"civilisation" poems
Inside the great
big global village
not everything is rosy
even a cat knows it
a leaf can sniff it.
The Moon shines
not in every night
nor God promised
always a blue sky.
Still the roses bloom
Cinderella has the lot
the reasons to groom.
The richest among the folks
turns philanthropist in the globe.
The wisest among the men
celebrate the era for it’s
the civilisation at its peak.
Hooray what now triumphs at last
is the wisdom and humanity!
Really? O please tell me?
Not very far, nor for much,
just because some differ in faith
mothers and fathers left in pain.
Not because they are to lose
Rohingyan sun nor the land
beneath their feet but in no time
their sons and daughters
can be put to death into fire
that too before their eyes
before the silent established world!
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 11:32 PM UTC
I wear beads and African bracelets for beauty. I forget why the people before me wore them. I wear them with pride not because I earned them but because I simply look beautiful. Beautiful!? What does that even mean? My Nana has scars on her body. She shows them to me with pride. Narrates stories of the war in the past like an action movie only she didn't have a gun only bows and poisonous arrows. The missing teeth in her mouth causes her to spit almost every second she talks. But this embarrassment is only felt by me. She is proud of the hole in her mouth. Suddenly I feel the urge to remove my African beads. They have no meaning only that they are African and I am and so am entitled. But I have done nothing for my heritage. Not even fight for it. Slowly it's being forgotten and people are crossing over without a care in the world. 'To civilisation' we say. 'For the good of the people' we say. But is it? We were a community wrong as we were to circumcise women, marry them off at an early age, burn the wrong... We were a community. We loved each other. We cared. We taught our children how to feel and be the earth. We taught our children to respect the earth and in return the earth blesses us with herbs to cure. What did they call it? Aaah yes 'witchcraft'. We were not animals who forget their children in pit latrines or by the river side just because we cannot afford them or don't want them. We cared not of individualism because together we grew in spirit, body and soul. It was not backward it was culture. And culture is flexible. It can change but can never be terminated. It is not a shoe that when you grow out of you throw and buy another.
And so I am not telling you to go back to your roots because if am quite honest you were never in it. Rather embrace it. See how 'civilised' you will feel then.
yours
The Red_Head
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 3:08 AM UTC
May we live in and see interesting times, the old saying goes
another offers that when the mind is blind, the eyes cannot see
for me my days are interesting and the laughter readily and often comes
for the grapes of wrath brings forth mirth filled grapes on grapevine tendrils
As lemmings and sheep enact bellyaching absurdities, as the ridiculous does
Veracity on sojourn and falsehood in residence with doors firmly closed
Hamlet re-enacts hapless role, with Red Robin Hood and vigilantes to a tee
eager audiences, participatory scenes in towns and cities, leaving empty homes
come all and vent your spleen and satiate your prejudices without paying a fee
This land belongs to us, it is our birthright and we will send Hamlet to the catacombs
Nothing is private anymore, rights and freedom nailed, anywhere we roam
Ophelia not only went to Italy, she went to Hull, Turnpike Lane and even Essex
but a joke here, if all these were good, why did she come to me, you simple gnomes
perchance unlike you common goons, she knows distinction has no comparison to thee
Your vacuous hate filled mind cannot see that difference in a Prince, that regally looms
Act two, dim, fooled actors in their Beggars Opera, screaming, 'we oppose' with glee
so called republicans, laughable in their ardent favor, ignorant of their lobotomy botches
we will do Hamlet's head in, totally unaware theirs been done in, for the brains of fleas
in a civilisation, our conscious and stable populace, roots for vigilante and mob rule, yeah
for a man of distinction is a threat reminding you of your insignificance and lack of tomes
Come friends, lets see how the home of Democracy, hounds a citizen for us all and we
lets know that Robin Hood is alive and taxing, and 'Windrush' is still active in dispatches
indigenous people power, meets criminal gang stalking, meets racism and we all drink tea
and in true cowardly fashion, its all done by insidious, indictable, nefarious, malcontents and psychopathic crazies
It is our proud duty that we should all ruin Hamlet, for mediocrity has no distinction for aspiration et excellence
Copyright LaurenceA. JUNE 2018.All rights reserved.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 8:00 PM UTC
THAT civilisation may not sink,
Its great battle lost,
Quiet the dog, tether the pony
To a distant post;
Our master Caesar is in the tent
Where the maps ate spread,
His eyes fixed upon nothing,
A hand under his head.
1
That the ******* towers be burnt
And men recall that face,
Move most gently if move you must
In this lonely place.
She thinks, part woman, three parts a child,
That nobody looks; her feet
Practise a tinker shuffle
Picked up on a street.
1
That girls at puberty may find
The first Adam in their thought,
Shut the door of the Pope's chapel,
Keep those children out.
There on that scaffolding reclines
Michael Angelo.
With no more sound than the mice make
His hand moves to and fro.
Like a long-leggedfly upon the stream
His mind moves upon silence.
6.8k
Land,
The Mystery
A Nature to One's Mind
A Sand which Flows,
And Glows
And sparkles Success
To One.
Before Men,
Before Cities borne out of
Civilisation's Womb
There was,
And was known to many
That it was Land,
The Enigma,
The Unknown to One.
Who lives in the Deep,
The Paradise Underworld
Of Many,
Of Millions,
Of a Thousand Beings in Atlantis.
The Impossible
Is Done
And should be Done
By One.
The Brave,
The Humble,
The Curious Juniour
One Foot,
That touches the Sand
One Breath,
Of Boreas' Air
One look,
Of Demeter's Feet
One Meet,
At Thriver's Friendly.
And Wisdom,
Has been Known,
And Shown,
The Impossible
Has been Done.
It is One's Dream,
The Goal,
The Conquest,
For the Future of Existence.
The Happiness,
To many of One Nation's Grand
Of Praise and Possibilities.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 2:06 AM UTC
A Child
trapped in flesh and bones
A Child
chained in lies,
bound by norms,
trapped in a civilisation.
A child
chained in expectations,
bound by culture,
trapped in a society.
A child
Consumed by fear,
brianwashed and programmed,
trapped in flesh and bones.
A child
peeking through a window
waiting to be free!
waiting to be, just
A child.
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 11:37 AM UTC
Crescendo at the pitch ,
the touch of the octave,
the slide of my ribcage.
Put me on the overdrive
the feel of the rhythm,
beautiful eyes in glimmer.
I can't believe we are back,
on the track and split laps,
the untimed togetherness.
At the start of the race,
where heat and mist rose,
steams in the gush of the ****
Poised passion rose to the skies,
wetness and action felt so right,
the torrential evaporated rain.
My future lies in your bed,
on the blue walls with graffiti,
away in a continent afar.
Inside the cocoon of a time-space,
irrigated by sprinkles of growth,
where we hum through civilisation.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 6:07 PM UTC
‘Apocalypto’ is a film set in a Maya civilisation and consists of a story that takes place in one tribe and how a passing tribe affects them to a degree of destruction. The story unfolds in a linear way of storytelling which is basic but still effective. From director Mel Gibson, the director of ‘Braveheart’ and ‘Passion of the Christ’. An underrated director of sorts but a great one nonetheless. Overlooked due to his acting career, he has been holding back on us as a director.
The characters are set to be living a Mayan life and go about their days behaving as such but are rather generous and civilized for such an old race of people. They live peacefully and secluded until they interact with another tribe which brings about their downfall. And the way in which a Mayan civilization might go about solving problem as common as a natural disaster. Through sacrifices to the God's as a way to solve problems and mass results. Very accurate to the Mayan culture as well as the entire movie taking place without one word of English, all dialogue being said in the Mayan language. Another credit to the film.
The directing style for this film is beautiful and flawless to say the least. No shaky cam used or hand held cam either. All fluent movement of the camera to create a great story, one that flows naturally. The use of camera angles is creative and different, using tilted angles to convey a certain mood and straight framed shots to convey another mood.
The performances stand out as a huge positive, the actors who I have honestly never heard of give Oscar worthy performances. Mel Gibson uses unknown actors as not to compromise the film by the status of the actors. These actors and actresses give a hard performance based on body language and quiet moments, the enduring task of learning to be emotional through a foreign language. Which is why I would guess Mel Gibson used local actors who are more aware of the Mayan language than American actors.
The set design is truly Oscar worthy in this film. The Mayan temples and tribe lands are captured perfectly in the sets for this film. Well build and suited towards the amazon environment. As well as good filming locations, using the wonders of the amazon rainforest as an advantage.
In final thoughts, I believe that Mel Gibson is a stunning director with an eye for detail and a beautiful visual director. A director that can produce great work. ‘Apocalypto’ to me in the near future will become a period piece masterpiece. A tale of survival and dedication that will live on through the ages.
Rating: Film - 8.4
Personal - 8.9
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 12:02 PM UTC
"The number Pi is a mathematical constant, the ratio of a circles circumference to its diameter is commonly approximated as 3.145159. Being an irrational number, pi cannot be expressed exactly as a common fraction. Consequently, it's decimal representation (22/7) never ends and never settles into a permanent repeating pattern", He told the girl sitting next to her.
"You like math I see", she chuckled.
"No, not exactly", he sighs
"I'm trying to tell you something, what I feel for you cannot be expressed properly, it's like pi, what I feel is deep and never ends, it doesn't settle to a repeating pattern because each day it changes and becomes something stronger", He looks straight into her eyes.
"Since Ancient civilisation, mathematicians have been trying to find the ending of pi but they only ended at about a thousand numbers. Then in the 21st century Computer scientist decided to give it a try, but they ended at 13.3 trillion before they exhausted their computers", The boy took a deep breath and started to play with his fingers
"Chances are a lot of people will try to figure out how I feel about you, myself included but no matter how hard I try it'll always go deep, it's infinite because I am irrevocably In Love with you"
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
all these european
charities are insulting
africa; i've been to kenya
(yeah, talked with one bartender
about the import of timber from ghana),
i've seen a fat person,
a fat woman to be exact:
all these charities are
killing pensioners by harassing
them to give money...
all the money invested in
charity companies goes
for bureaucracy,
these western charities are
insulting african nations...
they have a civilisation you
know... i'd rather ****
on a ten quid banknote
and eat it than give it to
those vultures.
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 11:04 AM UTC
Pharaoh Tutankhamun graced the Egyptian throne,
A ***** brisk and spry.
From his majestical hands, dangled a scepter
And on his handsome head, sat a crown.
His empire was at its peak
For he wielded influence all over africa.
The bearded Europeans and nubianS sought his protection
For egypt, was a haven.
So organised was the land:
Amun-re and maat protected the people,
The country grew with the help of viziers.
Agriculture was a noble profession in the land,
As her economic markets were the best in the world
Egypt gave light to Greece and Mesopotamia
For her civilisation altered many a life.
And also, was the birth place of man
Such, was the land of egypt
The middle ages stroke and Europe went to sleep
But mama africa gave birth to many strong children:
Ghana, Mali, Songhai and many more
These children shoke the world with their riches and organisation.
Such was the history that africa recorded before they came.
Fredriech Hegel in want of speech said:
“Africa never had a history before the whites came.”
Such a mediocre declaration from an illiterate
For in place of his brain, graced a kidney.
Africa was well civilised before the bearded people came:
We had a religion
We had education as seen in egypt
We had a well organised system in all aspects.
We had everything needed for prosperity,
We attracted them with our gold, thus they came.
But most of all, we believed in equality.
Such was africa before they came
But when the bearded people came,
They altered our ways and put us in stocks
Then said: “we had no history.”
Oblivious that africa had made history,
BEFORE
AND BEFORE
THE
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 7:39 AM UTC
I wonder why we define boundaries
The LOC's, The island, The territories
Do we ever understand our existence?
Do we ever question our existence?
Intrigues my mind these thoughts ever
Reasons my thoughts over and over
Do we really think we are big?
Do we really exist the way we think?
Andromeda being our neighbor in many
Thousands of these galaxies surround us
Milky way is one such in plenty..
One dot is our planet
Unique, beautiful, lively, colorful..
Colors are recent addition not too old though..
The time when existing boundaries were drawn
Colors and flowers too were born..
Do we believe we created colors?
Do we really believe we created boundaries??
We fight for territories
We define continents
We be so proud of countries
Our existence, Our proud, Our nationality, our Identity,
Do we feel we exist because of countries??
Do we really feel we are nothing beyond countries??
Religion, Ethnicity, Culture, Color,
Do animals have it too??
Sentinelese, Jarawa, Onge tribes
Living in archipelago of Andaman & Nicobar for 60,000 years,
Who are these people living in tribes?
Which religion do they belong?
What language do they speak?
How without fire do they survive?
Do we still think we exist because of names given by us?
Do we still doubt our Creator?
To bound self in boundaries is sin
Sin against the Creator
Sin against the Soul
Sin against the humanity
Sin against belief of life..
To partition our nations is to belittle
the Greatness of His
Who created us, who created universe
Who created "Himself" to keep our belief..
Continents, Rich, Poor, Oldest civilisation, Countries, Big, Small
Are these parameters to be proud of?
If we observe us from the top of universe
We will be a fly or a microorganism
They may name us Earthica humane
Do we have to fight for land and land marks?
Do we still have to divide the mother Earth?
Is it not high time we rise and decide?
United we make our Earth unique
Souls wander the whole universe
But to live they decend on Earth
Can we not be proud of planet as a whole?
No boundaries do us part
Can we not end the hatred forever?
Bringing peace, solace and love as treasure!!
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 5:07 AM UTC
Aural sounds of delectation
funk-fuel in fervent distillation
undertones of jazz-swing in migration
electronic clicks and blips for relaxation
ambience is my one true occupation.
The resonance of sound in rotation
the initiation itself a radiation
morphological alternation in isolation
as the hubbub of voices echo respiration
breath in, breath out, in elevation.
No underlying obligation, only inspiration
and celebration of collaboration
revel in the pleasures of sensation
like the first discovery of amplification
and in its appreciation and stimulation
embrace variation in all its illumination.
Seek out new music from recommendation
the gravitation towards transformation
the re-education and regeneration
this musical manifestation of civilisation
saturated in complex contemplation
adoration in meditation
the simplest form of gratification
the creative urge for diversification
and technological intensity
of electronic experimentation.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 7:26 AM UTC
“Here’s your morning PSA,
Laced with saccharine and anaesthetic,
Unfortunately the missiles are on their way,
So leave the sick and try not to panic,
Ignore the hysteria, and those calling your name,
Avert your eyes as the world sets aflame,
We apologise for keeping this from you,
Secret for all of these years,
But please keep in mind, though we’ll aim for your rescue,
Death is the least of your fears
This will be our last transition,
I’m afraid the president must catch his flight,
You may wait to hear from us but until then,
Goodbye, goodluck and goodnight.”
We were the PVC plastic barbie dolls,
Waiting to be burned alive,
Unlucky enough to live,
We woke up to an absence of we,
No Nevada left to test in,
So I’m a model mannequin,
Melt me down,
Tick-Tick-Tick,
The light was white and empty,
Tick-Tick-Tick,
My madness steeped in silence
Tick-Tick-Tickety,
Geiger is telling me to run,
Tickety-Tickety-Tickety,
But it’s no use now,
I threw up on Monday,
Tuesday, I choke back fallout,
Ignore the bubbles when it hits my skin,
On Wednesday, my gums blink bright red,
Thursday I know I am all alone because the wind has ceased to blow,
And Friday I realise I am not,
They came with rubber masks,
Silicone,
Respirators and coils of filters,
We both had big black eyes,
But neither of us saw people reflected in them,
I counted three,
Alpha, Beta, Gamma,
One smiles by exhaling clean air,
Reaches out a hand across the barren wasteland,
Fingers tipped with lead and tells me:
“There’s a prize for the last standing.”
I am not ionised,
So I bruise every time they touch me,
These guides through plagues of acid rain,
The graveyard of monuments stripped bare by a world of rot,
My hair falls out as I breathe dead air,
I don’t remember what PSA stands for,
I don’t remember my name,
I bleed sand and the echo of a failed civilisation,
But with heavy breathing and a muffled voice,
Gas masks filtering what used to keep me alive,
I wonder if there is anything behind those masks at all,
I know there is nothing behind mine,
None of us are human anymore,
And we haven’t been for quite some time,
Together, we watch the sky rain black ash.
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 7:51 AM UTC
I can read your mind,
through the prism in your eyes.
I can see the reflections that seems narrow,
and the brightness of sorrow.
The fear of mortality,
that shines in your sighs,
and detests your reality.
You've collapsed to ambitions,
losing a battle
far from the lands and
that rests in your soul of civilisation.
fight from this dread,to find a way.
fight like u do to overcome your ogre.
You might wonder at the blank sky,
that seems to choke of stars
that'll call upon u to pry.
You fear of the answer that lurks,
the questions that bite you deep,
and gives u a crunch.
fight from this dread,to find a way.
fight like u do to overcome your ogre.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 4:35 PM UTC
I’m not perfect. I’m far from it. A clattering engine of destructive vices, a body average under Adonis, a mind weathered by experience and paradoxical in influence.
It has taken a lot of work and luck to become who I am today, with that ****** in the mirror tripping me up plenty along the way.
But in this moment, amongst our grand but insignificant civilisation, amongst our beautiful but minute planet, in this relative scope I sit here with you in...
Somehow... things have finally worked. Fitted. Reached... some level of... peace.
As I indulge in your eyes there’s a lot to contemplate, speculate, agonise over.
There will be times between us where consequence will draw conflict, where our dividing, clashing aspects will build the intensity of how different we are, questioning whether we should know each other at all.
Moments where the reminders of the subtle magnetism amongst our personalities seem almost transparent.
Familiarity breeds contempt so they say.
What I hope, for us, for whatever this is, whatever it will become, I hope potential and positivity can develop.
Spontaneity.
Exploration.
Curiosity.
You once were... the goal personified. Amongst the trivial, the financial, the creative, a connection with you became... valuable. And now... my love, now the connection has filtered into my memories as something warm and reassuring, you have stepped from the centre of attention to a turn of my head from the perceivable forward.
In the drive of the day, you serve as a fantastical presence in my mind, a word repeating in the sentences rambling through the monologue, associated with an image that stirs a collection of emotion.
The words and images, the memories and ghostly echo of a voice straighten my back out, and knock my chin up a touch.
We don’t depend on each other, we aren’t each other’s everything, instead we are friends in love developing ourselves in a way I can never fully express thanks for.
Life is a challenge, and at the same a beauteous opportunity and I’m glad you’re sharing it with me. The reassurance of you... helps me take it all on with pride.
So thanks.
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 9:35 PM UTC
I remember that Day when we sat
(side by side)
On those Stairs
(Waiting for our Train)
And you bought us Miso Soup
(It tasted like Tears)
The Sun hit my legs
(With all the force of sepia toned Nostalgia)
Covering them, bathing them. glorifying.
The traffic was the push and pull
(To and fro, magnetising, Synchronising)
Of waves.
Harsh, solid, mechanical waves
(Full of the force of Human Atrocity)
Japanese Culture was "in" and everything was "kawaii" and sweet
(With the underlying disturbance of Sexualisation - *** takes pride of place in our Civilisation)
I thought I was eating the sea.
(I could see the tiny fish Nibbling us that time we went snorkelling. We saw a Sting Ray that reminded us of Steve Irwin: Danger; Barbed Wire)
The Snow-flakes
(Fish-flakes)
Swirling in the snow globe of my Polystyrene Cup
(A new kind of Fish Bowl, A new Exposure)
And they swam around and around, Hiding
(Cyclical, controlled by Lunar Activity. Natural?)
If I stared hard enough I would, no, could see myself
(Floating, Filleted)
Amongst those Ribbons of Sea ****
With each Salty slurp
(That tasted of you, of the bitter Crust that Crowns your body in Heat)
I expected saltier Bladders to Burst in my Mouth
(Drowning me in Poison; Poisson)
I imagined the Japanese fisherman Catching Sun-Warmed Sea
(In a Polystyrene Cup)
The thousands of fish, tiny eyes that Blink, tiny gills that Palpitate - Suffocating in Air
(Aboard his boat, that Famed boat: "Daigo Fukuryu Maru")
Harvesting Silken Strands of Sea **** that Clung to its Crate
(In the same way that his Wife's Freshly washed Hair Twines about her Body. Static, Electric, Alive)
We didn't finish the Miso Soup;
It tasted too much of the Tears that I Cried.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
They saw civilisation and dared to call it humanity.
They saw genius compared it to insanity.
They saw truth and deemed it esoteric.
Picked the parts that suited them and deprived rest of its merit.
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 9:19 PM UTC
I'm a lonely voice broadcasting radio waves into a deaf space
I'm unwillingly hidding in the shadow of all their grace
My emotions are an lonely civilisation in a empty space
My voice is useless when I'm outside their walls screaming at their gates
All that plays again and again is the shapes of my mistakes
While I'm sitting here wasted and displaced, sad I haven't got what it takes
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 9:53 AM UTC
I sip my beer, the relief of foam
the last remnant of civilisation
like a porcupine shawl
alcohol is the spine slice
beneath the skin
welcoming me in.
Electric lights shining bright
eels wriggling in a pool of light
like Frankenstein reborn
the monster within
the feathers of a passing dove give flight.
Sometimes I feel like grilled asparagus
the breathlessness of sentiments
wrapped in tin foil
the coil of perfection at gas mark 7.
Sitting in my bathtub and a 3 piece suit
electric toaster bubble and squeak
and fidgety machete at the ready
the voice in my head says, 'hey man, steady!'
the institute transmutes its underplay
I opt to not execute on this occasion
instead soak up the libation of liberation.
Safe in the knowledge;
tomorrow is another day.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 7:16 PM UTC
SWINES OF CIVILISATION
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; [email protected])
Hypocrisy, sycophancy and snobbery
Are the three swines of human civilisation
All are social and power oriented
Cradling from egomaniac fibre of human cowardice
Complementing one another in to a social blend
Of betrayal, despair and stagnation
Hypocrisy removes authenticity brick
From the mall of civilisation
Sycophancy add aghast deficiency
To the mall of civilisation
Snobbery removes justice and fairness
From the mall of civilisation
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 6:45 AM UTC
"You fight like a girl"
Men seem all confident, strong and macho and what not
but the moment this phrase strikes their ears,
they all get offended, turn into cry babies & start defending their so called manhood
I have seen this with my own eyes,
and I seriously cant remember how many times
Its funny how society has turned women into synonym for weakness
when the same women's strength to push them out of their bodies is their gateway to life
& its funnier how they think they are superior just because of that little thing between their legs
And its the same men who cant find their own socks without their wife
Its funny how men who worship their mothers
often forget to respect the girls who walk down the alley
And Its funnier how its the woman who leaves her family
but has to live like she owes her life to the man she marries
Its funny how a to-be-mother carries her baby for 9 months
building a life out of matter
but the moment it comes out of the womb, its given the name of just the father
Its more funny how we talk about getting rid of gender roles
yet look at a woman with disgrace when you find out she doesn't cook.
And the funniest of all is
how we blabber about these civilisation & equality tricks
and blame women for dressing too ******
but forget to tell the men to calm their *****
And yet a woman stands there strong
Fighting through all these odds
as if being born a female was her biggest mistake of all
And still. Still, the most insulting phrase men find to throw at each others
is," Dude You fight like a girl!"
And this is my only message, to all those macho men who use that golden phrase
Maybe thinking, it makes them sound manlier somehow
"If he really fought like a girl, trust me bruh, You d be dead by now."
---------------------------------------------------------
"Fight like a girl, Yes I do, And if you dare be that strong, you would too" ~ Kakareikan
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 7:38 AM UTC
Power line cutting a thick
Scar across the
Hillside of
Trees.
Signatures of Civilisation; straight
Lines and angles,
Perfect circles. All within
What has none.
Needs none.
Wants none.
Maimed and modified
By the cynical scalpel
Of laziness named Progress,
By incompetent
Surgeons.
Waterfalls tamed and forced
Through turbines.
This naked mountaintop
Was a mile stone
For pedestrian generations.
Now it holds that giant antenna
Like a spiteful eyesore
To those who love
The land.
Power and signals, to sit
In air conditioned comfort
And watch
Nature shows on TV.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 7:01 AM UTC
Sometimes
A page has to be flipped to find another chapter
some doors have to shut for others to open
tears have to be shed if a soul is to see laughter
a road has to reach the end for another to begin
a generation has to be phased for another to takeover
war has to be fought (peace lost) for peace to be found
sometimes
men rise when others fall, a hole is dug to fill a hole
a fight is started to win a fight, all it cost... to win it all
some lead to follow and others follow to lead
sometimes the chills from the rains of greed
cause the greatest of shivers
when Augeans are clean and ***** are rivers
sometimes
equilibrium is reset by living on the edge
and to know freedom we have to be bound
sometimes calm's plucked off a tree of rage
and for a people to be whole, a people have to be torn
so death has to happen sometimes for life to be born
Sometimes
to find heaven we go through hell for it don't have to start but end well
as savagery brings-forth civilisation,unity's found in the arms of session...
sometimes the loudest of riots are what a people in silence says
as the darkest nights are sometimes recipe for the brightest days
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 5:22 PM UTC
Dawn is locked in pastel reverie. A witness to the slow, fleeting genocide of stars as they are burned out one by one. The morning expands suddenly over the course of dawns gauntlet. The traffic and life of all men begins to trickle in time as the heavens die. The waltz of civilisation and Progress has entered its overture. Let us pray the dancers knows the steps. The jazz of night-time has left, only the instruments remain, frozen in morning dew.
Dawn licks up her pastels in a binge that leaves the day a clean blue plate. The scents of jasmine and wet asphalt greet this day; it is the stench of midnight mystery dying in the sun.
Poets have words for this condition; we have written about maladies for centuries.
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 10:51 PM UTC