Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"rallies" poems
I remember the history well: The soldiers and politicians emerged With briefcases and guns And celebrations on city nights. They scoured the mess Reviewed our history Saw the executions at dawn Then signed with secret policemen And decided something Had to be done. They scoured the mess Resurrected old blue-prints Of vicious times Tracked the shapes of sinking cities And learned at last That nothing can be avoided And so avoided everything. I remember the history well. 2 We emerged from our ******* mounds Discovered a view of the sky As the air danced in heat. Through the view of the city In flames, we rewound times Of executions at beaches. Salt streamed down our brows. Everywhere stagger victims of rigged elections Monolithic accidents on hungry roads The infinite web of ethnic politics Power-dreams of fevered winds. The nation was a map stitched From the grabbing of future flesh And became a rush through Historical slime 3 We emerged on edge Of time future With bright fumes From burning towers. The fumes lit political rallies. We started a war Ended it And dreamed about our chance. Fat fish eat little fish Big ones arrange executions And armed robberies. Our ******* shapes us all. I remember the history well. The tiger’s snarl is bought In currencies of silence. Eggs grow large: A monstrous face is hatched. On the edge of time future I am a boy With running sores Of remember history Watching the stitches widen Waiting for the volcano’s laughter In the fevered winds Hearing the gnash Of those who will join us At the mighty gateways With new blue-prints With dew as seal And fire as constant And a trail through time past To us Who remember the history well. We weave words on red And sing on the edge of blue. And with our nerves primed We shall spin silk from ******* And frame time with our resolve. ________ Source: http://www.universeofpoetry.org/nigeria.shtml
0
17.4k
On Edge of Time Future
I remember the history well: The soldiers and politicians emerged With briefcases and guns And celebrations on city nights. They scoured the mess Reviewed our history Saw the executions at dawn Then signed with secret policemen And decided something Had to be done. They scoured the mess Resurrected old blue-prints Of vicious times Tracked the shapes of sinking cities And learned at last That nothing can be avoided And so avoided everything. I remember the history well. 2 We emerged from our ******* mounds Discovered a view of the sky As the air danced in heat. Through the view of the city In flames, we rewound times Of executions at beaches. Salt streamed down our brows. Everywhere stagger victims of rigged elections Monolithic accidents on hungry roads The infinite web of ethnic politics Power-dreams of fevered winds. The nation was a map stitched From the grabbing of future flesh And became a rush through Historical slime 3 We emerged on edge Of time future With bright fumes From burning towers. The fumes lit political rallies. We started a war Ended it And dreamed about our chance. Fat fish eat little fish Big ones arrange executions And armed robberies. Our ******* shapes us all. I remember the history well. The tiger’s snarl is bought In currencies of silence. Eggs grow large: A monstrous face is hatched. On the edge of time future I am a boy With running sores Of remember history Watching the stitches widen Waiting for the volcano’s laughter In the fevered winds Hearing the gnash Of those who will join us At the mighty gateways With new blue-prints With dew as seal And fire as constant And a trail through time past To us Who remember the history well. We weave words on red And sing on the edge of blue. And with our nerves primed We shall spin silk from ******* And frame time with our resolve. ________ Source: http://www.universeofpoetry.org/nigeria.shtml
Continue reading...
76
This is America for Petes sake Black lives don’t matter here They say they’re being treated unfair But they’re the one’s drinking up all the welfare And we even pay for their health care Poor black folk shouting black lives matter But they don’t matter The only thing that matters is the fat cats getting fatter Build a school or a jail? In a place like Baltimore, those black kids are already bound to fail Let’s not forget from whence we hail We came from abroad to build this house This was never meant to be a game of cat and mouse They don’t know their power, so they will never see their hour Cause you see white people are only safe when those animals scared White people are only safe when white people are feared When black people are teared, and on their face is smeared the blood of their ancestors, on the altar that is prepared The altar that was broken down when we ended Jim Crow Since then look how low our country did go But at last at last now again we can make America great Now again we can end any debate , about what it means to be free Cause when Trump is in charge I’ll tell you, you won’t tell me When Trump is President you'll put your hand over your heart for the anthem, not take a knee When Trump is President, You’ll be satisfied , you’ll lower your fist and you’ll be You’ll be gratified, you’ll shut your mouth and watch your people die You’ll watch them bleed like Alton Sterling, You’ll stand there you’ll cry And then you’ll wonder why, why does the color of your skin decide whether or not you win As you kneel before me thinking about your next of kin, ready to feel these bullets in your body as your reality sets in This country was never your own We brought you here as slaves, you call out for a savior but Abraham Lincoln is dead so you can put down the phone Martin Luther King is dead so you can put down the phone Malcom X is dead, you see,now you’re all alone We’ve infiltrated your culture and now that seed has grown As we watch you destroy each other and continue to postpone anything that looks like freedom Cause you see freedom isnt free We gained ours in 1776 Your ancestors were still in chains but here today you celebrate with me Thinking that you’re free But you will never be free Harriet Tubman freed a thousand slaves And she could've freed a thousand more but they were cheering for Trump in his rallies Because they can’t grasp what it means to be free And that mere truth is the key So we won’t say their names We won’t feel their pains Cause this is the United States of America , and white is right, we still hold the reigns
0
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 12:13 AM UTC
Views from the other side
This is America for Petes sake Black lives don’t matter here They say they’re being treated unfair But they’re the one’s drinking up all the welfare And we even pay for their health care Poor black folk shouting black lives matter But they don’t matter The only thing that matters is the fat cats getting fatter Build a school or a jail? In a place like Baltimore, those black kids are already bound to fail Let’s not forget from whence we hail We came from abroad to build this house This was never meant to be a game of cat and mouse They don’t know their power, so they will never see their hour Cause you see white people are only safe when those animals scared White people are only safe when white people are feared When black people are teared, and on their face is smeared the blood of their ancestors, on the altar that is prepared The altar that was broken down when we ended Jim Crow Since then look how low our country did go But at last at last now again we can make America great Now again we can end any debate , about what it means to be free Cause when Trump is in charge I’ll tell you, you won’t tell me When Trump is President you'll put your hand over your heart for the anthem, not take a knee When Trump is President, You’ll be satisfied , you’ll lower your fist and you’ll be You’ll be gratified, you’ll shut your mouth and watch your people die You’ll watch them bleed like Alton Sterling, You’ll stand there you’ll cry And then you’ll wonder why, why does the color of your skin decide whether or not you win As you kneel before me thinking about your next of kin, ready to feel these bullets in your body as your reality sets in This country was never your own We brought you here as slaves, you call out for a savior but Abraham Lincoln is dead so you can put down the phone Martin Luther King is dead so you can put down the phone Malcom X is dead, you see,now you’re all alone We’ve infiltrated your culture and now that seed has grown As we watch you destroy each other and continue to postpone anything that looks like freedom Cause you see freedom isnt free We gained ours in 1776 Your ancestors were still in chains but here today you celebrate with me Thinking that you’re free But you will never be free Harriet Tubman freed a thousand slaves And she could've freed a thousand more but they were cheering for Trump in his rallies Because they can’t grasp what it means to be free And that mere truth is the key So we won’t say their names We won’t feel their pains Cause this is the United States of America , and white is right, we still hold the reigns
Continue reading...
50
I have longed for this year since fourth grade When I learned what a val-e-dic-tor-ian was And realized I wanted to be one. I have longed for this year since I was fifteen And wanted to leave home Go out and explore the bigger world Free of parents and noisy siblings. I have longed for this year since my first college tour And I saw the hubbub The libraries, the labs, the dorms, the giant sweatshirts And noticed how small and quiet my high school was. We picked out caps and gowns Red We lead the pep rallies now The loudest yet We're taking physics, and calculus, and the SATs Feeling scholarly We picked out how our names appear on our diplomas First M. Last We have our licenses Drive to school We fill out college applications endlessly And endlessly... We picked our prom theme Great Gatsby We're getting lazy very quickly Senioritis Graduation keeps us going Graduation is the goal Graduation is the light at the end of the tunnel Graduation in June Graduation in red polyester Graduation in the sun Graduation is the end But wait. Hold up. Stop. Stop. STOP! Seven more months with you? You, who I've stared at for four years? You, whose smiles make my day? You, whose face I look for in crowds? You, who are the most amazing person I've ever met? You, who I haven't even asked out? You, who have no idea who I feel? You, who might by some miracle possibly feel the same way? You, who I'll regret never making a move with for the rest of my life? You? Seven. Months.? HOLD UP SENIOR YEAR SLOW DOWN GRADUATION THERE'S A BOY.
0
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 2:23 PM UTC
Senior
I have longed for this year since fourth grade When I learned what a val-e-dic-tor-ian was And realized I wanted to be one. I have longed for this year since I was fifteen And wanted to leave home Go out and explore the bigger world Free of parents and noisy siblings. I have longed for this year since my first college tour And I saw the hubbub The libraries, the labs, the dorms, the giant sweatshirts And noticed how small and quiet my high school was. We picked out caps and gowns Red We lead the pep rallies now The loudest yet We're taking physics, and calculus, and the SATs Feeling scholarly We picked out how our names appear on our diplomas First M. Last We have our licenses Drive to school We fill out college applications endlessly And endlessly... We picked our prom theme Great Gatsby We're getting lazy very quickly Senioritis Graduation keeps us going Graduation is the goal Graduation is the light at the end of the tunnel Graduation in June Graduation in red polyester Graduation in the sun Graduation is the end But wait. Hold up. Stop. Stop. STOP! Seven more months with you? You, who I've stared at for four years? You, whose smiles make my day? You, whose face I look for in crowds? You, who are the most amazing person I've ever met? You, who I haven't even asked out? You, who have no idea who I feel? You, who might by some miracle possibly feel the same way? You, who I'll regret never making a move with for the rest of my life? You? Seven. Months.? HOLD UP SENIOR YEAR SLOW DOWN GRADUATION THERE'S A BOY.
Continue reading...
51
♦   ♦   ♦ She was an earnest devotée. Her ideals, birthed in Chardonnay were globally diverse (read: white). A liberal bark preceded bite. Her crystal clearer than her vision; she provoked bemused derision as she breathed intolerance toward all who would not dance her dance. She swooned for distant pagan tribes, attuned to their exotic vibes – rapt in multi-culti piety strangely deaf to her own society, judged by her as abomination; unredeemed. The background station always stuck on N.P.R. (the soundtrack of her culture war, Pacifica News and Democracy Nows, and other progressive holy cows) Her motherland a shameful mystery: guilty first, and void of history – its origins defiled, corrupted… while she enjoyed uninterrupted freedom to pursue her whims: misguided one-world global hymns. The sisterhood of hu(man) kind was foremost in her earnest mind – even should that same sisterhood be sealed by her well-meaning blood. Out on a date with global death she hoped to unify the earth in solidarity with causes led by killers, warlord bosses, thugs she never knew existed who, if she’d met she’d have resisted. Her theory landed far from her praxis spun, by default, on an evil axis. Hot with zeal she fumed and stormed quite certain she was well-informed, at benefits, non-profit functions rallies, boycotts, left-wing luncheons; warm with righteous spite for Israel, aiding and abetting Ishmael with fellow-travelers, like-minded similarly hateful, blinded, rattling sabers, scimitars, axes… (lunacy never wanes, but waxes hotter with the passing years as activists confront their fears). She finally shilled for the Intifada (stopping short of reciting Shahada), reaching out to the terrorist with righteous raised progressive fist… offering thus her neck to blade: collateral to be repaid by murderers who couldn’t care less about her open-mindedness.
0
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC
Suicide by Diversity
♦   ♦   ♦ She was an earnest devotée. Her ideals, birthed in Chardonnay were globally diverse (read: white). A liberal bark preceded bite. Her crystal clearer than her vision; she provoked bemused derision as she breathed intolerance toward all who would not dance her dance. She swooned for distant pagan tribes, attuned to their exotic vibes – rapt in multi-culti piety strangely deaf to her own society, judged by her as abomination; unredeemed. The background station always stuck on N.P.R. (the soundtrack of her culture war, Pacifica News and Democracy Nows, and other progressive holy cows) Her motherland a shameful mystery: guilty first, and void of history – its origins defiled, corrupted… while she enjoyed uninterrupted freedom to pursue her whims: misguided one-world global hymns. The sisterhood of hu(man) kind was foremost in her earnest mind – even should that same sisterhood be sealed by her well-meaning blood. Out on a date with global death she hoped to unify the earth in solidarity with causes led by killers, warlord bosses, thugs she never knew existed who, if she’d met she’d have resisted. Her theory landed far from her praxis spun, by default, on an evil axis. Hot with zeal she fumed and stormed quite certain she was well-informed, at benefits, non-profit functions rallies, boycotts, left-wing luncheons; warm with righteous spite for Israel, aiding and abetting Ishmael with fellow-travelers, like-minded similarly hateful, blinded, rattling sabers, scimitars, axes… (lunacy never wanes, but waxes hotter with the passing years as activists confront their fears). She finally shilled for the Intifada (stopping short of reciting Shahada), reaching out to the terrorist with righteous raised progressive fist… offering thus her neck to blade: collateral to be repaid by murderers who couldn’t care less about her open-mindedness.
Continue reading...
57
Timbeck Tyu,  Timbeck Tyu Great City Timbeck Tyu Coloured Walls Nicely Painted Arts and Drawing Everywhere Artifacts on every crossing People's representatives feel like king Magnificient buildings here and there Bridges and flyover everywhere Toll tax booth here and there Statues standing everywhere Banners hanging here and there Hoardings, posters everywhere Malls and Hotels here and there Dance Bars and Casinos everywhere Citizens always in Crisis Struggling with poverty Economical condition bad Politicians has gone mad Nationalism in Slogans Here and there hooligans Real nationalist are renamed They are called anti-nationals Corruption is on the peak You need license to speak Crowd imposes censorship System respects the crowd Mouse catches the Crow Everything on the show Real news not covered Real issues are untouched Fake news are implanted Press and Media on sale Laws are being twisted Burden of proof shifted Culprits are honoured Innocents are hanged Farmers are in debts Their families are starving They can't even pay their loans Neither Principal nor interest They either commit suicide or land in jail for not paying loans Hospital competing with hotels Doctors busy in making money Patients treatment is on Sale Get cured only if you pay Stray Animals on the rise What you can do if you cry? Black money in circulation White money is called pollution Rapes, Murders and theft on rise Law and order is on the papers Lawyers are with Politicians Politicians are with Criminals Criminals are with the Police Police is with the Capitalists Only the God is with the victims That too only, if he really exists Population almost exploding Environment full of pollution Fights and quarrels here and there Religion and faith always on stake Caste and Classes everywhere Race and Religion everywhere Common people struggling for food Saints consuming wine and drugs Rallies and protests uprising The system has turned deaf Goddess of law weeping and bleeding Judges busy in process law and rules Timbeck Tyu,  Timbeck Tyu Such a great city Timbeck Tyu Have you liked Timbeck Tyu? Want to live in Timbeck Tyu? If you liked, Timbeck Tyu Want to live in Timbeck Tyu First apply for passport in your country Then apply for visa from Timbeck Tyu Hurry Up, Hurry Up, don't be late Visa's are limited so take care
0
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 6:28 AM UTC
Great City
Timbeck Tyu,  Timbeck Tyu Great City Timbeck Tyu Coloured Walls Nicely Painted Arts and Drawing Everywhere Artifacts on every crossing People's representatives feel like king Magnificient buildings here and there Bridges and flyover everywhere Toll tax booth here and there Statues standing everywhere Banners hanging here and there Hoardings, posters everywhere Malls and Hotels here and there Dance Bars and Casinos everywhere Citizens always in Crisis Struggling with poverty Economical condition bad Politicians has gone mad Nationalism in Slogans Here and there hooligans Real nationalist are renamed They are called anti-nationals Corruption is on the peak You need license to speak Crowd imposes censorship System respects the crowd Mouse catches the Crow Everything on the show Real news not covered Real issues are untouched Fake news are implanted Press and Media on sale Laws are being twisted Burden of proof shifted Culprits are honoured Innocents are hanged Farmers are in debts Their families are starving They can't even pay their loans Neither Principal nor interest They either commit suicide or land in jail for not paying loans Hospital competing with hotels Doctors busy in making money Patients treatment is on Sale Get cured only if you pay Stray Animals on the rise What you can do if you cry? Black money in circulation White money is called pollution Rapes, Murders and theft on rise Law and order is on the papers Lawyers are with Politicians Politicians are with Criminals Criminals are with the Police Police is with the Capitalists Only the God is with the victims That too only, if he really exists Population almost exploding Environment full of pollution Fights and quarrels here and there Religion and faith always on stake Caste and Classes everywhere Race and Religion everywhere Common people struggling for food Saints consuming wine and drugs Rallies and protests uprising The system has turned deaf Goddess of law weeping and bleeding Judges busy in process law and rules Timbeck Tyu,  Timbeck Tyu Such a great city Timbeck Tyu Have you liked Timbeck Tyu? Want to live in Timbeck Tyu? If you liked, Timbeck Tyu Want to live in Timbeck Tyu First apply for passport in your country Then apply for visa from Timbeck Tyu Hurry Up, Hurry Up, don't be late Visa's are limited so take care
Continue reading...
80
Tomorrow we have all the good reasons to wake. The earth’s column down the sky will stay high!    The same old first light will break out, unveiling once more the face of earth. Log on now it’s present, don’t let it vanish away! Many a time rallies of clouds shroud the blue sky. There is no need for anyone then just to turn away. The stars too illume the sky with dim lights. Maybe the chaste moon then comes out swimming low in the orb of the night. So the sun, too, for a while goes off into the hide. Only to show up soon and align above the earth’s column. Atop a blooming new dawn with the rose facing the sun aligning to it’s shining polished line passes through the present time. So don’t just let it slip away!
0
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 10:37 PM UTC
Tomorrow Will Come
you can tell by the way she swings her hips and pulls your hair and licks her lips and whispers in your ear that she's easy. you'll know her by the short skirt and the tight top and the high heels, by the butterfly tattoo on her lower back and the drink in her hand. if she carries condoms or takes birth control, if she can't say no, if she takes no convincing, you'll know. she's the girl at the party who drinks the most and laughs the loudest. she's the one you discarded the first night you met her, when she gave you the only part of herself that you deemed worthwhile. you'll figure her out from the tar trails of mascara, the untouched meal, the word "worthless" carved into her thigh like a brand, marking her flesh as property to which you are entitled. pay close attention to her need for validation. a **** will have the audacity to seek your approval just because she's been told all her life that she is  nothing without your love. she will measure her worth in units of attractiveness and desirability because that is the only system she's ever been taught. you'll know she's a **** when they find the defendant not guilty, and he arrives at the ten-year reunion in a limo. you'll know she's a **** when she doesn't arrive at all. it's easy to spot a **** in a society that teaches her that her lips are for kisses and not battle cries, that her hands are meant to be cradled in yours and not ****** into the sky, that her body is your wonderland and not her home. it's hard to miss a **** in a culture that paints women as ****** objects while condemning any expression of female sexuality, that glorifies the "good girl" who becomes whole when the right man comes along and stakes his claim. the women you ****** in the lifetime before you met your wife weren't marriage material; you need a girl who's saved herself for you because a girl who lets you **** her crosses the threshold from ****** to **** in a bizarre coming of age ritual in which your **** is *so ******* important* that its temporary entrance to her body renders her worthless. you can tell she's a **** because for her, there is no right answer. you can find your **** at rallies and in body-baring photographs, alive in the anxious triumph of finding something in herself that she can love, of digging through a lifetime of rubble and reclaiming small shards of forgiveness from the dirt. her self-identified status rips away your long-established privilege of dictating who she can be and defining her worth; your resent her new autonomy. you can march beside her, or you can step aside. she has stolen back her power. she was made for revolution.
0
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 6:09 AM UTC
how to spot a ****
you can tell by the way she swings her hips and pulls your hair and licks her lips and whispers in your ear that she's easy. you'll know her by the short skirt and the tight top and the high heels, by the butterfly tattoo on her lower back and the drink in her hand. if she carries condoms or takes birth control, if she can't say no, if she takes no convincing, you'll know. she's the girl at the party who drinks the most and laughs the loudest. she's the one you discarded the first night you met her, when she gave you the only part of herself that you deemed worthwhile. you'll figure her out from the tar trails of mascara, the untouched meal, the word "worthless" carved into her thigh like a brand, marking her flesh as property to which you are entitled. pay close attention to her need for validation. a **** will have the audacity to seek your approval just because she's been told all her life that she is  nothing without your love. she will measure her worth in units of attractiveness and desirability because that is the only system she's ever been taught. you'll know she's a **** when they find the defendant not guilty, and he arrives at the ten-year reunion in a limo. you'll know she's a **** when she doesn't arrive at all. it's easy to spot a **** in a society that teaches her that her lips are for kisses and not battle cries, that her hands are meant to be cradled in yours and not ****** into the sky, that her body is your wonderland and not her home. it's hard to miss a **** in a culture that paints women as ****** objects while condemning any expression of female sexuality, that glorifies the "good girl" who becomes whole when the right man comes along and stakes his claim. the women you ****** in the lifetime before you met your wife weren't marriage material; you need a girl who's saved herself for you because a girl who lets you **** her crosses the threshold from ****** to **** in a bizarre coming of age ritual in which your **** is *so ******* important* that its temporary entrance to her body renders her worthless. you can tell she's a **** because for her, there is no right answer. you can find your **** at rallies and in body-baring photographs, alive in the anxious triumph of finding something in herself that she can love, of digging through a lifetime of rubble and reclaiming small shards of forgiveness from the dirt. her self-identified status rips away your long-established privilege of dictating who she can be and defining her worth; your resent her new autonomy. you can march beside her, or you can step aside. she has stolen back her power. she was made for revolution.
Continue reading...
76
501 This World is not Conclusion. A Species stands beyond— Invisible, as Music— But positive, as Sound— It beckons, and it baffles— Philosophy—don’t know— And through a Riddle, at the last— Sagacity, must go— To guess it, puzzles scholars— To gain it, Men have borne Contempt of Generations And Crucifixion, shown— Faith slips—and laughs, and rallies— Blushes, if any see— Plucks at a twig of Evidence— And asks a Vane, the way— Much Gesture, from the Pulpit— Strong Hallelujahs roll— Narcotics cannot still the Tooth That nibbles at the soul—
0
4.2k
This World is not Conclusion
II Pet 1:9 coming to mind as I finished, lo, the complexity of this piece, and this:  "...lacketh these things is blind and cannot see afar off--" (sonnet #MMMMMMMCDXCIX) How Shakespeare's lines 'non haunt the flag's detail As't waves to bitter winds' capricious sense Of play, with memries of late rallies thence In tow, as all we'd grandly strut through'd pale Before the empty eye of hours that scale Down what we said was living, as pretense Leers through the smoky limelight fading hence Where leaves pile up too thickly for aught bail. Is't cuz I've tried 'gain to be stylish fer What fashion and say Vogue mag swore was due, Tae learn my peers yet scorn attempts in tour? Cuz even when I did succeed and do All that "they" said should be, or called too poor What we thought tops, Death mocks as ere we knew? 07Nov18a
0
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 4:27 PM UTC
...And How My Vision Seems to Fail--?!
if you drill down, past the hair, flesh and bone. into my mind where the ego and id  reside. then turn to the left, and follow the i.q. down the alley, you will find a place. where on thrones of cogitating thoughts, king big questions asked, reigns in conjunction, with, queen yet unanswered. they watch with interest benign, over a field of  an eternal tourney, split roughly down the middle by a chasm quite wide. on one side of the gorge is arrayed, the banners of philosophy. at the vanguard, the epistemological knights; plato, descartes, ferrier, kant, hume,spinoza and bosanquet. the major forces ride beneath the banners, of their schools of thought. followed by the lesser lights, and those, obscure or forgotten, who walk at the rear,carrying the gear and to set the tent poles. as to the other side, that is given to, the seminaries of religion; bhuddism, taoism, islam, hindu, juche, rastafarian, sikh, diasporic, parsis, tenrikyo, judaism and christianity with all its clans. they array themselves in cadres, according to belief. and to the rear, there rides, an interesting guerilla band, of intertestemantals, about 3 or 4 hundred years wide. these are the few who are  accounted for, when god spoke nothing, or perhaps a lot but the message just got lost. they number in their disparate clan, alexander the great, ptolemy, the hellanic masses, seluecids, maccabeans, hasmoeans and pompey the great, not all, but the noteworthy. across the divide, by arrowing thought were fought rallies of acumen and battles of wit and occasionally, a persipacious fire was lit. but there is one more player, to mention. apathy, the great hulking ****** who for want of gumption, and get up and go, sat crouched, (quite uncomfortably so) on a spire. made of mediocracy, cemented by woe, in the iddle of the rifted abyss. unable to decide with which team to go.
0
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
the tourney
if you drill down, past the hair, flesh and bone. into my mind where the ego and id  reside. then turn to the left, and follow the i.q. down the alley, you will find a place. where on thrones of cogitating thoughts, king big questions asked, reigns in conjunction, with, queen yet unanswered. they watch with interest benign, over a field of  an eternal tourney, split roughly down the middle by a chasm quite wide. on one side of the gorge is arrayed, the banners of philosophy. at the vanguard, the epistemological knights; plato, descartes, ferrier, kant, hume,spinoza and bosanquet. the major forces ride beneath the banners, of their schools of thought. followed by the lesser lights, and those, obscure or forgotten, who walk at the rear,carrying the gear and to set the tent poles. as to the other side, that is given to, the seminaries of religion; bhuddism, taoism, islam, hindu, juche, rastafarian, sikh, diasporic, parsis, tenrikyo, judaism and christianity with all its clans. they array themselves in cadres, according to belief. and to the rear, there rides, an interesting guerilla band, of intertestemantals, about 3 or 4 hundred years wide. these are the few who are  accounted for, when god spoke nothing, or perhaps a lot but the message just got lost. they number in their disparate clan, alexander the great, ptolemy, the hellanic masses, seluecids, maccabeans, hasmoeans and pompey the great, not all, but the noteworthy. across the divide, by arrowing thought were fought rallies of acumen and battles of wit and occasionally, a persipacious fire was lit. but there is one more player, to mention. apathy, the great hulking ****** who for want of gumption, and get up and go, sat crouched, (quite uncomfortably so) on a spire. made of mediocracy, cemented by woe, in the iddle of the rifted abyss. unable to decide with which team to go.
Continue reading...
76
The Great Debate started, Parliament was the open forest, electors were divided into two groups— Sir Fox's, and The Lion's, The first group wanted to overthrow the Lion from the sovereign head of the forest, It was a tough job to confront Lion directly, So, Sir Fox, appointed a Monkey as the Chief campaigner, and that monkey appointed other monkeys in the business, Scaring them with a story of vanishing trees, and living on the land increases the mortality rate if Lion Party continues. Monkey, the chief campaigner exclaimed, “We are not living in the rule of law but in the rule of Lion, All are equal, but the continuous target of a particular community, Like a beautiful deer, by another community in majority should be banned, Deers bring historic and aesthetic significance to the forest And need to be treated as the same,” Deers bellowed gleefully hearing this. Cows felt hurt, their exclusion from Monkey’s speech proved to be a setback to the Fox’s Party, Cows were the most targeted community by the Carnivores, everyone in the forest knew, Potential voters were lost to Lion’s Party. Polarising speeches of Chief continued, It brought Rhinoceros to its side, Seeing rhino in political rallies, Hippopotamus chipped in, To counter the increasing weight Political advisor of Lion, i.e, Tiger, persuaded Elephant to become an official member of their party. Hate speeches increased in numbers Giraffe, the bearer and upholder of law, Overlooked everything, the long neck looked tilted towards an ideology. Rumours became truth, truth became rumour Monkey was good in it, And an army of monkeys were excellent. Parrots, Pigeons, Peacock, **** Cuckoo, Cat, Loved the importance they got, Disseminated the Fox loving songs. The listeners felt threatened, They had an enemy living between them and they were considering them friends, They thanked the Parrot, Pigeon, Peacock for pointing them out. Now, biped hated quadruped, Quadruped hated reptiles, Reptiles did the same to amphibians, And in this way the whole animal kingdom danced in chaos, The fiery speeches of Sir Fox helped in creating illusion, The slogan of the Man as a common enemy was changed to, Feline as a common enemy, Felines joined Sir Fox’s Party, And Canines ran to Lion’s Party, Obvious was difficult to observe Obscure was easy to see. to be continued
0
Oct 23, 2021
Oct 23, 2021 at 3:22 PM UTC
The Great Debate -- A Satire
The Great Debate started, Parliament was the open forest, electors were divided into two groups— Sir Fox's, and The Lion's, The first group wanted to overthrow the Lion from the sovereign head of the forest, It was a tough job to confront Lion directly, So, Sir Fox, appointed a Monkey as the Chief campaigner, and that monkey appointed other monkeys in the business, Scaring them with a story of vanishing trees, and living on the land increases the mortality rate if Lion Party continues. Monkey, the chief campaigner exclaimed, “We are not living in the rule of law but in the rule of Lion, All are equal, but the continuous target of a particular community, Like a beautiful deer, by another community in majority should be banned, Deers bring historic and aesthetic significance to the forest And need to be treated as the same,” Deers bellowed gleefully hearing this. Cows felt hurt, their exclusion from Monkey’s speech proved to be a setback to the Fox’s Party, Cows were the most targeted community by the Carnivores, everyone in the forest knew, Potential voters were lost to Lion’s Party. Polarising speeches of Chief continued, It brought Rhinoceros to its side, Seeing rhino in political rallies, Hippopotamus chipped in, To counter the increasing weight Political advisor of Lion, i.e, Tiger, persuaded Elephant to become an official member of their party. Hate speeches increased in numbers Giraffe, the bearer and upholder of law, Overlooked everything, the long neck looked tilted towards an ideology. Rumours became truth, truth became rumour Monkey was good in it, And an army of monkeys were excellent. Parrots, Pigeons, Peacock, **** Cuckoo, Cat, Loved the importance they got, Disseminated the Fox loving songs. The listeners felt threatened, They had an enemy living between them and they were considering them friends, They thanked the Parrot, Pigeon, Peacock for pointing them out. Now, biped hated quadruped, Quadruped hated reptiles, Reptiles did the same to amphibians, And in this way the whole animal kingdom danced in chaos, The fiery speeches of Sir Fox helped in creating illusion, The slogan of the Man as a common enemy was changed to, Feline as a common enemy, Felines joined Sir Fox’s Party, And Canines ran to Lion’s Party, Obvious was difficult to observe Obscure was easy to see. to be continued
Continue reading...
66
Why must a heart beat? To keep a rhythmic marching time through life? That common tempo keeping order in our lawless world of hate and fear death. Each heartbeat rallies troops across the globe, a single feature shared in every life, an army built on spirit, crying out with every thump that we are one. But what must hearts beat for? To beat we mean to say 'to fight,' and for what better cause to fight than love? That painful pleasure wielding power both to wreck lives and create them, the strength it gives to those from whom it stole in battles past. Enamoured and encased in armour, steeled against the pain before as drums beat faster palms grow sweaty the tempo quickens gazes steady you brace and lean in gently and surrender to his kiss as he gives in to yours, your battle won by both as both your drums keep time in perfect synchrony your breaths the perfect melody that keep the perfect peace.
0
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 8:39 AM UTC
Heartbeat
Loved her tooth and nail Head over heels She is my pace-maker And peace keeper Her air in my breath, Eye behind eye, Her beauty is seasonal And sensational She glows silver cream Glitters green sheen Cools and warms Rarely wild, often mild Stands thru thick and thin Her curves and curls Touch my heart Her enthralling structure Often captures my rapture She is of high yielding variety For long lasting pleasure My will treks on her hill tracks Rallies in her voluptuous valleys I love to live with her As long as I live in her lap All I see is her nature Thanks to Mother Earth!
0
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 7:44 PM UTC
Love at first sight
Attention apprehensive affliction Becoming begging believing (in) Chaotic collapses creations Demanding demolition degeneration (and) Epic enlightened endings, Fake fantastic flows (and) Greater glamour gore (inside) Hedonistic homemaker hope Indicating irrational inspiration Joyful jittering jugs (but) Knowledge keeping knees Letting lovers lose (still) Meaning maybe more (a) Notice nothing nepotism Opportunity oppression ordered Popular pages prohibited Qua quantum quivers Revolving random rallies Sadly still suffocating Toxic tension talking Until unique universal Virtual vanity villains Wanton winning waves *** Yes! You yield Zap, zing, zoom!
0
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 12:50 PM UTC
Absurd Alphabet
a ****** of crows gathers over Hamburg, carrion carrying on with business as usual. feeding on the festered flesh of a gentrified populace. in private jets coughing carbon they fly from the west on turbine wings, engines screaming as they dive towards a nation secured by razor-wound walls and barb-wire borders. they pitched a battle in Germany, convinced that austerity would ******* the resistance and give justification to premeditated violence. but the tables have turned on the thieves again. we are the end result of your failed policies, globalization has destroyed our homes. if your cabal rallies like a kettle of vultures, you will do so behind closed doors, cowering in your fortress' halls. you shall not pass. watch as the power shifts like the melting gears of torched BMWs. we will tear the vestiges of your authority down. we will black out your surveillance cameras, smash your windows, and block your limos. no pasaran. flee, while you can still run. this city belongs to the wild ones, a black bloc, thousands strong, dancing amidst the tear gas, tossing molotovs. marching to liberty's sturdy drum, equal in our solidarity song.
0
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 12:14 PM UTC
(bloc)k
Loved her tooth and nail Head over heels She is my pace-maker And peace keeper Her air in my breath, Eye behind eye, Her beauty is seasonal And sensational She glows silver cream Glitters green sheen Cools and warms Rarely wild, often mild Stands thru thick and thin Her curves and curls Touch my heart Her enthralling structure Often captures my rapture She is of high yielding variety For long lasting pleasure My will treks on her hill tracks Rallies in her voluptuous valleys I love to live with her As long as I live in her lap All I see is her nature Thanks to Mother Earth!
0
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
Love at first sight
A Mothers Voice The first that you hear kisses your tears and soothes your fears A Lovers Voice Who's whispers of *** entice and perplex your body's reflex An Awesome Voice That shouts out loud stands up and is proud not lost in the crowd A Powerful Voice One that rallies and fights without losing sight asserting its rights A Survivors Voice Riddled with pain no longer in chains her monsters slain A Warriors Voice Strong and controlled without being told breaks free of the mold This is My Voice All the above Warm like a glove And full of love (C) Pixievic
0
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 8:00 AM UTC
A Womans Voice
Your shirt was checked. I hate checked shirts I thought as I noticed you alone In the corner with a coffee. You must have left whilst I was engrossed In Bryson's Europe. Sorry I didn't notice; Belgium is beautiful at this time of year. I was dancing through the starlight streets In a dress I never wear dresses. A coffee later I am in Germany Bored. Not my scene. A boy rallies round on his scooter Indoors! You walk in. Again?! Two coffees in one day You must be tired A briefcase - are you a worker Like me Kept away from December's festivities I catch your eye Awkward in these situations You are sat opposite me Purpose? Bryson is touring Cologne. For once it sounds awful But the 60 minute mark draws near Though it rains outside I must leave you here in the warmth Back to a lonely work in the lonely rain. Perhaps I could smile at you As I close the door.
0
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 7:21 AM UTC
Lunch Break.
I'm not into politics i don't care who the president is if you're a communist, go ahead. i'm not into debates and rallies i don't vote for one side, i'm three dimensional i don't care for democracy, fascism, or whatever it is you are putting in my hair, underneath my fingernails. I'm not into that volcano of confusion and opinions, screeching for security of the word "true" but all i hear is the ringing in my ears saying OPINION            and sure, i have a few I like to think that everyone is misinformed and my way is not left but when religious ******** start the stabbing they're going to go for the throats of the sad souls that betrayed them the cigar smoking;grunge wearing;music loving;peacemaking; hippies children and i will survive the fight because i had nothing to do with it? no i will never be a part of your war on policies and your ****** hating I will live my life as a lovechild in a perfect world where there are no idiots waving their ***** around. these are happy days we live in
0
Aug 16, 2011
Aug 16, 2011 at 6:28 PM UTC
politicks
Realization Alliteration Poem 4/23/2013 Radical reforms Revealed and revered Reveled in without reserve Reject rest until wrongs righted Resistance looks radiant red like radishes Recently reequipped with righteousness reacting like radiation Rowdy crowds race like rabbits to meeting rooms Rain and rapiers can't quell rampaging rallies without recourse Reserves have been replicated, ready to razzle and rebuke, revenge Reclaim rusted roofs of the ruins, wrecked in rural rubble's roots Reality's reign can't be reversed so remember it, refuse to relive it Run from its reach, relying on the rare reward you've received, a refuge Recognize that regimes rotate routinely like roadkill riding on rail-cars drinking with rancid rats Reach for the receiver, become a redeemer, referee your own rehab, require resolute ripples - realization.
0
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 3:12 AM UTC
Realization Alliteration
We wage wars with words, Whetstone sharpened wit. Wounds win rounds of applause. A pause, While metaphors are mustered, Rusted dictionaries dusted, Cobwebs shed from unread shelves. Pikes of pronunciation Pick apart Portraits of ourselves. While poetry parries, Prose pivots, Prepares and rallies, Stares down violet valley below. The violence of lavender Shines like silver in the snow. A scent sentenced to silence, Flowers on death row.
0
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 7:51 PM UTC
Flowers on Death Row
I cried when Barack Obama left office, and I cried for Joe Biden too, as though I'd lost parents of mine, But Mike Brown and the others had it coming, they were probably resisting arrest, So love me, love me love me, I'm a liberal I go to pro choice rallies and I chant about female anatomy, I retweeted a #blacklivesmatter tweet once, I think that's just as good as a protest But don't talk about revolution, that's going a little bit too far So love me, love me love me, I'm a liberal I cheered Bernie on the whole way, but eventually settled on Clinton, I would do anything for free healthcare and education, as long as my taxes aren't too much more I love all the minorities too, as long as they don't move next door So love me, love me love me, I'm a liberal The people who voted for Trump, should all hang their heads in shame, I can't understand where they're at, John Oliver should set them straight But if you burn an American flag, I hope the cops take down your name So love me, love me love me I'm a liberal I read Huffington Post, and Rolling Stone too, If I vote it's a Democrat with a sensible economic view, But when it comes to rioters in the streets punching nazis, there's no one more red white and blue So love me, love me love me, I'm a liberal Once I was young and my heart bleeding, I bought every Coexist bumper sticker I saw, Even marched alongside the socialists, thought I could bring the system down with the power of love, But I've grown older and wiser, and that's why I'm turning you in So love me, love me love me, I'm a liberal Love me, love me love me, I'm a liberal
0
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 5:09 AM UTC
Love Me I'm a Liberal by Phil Ochs and Jello Biafra by Tyler King
I cried when Barack Obama left office, and I cried for Joe Biden too, as though I'd lost parents of mine, But Mike Brown and the others had it coming, they were probably resisting arrest, So love me, love me love me, I'm a liberal I go to pro choice rallies and I chant about female anatomy, I retweeted a #blacklivesmatter tweet once, I think that's just as good as a protest But don't talk about revolution, that's going a little bit too far So love me, love me love me, I'm a liberal I cheered Bernie on the whole way, but eventually settled on Clinton, I would do anything for free healthcare and education, as long as my taxes aren't too much more I love all the minorities too, as long as they don't move next door So love me, love me love me, I'm a liberal The people who voted for Trump, should all hang their heads in shame, I can't understand where they're at, John Oliver should set them straight But if you burn an American flag, I hope the cops take down your name So love me, love me love me I'm a liberal I read Huffington Post, and Rolling Stone too, If I vote it's a Democrat with a sensible economic view, But when it comes to rioters in the streets punching nazis, there's no one more red white and blue So love me, love me love me, I'm a liberal Once I was young and my heart bleeding, I bought every Coexist bumper sticker I saw, Even marched alongside the socialists, thought I could bring the system down with the power of love, But I've grown older and wiser, and that's why I'm turning you in So love me, love me love me, I'm a liberal Love me, love me love me, I'm a liberal
Continue reading...
24
Progress by Michael R. Burch There is no sense of urgency at the local Burger King. Birds and squirrels squabble outside for the last scraps of autumn: remnants of buns, goopy pulps of dill pickles, mucousy lettuce, sesame seeds. Inside, the workers all move with the same très-glamorous lethargy, conserving their energy, one assumes, for more pressing endeavors: concerts and proms, pep rallies, keg parties, reruns of Jenny McCarthy on MTV. The manager, as usual, is on the phone, talking to her boyfriend. She gently smiles, brushing back wisps of insouciant hair, ready for the cover of Glamour or Vogue. Through her filmy white blouse an indiscreet strap suspends a lace cup through which somehow the ****** still shows. Progress, we guess, ... and wait patiently in line, hoping the Pokémons hold out. NOTE: This poem is almost entirely fiction. There was a Pokemon craze when my son Jeremy was a little boy, and I did see birds and squirrels foraging in parking lots from time to time (and sometimes fed them myself from my car’s window), but everything else is fiction. On the rare occasions that I went to a Burger King, I would go through the drive-in, so I wouldn’t have known who the manager was, or how much time ***** spent on the phone. I think the poem probably started with the image of birds and squirrels squabbling for scraps of food in a parking lot as I waited in a line of slow-moving cars, then evolved as I imagined the hassle of going inside to “speed things up.” Keywords/Tags: America, Americana, American, culture, society, vanity, youth, progress, fast food, video games, Pokemon, MTV, music videos, glamour, models, supermodels, fashion, transparency, see-through, bra, breast, *******
0
Apr 30, 2020
Apr 30, 2020 at 9:43 PM UTC
Progress
Progress by Michael R. Burch There is no sense of urgency at the local Burger King. Birds and squirrels squabble outside for the last scraps of autumn: remnants of buns, goopy pulps of dill pickles, mucousy lettuce, sesame seeds. Inside, the workers all move with the same très-glamorous lethargy, conserving their energy, one assumes, for more pressing endeavors: concerts and proms, pep rallies, keg parties, reruns of Jenny McCarthy on MTV. The manager, as usual, is on the phone, talking to her boyfriend. She gently smiles, brushing back wisps of insouciant hair, ready for the cover of Glamour or Vogue. Through her filmy white blouse an indiscreet strap suspends a lace cup through which somehow the ****** still shows. Progress, we guess, ... and wait patiently in line, hoping the Pokémons hold out. NOTE: This poem is almost entirely fiction. There was a Pokemon craze when my son Jeremy was a little boy, and I did see birds and squirrels foraging in parking lots from time to time (and sometimes fed them myself from my car’s window), but everything else is fiction. On the rare occasions that I went to a Burger King, I would go through the drive-in, so I wouldn’t have known who the manager was, or how much time ***** spent on the phone. I think the poem probably started with the image of birds and squirrels squabbling for scraps of food in a parking lot as I waited in a line of slow-moving cars, then evolved as I imagined the hassle of going inside to “speed things up.” Keywords/Tags: America, Americana, American, culture, society, vanity, youth, progress, fast food, video games, Pokemon, MTV, music videos, glamour, models, supermodels, fashion, transparency, see-through, bra, breast, *******
Continue reading...
29
I’m the sickness, the grotesque singularity that envelopes and gropes that sick nectar. The sickly substance drains so subtle upon the cut edge of lips and the pillar draw strings stitched and bound between cardiac flesh. I’ll cleave, cut and seethe, suckle upon the sin I glower as I twine and tug at those piano puppet strings caught in twain with every heart beat, just trigger happy nerves spackled in misunderstood concept called love and impulse. Pluck the collar cuff at your guttural sing and sentence, those ballots fluttering from between pearl teeth, I’m stealing those breathing gasps and loving longings; they’re all just flecks and fragments of lackluster human baggage, just mannequins treading sluggish, fractured splinter frame and hinge fickle. I’m the socio experiment, the fiendish distaste of a chimera, the zealous of corrupted cold hearted, faux feeling skin wearing thing. Just a copulation of electrical splatter and liquid tissue, inorganic animal, snapping jaw and glass shard fangs. I’ll rile and reeve between the click and snap of your heart beat, coddle the smoke of prey’s scent, I’ll parasite the life blood that courses and holds beneath your emotional connect. My cancer’s a slaughter fed consolation, ever feasting malignant circumstance, it rallies a thousand eyes, irises blood thick, fragments my moral conscience with teeth riddled limbs, claws that chew and tear. A multi-armed fiend, segmented soulless and black tainted blood lost long ago, all that remains ***** is the tissue wearing skeleton I claim domain, fragmenting the soul into steel shards, all’s just razor edge mechanical once the human feel falls to ash amongst the clutter of bone. You’ll find the soulless circuit board in the gulf of your cancerous conscience, as the human corrupts to cancer
0
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 7:50 AM UTC
The Thousand Mouths of the Once Human
I’m the sickness, the grotesque singularity that envelopes and gropes that sick nectar. The sickly substance drains so subtle upon the cut edge of lips and the pillar draw strings stitched and bound between cardiac flesh. I’ll cleave, cut and seethe, suckle upon the sin I glower as I twine and tug at those piano puppet strings caught in twain with every heart beat, just trigger happy nerves spackled in misunderstood concept called love and impulse. Pluck the collar cuff at your guttural sing and sentence, those ballots fluttering from between pearl teeth, I’m stealing those breathing gasps and loving longings; they’re all just flecks and fragments of lackluster human baggage, just mannequins treading sluggish, fractured splinter frame and hinge fickle. I’m the socio experiment, the fiendish distaste of a chimera, the zealous of corrupted cold hearted, faux feeling skin wearing thing. Just a copulation of electrical splatter and liquid tissue, inorganic animal, snapping jaw and glass shard fangs. I’ll rile and reeve between the click and snap of your heart beat, coddle the smoke of prey’s scent, I’ll parasite the life blood that courses and holds beneath your emotional connect. My cancer’s a slaughter fed consolation, ever feasting malignant circumstance, it rallies a thousand eyes, irises blood thick, fragments my moral conscience with teeth riddled limbs, claws that chew and tear. A multi-armed fiend, segmented soulless and black tainted blood lost long ago, all that remains ***** is the tissue wearing skeleton I claim domain, fragmenting the soul into steel shards, all’s just razor edge mechanical once the human feel falls to ash amongst the clutter of bone. You’ll find the soulless circuit board in the gulf of your cancerous conscience, as the human corrupts to cancer
Continue reading...
38
938 Fairer through Fading—as the Day Into the Darkness dips away— Half Her Complexion of the Sun— Hindering—Haunting—Perishing— Rallies Her Glow, like a dying Friend— Teasing with glittering Amend— Only to aggravate the Dark Through an expiring—perfect—look—
0
1.4k
Fairer through Fading—as the Day