"coalition" poems
The postman boy
Has gotten weary of the stories told
Wrongly by dear Oblivia on the yards
Every morning.
The postman boy comes for
The warm-hearted letters of distance sons
But on his hands are letters of slander and
coalition he did not fathom.
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 10:36 AM UTC
Like a meme of activism
This women's coalition
Mothers
Sister
Friends
Pioneers and heroines
There's courage in their convictions
A guild of collectivism
They hold luncheons in their kitchens
Talk of abolition
Mysticism
Feminism
Of heroes and magnetism
Seduction
Love
Eroticism
They scream like banshees at a crucifixion
About injustice
Dereliction
Terrorism
A tradition underwritten
With symbolism
Drums
Violins
Musicians
They may be sitting
They may be knitting
Baking muffins
Folding linen
Running errands
Stuffing chickens
A juxtaposition to their ambition
Of inspiring the unwilling
Turning derision to optimism
Their fire and brimstone
Will have history rewritten
Freedom of reproduction
Liberalism
Animism
They have wisdom
Intuition
Rhythm
They are fearsome
This women's coalition
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
As the wind blows across the fiery desert,
The desperate people of Yemen sigh.
How many more will suffer today?
How many more children will cry?
A Saudi-led coalition
Strikes with a heartless disregard,
Leaving behind misery--
Death and destruction its calling card.
Choking the poor country, the Saudis
Organized a major blockade,
Cutting off vital medicine,
Food, and water, and stopping all trade.
Cluster bombs have fallen on cities.
Thousands of innocent people have died.
Hospitals and schools have been hit.
How can such horror be justified?
Millions of people risk starvation
If all the bombing does not end.
The Saudis hunger for more and more weapons,
And they have billions of dollars to spend.
A bomb made by Lockheed Martin
Hit a Yemeni school bus
Killing fifty-one people, and hurting
Many more, thanks to us.
A U.S. bomb hit funeral mourners;
One destroyed a marketplace.
That our support causes such
Atrocities is a disgrace.
The people suffer from cholera--
Something that is hard to avoid
When a country's sanitation
Facilities are being destroyed.
A massive humanitarian crisis
Plagues the country despite appeals
To end the conflict by caring nations,
While major players dig in their heels.
Sunni-Shiite conflicts continue
With innocent citizens caught in between.
Callous leaders turn their heads,
Afraid to speak up or intervene.
-by Bob B (10-17-18)
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 11:05 AM UTC
The Syrian process is a serial problem
When the disenfranchised
Cause a landslide
Of historical hatred
The key that ignites
Business and commerce
Wildfire hearts
And boiling skin
The harsh outbreak of deadly cholera
The blockade of the forceful armada
The coalition forces
Run wild like horses
The bombs keep falling
The people cry
The engine keeps stalling
The car dies
The white phosphorus
Brought by the white prosperous
Can burn to the bone
And wounds can ignite up to three days later
But the people of Raqqa
Are used to reigniting scars
They're used to searing flesh
That melts like tar
Where this will go
No one knows how far
Machines must be sustained
Hearts will be untamed
Lives constantly rearranged
A human rights activist attempts to send a report
What he's witnessed in Raqqa
Injustices; perceived and objective
But Hellfire
Turns the Internet cafe
Into a senseless violence display
The dirt, blood, and bodies
Mixed and spread like the art
That was ignored to lead to this quagmire
Whether this calamity started
At the Melian dialogue
Or a market diagram
Or a martyr's diatribe
What we need now is an m.d. to suture the wounds
But who will save us?
When noble protectors are blown up
And the reigniting scars scorch the hands that heal
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 7:48 PM UTC
You ease up unknowingly
while unaware I would be
offended by the careless
behavior prompted by the
urgency that has built up
from the condition while
pent up under the roof
of a haughty, predominant,
governess who wears a
grey locket about the neck
which contains a clean
substance never to be
touched by boyish hands.
I watch the wild in your
eyes brought on by
rigid over socialization
ingrained by a poorly
populated, secluded,
pseudo coalition.
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
but finality in all series of things
seriousness, or was it
lackadaisical thought offspring
blooms walls of drooping eye?
air-tight space, its coalition
with inward breaking penumbra
of shadow,
i write a poem so as not a poem
but an antagonism of sorts
to the end that does not smell of sandalwood but
the fixation of the word
as scent plays with memory,
a fragrance of spring in all that is winter
casting
a shadow upon me, you,
if not all.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 4:01 AM UTC
We are the duet
Of water meets dust
Sky meets ground
Heaven meets earth
We are the duet
Of a mucky dance
Crying over the crops
Stepping upon the seeds
We are the duet
Invented from the mess
Of creation, turning
Into devastation
By the hands of the
Coalition
We are the duet
Pouring hands and feet
And cranking necks
And exposing wrists
And lengthening legs
And loosening tongues.
We are the duet
For the dried up leaves
In need of a drink
For the endless fields
Silent in their thirst
We are the dance
To grow and harvest
That will give and give and give
And keep feeding and keep feeding and
Keep feeding
Both types of souls:
Those who believe the duet is worthwhile
And those who believe they can live
Without the smallest amount of rain.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 12:47 PM UTC
Picture yourself unemployed, your life now in bin bags
With no home, no car and no roof over you
No food no boots no one to hold onto
You children don't recognise you
Whilst high on a hillside the political powers dine upon luxury food
Sipping their champers drinking your money
And looking down upon you
Using your money to fund and support all of their business intrests
Taken your life away, nothing left today
Lucy in the park with TB
Lucy in the park with TB
Lucy in the park with TB
ohh OOh Poor Lucy
Morning has come and her fingers now blue her face is dark and won't move
Her daughter can't wake her she cries "oh mummy"the coalition have killed you..
The government killed here with policy cuts and media lies each day
Cameron and Clegg Lining their pockets as more more people die
Lucys now gone on a boat to the heavens
the ferryman took her away took her today
Lucy died in the park with TB
Lucy in the park with TB
Lucy in the park with TB
Poor Lucy
Oh wow
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 2:44 PM UTC
Wanderer. Gypsy. Warrior.
A coalition of stardust children
On a hunt for home
I've laid out my welcome mat before
Lit the candles
Not for long
Whispering, the wind picks up
Moving across the tundra
To howl through my iced cavities
My edges are sandy shores
Muspelheim soaked with sea salt love letters
Loki resides on the interior
Playing tricks
Searching for a völva who will guide his way
Perhaps I am she
Who shall never rest
Until I reach Valhalla
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 4:27 PM UTC
You're progressive; and so you must denigrate
our triumphant victorious candidate.
Yes, you shot off your mouth.
Now you're trapped to the south
of the land where you promised to emigrate.
Before your resolve starts to stall,
you must heed the Canadian call.
Pack your bags and go forth
to your home in the north.
(or climb over that Mexican wall).
It's the END ! Now the Right will resurge,
and a new coalition emerge.
A Canadian rental
might help with your mental
well-being. We'll play you a dirge.
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 4:04 PM UTC
Write a Clerihew:
It’s easy to do.
Two rhyming couplets of any length:
Short and simple, that’s its strength.
Remember Johnny Giles
A player with all the wiles.
In midfield he did scheme:
For Leeds he was a dream.
Nicole Scherzinger,
What a messenger.
A Friend so loyal,
Regally royal.
Oh Nick Clegg,
Why did you have to beg
For a Tory-led Coalition,
Sending the Lib-Dems into Perdition?
(PS) All hail be to great Don Newton,
Always had a winning solution.
Played table tennis with flashing blade,
A Legend that will never fade.
Paul Butters
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 6:29 AM UTC
my kindness is my weakness
not mistaken
but taken for exactly what it is
and you
you peeped game
recognized that nothing in me would allow life to hurt you
so your shield i became
taking every bullet
every sword
every bill collector trying to put you in chains
handling things the way your woman should
the way your woman could
the way your woman would
if your woman was me
but it's not cause i'm crazy
content with being less than anything
no title
no name
no definition
just occasional **** to prolong my ********
i'm itching to get to snitching
and tell all of your women
that it's
no competition
The Problem's coalition
all on a mission to handle all of your business
you're welcome
but i'm not thanked
no gratitude or appreciation shows on your face
your clothes are washed
you're well fed
and your bills, all paid
at this point
every ***** is wondering why does she stay
but my ladies know
we see our men as what they really could be
if they didn't have
3, 4 or well
15 on the team
so you have no time to worry about my needs
cause what i wont do she will
and she does
and she's never done but
she'll do it for you
you lucky ******* fool
the world is in your hands
and i'm Pinnocio for you
my girls know
how my nose grows when i lie
and say i don't care
cause everytime i'm ready to exhale
and exit this hell
of living in the balance with you
you smother me
sucker me
cover me with a pillow of sweet words
and gift me
with a hope filled rillo
you season my chicken
with new found understanding
and pour me a tall glass of
tall tales of how you hope this **** last
and i stay
so for my unhappiness
who else can i blame
but the good in me
for hoping that eventually you will change.
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 12:57 AM UTC
Saved myself with realm coin
Went for the long con with put options
Eschewed sold short term gain
Let them railroad me with true colors
Finessed my coalition willingly
Painted a big picture expressed scope
With mass appeal diverse production means
Bred loyalty from salt of earth devotees
Ends justified by all’s fair politics
Power brokers stole my ideas for venal exploits
Then claimed execution on midgets’ shoulders
Made low hanging fruit that much more demanding
High bar gymnastics twisted words blanched of meaning
Model workers did lords’ bidding beyond expectations
Barely rewarded with subsistence’s mounting debt to society
Paid on inmates’ backs embroiled in endless energy wars
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 10:58 PM UTC
London Bridge Is Falling Down
“London Bridge is falling down,
falling down falling down,
London Bridge is falling down,
my fair lady.”,
nursery rhymes,
don’t seem to sound the same anymore,
times,
are changing like the changing of the guard,
another terrorist attack today,
as hatred continues spreads like a disease,
the Devil’s in the details see 3/6 was the date,
and 6 killed wait 3 6 6 must be the mark of The Beast,
and they say the 6 were innocent,
but no one is innocent,
and I’m sorry I’m not sorry,
I mean what I said,
and this isn’t to disrespect the dead,
or the loved ones they left behind,
because we all have people that love us,
and we all mourn when someone we love dies,
so no I don’t mean any offense,
I’m just trying to get you to see the big picture,
thousands of civilians have been killed in Syria and Iraq,
by UK and US coalition forces,
but where’s the outrage on that,
there is none we all just stay silent,
we go out to bars and party like it’s 1999 2 years before 9/11,
but Prince is dead as is MJ and no one’s saying stop the violence,
and no man is an island,
just like no one is innocent,
one side just has more money to **** with,
that’s the only difference,
and please don’t take this the wrong way,
I mean I am just as guilty as the rest,
I am a white American male,
I am an unapologetic NWO Capitalist,
I love the system,
and I reap it’s benefits,
but I know where my tax dollars go,
and that’s to bombs and jets,
have you heard enough yet,
are you ready to accuse me of being insensitive,
that’s fine throw your stones,
blame me for the hatred because we all need an enemy,
we all want to point the finger elsewhere,
no one wants to blame themselves,
but I tell you what dropping more bombs,
or retaliating in any way isn’t going to help,
and this is a warning to the terrorist too,
you keep attacking us we're gonna keep bombing you,
and we do keep bombing them but it hasn't helped yet,
I mean how do you threaten someone with nothing to lose?
How do you threaten someone with nothing to lose,
how do we stop the cycle of violence by being violent,
extremism isn’t the root cause it’s just the symptom,
terrorism didn’t start with ISIS,
I just,
want world peace nothing less nothing more,
Jesus,
it seems we’ve seen this all before,
Egyptian,
Roman Persian British,
I’ll tell you again,
no one is innocent,
and I’m as scared as anyone,
because I know it’s only a matter of time,
our Empire’s moment of truth is coming,
like the punchline in a nursery rhyme,
and nursery rhymes,
don’t seem to sound the same anymore,
times,
are changing like the changing of the guard,
“London Bridge is falling down,
falling down falling down,
London Bridge is falling down,
my fair lady.”…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
www.amazon.com/Aaron-La-Lux/e/B00ODPJAOK
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 4:29 AM UTC
Stack the bodies higher
Stack them for the empire
People want more cash
So they sell harmful weapons
They don't mind the ash
Made of victims of aggression
Like collateral children in Yemen
Who are needlessly sent to heaven
Or the schoolchildren in Florida
Who had to go face the coroner
These children only know what we teach them
So how come the only things that can reach them
Are our weapons
And deadly directions?
Because of lobbyists like the NRA
Using logic from the seventh grade
To create a coalition of those who believe what they're told
And those unwilling to change because they're too old
And adults who desperately want their toys
Even if it means the death of little boys
So the bodies continue to stack to the sky
For people who dream of killing black guys
Black in the sense that they don't know who they are
They just want to feel hard
Stuck in a childish fantasy of protecting their home
Or a petulant fear of the unknown
Their economic gain
Causes ballistic pain
Inside their bullet rain
Innocence circles the drain
But we must make decisions together
Even with the emotionally severed
In order to make our society better
Until then our children get deader
They use uncertainty to buy time
And convince the masses
That the real problem is crime
To create rhetoric molasses
Because they make a living
From us dying
They don't mind bullet giving
Until we're lying
Six feet under
The guns sound like thunder
Warning of an approaching lightning storm
Where the rain drops stab us to our core
Then mix with the blood on the floor
Until civilization is no more
I hear loud guns
Then I hear church bells
I walk in the sun
But the foul dirt smells
Of the corpses of countless kids
Representing high contract bids
And the tears of their mothers
That are swept under the covers
By those with no empathy
That cause only entropy
Then they expect to live near us
A gun will make them hear us
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 6:15 PM UTC
Seeds of pure Brahma appear
In the dark nothingness.
In their infinitesimal
Yet infinite dimensions
They carry the code for all creation.
Some fade away.
Some persist.
Propelled through will,
An urgency to occupy and diffuse.
Annihilation or coalition are inevitable.
Some acquire magnificent tinges
Worthy of acknowledgement.
Others marred and maimed
Are left to wither in exile.
I meditate on the most promising one.
Feel its inarticulatable essence
As the intangible element
Vanquish the void.
The One now unfolds.
Accreting into thoughts
Before passing through
The sieve of judgement.
These thoughts sublime I crystallize.
Choosing at will to blemish them
With motley emotions
Or monolithic reason.
I,
The creator,
Awestruck by my own creation,
The most magnificent in the domain
Wherein I reign supreme,
Hesitate.
I hesitate to articulate.
Knowing full well that tongue
Will never be able to bear
The simple complexity
And the complex simplicity
Of thought.
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
The devil’s in the details,
Selfish souls for retail
God doesn’t answer prayers
He only answers emails
A demonic description
Of a self destructive demolition
Concentration controlled
By a conspiracy driven coalition
Cowards by the hour
Sending soldiers on dummy missions
While the eyes of desperate housewives
Are glued to their televisions
Poisoned....
Impoverished....
Imprisoned....
Policed....
Outcasts of society with no chance of release
Who’s the real thief?
The dead are pretending to be alive
A slim line between Sainthood and Satan
The New World Order
Disorder has arrived
Thanks for being patient…
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 12:13 AM UTC
blue nights
and blue feelings
full of thoughts
but blue is not the warmest color
it is a clandestine coalition fraught with
the fear of losing my mind
goosebumps plague my arms
lined with midnight tinted rivers—
blue that is
who blew my cover
an ocean mist
canned
set to do my healing
a stinging shock prior to progression
hot flashes integrated indefinitely
right as rain and
cold as coal
choking on my own greasy innards
sapphire, she screamed
tear stained leaflets of mundane
satisfaction
with the inability to recall
her calling
am I she? and is she
me?
skylight reflecting a genuine
taste for ruby slippers
an insane asylum for
marketing matters
****** upon the
heroic cape
of toxic kryptonite
silly sentiments of the nighttime winds
shades drawn concealing
periwinkle despair
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 1:38 AM UTC
It’s been a while, but it’s nice to see you.
Kinda nervous, so I sip upon this brew,
But you have no clue what I’m about to do…
Take me back home in one of your whips,
Lick the liquor off your lips,
Pull down the ******* right quick…
To make unrequited love is the mission.
Show me what you can do with your intuition.
Oh, **** I think I’m going into remission.
Baby I ain't no mathematician,
But I think this expedition’s turning to a coalition.
Got you once so I’m gettin’ you again.
You knew you wanted this and then
The grey seat belts start to unfasten…
Your petitie coitus assassin
Let you touch the *** and…
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
They run.
They scream.
They beg for help.
Their homes are burned.
The women are *****
The children are tortured.
Everyone is killed.
A savior amidst the government and yet her lips sit on top of each other, only opening to condemn the persecuted Rohingya...
A Nobel Peace Prize winner revealing herself as an assailant of ethics.
The Rohingya.
The humans denied aid by almost every brother and sister,
THOUSANDS of men, women, children,
are drowning, burning, pleaing for mercy,
as you sit in your comfy chair and read this poem,
as i sit in this bed writing this poem.
The Rohingya are looking into the eyes of a Buddhist state;
looking down the barrel of a gun pointed at them from infancy.
An entire culture dedicated to dehumanizing humans...
An entire coalition of states conforming to locking the Rohingya out...
A state committing textbook genocide.
A world subduing to textbook ignorance.
And the Rohingya fighting for the right to live
For the right to be
Human
The Rohingya must not flee, nor fear persecution, for We shall stand by the Rohingya!
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 10:59 PM UTC
Pain and misery a formed coalition,
Placed in our path to create a hindrance.
Unnecessary anguish jumps out the bushes,
Ambushing love and peace along the path.
Encroaching humble hearts and minds,
Dark deeds done to stop the march.
Strides to plant the seed of peace over the planet,
Rip out the weeds of hate and arrogance.
Tend to our garden that is earth our great love,
Water her with peace love and consideration.
©Perveiz Ali
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 8:11 AM UTC
to be a stone worn smooth in the bed of a river rushing to parts unknown, save for the banks and bits of cattail being dragged downstream by a million hungry hands, broken up into the smallest constituent parts by a million groping mouths and spit back out into mother ocean's wide accepting embrace and stirred into a stew of bones and various creatures picking them clean, many of which know not the existence of anything above the surface save for warmth and light, like the embryo turning fetus which also swims in a sea of nourishment, also cradled in mother ocean's loving arms, also perfectly content to feel the light of the outside from a distance until, in time, when the descendants of the same coalition of cells that once made up the body of that fetus breaks back down to atoms, flesh feeding new cattails and a million tenacious sets of teeth, slowly washes back into a rushing river where I sit,
a stone worn smooth,
watching it all.
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 3:47 PM UTC