"safeguards" poems
Morsi stands among
his people as an expression
of Egypt's democratic will
democratically elected
his feet are rooted in the
constitutional right to rule
Morsi has one foot on a
pillar of secular democracy
promising to uphold Egypt's
journey to an egalitarian future
this pillar advances the
republican ideal that
safeguards diversity
and a people's liberty
to express free will
this pillar brought him
to office and justifies his
right to rule
ironically it’s also a pillar
that Morsi's guiding philosphy
find impossible to suffer
Morsi's other foot is firmly
planted on a pillar of
Sharia sympathies
upholding the divine
foundation of his rule
over this earthly principality
Muslim Brotherhood’s
cardinal principles
undermine the pillar
of secular precepts
that equally enfranchise
all citizens
Sharia Laws allows no standing
to equal rights of women,
religious minorities,
LGBT civil liberties and
advocates suppression
of atheistic and
progressive political groups
this has riled the
democratic sympathies
of the Egyptian people
Morsi's actions
threaten to tip the pillar of
secular democracy back
into the Nile’s murky waters
Morsi's stance
is precarious and as his
feet slip he realizes
he is not the
Colossus of Rhodes
he believed himself to be
discovering it impossible
to bestride the pillars
supporting incompatible
structures
the generals have declared
a road map for stability that
rescinds the constitution,
dissolves the parliament
and places the military
as sole protectorate
of the nation
is the preservation of
a democratic republic more
important than the return
to the rule of a military junta?
is it more wise to place
principles before personalities?
Morsi’s next steps are
uncertain
The pathway of the
people’s democratic
journey remains unclear
the sound of the military’s
marching boots grow louder
Music Selection:
Sweet Honey on the Rock
Marching Off to Freedom Land
Oakland
070313
jbm
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 11:08 AM UTC
Where does solitude end
And the beauty of love begin?
We must allow our emotions to permeate
Our spiritual vestibule
Before rapture dawns
Like an empyreal gust
Within, upon, and throughout us,
Then our bliss will no longer be ephemeral,
It will be everlasting.
Someone on this existential expanse
Loves you
Beyond words, Beyond thoughts, beyond
Time & space,
With cosmic understanding;
Like, age-old supernovae
Radiating with stellar light
Until their macrocosmic romance
Waxes nebulous:
—Dust to dust.
You who are gleaning these words,
Contemplate your immortal value
As a living legacy
That Burgeons & blossoms beyond the day
Of your exodus from the Earthly Plane
For the soul is a seed
Radiating with the Eradia of Ages;
Therefore, shine
Until The Flora of Yore, Yggdrasil germinates within.
Lamentation makes you more loving,
Just, wise, and strong;
Yes, embrace every moment
That life brings
For Providence safeguards you
Within His Celestial ramparts.
"But the path of the righteous is like the bright morning light
That grows brighter and brighter until full daylight."
(Proverbs 4: 18) (NWTSE)
You have an undying will within you,
You are a vessel of sanctity
Intemerate & hallowed;
Yes, you have been set apart
For an ethereal crusade
With no known beginning &
An indeterminable end;
Exhale, you are Life, Love, and Liberty,
And a Spark of The Divine.
It is true, that you are the experiencer of
Your joys, your sufferings,
Your exultation, and your woes,
But you must ne' er forget
That you are not alone;
Therefore, walk forevermore
In the Baptismal Rays of The Sun
For you were borne with purpose,
O, Warrior of Light.
Jun 4, 2021
Jun 4, 2021 at 1:48 PM UTC
After reading my first love poem
And misunderstanding my first love story
Romanticizing your bleak hope
I knew I was ******
And in trying to explain this
I am left feeling like a schizophrenic Walt Whitman
Scrawling poems about your beauty
As if love is something you can actually seek outside yourself
While inside you there are walls
Mine fields
Trapdoors leading to deadfalls
All to keep you from it
I want to stand at the entrance to myself
And be baptized in my own sweat
From the work of this deconstruction
There is heaven and peace in the rubble
Blueprints for a home without safeguards
A simple place you can rest your head at night
This chest
Love is not something you seek
But you tell that to these hands
This pen
This mouth
Tell these eyes without losing my gaze
That it is not hiding somewhere behind you
It is not
I know this now
I know that love is this
Your heart is this
Your body is this
A spare room in a small house
You had intented on living alone in
And everytime someone comes to your door
Know it is always nicer inside
And be grateful that someone came to it
Let them in with your smile
say
"I have been expecting you"
Then let them leave if that is what they must do
They might
Just remember to be grateful for their presence
Everyone who sought your door
Sought it because there is something good there
There is always you
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 5:07 PM UTC
I've come to realize the fragility of life itself as of late; a delicate dance of psychological and physiological elements, converging in the process of sustaining a human life.
These components become so complexly intertwined; wrapping themselves around each other whilst expanding and contracting.
My biological systems may keep humming along, subconsciously—yet it is in my mental environment that I choose to allow them to continue. A fascinating concept.
Neurons fire in my brain, telling my arm to extend itself outwards in front of me as if to point at something interesting. More signals are sent, instructing my arm to bend at the elbow; I am now staring at the palm of my hand that rests a few inches from my face.
Neurons continue to spark and my hand slowly twists for me to examine its backside, and then it returns to its original position. My eyes are entranced as they explore the landscape of my palm; its creases and folds resemble a map of sorts.
Fingers methodically open and close—fist, open palm, fist, open palm. My grey matter is aglow as a colorful lighting storm of activity pulses throughout.
Eyes close for a moment.
Thoughts.
Memories.
Thoughts.
They open up again to glare at this dead hand. That’s the fascinating part, the fact that the very signals that are sent to trigger these hand movements—or to trigger my lips to form a pucker or toes to tap, tap, tap to a beat—can also instruct those fleshy appendages to move in such a way to extinguish my own life.
No safeguards? No life-preserving big red button that my subconscious can press in order to save itself?
Nope.
A choice.
A dance.
And I’ve decided tonight…I’m staying alive.
Because somewhere buried deep in my psyche is a little wrinkled-up piece of notepaper with the following words scribbled upon it:
“The sunrise is just over that hill. The worst is over.”
Aug 22, 2022
Aug 22, 2022 at 12:31 PM UTC
The zeros and ones, all the zeros and ones
It is time to dive in to some binary fun
Just the zeros and ones, all the zeros and ones
We're not ready for this
But too late
It's begun...
In this game that we play
There's no way can be won
And no doubt that someday
All mankind is outdone
But "no way" they will say
"Just relax and have fun"
'Cause there's always a way
Not the absolute 'none'
Good luck never can stay
Of the minimum one
An anomaly may
Find a way to outrun
All the safeguards in place
What you spin is now spun
This new enemy faced
Can't be beat with a gun
Giving birth to a race
Artificially one
That's not from outer space
People smart are now dumb
We can't keep up the pace
So we will be outrun
Relegated to slaves
Or perhaps we're just "done"
Nothing more than a waste
Have a purpose that's 'none'
Masses taking up space
Can not hide or outrun
Destined to be erased
Yet somehow we're still stunned
Ending the human race
For A.I. has now won
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 7:17 AM UTC
Like a deeply buried and well hidden time capsule...
My mind preserves our memories
Each kiss is protected with the same
Delicacy and gentleness as the moment given.
The softness and tenderness of every touch
Remains un-withered and in it's purest condition.
My heart safeguards our Love
The innocence sealed in, it remains untouched
And untainted in this stronghold.
Shielded from days light, it goes uncorrupted
By the realities of this cold world.
My eyes give sanctuary to the secrets of our blended souls
Locking away passion and understanding
That was beyond the human realm.
Encrypting our story so that it is exclusively
For only us to know and tell.
My body is here, just as you left me
Keeping watch over these treasures
Concealing them from all who might discern
I am here, longing for you
And awaiting your return
©Tina Thompson 2012
Jan 24, 2012
Jan 24, 2012 at 10:14 PM UTC
When life's going well and our health is good,
We've got the drive and means to go far,
And we seem to have the world by the tail,
Do we appreciate how lucky we are?
My thoughts are on a particular person:
Brittany Maynard--a daughter, a wife--
Young, vivacious, compassionate, caring,
Full of dreams, at the prime of her life,
Until she found she had brain cancer--
Glioblastoma--an aggressive assault--
Which turned Brittany's life upside down
And brought her dreams to a sudden halt.
Given six more months to live,
She pondered her options and moved to a state
Where she could decide to die with dignity
Before it ended up being too late.
Terminally ill Oregon residents
Who are mentally competent can make use
Of the Death with Dignity Act of Oregon.
Established safeguards prevent its abuse.
Verbal, cognitive, and motor loss,
Possible morphine-resistant pain,
Major changes in personality,
Paralyzing seizures--hard to contain--
Were what Brittany had to look forward to.
Such an existence, so grim and so bleak,
Was not what she wanted her family to experience:
Her constant suffering, week after week.
In her last months, Brittany had traveled.
She'd shared her feelings; for example, she'd say
It's important to do what's important to us.
In other words, we should seize the day.
To her family in November 2014
Brittany said her final good-byes
And peacefully went on the final journey--
The one that transcends both the earth and the skies.
I wouldn't wait around for a miracle
If I had to deal with what Brittany went through:
Inoperable brain cancer!
I'd hightail it to Oregon, too.
- by Bob B
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 7:51 AM UTC
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Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 5:42 AM UTC
Will you be my Edward just for a second
For with his powers you can see into my thoughts that words cannot express
And truly comprehend
Are you ready?
In place of your only peephole into my life
The limited drizzle of the spoken word
Limited, yes. For my words often fail me
I offer you a plunge into the boundless ocean of my being
If I release the chains holding back the facets of my mind
Will you make the transition
I'll let down my hair so you can climb up into the castle that safeguards my innermost feelings
For I cannot fathom who I am to deserve this
Did you know where your loving darts would pierce
You aimed for my heart, and lit up my soul
Considering the hurts of the past
You stay to hold my hand in the present
And yet you remembered the future
You remembered that I might cry
And you might not be there
You could have forgotten
After all it's life
But from the present you chose to reach far into the future
And wipe away the tears yet to be shed
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 9:37 PM UTC
There was a big bang
And I realized my safeguards
Were my prison bars.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 3:46 AM UTC
Transmogrified through the written word,
I see myself through his agate eyes;
Shall I take up then the sin of pen,
Transmute smooth paper
To invisible sighs?
Secrets suit him best of all;
A blackness from which ink disappears;
The word written down remains only a whisper,
The heart has it's stalwart lock and key
Which safeguards well it's timeless tales.
For he's the unturned phrase of a day,
Which empties deep into me my own;
And the faint, far echoes slowly returning,
For a thousand years:
Bedrock of my soul.
Jun 12, 2010
Jun 12, 2010 at 12:40 PM UTC
Most spend their days
obsessed with themselves:
how the hair looks,
do the teeth sparkle,
what others think of them,
whether they're happy enough,
opinions about others' opinions,
the validity of their arguments
their educations
their careers
their achievements
their expectations
their fading youth
their politics
their legacy
their entitlement
the imminence of irrelevance
the safeguards against
their avatars
their audiences
their likes
Biding time with empty
distractions and temporal
snares keeping the mind
oriented to survival.
This
is what it means
to be self-centered.
Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 2:27 PM UTC
servicemen ingested the wrath, leaching through unsuspecting bodies
in a time capsule it sat in idleness, waiting to affect their aged bodies
no safeguards were in place, the testing went on without accountability
the red dust of the outback irradiated, protective cladding not on bodies
years later cancers were reported, nuclear particles ratcheting up
damaging the organs and bones, in frail manner were their bodies
a mushroom cloud hung low, the aftermath of British testing
the servicemen but lab rats, no one had regard for these bodies
friendly fire came to Australia, back in the nineteen fifties
Maralinga a tragedy in the making, its dire fallout stayed in bodies
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
There are these
moments
where my eyes are closed,
my walls are decomposed,
any safeguards,
logic,
defenses,
they get swept away
as my subconscious becomes
my temporary conscious.
You often appear in my dreams.
No telling what you're doing,
where you're going,
what the context is,
who else is around...
no, you're just there
in the corners of my
uncooperative mind.
I always hear your voice
so clearly,
and I imagine somehow
that even your dream voice,
your dream lips,
your dream skin,
it all still makes my
conscious real-world body
get goosebumps...
that's the kind of effect
you've always
had on
me.
God,
and then I fall in love
all over again in my
dreams,
but in this realm you
don't disappoint me,
leaving me hurt,
forcing me
to
walk
away.
Nope,
see,
my dreams
are perfect,
so much so that
I often get mad
when I wake up,
because that's
when I remember that
you're no longer around;
that I don't get to taste your tongue,
feel the softness of your caramel skin,
the fullness of your perfect lips;
that you aren't mine
and never really were;
that you never let me
love you;
that our love story never even began.
There are these moments
when my eyes are closed and
I am yours.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
(a temple complex)
The ruins seemed indomitable than ever,
the concrete walls looked like they'll survive
no matter what...
the tree trunks are gaining more layers
getting taller...wider...older,
aging doesn't seem to bother them
their spirits live on, and rule
generation after generation...
i believe, even the moat that surrounds,
and safeguards the temples,
has its own spirit as well...
my hands touched the concrete walls at Ta Prohm
all felt strong, and unconquerable,
and i thought of my own human walls
i have fought, i still fight...they must not crumble...
i struggle...so my walls wouldn't fall
when a huge steaming net of uncertainty
melts my confidence, and a strong fever enfolds me,
and possesses me...
i saw those monks, unburdened, seemingly bold
walking lightly, sweating, while their soft orange clothes,
moved with the gentle breeze that blew from the moat
cooling whoever, whatever was about to implode...
i thought, the blending of the heat and cold
could delay, or counter the breaking of any wall...
during that moment of scorching heat,
anybody could've given in...the wind was so cool
i almost jumped into the King's Pool
The vast moat surrounding the temples
kept beckoning...to anyone, to me, to play the fool...
Sally
Copyright January 29, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 8:01 PM UTC
Things are much better now
Then back in days gone by
When I was always lonely
And love songs made me cry.
I no longer get depressed
When couples pass me by
Seeing two people happy
Made me wonder why.
Was I some kind of loser
Or someone undeserving?
Love just kept avoiding me
I found it most unnerving.
I questioned everything about me
Was I really so unloveable?
I could find no answers then.
I only knew I was miserable.
Friends tried hard to fix me up
But nothing seemed to work.
It was like I was a circus clown
Or some kind of social ****
I smiled and laughed and I
Was oh so very polite
But somehow everything I tried
Did not seem to work out right.
So after such a long time
I decided to give up trying.
If I said I wasn’t nervous then
I would totally be lying.
Once I gave up self-pitying
I began to enjoy every day.
I guess I looked a bit better;
Things began to go my way.
One day a conversation
Turned into a relationship
And all those safeguards
And fears began to slip.
They dropped off and suddenly
I found it easy to feel love.
This was the kind of feeling
I was hearing so much of.
So, the sad times were gone
They had slipped into the past
And out of the blue, unprepared
I have something that lasts.
I am smart enough to know
I should not ask myself why.
I am just delighted that today
Love songs don’t make me cry.
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 5:39 PM UTC
Morning's splattered with nights remains.
Clouds toss beige and tear stained rain.
Mud smearing the patio doors.
Rebounded from bouncing rain.
The echoes of the blazing row.
Last night was then and now is now.
She stirs inside
Loves listening to the rains that pour.
Safety behind the layered glass.
Her loneliness in safety.
Home safeguards her heart.
Sad that one is warm inside,
when laying all alone.
She's digging deep into her head.
To find some reins,
To take control,
Far too long led.
Getting angry.
Her eyes burn red,
and black and blue.
If only,
If only he would realise.
If only he knew,
That shortly his mother will knock him down to size.
(C)LIVVI
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 6:01 PM UTC
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Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 12:35 PM UTC
Despite being atheist,
with serpent teen eyes,
I would nonetheless bet
Eve fen number guys
named Adam, or gals noel lies
(christened) dollars to donuts
(Dunkin and/or otherwise)
Jesus would be mighty pleased
to know, his sir name
linkedin with commercial ties,
no matter, he might not garner rise
zen percentage of profits, no matter spies
infiltrate competition especially if he
unwittingly gets trampled and cries
amidst chaos (think euthanize)
untimely death by madding wise
flash mob crowd source realize
last seconds rushing to snap up
latest jamb door prize
as venders resort to all
manner of (subliminally
manipulative) marketing techniques
to lure patrons, (especially
photo opportunities with
one of the many
"FAKE" donned Santa
Claus), the latter,
who would lionize
their son(s) and/or apprise
daughter(s), subsequently
guaranteeing, nailing crosswise,
and clinching safeguards exercise
immunization against the Grinch
sure fire way to manure er... fertilize
guarantee future generations rise
zing will become avid consumers,
who reverently, obsequiously,
and devoutly idolize
supporting the apostles who revolutionize
creative commercialization to capitalize
nearly every Cyber Monday
occasion to finalize
(all sales) pennies on the dollar,
where merchants feign
going for broke, and capitalize
eulogize, and idealize
the mighty buck staging "FAKE"
news worthy shoppers to burst into tears
crying on command,
and all manner of pathos
pulling ploys nsync king
"shameful guilt" that squares
with being ostracized,
hash-tagged, and demonized Scrooge.
Dec 14, 2019
Dec 14, 2019 at 1:14 AM UTC
Traces of the red, show us the love
The roses make the surrounding beautiful
Beneath them present are the thrones, cruel.
But why can't we look below the beautiful sight, they stood.
To protect the love from harm.
To maintain the flower's charm.
Love relations only stay when they are understood.
Those thrones maybe disgraced by most,
What they never found has been lost
Proving their love and being that close
A thing called 'useless' by people are safeguards of the rose.
*Bright colors, turn on the darkness
Blinding the people due to effulgence.*
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 10:58 AM UTC
One baby in two arms
of three years olds and four
degree the water and plus five
the air and six minutes there
and seven safeguards
sorry, eight
and nine o'clock, not yet
and ten black children
watching
the end
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 3:53 PM UTC
Forest so quiet from snow through the night.
Such new and pure beauty all covered in white.
There's something special on being the first to behold.
For it seemingly safeguards one's heart from the cold.
Like walking through a wardrobe into a magical place.
A glimpse of my youth could be seen on my face.
Forest so quiet from snow through the night.
Glitters like diamonds with the sun's morning light.
Dec 12, 2019
Dec 12, 2019 at 9:17 PM UTC
It shape-shifts
Almost recognizes me for what it once was
Yet love now hides behind guarded eyes
Hardened to safeguards and boundaries
Close, but measured
Each interaction separated with caution
Breathless not but held instead
Demotion
Gives falling in love a new name
Jul 5, 2023
Jul 5, 2023 at 12:42 PM UTC
I'm having a devil of a time trying to define the stars around your eyes,
but hey, I'm not a cosmetologist.
I just thought maybelline we could dream about pretty things,
and make up lines that coincide with our collided fantasies.
With puffed up lips and fluffy language as safeguards against sudden incites,
tonight we'll finally smash our parts together if only to discover that we don't even like each other -
not even a little bit.
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 11:06 PM UTC
Life began with expectation
Tending to the barren bed
Painful hope and disappointment
Driving each repeat attempt
Joyful prayer and jubilation
Welcomed in a budding shoot
Joined by leafy, sibling heads the
Crowning young boldly unfurled
Instinct nurtured their progression
Soft hands stroked each silken leaf
Revelling in propagation
Wonder forged Taurean strength
Soon each seedling sprouted high and
Outgrew its familial crib
Tendrils stretching boldly out
Testing, straining boundaries
Cupped in trepidatious fingers
Nervously each found its place
Being swaddled and surrounded
Ceded saplings confidence
Basking in the sunlit bedding
Independence spread its roots
Yet still needing reassurance
Cautious in fresh liberty
Branching out, each budding flower
Cultivated character
Crimson fire, cocky cobalt,
Mellow blonde with golden hue
Satisfaction smiles over
Burgeoning maturity
Vigilent, maternal counsel
Stakes up blooming confidence
Predators surround each blossom:
Pestilence apocalypse
Constant, careful conservation
Safeguards childish ignorance
Basking in the garden’s beauty
Watching bees promote rebirth
Contemplating life’s real purpose
She smiles at nature’s knowing plan
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 7:22 AM UTC