"postwar" poems
Fields of foliage green, with endless dope yields
streams of wasted life, Churchill's empire threadbare, poverty and ***** of its dignity.
I wish I could bury the soundless whispers that I seldom resite, turn off the light and with pride retire.
I see conceived walls of destitute junkies, rejected societies and abused deafness of blind philosophy, I highly rate the nostalgic plea.............
Postwar shadows of hidden government policies that call, I will, I shall, I will never.
Dust to dust, neon lights and queues to the other side, Cheque books and empty ink pens of thoughts i wish to re-sight a wasted life cannot do so............
I sentence you to a death of insanity, and still the concaved walls molded from the backs of bodies once leant, Rocking and craving I shall, I will, I know I'll return.
Jan 28, 2011
Jan 28, 2011 at 8:48 AM UTC
I am a tourist in my own life
Everything I am feeling
Is foreign land
I cannot quite recognize
This impasse
Is it really I --
I am a tourist in my own life
Should I not know by now
What I am capable of
What song I am supposed
To play
When I am having more
Than two bad days
Who is this person
Staring back at me
Here I am contemplating
And she is not crying
It is not I, it is not I
I am a tourist in my own life
What am I supposed to learn
When the one teaching a lesson
Is the one concerned
I become
Unknown territory to explore
With old wounds and sorrows
And now a new state of postwar
It is I, it is I
That has to reach out
To stop being
A tourist in my own life.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 11:11 AM UTC
Dylan Thomas, drunk-ass poet,
uncorked nouns, imbibed the verb
downed six pints and thought about it
sitting unsteadily on the curb:
“Winds of word unleashed in drink
will fill to the full my poem’s sails…
though it may totter on the brink,
my drunken boat defies the gales.”
Floating on wreckage to distant shores,
our ***** bard beheld the deep
where whales spout forth their lyric stores
while the inebriate muses weep.
This postwar lush and lyrical fad,
was the biggest pint in the bar called Wales.
While not the worst, his verse was bad…
(but better after seven ales).
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 7:18 PM UTC
Now I realize
I'm the one I've been waiting for.
And I know I'm more
than what meets the eye.
Now I declare false
half of the things that I swore.
I will furnish you
with all the thoughts I go by.
Now I understand
my mind's state of war
and I sincerely *admit
the feelings* I used to deny.
Now I'm standing,
feet bleeding, peaceful postwar.
Sometimes the aching
seems to magnify.
This awareness grows
inside me like a tumor
but I won't turn around
nor say goodbye.
Even if my soul
is deep sore,
even if my eyes
I cannot dry,
even if I'm kneeling
on the floor
my survival strength
you will identify.
And I will be
my own God to adore;
I'll pray to myself
not to the sky.
There's a fire
originating deep down my core.
Through this rising flames
I'll be purified.
And you'll wonder
how I stand strong
when I used to be
the weakest inside.
I'll tell you this,
and no more,
it's possible
once you control your mind.
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 3:12 PM UTC
I read with passing interest
The death of the
Field Marshal’s son--
Manfred Rommel--
Gone at 84.
His father—The Field Marshal,
Had been given a choice:
Commit suicide or
Face a rigged trial
Charged with conspiring to ****
******
If he chose the trial, they said,
They could not promise
That his family would be
SAFE.
The father,
Der Feldmarschall,
Bit into a cyanide pill
And died quickly.
It was Oct. 14, 1944.
Thanks to the sacrifice,
Manfred got to grow up to be
A three-term mayor of Stuttgart,
Where Daimler-Benz makes cars.
Manfred Rommel:
A postwar liberal Deutschland voice,
Supporting immigrants and Jews.
At 84,
Deader than
A dreadnaught.
Makes you wonder?
A fate worst--wurst--
Something worse than
Death?
Really the moment of truth
For any honorable man,
Self-defined by nature,
Molded by nurture.
Family:
The fountain & source
The tribe you belong to.
Family: everything you are
When you get right down to
Where one’s loyalties
Supposedly lie.
Of course, you opt for suicide.
Wouldn’t anyone?
We are born into a net.
We must bravely defend the network.
Facing insurmountable odds,
Our duty is to hold on
Without hope, without rescue,
Like that Roman centurion
Whose bones,
Later excavated at that front door in Pompeii,
Steadfast & true,
That Roman soldier--
Vesuvius exploding,
A hard rain falling down upon him--
Died at his post because
They forgot to relieve him.
That is duty.
That is greatness.
That is thoroughbred pedigree.
An honorable end:
The one thing that
Cannot be taken from a man.
Unless, of course,
The times they are Orwellian,
And once again,
This time with feeling:
*“Do it to Julia.
Do it to Julia!”*
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 4:35 PM UTC
Watch your last tears fall
Crashing upon your death bed
Drew the last of wine from the well
Repeating the last words you said.
So kiss me goodbye
A cold lesson learned
God knows i try
I can't stay here
This fine wine has turned
The wilting grapevine
I must go
Nothing to drink anymore
embattled in an emotional postwar decline.
This strength I must find
like walking a tightrope on a fault line.
Go off and find
your well in the sand.
You fantasy and my bad dreams
Your mirage and your man.
The unlucky and the ******
Trying to quench their thirst
with the dead streams in quicksand.
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 1:25 PM UTC
on the brink of war
with a real estate mogul
more famous than before
he was a child rotten to the core
off to boarding school in Baltimore
built a business from the ground floor
made a few bucks
then a few more
built a mansion on the lakeshore
next to a golf course
shot a perfect score
what more could you ask for
had a tv show
was a mentor
was a cut throat
savage like a matador
threw some money offshore
tossed a few people out the backdoor
kept his lies hidden in a trapdoor
not to certain on American folklore
or who was involved in the Crimean War
but always kept a perfect bowling score
now the state of our country is an eyesore
ran for president
dug in deep like a troubadour
this poem could wash up on the seashore
not today or tomorrow
but in a postwar
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 2:40 PM UTC
stand fast, past the limits of time
perceive my perceptions think quick to flip on a dime
inceptions allowed to alter your reflection
speeding up the mind to unwind the mysteries
of the worlds views on insecurities and mankind's ability
to alter beliefs on others own reality yea claim your free
slow down time so drips drip for eternity
allowing more time for certainty
lies like gun blast ripped threw to me
my voice is that of a ninja silent to your senses
but never unclear with my intentions in a since
my meanings are beyond your understanding
here i am im standing high, wait are you demanding?
i was not handing you the light to speak
your future with me is looking quit bleak
dont follow to close cause you might fall in to deep
your slowing down now leveling out i think you reached your peak
drop habits ingest the lucids to get back up and seek out the ending your mind last speaks hold close your fire for your own warmth to keep
let lose on the world 4 days no sleep
the felling is quit unique, want i should tweak ?
advance beyond your body so weak acid drips
and outer body trips rips your mind apart
when you here me speak you hear it in your heart
try to dissect and digest my meanings and you'll see your mind grows dark
this is not a contest there's no hat take off the bulletproof vest
free your chest to just let go no control
let letting go freely flow threw out your body
now now naughty naughty lucid act
cause you to unjustly react step back take a minute
regain your composer its all almost over
im painting the picture im the composer
i am what is real your just a poser
i king, kings fill there life with shinny things create a new world order
i retain knowledge like a hoarder crossing on boundaries i believe in no borders ultimate freedom in all forms so take flight transform let your minds eye open why do you conform live away from the norm
feel the way of life truly reborn
that is im done no more but rest ashore i will be back
to explore your life more so right now out pour to restore your postwar
and dont forget to your life is lived ******** take care bye bye thats it no more
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 11:56 PM UTC