyone
Living
Miserably
Sep 7, 2019
Sep 7, 2019 at 4:32 AM UTC
one's thoughts return to July last year
where an unjust event took place
two men of verse did disappear
therein was left a voided space
where an unjust event took place
they were shunted off the site's stage
therein was left a voided space
one easily recalls with outrage
they were shunted off the site's stage
by a ruthless campaigning snip
one easily recalls with outrage
asking why expedite their flip
by a ruthless campaigning snip
talented poets ordered out
asking why expedite their flip
no rhyme or reason in the clout
talented poets ordered out
two men of verse did disappear
no rhyme or reason in the clout
one's thoughts return to July last year
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 8:25 PM UTC
Then we learn to crawl through the ramble and sprawl, if we were tadpoles perhaps we might wriggle a bit,
but we're not
We scrabble and screech in order to reach whatever is it that we need and we feed at the fast foods, watching the naked and **** being destroyed and it's us that we see.
If we walk we don't talk with our heads in a phone watching memes on the screen and the bigger the better, easy to letter your life if you like, A equals 5 equals a bee in the hive, but we're making no honey just plenty of green crispy banknotes and it's funny because you can't eat money, but it keeps us alive, us being the bee in the hive.
And through all of this, the tramping, campaigning and cutting, adjusting, abutting it's easy to see why we crawl,
why we sprawl on the sofa and think so far so good.
I wonder if I'd feel as I would if I could grasp every corner of life, fold it into a square, put it somewhere and forget it.
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 7:15 AM UTC
These lungs are still.
As flameless fire,
We are breathing dead smoke.
Looking back at our love,
began full of sparked ignitions and frictions of heat,
red flames of
passion
love
lust
trust
and comfort
perhaps over sticks not coal.
We heard a whisper...
"to enjoy a lasting fire one must have a good foundation,
coal is key
not sticks nor paper
or it will burn out fast"
When tested, our fire sizzled out.
flameless love sticks was all we had to work with.
no foundation of coal.
nor that signature paper.
We've sat blowing at these sticks from all sides
with hope of catching one last spark,
trying to awaken the fire once again.
Campaigning within ourselves
let's live again, lust again,
love Against and beyond
ourselves
Have we lost sight of the ground?
taken by the wind of life's happenings
now barely touching at fingertips
we've forgotten the lips
that whispered
foundations of a true love's lasting fire.
are we hopeless?
our love flames are breathing on sticks
not coal.
both locked on exhale
no oxygen to our souls
back, neck and head coiled
like a lifeless corps
hanging from the spine
we are dying, Love
we've blown all through and through
and I know somehow I still love you
but while sitting in this thick cloud of smoke
I fearfully ask
how do I breathe for I and you?
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 4:31 PM UTC
Would really be nice if there was some
Abstaining !
Maybe some
Constraining !
If you only knew how
Draining!
I am really not
Attaining !
"Stop" with the
Explaining!
Sure the hell not
Entertaining!
Tired of it being so
Detaining!
Nothing
Gaining!
Not anything said that is
Containing!
Not worth all the
Campaigning!
So
Disclaiming!
All the
Proclaiming!
It's
Inflaming!
And all the
Blaming!
It continues
So shut the **** up
and stop THE
Complaining
!!
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 9:15 AM UTC
take into account the entire picture
of the world, men being cruel and inhuman
on the large scale, wars, nuclear annihilation threatening,
genocide most recently in Syria,
in the history looking back
that is what I see, the gas chambers in Germany,
the Congolese under the rule of Leopold,
the Seminole, my peoples the Cherokee mostly dead,
mass murderers, such as
Stalin, Mao, Islam and Christianity,
campaigning slaughter, inhumanity to man,
like a wild animal, the beast is us. Then
let us look at us. We, in our actions, our wanting at all costs to win, our
genetic makeup our striving to survive,
all bred and taught into us just continues it all. And we ask why?
Look at Hello Poetry. For a year a war has been fought. And no one is winning.
But both sides are unable to say enough. To say you too are of my kind, human, And
here, we are supposed to be the best of our kinds, the empathetic feeling ones in this crazy ****** up place we call Earth. God **** it.
Poets fighting each other as reckless as one sided as ISIS against Bashar al-Assad . Or Kim Jong-un threatening the world.
I am beginning to like animals
more than people.
They love unconditionally or **** for food.
There is no mistaking, no middle, no rationalizing,
it just is nature. Man is different. He kills because of words and mistaken ideals, no animal does.
Poets , in my ideal, are to use their words for love and peace.
Not mirror the rest of this ****** up world!
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 7:57 AM UTC