"sabers" poems
♦ ♦ ♦
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.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC
To watch or not to watch.
That is the question;whether it is nobler in my mind to suffer the feels and emotions of addicting shows and yet be so in love with them.
To watch, to cry.
One more episode and only sleep will help me to end.
The heartache and the thousand cinematic shocks the writers are obsessed with.
‘tis a consuming world with everything I wish.
To watch, to cry. To cry-- perhaps too much. Ay, but it's worth it.
For, when watching these shows and knowing what feels may come, when we have shuffled off this depressing factor, we must not forget the humor that makes happiness last oh so long.
To watch characters travel the depths of space and time.
The detectives prove wrong the proud men and even the relationships and love ‘tween the main protagonists.
The insolence of the hiatus that even patient fangirls cannot take. When we go on great adventures with a hobbit and a ring. Who could bear the long wait? To punt a sweat is a weary life. To discover world's unknown from books or shows. We travellers never want to return.
Our fangirl hearts burn and even still
We would rather bear the tears we have Than live in a world where there are none. Thus Fangirls are not cowards, not at all
Thus we are heroes so very proud
So we proudly say take flight on the enterprise with Captain Jean Luc
We bare our lights sabers alight
And lose ourselves in the action
Go we now happy as could be-- off to fangirl forever
To be normal? Ha! Never.
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 8:29 AM UTC
.
•a long time
ago in a galaxy far away
•the saga continues with fancy
new droids•characters in outland-
ish costumes put on display•impo-
ssible new crafts that dart and slice
through vacuumed voids•armed to
■■■■ the teeth with impressive weapons• ■■■■
■■■■■ spectacular battles between gargan- ■■■■■
■■■■■ tuan cruisers• never ending fight b- ■■■■■
■■■■■ etween opposing factions•where d- ■■■■■
■■■■■ ark and light wield fantastic sabers• ■■■■■
■■■■■ oh i love it... i love it! the day draws ■■■■■
■■■■■ near • where my childhood pangs... ■■■■■
■■■■■ **would begin to smart•in a week, the ■■■■■
■■■■■ long anticipated day would be here•** ■■■■■
■■■■■ where the sith in my veins meets the ■■■■■
■■■■■ jedi in my heart• ■■■■■
■■■■■ ■■■■■
■■■■■■ ■■■■■■
■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■
IIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIII
.
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 10:49 AM UTC
The dusk smells like the dank moldy parts of the basement, old and decrepit. The days are short, like lives of butterflies. Only stray cats roam the streets after dusk like men in trench coats looking for your children. This is where the buzz of sports games fights through voices like car accidents, wafting through the air with the liquor that fuels them. The mix of rotting seaweed flesh and burnt cheerios intoxicates the wharf, drunker then the teens in their parent’s basements. Anyone can tell you where every **** store and Tim Hortons lies, where bass and basket ***** echo in the roads of chicken wings and blizzards. ‘Beautiful River’ you are where the hearts are strong as bison and tongues sharper then sabers. Yet among the old eyesores you'll find the hope of a city. It screams through the rusty and cracked windows; negligence made mosaics. Based on a pride that runs deeper then it's waters, the strength of those who reside in this urban Crayola box crown and shine like the tips of the waves cascading past the falls.
and the streets breathed
as crows rose and took the sky
crying in anguish.
Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 8:24 PM UTC
Four score and seventy one years ago,
fifty thousand men, in blue and gray
divided, became one, in red united
to consecrate the ground where we
now stand. From the Shenandoah
Valley, and the Potomac banks they
marched, and fell at Cemetery Hill,
Little Round Top, and Devil's Den.
But on this day, they rise to give
meaning to their sacrifice; they leave
behind their sabers and their musket
rifles, their cannon silent, their battle
done; they rise in peace at Gettysburg,
they rise at dawn with the morning sun.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 7:05 AM UTC
I wait for you by candlelight
in the rocker by the door
knowing it is far too late
but waiting evermore
the roads they are not safe night
with bandits all around
and I know my brave brave husband
would fight and stand his ground
the clock ticks on in silence
as minutes turn to hours
how can I shed this fear
as my courage it devours
ears strained I listen
to every crack and howl
recognizing in an instant
the sound of play thats fowl
the sound of running horses
the clash of sharpened sabers
shouts and cries of agony
toward death its author labours
but with the silence of the night
noises carried on the breeze
could be the battle close at hand
or off a thousand leagues
I clutch my breast and hold my breath
as a shadow comes to sight
of an injured wounded man
still bloodied from the fight
I rush to catch him as he falls
praise be that he is you
you're exhausted, wounded, bleeding
but with gods help you'll make it through
and finally we make it home
but I'm afraid I must lament
"you bought semi skimmed you idiot,
I wanted 2 percent!"
Men! They can never get anything right!
Aug 20, 2010
Aug 20, 2010 at 5:41 PM UTC
I can see the future.
It's not a happy foresight.
Dead.
I dream about it every night.
It's not a nice dream.
A nightmare.
Massive constructions made of concrete and steel.
Grey giants moulding the cities.
No colour, only the cold colours of illuminated signs - eyestabbing sabers of light.
You can't see the naked soil, no plants, no sky.
People have no presence, wandering around spiritless -
Controlled by the artificial intellgence they once created,
People themselves are nothing but copies of their past,
Built-in in this huge system of nothing.
You know too much? You die.
The sky is always crying about the lost planet.
Tears in the form of raindrops fall on the city all the time.
Sometimes in my nightmares
a butterfly appears out of nowhere.
Just a small, white one.
A fragile piece of hope fluttering through the dark future.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 5:47 AM UTC
is it possible to miss someone that
you barely spent any time with
and the only memories you have
are ones that others have explained to you,
cute little anecdotes, of how i used to call
him a nickname because i couldn't pronounce
his name, and how i used to always want to be
by his side, despite the fact he didn't want me
near him.
i remember playing hide and go seek,
dressing up in my minnie mouse tutu
while he was darth vader,
with all the lights off and flash lights in hand
we would hide beneath the couch,
inside the storage room,
under his bed.
sometimes we would even have light sabers.
he taught me how to play video games,
showed me how to play well at Tekken
and he let me play the beta for WoW.
he would tell me all the stories there were
about video games, and computers,
this does this and you can do that if you have this,
it's all a foreign language to me but
i enjoy listening.
i only knew him until 2006
when he left to go to where he thought
was home, and it hurt to
know he wasn't in the house anymore.
i couldn't go downstairs, and hear him playing
Blink 182 or Green Day, and there would be
no more flash light tag
and while i never knew him well,
we were never best friends,
i still miss him.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 11:31 AM UTC
Once a peaceful village
where hearts could sing in content
Attacked and abused by drones
beauty and order ***** and destroyed
take your guns and sabers
Today we **** the drones
Ring the bells, use the finger of brawns
Hope the force is with the admins
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 10:32 AM UTC
I come in fear
disrupted and clumsy
Shy, Shaken and awoken
My hands are cold, and feel like sabers
Indomitable spirit
Hospitable creature
Deranged child
Ego maniac
Freckle yourself alive
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 7:25 PM UTC
First the man takes a drink, then the drink takes a drink, finally the drink takes the man.
Dark wings hover, claws extended
Bat wings
Black lips, and dripping fangs
Clear elixir fluid
Drops
One,
Two,
Three...
On the edge of nightmare
Temperance shattered...
Moderation slit by a fine blade
The veil of normality shredded
Replaced by illusion
Civility cannot withstand
The feral urges that storm the barricades
Tin soldiers in array
Swords rattle and gleam
The sabers obsession is to draw your blood
Their aim is to seek your quick
The beast within
Bleeds a vile and putrid green
Noxious, nauseating
Slimy...smelly
Gangrene
It comes out to howl
Prowl
Stalking prey
You are hunted
Your heart and soul are at stake
Knowing not how slender the thread
The silken cord
With which you cling
To this ephemeral life
Hope fades
Dreams ebb
The tide washes in
You are the sand
Slowly washed away
In a swirl
Eroded from the shore
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 3:14 AM UTC
The Boys in Grey lined up that day with the flag rippling in the front line.
Drum and bugle poised and at the ready.
Cadence carried through the rank slow at first and then the piper caught a tune
to the slow march lockstep heads held high.
The Boys in blue mustered up and matched the grey line man for man. Faces looking forward frozen in the task. The task at hand was spectacle and specter bound and all rolled up in one.
To the quick march now. The orders came. hearts pounding as the bugle sounding brought the
moment hither.
Massive Cannons wheeled about as men and boys commenced to shout a deafening roar and thunder. The ground would shake and spirits quake the deafening roar when flesh and bone are left alone to buttress lines on grassy fields as grapeshot whistled loudly.
Rank and file. File and rank
ten thousand souls sent forward. The reaper's blade made steady work
in sun and shade.
Fathers, Brothers, sons and all to hasten to
Elysium's halls ,Thousands more would wail and fall
The dogs of war a rabid pack.
North and south would pay the price.Antietam.
Bull Run. Calvary with sabers drawn rushed headlong to oblivion.
And lay there crying for Mother in waning times of failing life
"Please someone inform my wife that I am bound for Glory"
"Please tell my mother That I miss her and that I love her dearly"
Antietam. Fields of ignoble endings. And later new beginnings.
Four score.
Conceived in liberty
We cannot dedicate. We cannot consecrate.
Of the people, by the people.
Shall not perish from the earth.
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 2:38 AM UTC
He lies on his grey rug
Beats beating down the drumming dim drum of his heart’s racing thump
And visions of sugarplums become glowing green orbs
On his floor where he flew to light-years above
In a space where they fight with sabers and swords
That ignite only words with such terrifying blows
And he whines along to the morgueish melody below
He screams out the lyrics to prove he knows so
The tap of her foot to the beat of the bass
Makes love to the hairs stemming stars off his arm
But she doesn’t love him so he crawls to his bed
Left her to love the crispy carpet instead
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 10:50 AM UTC
We meet our next jump point
dropping out of star drive
we have the jump on them
our dropships detach and dive
One starship against a world
her captain a child of pure war
his crew are the most loyal
they venerate him to godhood and adore
He always fights with his own
he leaves on a drop ship right now
he always fights with his troops
for he is the true commander of the fleet
Just watch them go
see them falling to the land from the skies
we know he will lead them into battle
and no sabers will be rattled
Our lord never disappoints
he has deadlines to fix
we now form another jump point
to see what battle will be next
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 6:30 AM UTC
The sabers rattle
sending
the torn flesh messages
of the Great Old Ones.
No more apologies
or options for your
angst.
Those particular doors
have closed.
Acceptance of your mindless
discontent,
your dissatisfaction
with what is barely
adversarial,
or
at worst inconvenient
has been deemed
unsafe.
Safety, at this point,
Is not a concern.
Those hollows have been filled;
The floodgates closed,
That river ******
This space is unsafe for
your need for a safe space.
(This Space for Rent)
Wanton want,
need,
greed,
have no elbow room
here.
This space is taken.
The fist you find
will knuckle the
small of your spine
and smile.
***
-JBClaywell
© P&ZPublications
Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 1:33 PM UTC
The razors of sabers
Will the wool make my blood thin
Calmly and unconsciously zip up my skin
The sheep don't know the wolf is with them
Aug 14, 2019
Aug 14, 2019 at 1:00 AM UTC
A vast gulf stands between our souls. We each want something different and we cannot even agree to disagree. While we offer the Olive branch, the others rattle sabers and cry for war. It is their way or no way, even though we won the day. There is no surrender, only venom and vitriolic hate. They would rather scorch the earth than surrender one inch of ground. Now the roar is getting louder and there is no right way. We must gird ourselves and prepare the battle as no words of kindness will soothe the wounds that have been opened without a single blow. Now is the time of endurance, now is the time to be strong. The rift will not be healed by intolerance but there is little in the way of hope. So we must simply wait, until cooler heads prevail and we can sit quietly at a table again as brothers despite our differences. Until then we bear our shields and defend ourselves as best we can, until once again we can safely cross the great divide.
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
hopefully, hopefully,
Your waste builds life
your waste is
an excess of love.
I mark the river
and no
face could
make such town,
trickle this in
misanthropy.
its its its
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
****** upon the boundless plain
Locked in hope and searchless claim
We gather at this open court
Becoming just what we had hoped
Helped along with needy hands
Pushed from behind with wilder claims
We look for compassion and find it not
The clock has slipped and fallen
No deadline now to make it's name
We ****** along in silent pain
Knowing that our path was clear
Shaming all who cast us fear
When out of the light there rode
A sixpence horse with rider
Who staked his faith upon your grace
Pounding flag into the soil
And rared his steed upon your door
Proclaimed as if there were no more
While all the while we worried so
Was this the path to happenstance
Or was this right what we have done
To take our sabers into the sun
Clearing all who would be King
Finding not what we inflame
Somewhere close there senses death
In the mist there pleases pets
You make all this in memories time
For all is lost if we're so kind
In the end the road is clear
Another journey close to thee
Be careful what you wish to see.
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 9:08 PM UTC
*O Columbia , forever in the chrysalis -
of battle , stoking the furnaces of tyranny
with rivers of fire fed from the backs of disenfranchised
labor , her abundant wealth smithed into golden sabers ..
Diamond boulevards , dancing waters , pristine
countryside
Poverty , malnutrition , political deflection , genocide*
*O Wanton Republic , deceiver of her citizens
Ringing the bell of war to distract her minions
Forgetting the health of her own children in-
pursuit of clandestine missions
Filling the coffers of American Royalty with -
blind ambition* ...
Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 9:56 PM UTC
What founded this nation wasn't the foreign immigrants
But the overseas workers who wish for better deliverance
Leaving the country in order to escape and survive
In return to rebuild the peoples name and its pride
Their ideas formed in the curiosity of the mind
Bringing such educated and civilize men who are refine
To whom our heroes have brought forth such ability
Feeling freedom in the breeze in the western vicinity
Such action and talks or not only to be whispered
for the youth to act and shout like a raging twister
printing the words of a voiceless ******* nation
Exposing the church and state without doubt or hesitation
pens and tongues are sharper than any sabers blade
our verse we preach putting light to your devious shade
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 10:57 PM UTC
Sabers cross and steel rattles into the heat of battle we go. Back and forth we ****** and withdraw. Dodging sideways and ducking thusly as cannon fire erupts around us. From side to side we see our ally and foe. Causing havoc and destruction we gouge each other with poison and place all that is dear in peril. Slashing at each other, we draw indefensible lines, back and forth we go. While the war is an illusion, the causalities are real as we duel with tongue and pen. Our war of words inflicts damage and creates division. How can such a war end, when our hearts and inkwells supply our ammunition and what we can contrive is unlimited, from the heart of the human soul.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC
Lazor beams
Shot in every difference
It was the future room
Of past decisions
I saw one hit the ground
As I jumped toward the ceiling
Lazor beams
In a galactic cloud
Of feelings
I could dodge a few
But I got shot too
Right through the heart
In the bulls eyes center
Lazor beams
Cutting through the atmosphere
And severing
Even if it means killing
Shot in every distance
Of the worlds limits
Sabers of synergetic
Light emitted cutlery
Beyond the speeding bullets method
Lazor beams
Shot by the menace
Did they get you
Did they get us
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 7:09 PM UTC
In that valley of death the Highlanders made their stand.
To live or die
but not retreat
in the Empire’s hour of need.
The British redoubts had been overrun by the Russians
in the desperate morning fight.
If not for the brave men of the Ninety third
The allies would be put to flight.
The Russian Calvary with sabers slashing
came at them from all points.
The highlanders were not dismayed
by the sound of the Lancers steel.
The thin red line wavered but held
then drove them from the field.
Their courageous stand has been sadly forgotten.
They were passed over by the Press.
For that same day the Light Brigade
were led to the slaughter next.
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 11:12 PM UTC
Times were always changing
I guess we were changing too
Hanging on bent curves
And straightened bows
Our eyes wide open and seeing
We couldn’t see yesterday
But do the walls go up?
The slings and arrows
The battles in never-ending war
Rattling sabers
Not gonna save us
We open our arms
As dark as it sounds we open our arms...
And take heart
Take solace
Find fortitude in the truth
Times were always changing
I guess we were changing too
Its universal
Its the particle unto the dust
The shine and the sheen
The rust
Its all true
There is no poison I can live without
Not even love
Sep 2, 2019
Sep 2, 2019 at 5:38 PM UTC