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"nonchalantly" poems
The woman in the window   Looks out beyond the glass Beyond the reach of her whispers   Befogged upon windowpanes glance Farther  than  the  bounds   Her own breathe imbues Out of reach her long fingered touch   Tracing her murmurs on looking glass dew Grasping for the shadowed artifacts   Only time does nonchalantly drift past Perched alone upon a cloud of silence   Her thoughts eddy in soundless swirl Spinning like dizzying shadows   Swallowed by a thirst for light The other side of window beckons   Only she knows she’s looking out through a sigh; Seeing no one familiar looking back ―     For what hidden jewels within abide She dreams of dancing leafless by daylight   Twirling beneath the whispering willows sway Just a step away from being free   Just a step away from feeling alive With first step beyond imprisoning hesitation   Crossing over the threshold of a dream Through a liberating portal outside the glass   Just on the other side of the windowsill ...                   Jesse e Stillwater
0
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 3:34 PM UTC
The Woman in the Window
Rolling a Pall Mall in the courtyard, of Ye Olde Swiss Cottage Tavern, in the last of November's sun:       Lovely sunlight,       You are,       Filling me warmly with joy. Thinking of our desires, from summer and autumn months, up to this bright November morning, we have happily danced, e'en in the shadows. Above me two brick turrets, as I dreamily smoke, nonchalantly state: 'Underground'. High-raised logos winking at our play, struck through with horizontal blue, in a circle of enamel white. 'Old Fool,' the towers hiss, directed at my mortal sensibilities, 'winter has come!' But nothing buries us as our sun still comfortingly kindles a friendly star which when all is dark, glows inside, guiding the shipwreck of my sunken years - the debts and all those unpaid thrills! Dreaming and Loving, as children out, lost in an abundant ***** each holding off for as long as we dare, lovers unmasked, naked before suffocating paternity, and cold winter's bite! where to we hardly know, to avoid its cruel embrace.
0
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 4:16 AM UTC
Winter Come
there once was this guy named oedipus of whom it was prophesied that his mother he'd marry, his father he'd **** at a place where three roads were tied. his mother and father discovered their fate and tried to dispose of their son but he ended up in corinthian lands and their efforts were all undone. then a drunk guy ruined his happy facade and to an oracle oedipus went who repeated to him the dank prophesy; he fled corinth, not taking a cent. while on his sojourn away from his home he encountered a party royale which rudely pushed him off of the road, and angered he slaughtered them all. then from that blood soaked three-way path he nonchalantly flew not knowing that his father was the man that he just slew. he continued his journey until he reached thebes where a sphinx held the city hostage so oedipus solved the bird-cat's lame rhyme and released thebes from its ******* as a reward, the people of thebes gave oedipus their widowed queen, unknowingly joining mother and son in a marriage that was unclean. after they ruled for twenty good years, during which four children came, a plague was induced by the sheltering of the man by whom was slain in searching him out, oedipus found that the murderer was really he, so long ago. the man he had killed at the place where were joined roads of three. but by finding this out, he also discovered that his wife and his mother were one. he gouged out his eyes after her suicide; in her own bedroom she was hung. as it turned out, oeddy exiled himself but the seeds of his misery were sewn. so he went to colonus and wandered around and this is the end.
0
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 5:14 AM UTC
ballad to oedipus
there once was this guy named oedipus of whom it was prophesied that his mother he'd marry, his father he'd **** at a place where three roads were tied. his mother and father discovered their fate and tried to dispose of their son but he ended up in corinthian lands and their efforts were all undone. then a drunk guy ruined his happy facade and to an oracle oedipus went who repeated to him the dank prophesy; he fled corinth, not taking a cent. while on his sojourn away from his home he encountered a party royale which rudely pushed him off of the road, and angered he slaughtered them all. then from that blood soaked three-way path he nonchalantly flew not knowing that his father was the man that he just slew. he continued his journey until he reached thebes where a sphinx held the city hostage so oedipus solved the bird-cat's lame rhyme and released thebes from its ******* as a reward, the people of thebes gave oedipus their widowed queen, unknowingly joining mother and son in a marriage that was unclean. after they ruled for twenty good years, during which four children came, a plague was induced by the sheltering of the man by whom was slain in searching him out, oedipus found that the murderer was really he, so long ago. the man he had killed at the place where were joined roads of three. but by finding this out, he also discovered that his wife and his mother were one. he gouged out his eyes after her suicide; in her own bedroom she was hung. as it turned out, oeddy exiled himself but the seeds of his misery were sewn. so he went to colonus and wandered around and this is the end.
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44
there's ethical idealism: where ethics is discussed... there's ethical relativism: where ethics is practised... there's ethical realism... where ethics is quantified as an improbability; and then there's ethical absolutism, where we supposedly "progress" - in this scenario are the laws of physics actually suspended: whereby oculus qua oculus is replaced - a loss of an eye is "relative" to 10 years in a cage... really?! ethics is ideal, realistic, absolute or relative... we're encouraged to live in "realistic relativism"... never in an absolute realism, since realistic relativism only compares itself to ideal absolutism... and nothing more... ever watched that film secrets in their eyes? you ever wonder what ethical idealism is to the ethnical consequence that can absorb a realistic libra? i can only believe in ethical absolutism, ethical relativism is horrid to me... relativism adorns idealism, absolutism adorns realism... a life sentence is worse than a death sentence, whether justified or not, prison is sadism, but at least ****** is simply ****** a space-time intact, a ****** penalty is not inhumane, nor a ouija board... it's time for time, space for space, the actual punishment comes with the missing adrenaline rush of the unexpected reception of the wielded weapon... either send these jealous plonkers to siberia, or sentence them to death, for you are no more than they are, nay, you are more... you're akin to cats toying, playing a sadistic games with half-mutilated mice... this is why i abhor ethical relativism of the crucifix... hence my belief in ethical absolutism in the paragraph of realism, which is perfected, by being exacted, and never, ever, being leisurely discussed, on a farcical palette with a grimace to boot: ******* a lemon; compensating the horrors within minutes, is never compensated with ordeals that last years... which is why i find the death penalty an act of authentic humanity, and not this quasi-humanitarian act of pardon, ******* hypocrites - i abhor the caged rat more than the rat gladly nibbling on a dead corpse... at least there was passion in the ****** waiting for death penalty is like killing a vermin with poison, disposing them with nonchalantly... the wise maxim states: ledo ferrum sicut id est calidi - strike the iron while it's hot... death is the dawn-broker - a new tomorrow promise - left intact, the fermenting process of ethical dynamism takes over... then again, the supposedly "evolved" preferred moral relativism to moral absolutism, because there was no moral realism to speak of, since morality could only be talked about in ideal terms of the supposedly so, supposedly fashioned via: it ought to never happen to me... and then it might, and then: oops... argument sinks like a wet fatty **** into shambles of keeping up with the presupposed pillar of argument being "impenetrable"; hey, genius, back to the blackboard!
0
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 8:50 PM UTC
4 tiers of ethics / oculus qua oculus
there's ethical idealism: where ethics is discussed... there's ethical relativism: where ethics is practised... there's ethical realism... where ethics is quantified as an improbability; and then there's ethical absolutism, where we supposedly "progress" - in this scenario are the laws of physics actually suspended: whereby oculus qua oculus is replaced - a loss of an eye is "relative" to 10 years in a cage... really?! ethics is ideal, realistic, absolute or relative... we're encouraged to live in "realistic relativism"... never in an absolute realism, since realistic relativism only compares itself to ideal absolutism... and nothing more... ever watched that film secrets in their eyes? you ever wonder what ethical idealism is to the ethnical consequence that can absorb a realistic libra? i can only believe in ethical absolutism, ethical relativism is horrid to me... relativism adorns idealism, absolutism adorns realism... a life sentence is worse than a death sentence, whether justified or not, prison is sadism, but at least ****** is simply ****** a space-time intact, a ****** penalty is not inhumane, nor a ouija board... it's time for time, space for space, the actual punishment comes with the missing adrenaline rush of the unexpected reception of the wielded weapon... either send these jealous plonkers to siberia, or sentence them to death, for you are no more than they are, nay, you are more... you're akin to cats toying, playing a sadistic games with half-mutilated mice... this is why i abhor ethical relativism of the crucifix... hence my belief in ethical absolutism in the paragraph of realism, which is perfected, by being exacted, and never, ever, being leisurely discussed, on a farcical palette with a grimace to boot: ******* a lemon; compensating the horrors within minutes, is never compensated with ordeals that last years... which is why i find the death penalty an act of authentic humanity, and not this quasi-humanitarian act of pardon, ******* hypocrites - i abhor the caged rat more than the rat gladly nibbling on a dead corpse... at least there was passion in the ****** waiting for death penalty is like killing a vermin with poison, disposing them with nonchalantly... the wise maxim states: ledo ferrum sicut id est calidi - strike the iron while it's hot... death is the dawn-broker - a new tomorrow promise - left intact, the fermenting process of ethical dynamism takes over... then again, the supposedly "evolved" preferred moral relativism to moral absolutism, because there was no moral realism to speak of, since morality could only be talked about in ideal terms of the supposedly so, supposedly fashioned via: it ought to never happen to me... and then it might, and then: oops... argument sinks like a wet fatty **** into shambles of keeping up with the presupposed pillar of argument being "impenetrable"; hey, genius, back to the blackboard!
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108
Sitting in the local coffee shop, Listening to coffee shop songs, Doing work but simultaneously Watching people. Studying psychology, Of the abnormal type, Watching behaviors, But not reflecting inward. Sipping hot coffee, Burning your mouth on it, But trying not to react. Someone across the cafe saw you; **** Studying people, Drinking coffee nonchalantly, Watching behavior, Reflect inward, ****** Reflect inward.
0
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 7:48 AM UTC
Reflect Inward
I see the rabbits feeding on the grass My heart is filled with joy Their life is precious I see the vultures feeding on the rabbits My heart is filled with joy Their life is precious That's what I never understood about coffins Life is about expanding your prison cell as much as you can There's no requirement to be contained once it's over Our nutriance to the Earth Is our nutrients into Earth All creatures that die on this planet Become a part of it The Debt they paid to the future The Debt that is always collected on We travel nonchalantly on their corpses Wishing they could appreciate That each and every one of them Was one step closer to sentience This planet's passion project Could the first single-celled organism Comprehend my humiliation? When the first creature walked on land Was it anticipating my shame? Did it sprout wings To give me nightmares of dying in an airplane? Did ancient Neanderthals dance around a fire To reenact my adolescence? Could mystic voodoo shaman Cure my lack of agency? Or did lost American tribesmen Prophesize the complexities of my love? I can feel all these ************* looking up at me from the ground And it's just me As I accidentally burn my notebook with a cigarette
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May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 12:01 AM UTC
Coffins
*tonight when I fled from my cage, I was secluded from my own head because all it called upon was you. echoing and echoing.* like a mother aches for her lost child I was gnawing the skin on my fingertips rustling the ends of my hair into knots biting numbingly into my tongue all so nonchalantly like a fool. who is so simply chasing his own tail in circles and circles and circles and just such endless cycles until they send themselves to sleep
0
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 9:48 AM UTC
september first. I
Our love is like a microwave We nonchalantly recognize its presence And we happily utilize it everyday Yet we rarely sit and ogle upon the magic it contrives. The beguiling beauty of the zappy microwave.
0
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 6:10 PM UTC
Ode to the microwave
tropical breeze waves washed upon a soothsayer sand beach whispering love poems between each sigh seagull clouds baying from above lustrous sunshine massaging with temperate beams beneath the waves, turtles twist in tubular turnabouts bright coral and jaded fish teem in the reef shimmering sunshine shining through waves casting shadows and light amongst an oceanic spectrum we flit through the ocean as foreigners and locals tiny air bubbles pressing from our lips unlike the denizens filtering through the reef we press up to the surface and break through for breath exiting the ocean of life, we wash upon the shore driftboards sewn together in matrimony our clam shelled hands interwoven in the fabric of our souls sand pressed between to make a glistening pearl i sit up while you lay down on our thin towels falling asleep with an upward curve on your lips i trace my finger down your back like pencil to paper drawing each crevice, perfection, and blemish on the landscape of your body a faint breeze ghosts through the swaying palm trees dolphins nonchalantly diving through the air and ocean ***** scuttling along the precipice of the sea and sand waves washing the crooked edges of stones amongst this equilibrium we are infinite soaking up this portrait life like a sea sponge in these moments we are infinite moments we imagined we had
0
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 3:49 PM UTC
Do You Sea What I Sea
I was outside in the cold for hours that day thinking about how to end things i passed your body On my way upstairs Before spreading out my saved pills And unlocking a knife Crimson spread along my thigh And my stomach became upset My water is now empty And all that's left on the counter is dust A little bit of red stains the blade And i pull up my pants nonchalantly
0
Jan 26, 2022
Jan 26, 2022 at 11:43 AM UTC
the attempt
Alexander K Opicho (Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected]) There are more and more misfortunes in the world Known to you dear people in your diverse conditions, But my life and experience has taught me unique lessons Of kindred to befit me Elizabeth, a daughter of Zinjathropus Hailing in the savannah desert, Turkana County of Kenya, I have graduated in to a single lady without test of marriage, As desert men look at me in their irritating impotence, **** clothes wrapped around their slender waists passing on me Like a dog passing on American dollars; cursed be desert men, I thought my beauty of dark African complexions will give them a ****** tease But to my chagrin; desert men have a fear of beautiful ladies My conscience tells me that my beauty is an eye sore to them, I thought my bulging hips will entice them as is a promise of fertility Leave alone not to mention my concupiscent ****** warmth, uhmmm! Desert men have dared not to see and appreciate my **** bossom, They often pass on me driving their donkeys and emaciated carmels, I thought my ***** sharp pointed ******* assign of virginity Will call them to me into a treat of love, affiliative love, But sadly enough; these dudes are erotically blind, They they nonchalantly pass on my **** ***** Wielding a begging bowl in their ***** long hands Running like drunkard chimpanzees going to Oxfam stores to beg for food, Cursed be Oxfam an imperialist agent, it has crashed flat The testicles of our desert brothers into ****** insensitivity, Oxfam has made African desert men to beg like Hebrew lepers Other than standing up on their feet to feed their women, Normally as men would do from the sweat of their brow, I thought my education will attract them to me, To love me with those romantic University kisses, But desert men have crude cultures and slavish religion They rebuke girl child education as if it is a devil, Oh my dear God of the forsaken desert ladies Of the forsaken African daughters, Take me out of this ****** desert Take me out of the city desert of Lodwar, Take me to the equator line and give me a husband, My eggs are pretty ready to conceive and sire children Sons and daughters for your own glory O almighty God, Take me out of this ****** desert, Where no man treats a modern woman, Take me out of here and give me a fresh man of my dream. Because I have known from today; It is accurse to be a woman in Africa It is a curse to be a beautiful lady in African deserts It is a curse to be a woman graduate in the African desert It is a curse to have ***** ******* in the African desert, O! Help me God.
0
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC
MELODY OF A DESERT SINGLE LADY
Alexander K Opicho (Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected]) There are more and more misfortunes in the world Known to you dear people in your diverse conditions, But my life and experience has taught me unique lessons Of kindred to befit me Elizabeth, a daughter of Zinjathropus Hailing in the savannah desert, Turkana County of Kenya, I have graduated in to a single lady without test of marriage, As desert men look at me in their irritating impotence, **** clothes wrapped around their slender waists passing on me Like a dog passing on American dollars; cursed be desert men, I thought my beauty of dark African complexions will give them a ****** tease But to my chagrin; desert men have a fear of beautiful ladies My conscience tells me that my beauty is an eye sore to them, I thought my bulging hips will entice them as is a promise of fertility Leave alone not to mention my concupiscent ****** warmth, uhmmm! Desert men have dared not to see and appreciate my **** bossom, They often pass on me driving their donkeys and emaciated carmels, I thought my ***** sharp pointed ******* assign of virginity Will call them to me into a treat of love, affiliative love, But sadly enough; these dudes are erotically blind, They they nonchalantly pass on my **** ***** Wielding a begging bowl in their ***** long hands Running like drunkard chimpanzees going to Oxfam stores to beg for food, Cursed be Oxfam an imperialist agent, it has crashed flat The testicles of our desert brothers into ****** insensitivity, Oxfam has made African desert men to beg like Hebrew lepers Other than standing up on their feet to feed their women, Normally as men would do from the sweat of their brow, I thought my education will attract them to me, To love me with those romantic University kisses, But desert men have crude cultures and slavish religion They rebuke girl child education as if it is a devil, Oh my dear God of the forsaken desert ladies Of the forsaken African daughters, Take me out of this ****** desert Take me out of the city desert of Lodwar, Take me to the equator line and give me a husband, My eggs are pretty ready to conceive and sire children Sons and daughters for your own glory O almighty God, Take me out of this ****** desert, Where no man treats a modern woman, Take me out of here and give me a fresh man of my dream. Because I have known from today; It is accurse to be a woman in Africa It is a curse to be a beautiful lady in African deserts It is a curse to be a woman graduate in the African desert It is a curse to have ***** ******* in the African desert, O! Help me God.
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49
the sun dies gently behind the hills as I wander through the pastel cloud’s apricot-nuance with floating eyes of vacant iridescence. and the sky lost all of its mighty blue, now glimmering in a nonchalantly lilac hue one could only describe as the universe spilled passion. darkness manifests on the canvas of atmosphere, its golden streaks devoured by mischievous glee and we all sigh and finally close our eyes. so that this journey remains all that we see. © fey (08/04/21)
0
Apr 8, 2021
Apr 8, 2021 at 9:10 AM UTC
evening melancholy
Bullet-wrapped words Spill from dangerous mouths, nonchalantly slurping rumors from fragile adolescence. A golden-plated intention wears a mask of gentle feathers, but becomes warped with ignorance and indirect self hatred. Careless and trivial, the public twists reality into sweet butter braids, melting into an oily confusion that only small children dare to question. It is I who asks for something more and aimlessly wanders varying distance for reasons unknown, and I float on words of people I’ve never heard of, and follow their fingers as they carry and steal innocent piano keys, as if they could truly open locked doors. Though attempted and failed, the insignificant longing trails behind a broken consciousness, wriggling between the wrinkles of time and crevasses of awful brain matter, allowing this to never begin, never continue, and never end.
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Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 10:27 AM UTC
Confusion and Adolescence
small, chirpy bird, flitting under the dome of air port, comes down, nonchalantly partakes, omelette from my plate.
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Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 5:07 PM UTC
the dickey bird at airport restaurant
Glances shared at infinitesimal instances trickle up my vertebrae, blow the dust away & chew the tin foil for me. Nonchalantly running a gauntlet that I designed with architectural displeasure. If you absorbed all the gold you've ever touched, feverishly drank the blood of gods, suckled the syrup from tangerines until you blessed a famine, stole your story from a pack of gorgeous wolves, or inhaled the whispers of every wise soul it would still not explain your unprecedented growth & elegance. A superlative pressure wave in the eyes of a politician. Purely an enigma. Beauty in the form of human nature. I truly flourish in this experience.
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Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 9:56 PM UTC
Chess On The Veranda
with every click of Their tongues, i am acquiescent. Their words fill my lungs, audible discontent. i swallow Their disgust, mostly misinterpreted, i nonchalantly combust, now i am free.
0
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC
cosmic dust
We were sitting in a restaurant Table set for two One of those single couple booths Perfect for me and you We spoke of money and I refused to let you pay for me Maybe I have too much pride But I’m not who your ex used to be The overhead lights reflected perfectly and I was sure that you were not a mistake Your ocean eyes vibrated my soul And then I spilled my milkshake Blood rushed to my face And I looked away in shame But then I heard you laughing And something in my heart changed Somehow you weren’t embarrassed Or uncomfortable with my lack of grace But instead that heart-shattering smile Was plastered across your gorgeous face And then you surprised me yet again As you opened up your soul out of the blue And though you spoke nonchalantly I knew those thoughts were haunting you I painted versions of your stories Across the walls of my mind as you spoke Memorizing the imagery and your feelings About your insufficient social support And while I know I can’t be everything for you I can try to be better than the last So you have somewhere safe to run When you need to escape your broken past Because although the table spanned miles between us And we were connected only by our fingertips I could feel our souls grazing one another As they tangled together in electric riffs At that very moment Staring into your eyes, gold and blue I felt the first real chance That I might truly love you
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Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 3:42 PM UTC
Dinner for Two
You tell her you love her she says "I know I can see it in your eyes" you look into hers and beneath the aqua blue you can see she loves you too. But she won't say it. She just turns her head and bites her lip. She's not supposed to say it. Willpower is something I strip off nonchalantly baring my naked soul she zips hers up and holds it tight, she's not ready to be free You share a visible yet impassable love a beautiful gift kept tied in a bow, never for the world to open Two stars floating in the universe meant to collide yet always passing each other by Chemically balanced, but time is never on your side The sparks fly spitting out flames but never catching fire All that remains is a shorted circuit because she never could be free.
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Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 1:57 AM UTC
Meant To (Not) Be
Bellicose angels chanter,"Never   Was and never more," upon The totian breeze with clarity of peace; A peregrine requitement of Effulgent obsequies, tempered With melancholy tortuously Fetching lost codices whilst Careening stars-of-Bethlehem Nonchalantly whithersoever, A parable of presence A dirge paramount; perdurable To the transcription of the Orderliness Of Orcus'- unabridged, The final heavenly sonnet. ELEETE J MUIR.
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Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 8:31 AM UTC
The Last Breath.
Southern shells – or longitude it’s rude to discuss such a rough location – but I’m a ***** to such provocation. destiny’s Vacation in a nation with ****** – nonchalantly run a muck. total *** or ******** visible I don’t believe the natives can purchase ***** a loss of bucks is inherent to those who want. bring your paranoia to a paranormal place where paintings haunt or move around after your heat signature. can he make this make meaning? i am the dignitor. a broken side of a square to settle the score if you weren't sure. stressed to proceed with thee program. the waves can crash on shape and make ham sandwiches which is beautiful. in the eye of the beholder, hold on I’ve smoldered all of my calls. put a hold on the fourth wall – I can and swam into the shallow. tribune myself to the tropical Loch Ness fall fourth to the shadow. let us Dive further. amphibious herder of the deep stay afloat on a personal boat to return to sleep.
0
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 3:17 AM UTC
Where can we take this?
she walks along the trunk of the woods, pausing when she sees branch-like paths nonchalantly lying down in front of her. each path sings its own song for her, but the songs clash against each other. she steps back and covers her ears, then starts singing her own song. she looks away from the other branches, letting her voice guide the way as she strolls along her own path.
0
Apr 25, 2021
Apr 25, 2021 at 12:08 AM UTC
crossroads.
I know everyone In the town Said the Big Brother But everyone Knows me Replied Swamy Downey Nonchalantly
0
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 4:24 AM UTC
Know Knower Knowest
While many people all over the world Are busily running to and fro Engaging in cheerful holiday Festivities, one thing we know: Children are starving and dying in Yemen. While Saudi Arabia nonchalantly Covers up its heinous act Of butchering a journalist, We cannot ignore the fact That children are starving and dying in Yemen. While Congress fails to intercede And chooses instead to bicker and quarrel Over whether America should Keep supporting a war that's immoral, Children are starving and dying in Yemen. While the oppressive Houthi rebels Backed by Iran dig in their heels And Saudi Arabia bombs the cities, Intensifying a clash of ideals, Children are starving and dying in Yemen. When ports are blocked and money is scarce, And fishermen's boats can't leave the shore, And food and medical equipment Are cut off in a three-year war, Children are starving and dying in Yemen. A 12-year-old girl weighs 28 pounds; An 8-year-old boy weighs about 30. Chances are slim that they will survive. Who dares to say that war isn't ***** Children are starving and dying in Yemen. The people caught in the middle are certain What the fiendish fighting portends: A huge, unimaginable Catastrophe unless the war ends, For children are starving and dying in Yemen. -by Bob B (12-14-18)
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Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 11:16 AM UTC
Children in Yemen