"petitions" poems - Hello Poetry

"petitions" poems

I log into the network of my self-esteem, To see the hearts and the wows and the laughs flooding in. A simple 'like' wouldn’t cut it anymore ‘Likes’ were so 2010, even 2010 was bored. ‘Cause that’s the zeitgeist of the age, you see, A tendency to wear hearts on sleeves. Loves and kisses are a dime a dozen, With a million friends and followers double. National debates and social justice petitions, Real crises, distorted renditions. High definition photos of disaster zones Flash up against cat videos on every smart phone. Snapchat filters do not lie, Just tell a story of hours gone by; Selecting the perfect background, the ideal shade To express love on the dozen’th date. But that’s the zeitgeist of the century, A tendency to wear hearts on sleeves. To document in minute detail, with extensive pictorial evidence Clockwork days of humdrum nonchalance. And perhaps the generation that came before Would call it vanity, vainglory, or something more. But it ain’t like they were without their sins, We didn’t invent tabloid columnists. And now that we are at the end, Let me sign off with this request: Like, comment, and share your love Let your heart fall out of your shirt cuff.

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Sep 26, 2018

Sep 26, 2018 at 1:53 AM UTC

A Tendency to Wear Hearts on Sleeves

I log into the network of my self-esteem, To see the hearts and the wows and the laughs flooding in. A simple 'like' wouldn’t cut it anymore ‘Likes’ were so 2010, even 2010 was bored. ‘Cause that’s the zeitgeist of the age, you see, A tendency to wear hearts on sleeves. Loves and kisses are a dime a dozen, With a million friends and followers double. National debates and social justice petitions, Real crises, distorted renditions. High definition photos of disaster zones Flash up against cat videos on every smart phone. Snapchat filters do not lie, Just tell a story of hours gone by; Selecting the perfect background, the ideal shade To express love on the dozen’th date. But that’s the zeitgeist of the century, A tendency to wear hearts on sleeves. To document in minute detail, with extensive pictorial evidence Clockwork days of humdrum nonchalance. And perhaps the generation that came before Would call it vanity, vainglory, or something more. But it ain’t like they were without their sins, We didn’t invent tabloid columnists. And now that we are at the end, Let me sign off with this request: Like, comment, and share your love Let your heart fall out of your shirt cuff.

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We set out to honor Mary traveling the pilgrim's path from west to east We walked, we rode the bus entertained and enchanted by Cristina applauding Ramon along the way. Each day was one of prayer and song, sunshine and fellowship rosaries and novena we submitted petitions to Santiago we laughed with San Serapio From the grand and magnificent cathedrals to the humblest village chapel we grew in faith, hearing God's word in many languages. We marveled at the dedication and stamina of the pilgrims making their way on foot and bicycle at the warmth, generosity, and hospitality they receive along the way We picknicked alongside mountain streams enjoying good food, good wine,and good friendship we walked down the hillsides in the hot sunshine passing the pilgrims going the opposite way we quenched our thirst in a quaint and rustic village tavern. Ramon drove with skill up the mountains to Garabandal a remote village suspended in time and beauty there on the mountain top we sat among the pines where Mary had appeared. We sat in silence, in awe and reverence the only sounds, the whisper of the breeze and the cowbells on the hillside We prayed the rosary It was, for most of us, a most special memory From our bus we looked out at the mountains the green and rolling farmland at the rocky Atlantic coast at the rios and the rias. We walked in procession at Fatima and Lourdes by candlelight and moonlight and again in the brilliant sunshine The voices and the church bells carried across the plazas enveloping us in joy and prayer and mysticism It was at the grotto at Lourdes with my hands pressed on the rocky cave wall with the holy water on my hands that I felt Mary's presence Mary, my mother, my sister, my friend AVE MARIA September, 2008

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Dec 26, 2012

Dec 26, 2012 at 8:52 PM UTC

sandra-bourbeau

The Pilgrim's Path

We set out to honor Mary traveling the pilgrim's path from west to east We walked, we rode the bus entertained and enchanted by Cristina applauding Ramon along the way. Each day was one of prayer and song, sunshine and fellowship rosaries and novena we submitted petitions to Santiago we laughed with San Serapio From the grand and magnificent cathedrals to the humblest village chapel we grew in faith, hearing God's word in many languages. We marveled at the dedication and stamina of the pilgrims making their way on foot and bicycle at the warmth, generosity, and hospitality they receive along the way We picknicked alongside mountain streams enjoying good food, good wine,and good friendship we walked down the hillsides in the hot sunshine passing the pilgrims going the opposite way we quenched our thirst in a quaint and rustic village tavern. Ramon drove with skill up the mountains to Garabandal a remote village suspended in time and beauty there on the mountain top we sat among the pines where Mary had appeared. We sat in silence, in awe and reverence the only sounds, the whisper of the breeze and the cowbells on the hillside We prayed the rosary It was, for most of us, a most special memory From our bus we looked out at the mountains the green and rolling farmland at the rocky Atlantic coast at the rios and the rias. We walked in procession at Fatima and Lourdes by candlelight and moonlight and again in the brilliant sunshine The voices and the church bells carried across the plazas enveloping us in joy and prayer and mysticism It was at the grotto at Lourdes with my hands pressed on the rocky cave wall with the holy water on my hands that I felt Mary's presence Mary, my mother, my sister, my friend AVE MARIA September, 2008

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Men and women for election, Listen to the crowds, Reflect desires to perfection, Echo murmurs loud. Elected, the voters exult If their candidates win, Curse under losing result... Plot to get themselves in. Either way, time isn't long, Voters lose first love; Officials begin to look wrong, And politics gives 'em a shove. We never quite see We're electing ourselves; Candidates riding on mirrors; Shiny reflections scream while we yell Our demands or feed on our fears. Soon plans we've made turn to dust; Politicos fail us; The system breaks down; The party clogs with inertia and rust, Until the next campaign comes 'round. Want to see what we'll get? Take a look in the mirror... What we see gives us reason For fretting and fear. True mirrors, our best politicians; Can only reflect what they see... If we kneel to offer petitions, Ourselves will pay for our pleas.

0

Nov 26, 2014

Nov 26, 2014 at 8:41 AM UTC

**** Politicians?

Men and women for election, Listen to the crowds, Reflect desires to perfection, Echo murmurs loud. Elected, the voters exult If their candidates win, Curse under losing result... Plot to get themselves in. Either way, time isn't long, Voters lose first love; Officials begin to look wrong, And politics gives 'em a shove. We never quite see We're electing ourselves; Candidates riding on mirrors; Shiny reflections scream while we yell Our demands or feed on our fears. Soon plans we've made turn to dust; Politicos fail us; The system breaks down; The party clogs with inertia and rust, Until the next campaign comes 'round. Want to see what we'll get? Take a look in the mirror... What we see gives us reason For fretting and fear. True mirrors, our best politicians; Can only reflect what they see... If we kneel to offer petitions, Ourselves will pay for our pleas.

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Stay strong and courageous in the Lord. Remember and know, He upholds you with His mighty right hand. No matter what you may be feeling physically, emotionally, or spiritually, He will never forget or forsake you. He's there right now, Making his face to shine upon you, listening to loving petitions from your family and friends, and giving you peace. Even as you walk through this fire, He is saying to the evil one, “What do you think of my servant John Maple? No one on earth is like him. He is a truly good person, who respects me and refuses to do evil.” My friend, rest well. You are in Good hands.

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Jul 27, 2010

Jul 27, 2010 at 9:58 AM UTC

To my sick friend

Stay strong and courageous in the Lord. Remember and know, He upholds you with His mighty right hand. No matter what you may be feeling physically, emotionally, or spiritually, He will never forget or forsake you. He's there right now, Making his face to shine upon you, listening to loving petitions from your family and friends, and giving you peace. Even as you walk through this fire, He is saying to the evil one, “What do you think of my servant John Maple? No one on earth is like him. He is a truly good person, who respects me and refuses to do evil.” My friend, rest well. You are in Good hands.

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He stared into the eyes of Persephone Mesmerized by the reflections concealing A broken spirit; those beautiful Blue eyes drawing in his Struggling soul. Doubt polluting clean air; His instinct deceived by Her notions of favor. Intimacy shared within their Conversational delight exposing His veins, sliced by her Blades of desire. She was unresponsive, Numb to his plasma discharge; Darkness chased away the light Night consumed his day. So much calamity beneath The surface of serenity. Absence of closure; misinterpreted Memory lapses. Broken beginnings irreparable; shattered petitions Severing their nerves. Scent of pain and sorrow On the sheets; raindrops Collecting on the glass. Inhibitions washed away By drizzling expectations. He wants to send her a rose, A small token of hope In the midst of demons.

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Jul 3, 2014

Jul 3, 2014 at 7:14 PM UTC

He stared into the eyes of Persephone Mesmerized by the reflections concealing A broken spirit; those beautiful Blue eyes drawing in his Struggling soul. Doubt polluting clean air; His instinct deceived by Her notions of favor. Intimacy shared within their Conversational delight exposing His veins, sliced by her Blades of desire. She was unresponsive, Numb to his plasma discharge; Darkness chased away the light Night consumed his day. So much calamity beneath The surface of serenity. Absence of closure; misinterpreted Memory lapses. Broken beginnings irreparable; shattered petitions Severing their nerves. Scent of pain and sorrow On the sheets; raindrops Collecting on the glass. Inhibitions washed away By drizzling expectations. He wants to send her a rose, A small token of hope In the midst of demons.

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Again. before Consistency Drowns e v e r y foreshadowing, Grenades head Insistently, Juxtaposed keenly ‘long My Newest Oath. Petitions Quickly Reveal Satire Tucked Under V a c a n t, Withered, Xysts. {Youthful Zeal.}

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Nov 28, 2017

Nov 28, 2017 at 10:15 PM UTC

LovelyLandMermaid

Again. before Consistency Drowns e v e r y foreshadowing, Grenades head Insistently, Juxtaposed keenly ‘long My Newest Oath. Petitions Quickly Reveal Satire Tucked Under V a c a n t, Withered, Xysts. {Youthful Zeal.}

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Mind and body were weary...it was the Third night of nine anticipated dawn masses... Most people were yawning, Fighting the urge to nod and start snoring... Trying to finish what they started, To have their petitions granted. The Reverend read the gospel, Emphatic, spotlight was on him as he preached About greetings, prayers and good wishes. He didn't want to see more sagging heads Among his audience, So the Reverend spoke louder, In high tones, but with a smile, Aiming for his sermon to reach every ear. Surprisingly, The sleepy atmosphere became lively... Every face turned to a smiley, Laughing, murmuring about the funny stories The good Reverend was sharing During his homily. Recessional hymn started... We all rose from the pews. On my way out, I bumped into somebody I had avoided meeting for sometime now... But there she was, in front of me... We both stopped, at a loss for words, With no ****** reactions. It so happened that The good Reverend passed us by... He looked, absorbing emotions... He bowed his head, Then turned to me, and smiled... I sensed the air, the hint. Without much fuss, I smiled at the unavoidable someone, The one with the unwelcome face, Who brought some unpleasant news With her usual audacity. No more turning back, I was already there, in that part of the evening's drama... So I held her hand, And as she hugged me, I heard myself utter, "Shalom!" The way the Reverend said it in his sermon. Why was it not so difficult that moment, When I used to be so unwilling before? But...it was over, done. We went our separate ways... I could not believe I told her "Hello! Goodbye! Peace!" Walking home, a thought kept nagging me... I dwelt on it, for it had happened twice already. In the church, strange things do happen, Strange occurrences that lead to Happy endings. I recalled the good Reverend... He didn't usually pass my way... Why that strange but encouraging, soothing smile As he passed us...WHY? Also, I could never forget his homily... His funny, lively stories About a greeting, a prayer... A word that brought good wishes... A single word that said a lot--- " S H A L O M ! " Sally Copyright 2013 Rosalia Rosario A. bayan

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Dec 29, 2013

Dec 29, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC

The Reverend...His Message...

Mind and body were weary...it was the Third night of nine anticipated dawn masses... Most people were yawning, Fighting the urge to nod and start snoring... Trying to finish what they started, To have their petitions granted. The Reverend read the gospel, Emphatic, spotlight was on him as he preached About greetings, prayers and good wishes. He didn't want to see more sagging heads Among his audience, So the Reverend spoke louder, In high tones, but with a smile, Aiming for his sermon to reach every ear. Surprisingly, The sleepy atmosphere became lively... Every face turned to a smiley, Laughing, murmuring about the funny stories The good Reverend was sharing During his homily. Recessional hymn started... We all rose from the pews. On my way out, I bumped into somebody I had avoided meeting for sometime now... But there she was, in front of me... We both stopped, at a loss for words, With no ****** reactions. It so happened that The good Reverend passed us by... He looked, absorbing emotions... He bowed his head, Then turned to me, and smiled... I sensed the air, the hint. Without much fuss, I smiled at the unavoidable someone, The one with the unwelcome face, Who brought some unpleasant news With her usual audacity. No more turning back, I was already there, in that part of the evening's drama... So I held her hand, And as she hugged me, I heard myself utter, "Shalom!" The way the Reverend said it in his sermon. Why was it not so difficult that moment, When I used to be so unwilling before? But...it was over, done. We went our separate ways... I could not believe I told her "Hello! Goodbye! Peace!" Walking home, a thought kept nagging me... I dwelt on it, for it had happened twice already. In the church, strange things do happen, Strange occurrences that lead to Happy endings. I recalled the good Reverend... He didn't usually pass my way... Why that strange but encouraging, soothing smile As he passed us...WHY? Also, I could never forget his homily... His funny, lively stories About a greeting, a prayer... A word that brought good wishes... A single word that said a lot--- " S H A L O M ! " Sally Copyright 2013 Rosalia Rosario A. bayan

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I used to go out for cigarettes before bed with music and connection to the world, I’ve learned to clam the addiction to nosiness about trump and syria, petitions about dying dogs and sensitivity, and I just sit out there with a shovel in my eyes digging the other way and appreciating the sky and watching the clothesline sway like elevator wire and I feel more connected by reading the stones that shower a braille on my palms as I tap the ground in withdrawal

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Oct 1, 2016

Oct 1, 2016 at 1:30 AM UTC

clotheslines and cigarettes

I used to go out for cigarettes before bed with music and connection to the world, I’ve learned to clam the addiction to nosiness about trump and syria, petitions about dying dogs and sensitivity, and I just sit out there with a shovel in my eyes digging the other way and appreciating the sky and watching the clothesline sway like elevator wire and I feel more connected by reading the stones that shower a braille on my palms as I tap the ground in withdrawal

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*"Who needs rules? Rules are for fools! I'm the King of the Bees!" - Buzby, the King of the Bees* Today the dank atmosphere brought down heavy curtains of fine high thread count cotton a magic carpet ride for a colony of lost bed bugs sturdy and steady so steady and sturdy it crushes my back when it descends down down down to crush the ever loving **** out of me so I pretend to pray Pretend to pray because all my life I seem to have gotten it wrong they must have wanted more than I could give I couldn't talk to.someone I couldn't see and who who would at least acknowledge that I was being listened jim Morrison loudly proclaimed "YOU CANNOT PETITION THE LAWD WITH PRAYAH" time I thought that seemed pretentious but though I don't doubt the possibility that the LAWD may in his ****** way answer some of those impertinent petitions I a.) don't know those people or b.) slightly resent the fact that he's done so much for swindlers, charlatans, and scammers but never saw fit to send me the super sized blessing we been waiting for But I was provided for and for that I am grateful tomorrow I'll be dispatched to see the grade school kiddies (just before they get slapped with a handfuls of mercenary stew) This p an suffocates Maybe for the sleepy A song "We won't wake up tomorrow So celebrate On the ***** blvd With Lou Reed

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Oct 25, 2015

Oct 25, 2015 at 1:02 AM UTC

james-arthur-casey

Betwixt the Narcissist and a Black Eyed Tax Collector

*"Who needs rules? Rules are for fools! I'm the King of the Bees!" - Buzby, the King of the Bees* Today the dank atmosphere brought down heavy curtains of fine high thread count cotton a magic carpet ride for a colony of lost bed bugs sturdy and steady so steady and sturdy it crushes my back when it descends down down down to crush the ever loving **** out of me so I pretend to pray Pretend to pray because all my life I seem to have gotten it wrong they must have wanted more than I could give I couldn't talk to.someone I couldn't see and who who would at least acknowledge that I was being listened jim Morrison loudly proclaimed "YOU CANNOT PETITION THE LAWD WITH PRAYAH" time I thought that seemed pretentious but though I don't doubt the possibility that the LAWD may in his ****** way answer some of those impertinent petitions I a.) don't know those people or b.) slightly resent the fact that he's done so much for swindlers, charlatans, and scammers but never saw fit to send me the super sized blessing we been waiting for But I was provided for and for that I am grateful tomorrow I'll be dispatched to see the grade school kiddies (just before they get slapped with a handfuls of mercenary stew) This p an suffocates Maybe for the sleepy A song "We won't wake up tomorrow So celebrate On the ***** blvd With Lou Reed

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This country was built on greed. All the white men had desires; Gold, God and Glory their creed. Sin loves to travel in packs wrath came next to spill blood. The Great Spirit received many guests. Having desires is not a sin. Sin entered when men were sold to backbreaking work for another’s gain. ***** blood fueled the Southern Kingdom greed begot sloth which begot fear slavery became too valuable to lose. So in the great American tradition compromise became the easy way out. Why fight for 3/5 a person; instead bounce between slave and free making all envy the southern wealth a perfect illusion hiding white poor. Fast forward to the Postbellum south. Half the wealth has become man equality will mean Southern prosperity’s death. The south needs labor to rebuild sharecropping and convict leasing slavery’s ******** will help keep the ***** down. When men become numbers society fails. Why not work them to death? Just grab another to lay rails. Once being black is a crime it’s simple to justify white pride. Fear will keep those ******* inline. So do not blame Big Business for the destruction they routinely cause. Save your petitions to our congress they can’t even touch the monster. We devour all that we see but that’s our countries original Sin.

0

Feb 17, 2015

Feb 17, 2015 at 3:56 PM UTC

donald-charles-mark-keys

This country was built on greed. All the white men had desires; Gold, God and Glory their creed. Sin loves to travel in packs wrath came next to spill blood. The Great Spirit received many guests. Having desires is not a sin. Sin entered when men were sold to backbreaking work for another’s gain. ***** blood fueled the Southern Kingdom greed begot sloth which begot fear slavery became too valuable to lose. So in the great American tradition compromise became the easy way out. Why fight for 3/5 a person; instead bounce between slave and free making all envy the southern wealth a perfect illusion hiding white poor. Fast forward to the Postbellum south. Half the wealth has become man equality will mean Southern prosperity’s death. The south needs labor to rebuild sharecropping and convict leasing slavery’s ******** will help keep the ***** down. When men become numbers society fails. Why not work them to death? Just grab another to lay rails. Once being black is a crime it’s simple to justify white pride. Fear will keep those ******* inline. So do not blame Big Business for the destruction they routinely cause. Save your petitions to our congress they can’t even touch the monster. We devour all that we see but that’s our countries original Sin.

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Beacons of truth beckon out loud before the night blesses us with her devilish grin so when darkness stares down at us our vicious vision petitions for times when outrage is acceptable

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Dec 22, 2013

Dec 22, 2013 at 2:50 AM UTC

Beacons of truth beckon out loud before the night blesses us with her devilish grin so when darkness stares down at us our vicious vision petitions for times when outrage is acceptable

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Now..... When It Comes To How I Think... I’m Just A... REALIST... So Don’t Deal In Fallacies... I’m Real Like... REALITY... !!! So Reality’s What Feeds... My Use of Poetry... That’s Born From Big V.. Or Yes That’s Right Big Virge... A True Word Connoisseur... of... REALITY Verse... !!! And Truthful Spoken Words... That REJECTS The... Absurd... And Unlearns What’s Been Learned... That Makes Some Humans Turn... Into People Who Hurt... As If... It Is Their Work... To Deal In What’s Fake... Instead of What’s Real... And Embrace Things Like Hate... Like It’s Some Tasty Meal... ?!? Like What Is These Folks Deal... Are These People For Real... ?!? You See I’m Just A REALIST... Whose Poetic Thesis... Believes That MORE TRUTH … Will Be What Is Good... For Us All To Improve... Our Unbalanced New Groove... Which Is Why When I Move... I’m Aware That My Hue... Is Too Dark For Some Crews... So Always Stay Attuned... For Those Quick To Hate... Who Start To Make Claims... That I’m In The WRONG Place... Just Because of My Race... Natty Hair And Dark Face... !!! I’m Just A... REALIST... When It Comes To Such Things... Like Why My Writing Talents... And... Poetic Patents... Are Not What The Masses... Are Talked Into Having... By Those In The Business... Who Claim To Want Realness... You See I’m Just A Realist... So Yes Do Catch Feelings... When It Comes To Women... And Seeing Our Children... Taught To Use Thinking... Logic And Visions... To REJECT Divisions... !!! But I’m... Just A REALIST... Who Prefers... REALISM... !!! And Sees That These Isms’... And Divisive Prisons.... In Which Most Are Living... Are Indeed UNFORGIVING... !!! And Have Been... Since Systems... Have Been Money Driven... !!! Realism In View... Like This Corona Flu... Is Fuelling Conditions... Mandating Positions... For Working Transitions... But Certain Restrictions... Are NOT Yet Forbidden... Like Seeing Racism... On Our Televisions... !?! That SHOULD BE But ISN’T... !!! How Much Realism’s... BEHIND These Petitions... To Stop Racist Killings... ?!? Well Here’s My Opinion... And I’ll Keep It SIMPLE... !!! If Governments Want... Racism Extinguished... When A Male Is Convicted... of A... RACIST Act... !!! Cut Off His Nut Sack... And Keep Him Imprisoned... And For These Racist Women... DENIAL of Children... And NO CONTACT With Them... And NO BAIL Conditions... Just LIFE In A Prison... Where Blacks Are In Vision... !!! Then Racists Might DIE QUICK... Or Might Just Start To QUIT... Acting Like Foolish Kids... !?! So You See How I Think... Deals In Being HONEST... NOT Resorting To Tricks... Nonsense Or Falseness... !!! My Poetic Scripts... And Lyrical Twists... Simply Represent THIS... When It Comes To Our Lives... And How We... Co-Exist... ... “ I’m Just A Realist “...

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Sep 27, 2021

Sep 27, 2021 at 10:16 PM UTC

“I’m Just A Realist” ... A Poem written by Big Virge 2/7/2021

Now..... When It Comes To How I Think... I’m Just A... REALIST... So Don’t Deal In Fallacies... I’m Real Like... REALITY... !!! So Reality’s What Feeds... My Use of Poetry... That’s Born From Big V.. Or Yes That’s Right Big Virge... A True Word Connoisseur... of... REALITY Verse... !!! And Truthful Spoken Words... That REJECTS The... Absurd... And Unlearns What’s Been Learned... That Makes Some Humans Turn... Into People Who Hurt... As If... It Is Their Work... To Deal In What’s Fake... Instead of What’s Real... And Embrace Things Like Hate... Like It’s Some Tasty Meal... ?!? Like What Is These Folks Deal... Are These People For Real... ?!? You See I’m Just A REALIST... Whose Poetic Thesis... Believes That MORE TRUTH … Will Be What Is Good... For Us All To Improve... Our Unbalanced New Groove... Which Is Why When I Move... I’m Aware That My Hue... Is Too Dark For Some Crews... So Always Stay Attuned... For Those Quick To Hate... Who Start To Make Claims... That I’m In The WRONG Place... Just Because of My Race... Natty Hair And Dark Face... !!! I’m Just A... REALIST... When It Comes To Such Things... Like Why My Writing Talents... And... Poetic Patents... Are Not What The Masses... Are Talked Into Having... By Those In The Business... Who Claim To Want Realness... You See I’m Just A Realist... So Yes Do Catch Feelings... When It Comes To Women... And Seeing Our Children... Taught To Use Thinking... Logic And Visions... To REJECT Divisions... !!! But I’m... Just A REALIST... Who Prefers... REALISM... !!! And Sees That These Isms’... And Divisive Prisons.... In Which Most Are Living... Are Indeed UNFORGIVING... !!! And Have Been... Since Systems... Have Been Money Driven... !!! Realism In View... Like This Corona Flu... Is Fuelling Conditions... Mandating Positions... For Working Transitions... But Certain Restrictions... Are NOT Yet Forbidden... Like Seeing Racism... On Our Televisions... !?! That SHOULD BE But ISN’T... !!! How Much Realism’s... BEHIND These Petitions... To Stop Racist Killings... ?!? Well Here’s My Opinion... And I’ll Keep It SIMPLE... !!! If Governments Want... Racism Extinguished... When A Male Is Convicted... of A... RACIST Act... !!! Cut Off His Nut Sack... And Keep Him Imprisoned... And For These Racist Women... DENIAL of Children... And NO CONTACT With Them... And NO BAIL Conditions... Just LIFE In A Prison... Where Blacks Are In Vision... !!! Then Racists Might DIE QUICK... Or Might Just Start To QUIT... Acting Like Foolish Kids... !?! So You See How I Think... Deals In Being HONEST... NOT Resorting To Tricks... Nonsense Or Falseness... !!! My Poetic Scripts... And Lyrical Twists... Simply Represent THIS... When It Comes To Our Lives... And How We... Co-Exist... ... “ I’m Just A Realist “...

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Such small things Weigh us down in resentment Complicated, colliding, soon enough Ensnared Feeling gravity's pull Suspended and trapped in a web Spun with failed expectations Stuffed to suffocation, the weight of nothing Almost solid You could smash it with a hammer Insignificant things Tossed away like trash to the side of the road Littering, contaminating, spoiling What once claimed a special place Hearts A place for spiders I can almost feel the heat of poison With each drop from steel through skin With each moment begging more and more For attention Melting away unfulfilled Each moment Begging I'm powerless but to close my eyes and deny their petitions What's a moment worth anyway? What's it good for in the end? Something to search for, something to lose Moments are meant to be forgotten Pity the fool who doesn't understand this Death comes as a hard lesson to that man

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Jan 18, 2014

Jan 18, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC

james-arthur-casey

deadweight transition

Such small things Weigh us down in resentment Complicated, colliding, soon enough Ensnared Feeling gravity's pull Suspended and trapped in a web Spun with failed expectations Stuffed to suffocation, the weight of nothing Almost solid You could smash it with a hammer Insignificant things Tossed away like trash to the side of the road Littering, contaminating, spoiling What once claimed a special place Hearts A place for spiders I can almost feel the heat of poison With each drop from steel through skin With each moment begging more and more For attention Melting away unfulfilled Each moment Begging I'm powerless but to close my eyes and deny their petitions What's a moment worth anyway? What's it good for in the end? Something to search for, something to lose Moments are meant to be forgotten Pity the fool who doesn't understand this Death comes as a hard lesson to that man

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If there's one guy who should be banned and shunned from the ranks of society, it should be me. Thanks for agreeing with this stark reality. I'm the worst entity in my entirety. I've zero decency and no need for your sympathy. This sentient being of notoriety shattered the window of existence, screaming with just a demeaning smirk. Gleaming, flirting skirts of variety pass by the dark and ***** corners where I lurk. Just know that I hold no spark of sanity, only humanity's vanity. No silver platter or flattery I will hand about and offer thee. Nothing really matters anyway. People scatter and shout aloud in the fray. They scowl, scoff, spit, spatter, and cough in my general direction. Take a clear look in the mirror of dismay. The only truth you see is the bilateral reflection of a dramatical radical. Blessed by the heart, cursed by the mind as collateral. Below grey skies, I'll cast my line of terror into the lake of your tears. Will you bite and be bitten with lies? Will the bitter night overrun you with fears and the deer hear your cries? Not a chance. Take your stance and take heed of my arrival in the vicinity. Indeed, your survival is a mystery. Ar first glance, I'm public enemy number one and the shit-storm cloud insanely raining frightening lightening upon your fun parade every sunny, Summer-day. Romance the idea of petitions being signed with instructions. Enhanced, grammatical weapons of destruction are lined and designed by the hunter to mark me into your history books. Look at my nefariousness with shaky knees and restless soul, until this crook's reign of misfortune has plundered the toll. I am the troll controlling this area. This bridge of ignorance you roll under is where I raise mass hysteria. I'm an unleashed beast with Master status, Grade A disaster, and hunger whose here to take care of ya. Awakened from slumber, here's some flashy, hysterical, lyrical, *** full of diarrhea ******** on your hopes and dreams, now crashed and torn asunder. What number and blunder will perform next on the screen? You will forever wonder.

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May 31, 2014

May 31, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC

A Piece of ****

If there's one guy who should be banned and shunned from the ranks of society, it should be me. Thanks for agreeing with this stark reality. I'm the worst entity in my entirety. I've zero decency and no need for your sympathy. This sentient being of notoriety shattered the window of existence, screaming with just a demeaning smirk. Gleaming, flirting skirts of variety pass by the dark and ***** corners where I lurk. Just know that I hold no spark of sanity, only humanity's vanity. No silver platter or flattery I will hand about and offer thee. Nothing really matters anyway. People scatter and shout aloud in the fray. They scowl, scoff, spit, spatter, and cough in my general direction. Take a clear look in the mirror of dismay. The only truth you see is the bilateral reflection of a dramatical radical. Blessed by the heart, cursed by the mind as collateral. Below grey skies, I'll cast my line of terror into the lake of your tears. Will you bite and be bitten with lies? Will the bitter night overrun you with fears and the deer hear your cries? Not a chance. Take your stance and take heed of my arrival in the vicinity. Indeed, your survival is a mystery. Ar first glance, I'm public enemy number one and the shit-storm cloud insanely raining frightening lightening upon your fun parade every sunny, Summer-day. Romance the idea of petitions being signed with instructions. Enhanced, grammatical weapons of destruction are lined and designed by the hunter to mark me into your history books. Look at my nefariousness with shaky knees and restless soul, until this crook's reign of misfortune has plundered the toll. I am the troll controlling this area. This bridge of ignorance you roll under is where I raise mass hysteria. I'm an unleashed beast with Master status, Grade A disaster, and hunger whose here to take care of ya. Awakened from slumber, here's some flashy, hysterical, lyrical, *** full of diarrhea ******** on your hopes and dreams, now crashed and torn asunder. What number and blunder will perform next on the screen? You will forever wonder.

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Ate a plate of whey, with the weight of the nation on my shoulder blade, away from any destination so underpaid, my paychecks archaic not even a quarter to go to arcades with it’s outrageous! misery must be contagious haven’t seen happy faces in ages It may just be time to vacate break out like rosacea to the golden gate every swig of this whiskey brings me to a bolder state like Colorado i weighed my options and hopped in my Silverado like a desperado full of bravado with the bottle, feeling tipsy now though singing in staccato **** an intervention’ time to get uncertain, speed full throttle towards the intersection laughing and swerving through the red light cursing and yelling interjections with a bottle of bourbon horns blaring, it’s deafening my middle finger ascending just struck a deaf person no ***** giving i’m out of my mind, livid get hired and fired in 5 minutes from any job i was given i’m tired of living no one even knew i existed until i started whizzing through traffic causing collisions, now i’m forcing decisions on residents w/ moral convictions who’d rather see me oral constricted then remain mortal in prison got these ******* endorsing petitions to have me executed by poison injection shot, hung, electrified, the above all mentioned and did i mention- My backseat looks like a knife convention there’s an array of switchblades i had since fifth grade’s declension Sketching art on the desk while serving detention some kind of wonderful, no eternal reflection i’m reflecting as i smashed into a connection and see my reflection in the water as i’m descending slow motion like deception my body is in all different positions of flexion this is met with favorable reception hear the crowd’s exhilaration i’m unwilling to indulge in anymore retrospection just waiting to hear the splash and waves crash then….

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Jul 14, 2014

Jul 14, 2014 at 5:18 PM UTC

ziggy-deedee-charshawn

dRUNk drivINg inTO deaTHs evErglowing LIGHT

Ate a plate of whey, with the weight of the nation on my shoulder blade, away from any destination so underpaid, my paychecks archaic not even a quarter to go to arcades with it’s outrageous! misery must be contagious haven’t seen happy faces in ages It may just be time to vacate break out like rosacea to the golden gate every swig of this whiskey brings me to a bolder state like Colorado i weighed my options and hopped in my Silverado like a desperado full of bravado with the bottle, feeling tipsy now though singing in staccato **** an intervention’ time to get uncertain, speed full throttle towards the intersection laughing and swerving through the red light cursing and yelling interjections with a bottle of bourbon horns blaring, it’s deafening my middle finger ascending just struck a deaf person no ***** giving i’m out of my mind, livid get hired and fired in 5 minutes from any job i was given i’m tired of living no one even knew i existed until i started whizzing through traffic causing collisions, now i’m forcing decisions on residents w/ moral convictions who’d rather see me oral constricted then remain mortal in prison got these ******* endorsing petitions to have me executed by poison injection shot, hung, electrified, the above all mentioned and did i mention- My backseat looks like a knife convention there’s an array of switchblades i had since fifth grade’s declension Sketching art on the desk while serving detention some kind of wonderful, no eternal reflection i’m reflecting as i smashed into a connection and see my reflection in the water as i’m descending slow motion like deception my body is in all different positions of flexion this is met with favorable reception hear the crowd’s exhilaration i’m unwilling to indulge in anymore retrospection just waiting to hear the splash and waves crash then….

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Bullets have no feelings No use in kneeling Nobody cares that matters. They never count The bones that shatter, The blood that splatters The lives they ruin. They don’t know what they’re doing. They’re thinking with their wallets. Lining their overstuffed pockets, They reward their own efforts Then get together and do the same For others with too much fame And too little conscience; No pity to share, They don’t care. We are not there To them. Their anthem Is gouge, overcharge Fill up a barge with gold. This graft never grows old When you are on the receiving end. Millions to donate? You are a friend. No riches to date? You are forgotten, A loser, a user, misbegotten And no concern of those With a spoon in their nose And riches to spend On a war that never ends And makes them more and more. And secret bank accounts don’t score With the IRS or with the detectives; As long as our county is defective They will continue to win. Again and again. If you object to this You need to at least kiss The ***** of some politicians Who won’t see their petitions Ignored, as always before When someone denounced The smallest ounce Of corruption and payoffs Paid to overpaid jerkoffs Who are turning our leadership Into a high-priced sinking ship Of fools and criminals Claiming to be intellectuals When really they are crooks Cooking the books. Again and again. And we never win.

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Nov 28, 2015

Nov 28, 2015 at 5:46 PM UTC

BULLETS HAVE NO FEELINGS

Bullets have no feelings No use in kneeling Nobody cares that matters. They never count The bones that shatter, The blood that splatters The lives they ruin. They don’t know what they’re doing. They’re thinking with their wallets. Lining their overstuffed pockets, They reward their own efforts Then get together and do the same For others with too much fame And too little conscience; No pity to share, They don’t care. We are not there To them. Their anthem Is gouge, overcharge Fill up a barge with gold. This graft never grows old When you are on the receiving end. Millions to donate? You are a friend. No riches to date? You are forgotten, A loser, a user, misbegotten And no concern of those With a spoon in their nose And riches to spend On a war that never ends And makes them more and more. And secret bank accounts don’t score With the IRS or with the detectives; As long as our county is defective They will continue to win. Again and again. If you object to this You need to at least kiss The ***** of some politicians Who won’t see their petitions Ignored, as always before When someone denounced The smallest ounce Of corruption and payoffs Paid to overpaid jerkoffs Who are turning our leadership Into a high-priced sinking ship Of fools and criminals Claiming to be intellectuals When really they are crooks Cooking the books. Again and again. And we never win.

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The once snaking gurgling monster Time-defying, ever-flowing oldster Is licked near-clean by the quiet drought Her diminution wrought distraught Lain betwixt her hunger stricken arboreal hosts Emaciated, unattractively scaring akin ghosts Crawling slowly to die somewhere undismayed Petitions unsaid and intercessories unprayed The tranquil of the fresh breath of Nyamindi waterway Is taken by the acrid gusts of aquatic decay As her remnants lovers slowly but surely fry In the fierce fast-falling fire from the sky.

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Jun 23, 2012

Jun 23, 2012 at 5:14 AM UTC

FIRE FROM THE SKY.

The once snaking gurgling monster Time-defying, ever-flowing oldster Is licked near-clean by the quiet drought Her diminution wrought distraught Lain betwixt her hunger stricken arboreal hosts Emaciated, unattractively scaring akin ghosts Crawling slowly to die somewhere undismayed Petitions unsaid and intercessories unprayed The tranquil of the fresh breath of Nyamindi waterway Is taken by the acrid gusts of aquatic decay As her remnants lovers slowly but surely fry In the fierce fast-falling fire from the sky.

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The Ides of March had come but its Sun was not yet cold when Spurinna reminded me what his augury had foretold Some good men tried to warn me About the risks I take- But Caesar has no need of guards I look Death in the face. Calpurnia asked me not to go Based on her silly dream But the Parthian war won’t be derailed By some Republican’s scheme The supplicants surround me with petitions, Bur I, impatient, moved to turn away. Casca grabbed the draping of my toga and bared me, awkwardly, to start the fray. The first dagger found my flesh and left a superficial wound. I wrested the dagger from his hands and swept the blade to clear some room. They are too many that surround me. Too many of their thrusts strike home Brutus my son, “Et Tu, Brute” I cover my face to die alone. Bleeding, powerless, dying, No one must see me as I lay. My dignity must be preserved for I am uncommon clay.

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Dec 15, 2011

Dec 15, 2011 at 8:26 PM UTC

john-f-mccullagh

At Pompey's theatre

The Ides of March had come but its Sun was not yet cold when Spurinna reminded me what his augury had foretold Some good men tried to warn me About the risks I take- But Caesar has no need of guards I look Death in the face. Calpurnia asked me not to go Based on her silly dream But the Parthian war won’t be derailed By some Republican’s scheme The supplicants surround me with petitions, Bur I, impatient, moved to turn away. Casca grabbed the draping of my toga and bared me, awkwardly, to start the fray. The first dagger found my flesh and left a superficial wound. I wrested the dagger from his hands and swept the blade to clear some room. They are too many that surround me. Too many of their thrusts strike home Brutus my son, “Et Tu, Brute” I cover my face to die alone. Bleeding, powerless, dying, No one must see me as I lay. My dignity must be preserved for I am uncommon clay.

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The Again And Again Praise Jesus, Heavenly Father, Thank you for the again and again Answers, Blessings, Deliverances, I know that I need you still again and again, However, I know that the battle you have already won, Jesus I know and before all declare you as my Savior, And God’s son, Yet, Having said all that, This does not mean that I will not have to come to you again and again, You are aware of this and that is how you said for it to be, Depending on you for all and everything, I thank you for always making provision for all my needs and for totally forgiving my sins, taking away penalties and understanding me, I so dearly need your help, Deliverance, Care, Love, Acceptance, Forgiveness, And, Protection, Every kind of blessing that I am in advance thanking you for and that I am always confessing again and again, When my enemies try to make me ashamed that I need you again and again, Strengthen me Lord Jesus with your anointed caring favor, When I fall weak from the battle at your alter sometimes in despair, Please send the help that I prayed for and need from far and near, You are the God who never sleeps or Forgets anything ever except my sins, So again and again here I am, Pouring out my heart, Anguish, Despondency, Frustration, Dilemmas, Predicaments, Disappointments, Stress and troubles, And yes, As usual, I need you again and again, Sometimes it is family troubles, Sometimes it is marriage difficulties, Sometimes my selfish unforgiving attitude, Yet, forgiveness is what I’ll need the most, Sometimes it is financial crisis, Sometimes it is flesh control issues that may be, Gluttony, ****** Dishonesty, Cursing, Profanity, Temper, Neglect, And yes, I need deliverance form these or that, Most times it may be deliverance from cruel enemies that are quite shrewd, That plan my demise constantly and down fall, The strife and ending of my life, They plot and schedule my humiliation and disgrace, They put me on display the same way they did you on many a day, They strategize my dilemmas, They set up the trials and trauma that bring tears to my face, But, Again and again, You send your deliverance, You apply your mercy and grace, You grant the favor and answers to my petitions, All my trespasses and sins under your salvation plan are totally forgiven, And although I learn righteous lessons through the trials and the load I through humility bear, Still, Again and again I thank you for always blessing me, Sending deliverance and, Again, Always being there. www.authorthelmacunningham.com

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Mar 12, 2012

Mar 12, 2012 at 1:58 AM UTC

thelma-c-cunningham

"The Again And Again Praise"

The Again And Again Praise Jesus, Heavenly Father, Thank you for the again and again Answers, Blessings, Deliverances, I know that I need you still again and again, However, I know that the battle you have already won, Jesus I know and before all declare you as my Savior, And God’s son, Yet, Having said all that, This does not mean that I will not have to come to you again and again, You are aware of this and that is how you said for it to be, Depending on you for all and everything, I thank you for always making provision for all my needs and for totally forgiving my sins, taking away penalties and understanding me, I so dearly need your help, Deliverance, Care, Love, Acceptance, Forgiveness, And, Protection, Every kind of blessing that I am in advance thanking you for and that I am always confessing again and again, When my enemies try to make me ashamed that I need you again and again, Strengthen me Lord Jesus with your anointed caring favor, When I fall weak from the battle at your alter sometimes in despair, Please send the help that I prayed for and need from far and near, You are the God who never sleeps or Forgets anything ever except my sins, So again and again here I am, Pouring out my heart, Anguish, Despondency, Frustration, Dilemmas, Predicaments, Disappointments, Stress and troubles, And yes, As usual, I need you again and again, Sometimes it is family troubles, Sometimes it is marriage difficulties, Sometimes my selfish unforgiving attitude, Yet, forgiveness is what I’ll need the most, Sometimes it is financial crisis, Sometimes it is flesh control issues that may be, Gluttony, ****** Dishonesty, Cursing, Profanity, Temper, Neglect, And yes, I need deliverance form these or that, Most times it may be deliverance from cruel enemies that are quite shrewd, That plan my demise constantly and down fall, The strife and ending of my life, They plot and schedule my humiliation and disgrace, They put me on display the same way they did you on many a day, They strategize my dilemmas, They set up the trials and trauma that bring tears to my face, But, Again and again, You send your deliverance, You apply your mercy and grace, You grant the favor and answers to my petitions, All my trespasses and sins under your salvation plan are totally forgiven, And although I learn righteous lessons through the trials and the load I through humility bear, Still, Again and again I thank you for always blessing me, Sending deliverance and, Again, Always being there. www.authorthelmacunningham.com

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My apparition is now animated Born from a dream dimly projected for a time It lies here On this bed Not sleeping I ask What altar is this? Less glorious than marble and fire I know Yet something dissipates here The hands of pale lights reach beyond the veil of the window blinds And guild the empty spaces above my fretting body Almost caressing the only consequence to this Yet I abandon paper devices for my petitions They break like glass as they pour from my mouth Ascending, they shimmer in the urban eclipse taking the stead of starlight From it's heart a name has fallen Speak it for me oh eyes For we say She is called Night

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Jul 7, 2015

Jul 7, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC

My apparition is now animated Born from a dream dimly projected for a time It lies here On this bed Not sleeping I ask What altar is this? Less glorious than marble and fire I know Yet something dissipates here The hands of pale lights reach beyond the veil of the window blinds And guild the empty spaces above my fretting body Almost caressing the only consequence to this Yet I abandon paper devices for my petitions They break like glass as they pour from my mouth Ascending, they shimmer in the urban eclipse taking the stead of starlight From it's heart a name has fallen Speak it for me oh eyes For we say She is called Night

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i abandoned god before he abandoned me. his scornful eyes cast down and furrowed brow of contempt as i walked out of the pearly gates into the unknown darkness. he did not lift a finger nor called out the name of this beloved child of christ. purged in water and marked by oil formed the shackles on my wrists and ankles. lifeless words from a glorified book empty prayers from empty hearts and thick tongues. infinite petitions laid on deaf ears. the throne is too high for him to hear you. i expelled the devil from my soul tried to cut him free but little did i know, with each saw of the blade he possessed more of me. setting fire through my veins oppressing my senses i could taste the emptiness hear the falsities feel pure and utter hatred see nothing but bitterness in this disgusting, infested world. he whispers in my ear and forces his way into my mind he becomes me. when i look into a mirror he is staring back at me. i closed my eyes before night fell and the darkness crept in. before the monsters crawled out from under beds and the nightmares took their stage. i couldn't escape them there was nowhere to hide. because my monsters live inside. i beat death to the punch. opened the door before he knocked. one, two, three, sixteen blue little fairies waiting to guide me home. he cradled me as i drifted off the final time. my tired eyes and my tired body finally laid to rest. i found no comfort in his embrace nor in his false promises. there is no place for me to return to. my home is not some holy kingdom that i was promised at such an early age. there is nothing for me there yet, nothing will make due.

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Oct 22, 2013

Oct 22, 2013 at 1:16 AM UTC

my existential crisis

i abandoned god before he abandoned me. his scornful eyes cast down and furrowed brow of contempt as i walked out of the pearly gates into the unknown darkness. he did not lift a finger nor called out the name of this beloved child of christ. purged in water and marked by oil formed the shackles on my wrists and ankles. lifeless words from a glorified book empty prayers from empty hearts and thick tongues. infinite petitions laid on deaf ears. the throne is too high for him to hear you. i expelled the devil from my soul tried to cut him free but little did i know, with each saw of the blade he possessed more of me. setting fire through my veins oppressing my senses i could taste the emptiness hear the falsities feel pure and utter hatred see nothing but bitterness in this disgusting, infested world. he whispers in my ear and forces his way into my mind he becomes me. when i look into a mirror he is staring back at me. i closed my eyes before night fell and the darkness crept in. before the monsters crawled out from under beds and the nightmares took their stage. i couldn't escape them there was nowhere to hide. because my monsters live inside. i beat death to the punch. opened the door before he knocked. one, two, three, sixteen blue little fairies waiting to guide me home. he cradled me as i drifted off the final time. my tired eyes and my tired body finally laid to rest. i found no comfort in his embrace nor in his false promises. there is no place for me to return to. my home is not some holy kingdom that i was promised at such an early age. there is nothing for me there yet, nothing will make due.

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She was broke & had no folks. He never says any funny jokes. A drunk scavenging for junk. I have a hatchback not a trunk. A foul stench of funk. Robbed by some punk. A resort never reports escorts. They don't dispute petitions in court. A feud with people sued. Abortions are fetal extortion. A security guard trys to act all hard. Civil service makes me nervous. The summer could've been more funner. Starstruck celebrity hype. Articles magazines can type. Gossip to thee extreme. CELEBRITY schemes & scandals. Misbehaved & manhandled. Images & looks to copy & swipe. Identities to wipe. Fortune & Fame that is not yet ripe.

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Jan 12, 2015

Jan 12, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC

harmony-sapphire

Gossip & Rumors

She was broke & had no folks. He never says any funny jokes. A drunk scavenging for junk. I have a hatchback not a trunk. A foul stench of funk. Robbed by some punk. A resort never reports escorts. They don't dispute petitions in court. A feud with people sued. Abortions are fetal extortion. A security guard trys to act all hard. Civil service makes me nervous. The summer could've been more funner. Starstruck celebrity hype. Articles magazines can type. Gossip to thee extreme. CELEBRITY schemes & scandals. Misbehaved & manhandled. Images & looks to copy & swipe. Identities to wipe. Fortune & Fame that is not yet ripe.

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Existential ache, Visceral and immediate Occludes all reason, A fated Solitude. The myth of dearth, In prose retold Retaining fictive resolve, Tacitly confessed. Ineluctable Torpor Petitions my Ardent supplications. Present, Beckoned in the dulcet Confluence — Beauty and affliction Freshets of silence, Redressing the fallow Surface of my soul. © 2016 W. S. Warner

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Jul 31, 2016

Jul 31, 2016 at 9:35 PM UTC

Primacy of Being

Existential ache, Visceral and immediate Occludes all reason, A fated Solitude. The myth of dearth, In prose retold Retaining fictive resolve, Tacitly confessed. Ineluctable Torpor Petitions my Ardent supplications. Present, Beckoned in the dulcet Confluence — Beauty and affliction Freshets of silence, Redressing the fallow Surface of my soul. © 2016 W. S. Warner

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The Queen of Qanant Was a right royal **** A ***** of the first water. And almost as bad Was the offspring she had, Her high-class badass daughter. She looked at folks funny If they didn’t have money To her it was all about gifts. The Queen didn’t share That her kid pulled her hair Her stinginess created a rift. The Queen of Qanant Had all she could want Spangles and baubles galore. She had so much junk She needed four hunks To carry it all through the door. Her land was in a pickle No downward dollar trickle With which the poor could pay rent. She ignored all petitions To improve the conditions Thus a civil rebellion could foment. Her people could starve, No roast beast to carve; To her the whole issue was closed. So her daughter colluded And the story concluded When Mommy the Queen was deposed. So, that’s what’s in store When you ***** with the poor And ignore their righteous complaining. That’s the way things are You get only so far To **** on them and tell them it’s raining. The daughter was no better She matched mom to the letter And the whole story started again. But that’s what people earn When they never quite learn; They end up back where they’ve been.

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Nov 27, 2015

Nov 27, 2015 at 2:44 PM UTC

QUEEN OF QANANT

The Queen of Qanant Was a right royal **** A ***** of the first water. And almost as bad Was the offspring she had, Her high-class badass daughter. She looked at folks funny If they didn’t have money To her it was all about gifts. The Queen didn’t share That her kid pulled her hair Her stinginess created a rift. The Queen of Qanant Had all she could want Spangles and baubles galore. She had so much junk She needed four hunks To carry it all through the door. Her land was in a pickle No downward dollar trickle With which the poor could pay rent. She ignored all petitions To improve the conditions Thus a civil rebellion could foment. Her people could starve, No roast beast to carve; To her the whole issue was closed. So her daughter colluded And the story concluded When Mommy the Queen was deposed. So, that’s what’s in store When you ***** with the poor And ignore their righteous complaining. That’s the way things are You get only so far To **** on them and tell them it’s raining. The daughter was no better She matched mom to the letter And the whole story started again. But that’s what people earn When they never quite learn; They end up back where they’ve been.

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