"rescuers" poems
O rescue help the boys in dreadful cave.
Those adventurers could meet their demise
Unless in hour of crisis comes the brave;
But one by one emerge and none yet dies,
Unscathed though bruised from historic ordeals,
Escaped the jaws of death. Those left behind,
Our prayers they overcome their perils.
The tears flowing freely cruel minutes grind.
A strange surging water locking them in,
The force push them up to higher chambers.
Upon a mount waited; with anxious kin,
With families, monks believe still embers.
We salute rescuers' courage to save,
And one to God his precious life he gave.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 3:39 PM UTC
The desert is a killer
An unforgiving foe
Be careful how you handle her
Take things very slow
If you are lost in her confines
Be careful where you go
It is best to hunker down
If you're in the know
Your enemy is water loss
Long sleeves are a must
Head cover is primary
A wide brim you can trust
Cover every inch of skin
Cover up your mouth
Do not expend your energy
Go north instead of south
North of cliffs you hide from sun
It's the sun that kills
Stay where you are... IMPORTANT!
Unless you have good skills
You can find water sometimes
By following the birds
Deer and other animals
This is what I've heard
Pile stones in cairns
Make arrows from sticks
Showing your direction
So rescuers find it
Always move at night
The temperature will plummet
Sometimes it gets very cold
And people do die from it
It is best to wear light clothing
Conserve body water, dont sweat much
The desert rats drink often
But do not eat their lunch
It is best not to eat it all
Or eat cactus fruit and such
It contains good water
But don't eat a lot. Don't munch.
water, *Water, WATER!*
Drink this at all costs!
Find shelter from the sun
If you do get lost
Going to the high ground
So you can see the land
Finding habitation
Of folks living in sand
Carry maps when possible
Carry Bowie knives
If you wear thick glasses
A fire could save lives!
Make a fire in the desert
Create light and smoke
Magnify the burning sun
With the glasses of which I spoke
Hand sanitizer can be a help
In starting any flame
Put lots of stuff creating smoke
Getting helps the game!
But stay out of the fire's heat
Unless you're very cold
Always conserve water
It is liquid gold!
Carry a Camelbak
A backpack with a tube
To drink the water easily
These are often used
Travel light! Important!
Conserve your energy
So you don't lose water
Analyze your ***
If it is light like lemonade
You're probably ok
If it's very dark
You'll need water that day
Keep your head, don't panic
It's best to keep your cool
You can think! You have a mind!
These tips are simply tools
There are other tips
To Google in your strife
Carrying a cell phone
Could just save your life!
SoulSurvivor
(C) 9/18/2016
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
Enter the dragon with death and disruption
Pride and tradition cataclysmically thrown,
Magnificent structures reduced to rubble
Distraught people bereft of their homes.
Chasms of heartache with bodies of babies
Strewn with the bricks in vast disarray,
Dust in the air and the howl of the sirens
Shouting police on a horror filled day.
Christchurch is bleeding, her confidence shattered
Our keynote cathedral is lying in shards,
Vacant eyed people are clinging to strangers
Jagged black holes in suburban back yards.
Christchurch is bleeding, our torn, gracious City
The nation arises in hurt and alarm,
To face the challenge with strength and resources,
To nurture our sister with healing and balm.
Sympathy shown by the myriad faces
Racing to help from all parts of the globe,
Expertise offered with money and labour
Students with shovels and priests of the robe.
Sadness and torment for kin of the missing
Frustrated rescuers work till relieved,
Moments of triumph with lost resurrected,
Agony felt when the dead are retrieved.
Led by the strength of the Mayor of the City
Courageous citizens help where they can,
Moments of bravery, moments of agony
Inspirational feats of elan.
Poignancy shown by the sad Maori Warden
Guiding the aged through the strewn broken glass,
Aiding the ambulance crews in their labour
Proud to be Kiwi as folk show their class.
Christchurch WILL arise from the death and destruction
Once again people will overcome grief,
Pride and resilience will triumph with the passing
And time will repair with deserved relief.
Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
AUCKLAND
25 February 2011
Feb 25, 2011
Feb 25, 2011 at 8:26 AM UTC
Honor our nations hero's,
Honor our police, fire an rescuers who serve our city's and towns.
Most of all honor those who had and have an still are serving in the military.
Do not show disrespect to them or to any hero that risks all for others to live on.
Stand with them support them shake there hand and tell them what a great job they are doing.
Never disrespect our hero's that have past away that lay buried in the ground.
Do not Disrespect those family's who are saddened by there lost love ones they may never see again till all comes to a end.
Do not make graves of our loved ones who have died either in battle or in the line of duty, or in saving a life of another at a cost of there own; for political gain or anything along those lines.
Respect those we have lost, respect those who have lost brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, husbands, wifes, young ones.
Honor those hero's that still live and those who gave there life for others in there place, Do not dishonor them by saying something that never ever should be accompanied to our hero's who are a live or died they do not deserve that.
What they deserve is our respect, our thanks and everything a hero needs to hear to know what they do is highly honored by everyone they serve for.
Jan 16, 2011
Jan 16, 2011 at 12:49 AM UTC
The chilling nature who stood still,
Once decided to dance her way,
Inflicting a stir around as she moved,
Causing the world a great loss.
Thousands took their last breath,
While countless lost their shelters and families.
Rescuers sweat day and night,
Holding on to a fading hope.
The city that was once smiling,
Turned to a mass of shattered rubble.
Homes that were once full of laughter,
Declined to a mass of ****** dust.
The nature stopped her dance and left,
Leaving behind a cracked dance floor,
Leaving an air of cold death,
Leaving the whole earth mourning.
Feb 13, 2023
Feb 13, 2023 at 1:23 AM UTC
Stranded the shore the loneliest row boat.
Laid on the shore as if a grounded whale carcass collecting barnacles.
No rescuers ro save this noble beast.
The tide may come and take it home.
Depending on the time of tide.
The setting sun brings with it relief.
Cooler in a peaceful air.
A lonely gentlemen elderly in years.
Walking his chocolate labrador, Charlie, stumbles across an old wooden rotting oar.
Was going to sling it back into the sea.
Further along the shore he spies a lonesome row boat.
A perfect pair..
Row boat and oar reunited.
(c)Livvi MMXV
Watch this space...part two to follow.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 5:26 AM UTC
Churning
Boisterous to me life a high powerful stormy sea will I ever see land again those peaceful
Dales the trees so deeply rooted in there canopy the swaying seems as undersea waves so softly they
Stir as at play deep valleys and hills below above aluminous sun light makes a rich glow in its tow I go
Ever so slow the sea grass moves in a musical undulating fashion the same as the grass on the plains
Colors diverse with coral markers at depths that unrest at the surface doesn’t reach the frothing foam
As it were a great goblet filled for god to drink a offering of thanks for such wonder that can be a
Complexity at once filling heights of emotional strands then instantly terrifying foreboding illustrious
Without equal so vast stretching all the bounds you have ever known by the sea blown tales that are
As voluminous as the sea itself adventure in the raw highlighted with charm by the cawing of the seagull
With the same speed they dive and climb on the surface races the dolphin the embodiment of joy and
Laughter the sea rescuers has been some of their duties to the blessing of many lost mariners in cold
Chilly waters these bubbly ones was the difference between life and death the sea does spray as with
Glory unbound in this all concluding vesture that is seamless all consuming tiring but invigorating once
The sea salt has entered your blood there is no escape its lore hypnotic unbreakable break waters will
Carry you inland by that she granted your greatest desire after she has reared her head and gave you
The Undeniable look at deaths watery jaws but when on her mercy you survive or in some fashion are
Flung on the shore you lose your emotional tiller and blubber like a baby then the manly part curses all
She Put you through you know one thing for certain never will she catch you a float but little do you
Know her winsome call withers all about so you hungrily crave the sea tossed tempest its excitement is a
Drug that a ****** has no cure for it puts robust living in your path all of your days while the timid land
Dwellers only look on in awe and admiration
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 6:54 PM UTC
looking for a fresh page
a new start
but I fail
the lights are still down
in the back of my brain
seems impossible to come out of this alive
looking for a hand to hold mine
a friendly smile
a saviour
but I am only lying to myself
as I know,
today's heroes are the ones
who tomorrow will shoot you down
I look for love
and kind words at night
I look for the star that's gonna make light on my path
I look for someone who'll tell me
that it is gonna be all right
I look around for rescuers
I picture them in my mind
I smile when I think that I might one day find
they're real
and I forget for a few moments
there are only temporary heroes
and the ones to save me today
will tomorrow be the first ones
to **** me with their ****** hands
I look around for temporary heroes
and I forget
that my only forever lasting hero
lives within myself
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 8:08 PM UTC
Two Maronite schoolchildren practice their English…
“Cedars! Cedars! Cedars!”
“See theirs, seethers, Caesars,
See her cedars Caesar?”
“See here, a sea-fare and see there?
And oh, I see Sir?”
“Do you see her? Yes I see Sir, -Caesar!”
“Cedars! Cedars! Cedars!”
And they are descendants of Solomon’s thirty-thousand, the great-grandchildren of Hiram’s workers.
“Sol Indiges!”
“Sol Invictus!”
“Sol-Ammon!”
“Now children, how do the three monkeys act?”
“Sol, the root of solar and it means the Sun, it means also to see or sight as it infers the light of seeing.”
“Am means fire but it is also the meditative word, Aum, therefore it cannot render evil through sound!”
“On is Egyptian and it connotes speech so it represents hearing.”
The instruction in language is not terse. Requiring broad-based understandings of how the West characterizes ideas. These two are particularly adept being taught from birth in both Maronitic and Latin and now English, in preparation for their exodus, as home has become a battleground where they must leave soon. Only in the West can they find peace and practice their faith so expressively. Only in the West can these two girls attend school if their lands are befallen…
“Now children, what does this mean?”
“See no evil!”
“Speak no Evil!”
“Hear no Evil!”
“And that children, is the Wisdom of Solomon!”
Breaking news! CNN reports that a car bomb has exploded in the ancient Lebanese town of Mejdeloon. Shocking footage now of a series of homes that have been reduced to rubble near a Maronite Church where rescuers are just now pulling out the bodies of two young school girls. Christopher Talias reports live from the Lebanon.
“Sol Indiges is the voice of god,"
Sol Invictus, in light, his mind;"
Sol-Ammon is the understanding and wisdom for all time!”
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
Hope, at times for them
Is a once-great passenger ship
Breeched and sinking fast
This vessel is one that sees the Mississippi,
Floats on it for a brief period
But has no idea that it's being dominated
By the mighty, muddy beast
In these instances responsibility
Becomes government reports that are long,
Arduous and too thick to be stapled
"Many people will die." they say,
"200,000 people will be displaced."
This incites the mantra,
Home is where the water is not
The ship that was a home is made of steel
Neither black nor white
Its grey, so grey that it is without true color
It finds itself trapped in the womb of the dense, delta mud
The people;
The brave, the bold, the idiots, waiting for their ship to come
Sit on top of their roofs,
Now islands where they can soak up Indian Summer Sun
For the abandoned, perseverance is a suntan
"THE WATER IS RISING PLEAS…"
Words spray-painted white on black shingles
The rescuers, government, American people
Are suddenly illiterate
Federal law states:
Energy (money) cannot be created
Nor destroyed
But the ship is gone,
The people are in watery graves
The City is a large crescent with greedy bites taken out of it
6 years later the laws of the universe are disbanded
Ferrel dogs rule the day
And love is never having to say you care
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 4:03 AM UTC
*[To the outside world]
I am trapped on an island far at sea,
There is no glimpse of life around me.
Alone, cold and desolate,
I was shipwrecked by ‘FATE’.
I have been here for many years,
And the time spent is starting to give me fears.
Fears I may never be able to leave,
Fears I am gradually starting to believe.
Each day I wait in anticipation of a rescue,
Yet each day my hopes are dashed anew.
All I see are the waters before me,
Seagulls flying above in silent mockery.
Flaunting their freedom in ways they please,
I yearn for such a [sweet] release.
**To whoever may read this,
I am stuck in a place of ‘anti-bliss’.**
I am exhausted in both mind and body,
I no longer care what lies ahead of me.
**My skin has been deadened by the scorching sun,
An unfeeling being I have now become.**
Violent winds have undone me,
I no longer see Life’s beauty.
**Only a fragment of hope remains,
That my rescuers will not find my rotting remains.**
To whoever may see,
Have in your in heart some sympathy.
**I am trapped on a island on this deathly ocean,
Where loneliness is a slow killing potion.**
Each day Nature drops a subtle clue,
That my underworld sojourn is long overdue.
This is my last-gasped petition, a last chance plea,
Whoever you are, PLEASE HELP ME!
Time is running out
Signed: Desolate islander…
#BlueRain
2017*
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 11:54 AM UTC
Do they know
While in the foggy depths of
Or the level to which they rise
As they hurl stones at the hapless dove
In absolute retribution
Spewing lies
Denial.... set to rile
The now lost and soon to be tossed
Disillusioned
Back into the reality prescription
Overdosed on the rhetoric
Left in the vacuum
Of the imploding star of incredulity
Launched by nothing nearing reality
Into the frenzied - hyperactive atmosphere
Deflated and overrated
As masses of mud frames somehow sated
By hate built absolution
Humanity lost as demonstrated
By evil personified
Non-- inclusion
As helpless friends stand by disillusioned
As if the loss they now invision
Confounded by the lack of any solution
Were they drowning - hope would exist
For rescue would be welcome
Not something those sinking would resist
The Living Dead will soon be discarded
By the furor and the faithless pretense
Pushed out the gate
Fired.... from the crumbling tower
By the big cannon in retreat
They stand- dazed and amazed
At what they know they've lost
By paying homage
With the only valuable thing that they ever owned
Trust - Love and Understanding
Rescuers
Who couldn't save them
From drowning among the throng
Into which they were sunk by simply standing among
And refusing to see the reality
Of what it takes to watch the rise
Of an evil soul - out of control
Being fed on unbelievable lies
When the gate slams shut
And the dogs are let loose
The street will be full
Of those whose faith was sadly abused
As their mud forms were simply being used
Can they ever return? IDK.
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 4:11 AM UTC
It seems to me that I am a *****
Cheap a *****
Perfumed flower of the Day...
What else, what else I wasn't there...
Here and there...
I lost the one I thought too good,
She had a mission,
All too great... It's over, now.
I may just die, from their end...
True, true... They need no prayers,
They need no rescuers of their souls,
They're that good.
Or' Maybe they have no soul,
No soul they have...
She May be just a ***** I am too proud for this...
But would you care...
Oh, yeah, you showed all the care.
Maybe she didn't have a choice...
I'm just a ***** among other things,
I like to dance... I like to think...
Your Perfume take, quite cheap,
Cheap, cheap romance,
Cheap romance
Like an ocean breeze.
...
Do you think she doesn't care,
She has no feelings, o' heart, no brain.
Maybe she didn't have a choice,
Wish we were all much luckier...
I'm Just a ***** dear, what did you expect?
Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 10:40 AM UTC
a tide of much strength
wrenched the struggling surfer
under its briny churn
shoreline rescuers
hauled this stilled person
onto golden sands
whereby commenced
a resuscitation act
to fill starved lungs
with stocks of oxygen
reinstated by life guards
salvation granted
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 10:17 PM UTC
squadrons deployed. everything permanent is still removable if you ignore it enough. revising your lackadaisical list of priorities. repeat play and an ashtray full of roaches. at this point even nostalgia feels classic. cross your t’s and then just x out everything. circle the names of your favorite cities. hands held, grudges kept. i swear somewhere i’ve got something left. in my head the rescuers are always gonna be the ones who go down (under) in history. everyone else is just running their mouth or grinding their teeth. there are some lies left over but who cares? this might be the worst ever. or the best yet. i guess we’ll know for sure soon enough. i right clicked through this like five times because of what i’ve got flowing through my veins. sidenote: i miss you.
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 1:42 PM UTC
after years of fending Mathematics,
hiding disastrous test papers as guerrilla tactics,
lolling in the shame of discovery,
followed by parents' sherlockian commentary,
how they came upon the dreaded documents, accidentally,
I thank the gods who gave writers nibs, quills, ink,
how their tales became shields,infused life in print,
these angelic saviours from Darth Vader menace,
famed rescuers from teacher disguised fiends,
dear, beloved school education, I forgive you all your sins...
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 11:43 AM UTC
THE BIG CRASH AT PARK VILLE
BETWEEN A BEER TRUCK AND A TRAM YEAH AND
SLIM DUSTY’S GHOST CALLS OUT
I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH DUNCAN
I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH KEVIN
I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH PATRICK
I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH TONY
NO THE TRUCK IS IN A CRASH
THE BEER KEGS ALL FELL OVER EVERYWHERE
LEAVES US WAITING TO HAVE BEER WITH OUR MATES
HOW CAN WE DRINK IN MODERATION
THE BEER KEGS ARE SCATTERED ALL OVER THE GROUND
WE CAN’T HAVE BERR WITH OUR MATES
CAUSE THE TRUCK HASN’T COME UP YET
I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH RODNEY
I CAN’T HAVE A BEER WITH DAN
CAUSE I MIGHT HAVE MENTIONED THE PARKVILLE CRASH
OH MY GOD, IT SPOILS THE PLAN FOR THE TOWNSMEN
YOU SEE HOW CAN WE DRINK IN MODERATION
WHERE THE BEER IS LOW, OH YEAH
IU CAN’T HAVE A BEER IN PARKSVILLE
CAUSE WE CRASHED INTO A TRAM
I WANT TO HAVE A BEER WITH WILLIAM
I WANT TO HAVE A BEER WITH BILL
WE DRINK IT UNDER THE TABLE
BUT THIS CRASH BRINGS A SHORTAGE YEAH
COME ON RESCUERS, PLEASE, SAVE OUR ****** BEER
I WANT TO HAVE A BEER WITH DUNCAN
CAUSE, HE DESERVES IT, OH YEAH
THEN SLIM DUSTY FLIES AWAY, DON’T FORGET ME PARKSVILLE
I MET YOU AT THE STATION
WITH ALL THE BEER HERE RATHER THAN THE PUB MY KIND SIR
WE CAN’T HAVE OUR CELEBRATION
WE DRINK THE BEER ANYWAY, IT’S HOT BUT WHO CARES, IT’S BREW
YEAH LET’S GET ****** OLD KODGERS, AND YOUND DUDES
YEAH, GET BLIND OH YEAH
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 12:46 AM UTC
I sit at the table too high for me,
Slipping the poison down my throat,
Sewn shut my mind through mouth,
As I feel the darkness bloat.
Yet I know it’s due to me alone,
My hand the wretched doer of the stab
Which rends my heart at my bequeath,
Yet how can I help who I am?
The invisible flame all too bright,
Casts my shadow invoking fear,
I willingly forget not to shun
The things I held most dear.
My mind falls deeper into the mire,
Shallower with each sinking death,
I tell them to ignore the silent screams
Though I cry for help under my breath.
And though these echoes are not heard,
They crash and boom and threaten to break
Innocence is swallowed whole again,
As I stand chained at the hand of fate.
A different man I stand today
Than the one who failed once before,
Yet I fail again, this time completely,
It is being me I must endure.
For leaping only leads to falling,
First time jumping interceded by floor,
Sitting in shame that isn’t mine
How can I hope to jump ever more?
I ask with a resounding
Question “Who am I?”
Praise from the edges of my view,
But never from the distant sky
Yet somehow the light appears ahead,
The rescuers lifting me from the shadows within
How could I have sought this ugly fate,
When there were others bright that could’ve been?
I’ve wasted time on distant stars
So shining, beckoning in my mind.
Why should I wait longer to start the rest of my life?
It’s time I left that path behind.
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 11:22 AM UTC
The only survivor of a shipwreck was washed up on a small,
uninhabited island. He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him,
and every day he scanned the horizon for help,
but none seemed forthcoming.
Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of
driftwood to protect him from the elements,
and to store his few possessions. But then one day,
after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, the smoke rolling up to the sky.
The worst had happened; everything was lost.
He was stunned with grief and anger.
"God how could you do this to me!" he cried. Early the next day, however, he was awakened by the sound of
a ship that was approaching the island. It had come to rescue him.
"How did you know I was here?"
asked the weary man of his rescuers. "We saw your smoke signal," they replied.
It is easy to get discouraged when things are going bad.
But we shouldn't lose heart, because God is at work in our lives,
even in the midst of pain and suffering.
Remember, next time your little hut is burning to the ground
it just may be a smoke signal that summons the grace of God.
For all the negative things we have to say to ourselves,
God has a positive answer for it
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 1:19 AM UTC
Exhibition devoted to relativity
Looks like it could be genetic and luck
Experts believe it's not repressed
Rescuers evacuated
Such an animal
Soft
We make attempts in a single field placement
Because there in nothing to language
It becomes as simple as a beacon of eternal
Wake up the body the mind will follow home
Spend sometime within half an apocalypse
Otherwise live lives of the ordinary
We are green and private
The breakfasts and feasts of each other
They being sweet and fresh coffee with spices
Closer to the light
Compatibility is so little simply become the window
Set fire
Creating the edge
All absolutely somehow magnetically mythical
This stolen memory surfaced
Neurons sacrificing is the process of forgetting
This time is local association
Remembering is asphyxiation
If it is comfortable
Heat the impression
Then they shall come for you
Otherwise it is a Winter morning
At the entrance time is new and can be branches
Seasons can procrastinate too
Take advantage of every day
That is the forest of approach
Some outweighed by different states of transmit
We were lost even just reversed versions of ourselves
Confused in a network
In which lover is theater
Adopted in the desert I do not addition to this quiet
my favorite light
Falter not in daydreams
A place of stumbling
Paradoxing lost and found
In early morning
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 2:00 PM UTC
There was a rich man trapped in a dangerous pit along a less traveled path in the desert... another traveler heard the screams but did not move to help because it could possibly cause him harm… as he walked away he suddenly recognized the mans voice and remembered his bountiful wealth…in an instance he ran to the pit and extended his hand at much risk to his health—
He raised the rich man on his shoulders rejoicing as he carried him back to his land. Only a minute into their journey they stepped over a half eaten carcass contorted in the sand. What a disgraceful way to die they both agreed….. Changing the subject the rich man vowed to make a statue of his courageous rescuers face and in reply the traveler exploded “No need I’m just happy your safe!” But deep in the invisible dark silence of his soul he brooded violently about how much reward and recognition he could possibly receive…
The day before the rich man was rescued there was an elderly man that was blind and mute and for hours he frantically tried to track the location of desperate screams to their roots. He clapped his hands and stomped his feet risking his very life by chartering blind in unmapped terrain....Even in his greatest effort he missed the pit by 50 yards. The rich man in the pit heard his noisy attempts and all along cursed his name for not helping but still that didn't stop the blind and mute man from trying. Within his persistent attempts he critically gashed open his leg against a jagged stone and began bleeding out. Alone the old man cried himself to death as his blood soaked in the grains of the dessert. He could still hear the rebukes of the man in the pit cursing his soul as the coyotes fought over his wounded flesh....with his last bit of life the old man wished in his heart that the man in the pit would be safe..............................
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 11:26 PM UTC
Pressed hard against warm flesh in the barely illuminated darkness guesstimating the blessings of your fresh mess, I ingest the best and leave the rest unstressed. Soft caresses underneath the dress bring visions of ancestral ****** in jest. My accentuated ******* bereft of the simplest zesty scents leave jesters lamenting about the repressed nexus of flexing wreckers. Flickering trestles rustle as the mesh lays lifeless after undress and the pressures of the rescuers sheds ravenous blushers rushing and undulating such as plush calves do. Fissures, wet, impress impresarios investing in resting besties and ********** lechers; a pitcher, ditched by the rich, flashes in the marsh stressing the finches and leaching petroleum onto the beaches. I reach for another peach and beseech the mashed potatoes makers, “just take a rest” –
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 5:08 PM UTC
Anna, are you still there, my friend?
I'm sorry we're in this mess.
I think Fate is jealous with us,
It seems so, more or less.
But really, how could we have known,
That we'd be trapped in here?
This rubble once a train station,
Now doomed in silence queer.
Anna, are you still there my friend?
Don't worry, won't be long.
Until the rescuers arrive,
With help and curing song.
But sorry, if I pressured you,
To come with me today.
I did not think, nor imagined
That it would be this way.
You left your plans and went with me
How noble were you dear?
And now leaves me in agony,
Of what had happened here.
I should have heard the breaking news,
Of heavy earthquake dread.
And I's relieved that I'd no scratch,
But your right foot was red.
I'm crying so much, I just laugh!
And now I promise true;
After rescue from this place,
I'm never leaving you.
I want to hold you everyday,
Like this, as if it's last.
And l'll love you in everyway,
So let's leave this place fast!
I love you, Anna, stay with me.
Forever and much more.
And though you're bleeding still on foot,
It won't be long before--
See! I can hear the rescuers!
They're here with aid and flare!
I'm glad, Anna, we're still--
Anna?
Anna. . . are you still there?
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 1:06 AM UTC
I)
At year end oft, we think to say
Look back no more, as comes new day.
Some will see it with their spoons engraved
Though sadly, many remain enslaved.
But Hopeful ever, we press right on
As we search for good in everyone.
II)
In store and warehouse food is bailed
Urgent supplies for when crops have failed.
While shattered lives in tents on hillsides
Families caught in the refugee tides.
As earthquake victims lie underground
Courageous rescuers listen for sound.
Some must rely on drug-lord’s favours
In lives that no sane person savours.
Yet here are we in our clean safe home
From which we’re always free to roam.
III)
Complaining often, we fail to grasp
The richness of our situations
In truth we live in comfort zones
Free from terror and deprivation.
Whilst some no luck they ever see
Until in death at last they’re free.
IV)
And who should tackle such terrible woes
It should be us, plain as your nose
So we elect fine politicians
Who mainly only serve patricians
From whence they mainly are derived
Plebeians forgotten, of voice deprived.
For even though your vote was cast
And Bills you disapprove get passed
You only get to vote one way
And never really have your say
Your troubled mind creaks with unease
As those in charge do as they please.
V)
And in inertia nothing moves
The rut of hopelessness just proves
That though we feel the pain of others
Around this Earth we all are brothers
The comfort zone adapts to fit
The place within in which you sit.
VI)
Meanwhile, those victims still in tents
Await such help as we have sent
Which waits in ports in rotting state
While shares are argued in debate.
We did our bit they all will cry
But did that stop young children die??
©Joe Wilson – Those who are at the end of the queue, always…2016
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 3:40 PM UTC
The sound was deafening
The earth griped groaned and grumbled
Beneath their feet
Seconds of mobocracy
Followed by
An eerie silence of confusion
Shock and awe
The sun sat high unnerving
As the dust settled
Exposing the grotesque macabre
That is now their reality
Tear trickled traces speckled with blood seared
Upon muddled faces covered of soot
Stood surreal against the carnage
Unabled to grasp what has happened
Trudges about in symbiotic aloofness
Slowly a crescendo of wails
A wretched affair
Sliced into the mid day air
Sending chills to all within ear
Sirens heard from the distance
Approaches quickly
Adding to the cacophony of sound
An orchestra of pain
Reminiscent of
Dante's Inferno
Rock rescuers to the core
Bodies strewn and dispensed
Lie unrecognizable
Young and old alike
For death does not discriminate
As neighbors extend helping hands
Black and white
Slowly the healing begins
We can breathe again
Live again
Trust again
For surely hate cannot be
Allowed to win
The outpouring of support was astronomical
The love felt was undeniable
People say I'm ideological
But love conquers hate
And that's
Indisputable
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 5:37 PM UTC