"timor" poems
Afghanistan needs hellopoetry
Albania needs hellopoetry
Algeria needs hellopoetry
Andorra needs hellopoetry
Angola needs hellopoetry
Antigua and Barbuda needs hellopoetry
Argentina needs hellopoetry
Armenia needs hellopoetry
Australia needs hellopoetry
Austria needs hellopoetry
Azerbaijan needs hellopoetry
The Bahamas needs hellopoetry
Bahrain needs hellopoetry
Bangladesh needs hellopoetry
Barbados needs hellopoetry
Belarus needs hellopoetry
Belgium needs hellopoetry
Belize needs hellopoetry
Benin needs hellopoetry
Bhutan needs hellopoetry
Bolivia needs hellopoetry
Bosnia and Herzegovina needs hellopoetry
Botswana needs hellopoetry
Brazil needs hellopoetry
Brunei needs hellopoetry
Bulgaria needs hellopoetry
Burkina Faso needs hellopoetry
Burundi needs hellopoetry
Cabo Verde needs hellopoetry
Cambodia needs hellopoetry
Cameroon needs hellopoetry
Canada needs hellopoetry
Central African Republic needs hellopoetry
Chad needs hellopoetry
Chile needs hellopoetry
China needs hellopoetry
Colombia needs hellopoetry
Comoros needs hellopoetry
Congo, Democratic Republic is in need of hellopoetry
Congo, Republic is in need of hellopoetry
Costa Rica needs hellopoetry
Côte d’Ivoire needs hellopoetry
Croatia needs hellopoetry
Cuba needs hellopoetry
Cyprus needs hellopoetry
Czech Republic needs hellopoetry
Denmark needs hellopoetry
Djibouti needs hellopoetry
Dominica needs hellopoetry
Dominican Republic needs hellopoetry
East Timor (Timor-Leste) needs hellopoetry
Ecuador needs hellopoetry
Egypt needs hellopoetry
El Salvador needs hellopoetry
Equatorial Guinea needs hellopoetry
Eritrea needs hellopoetry
Estonia needs hellopoetry
Eswatini needs hellopoetry
Ethiopia needs hellopoetry
Fiji needs hellopoetry
Finland needs hellopoetry
France needs hellopoetry
Gabon needs hellopoetry
The Gambia needs hellopoetry
Georgia needs hellopoetry
Germany needs hellopoetry
Ghana needs hellopoetry
Greece needs hellopoetry
Grenada needs hellopoetry
Guatemala needs hellopoetry
Guinea needs hellopoetry
Guinea-Bissau needs hellopoetry
Guyana needs hellopoetry
Haiti needs hellopoetry
Honduras needs hellopoetry
Hungary needs hellopoetry
Iceland needs hellopoetry
India needs hellopoetry
Indonesia needs hellopoetry
Iran needs hellopoetry
Iraq needs hellopoetry
Ireland needs hellopoetry
Israel needs hellopoetry
Italy needs hellopoetry
Jamaica needs hellopoetry
Japan needs hellopoetry
Jordan needs hellopoetry
Kazakhstan needs hellopoetry
Kenya needs hellopoetry
Kiribati needs hellopoetry
Korea, North needs hellopoetry
Korea, South needs hellopoetry
Kosovo needs hellopoetry
Kuwait needs hellopoetry
Kyrgyzstan needs hellopoetry
Laos needs hellopoetry
Latvia needs hellopoetry
Lebanon needs hellopoetry
Lesotho needs hellopoetry
Liberia needs hellopoetry
Libya needs hellopoetry
Liechtenstein needs hellopoetry
Lithuania needs hellopoetry
Luxembourg needs hellopoetry
Madagascar needs hellopoetry
Malawi needs hellopoetry
Malaysia needs hellopoetry
Maldives needs hellopoetry
Mali needs hellopoetry
Malta needs hellopoetry
Marshall Islands needs hellopoetry
Mauritania needs hellopoetry
Mauritius needs hellopoetry
Mexico needs hellopoetry
Micronesia, Federated States is in need of hellopoetry
Moldova needs hellopoetry
Monaco needs hellopoetry
Mongolia needs hellopoetry
Montenegro needs hellopoetry
Morocco needs hellopoetry
Mozambique needs hellopoetry
Myanmar (Burma) needs hellopoetry
Namibia needs hellopoetry
Nauru needs hellopoetry
Nepal needs hellopoetry
Netherlands needs hellopoetry
New Zealand needs hellopoetry
Nicaragua needs hellopoetry
Niger needs hellopoetry
Nigeria needs hellopoetry
North Macedonia needs hellopoetry
Norway needs hellopoetry
Oman needs hellopoetry
Pakistan needs hellopoetry
Palau needs hellopoetry
Panama needs hellopoetry
Papua New Guinea needs hellopoetry
Paraguay needs hellopoetry
Peru needs hellopoetry
Philippines needs hellopoetry
Poland needs hellopoetry
Portugal needs hellopoetry
Qatar needs hellopoetry
Romania needs hellopoetry
Russia needs hellopoetry
Rwanda needs hellopoetry
Saint Kitts and Nevis needs hellopoetry
Saint Lucia needs hellopoetry
Saint Vincent and the Grenadines needs hellopoetry
Samoa needs hellopoetry
San Marino needs hellopoetry
Sao Tome and Principe needs hellopoetry
Saudi Arabia needs hellopoetry
Senegal needs hellopoetry
Serbia needs hellopoetry
Seychelles needs hellopoetry
Sierra Leone needs hellopoetry
Singapore needs hellopoetry
Slovakia needs hellopoetry
Slovenia needs hellopoetry
Solomon Islands needs hellopoetry
Somalia needs hellopoetry
South Africa needs hellopoetry
Spain needs hellopoetry
Sri Lanka needs hellopoetry
Sudan needs hellopoetry
Sudan, South needs hellopoetry
Suriname needs hellopoetry
Sweden needs hellopoetry
Switzerland needs hellopoetry
Syria needs hellopoetry
Taiwan needs hellopoetry
Tajikistan needs hellopoetry
Tanzania needs hellopoetry
Thailand needs hellopoetry
Togo needs hellopoetry
Tonga needs hellopoetry
Trinidad and Tobago needs hellopoetry
Tunisia needs hellopoetry
Turkey needs hellopoetry
Turkmenistan needs hellopoetry
Tuvalu needs hellopoetry
Uganda needs hellopoetry
Ukraine needs hellopoetry
United Arab Emirates needs hellopoetry
United Kingdom needs hellopoetry
United States needs hellopoetry
Uruguay needs hellopoetry
Uzbekistan needs hellopoetry
Vanuatu needs hellopoetry
Vatican City needs hellopoetry
Venezuela needs hellopoetry
Vietnam needs hellopoetry
Yemen needs hellopoetry
Zambia needs hellopoetry
Zimbabwe needs hellopoetry
Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC
A soldier he was
But soldier no more
Twenty years or so
A veteran of war
Afghanistan, Hawaii, East Timor
A soldier of war
A soldier of war
Bringing back souvenirs
Another scar, another day
Where everyone was frontline
And they suffered the pain
He came home again
But everything had changed
The person he could've been
His choices had rearranged.
I sat and spoke with him
When I ran away from home
Just me and him, in the park
On the grass and together alone.
He apologised for not being there
When I needed him most
First time I've ever really seen him cry
Hard for him to compose
He held out my hands
"Did you think you were given a ***
Of anger, that's all you'll get in life?"
He looked me in the eyes, his own watering a lot
He looks away, sniffles a bit
"I found out the hard way"
And as he does, I see his pain
From twenty years ago to this very day
Afghanistan, Hawaii, East Timor and beyond
My own father
My own father
A veteran of war
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 12:21 AM UTC
So proud to live in Queensland, for all it has to share
For anywhere else, in this great land I really just don't care.
I love the smell of burning cane
The ash flying through the air.
This sunburnt state was my home before I went away.
My wife and kids I left behind, hoping to see another day
I answered this great nations call when I was just nineteen.
That didn't stop the enthusiasm, boy I was so keen.
Timor, Iraq, Afghanistan, before I turned twenty five.
On return home to this state my life then took a dive.
The friend left first, the social life. No more did that exist.
The nightmares and the drinking took their place, to this day they do persist.
My family suffered most of all, my moods went bad to worse.
I went through stages where i almost gave up on everything in my life that had any worth.
I got some help in Hospital to help mend my tormented ways.
That way I can spend the rest of my life spending all my days,
In this sunburnt state of ours, at the family home
Now I only feel normal, when I am alone
I now spend all my time on the family farm raising sheep pigs chooks and cows.They can at least be trusted, I can spend hours and hours
This state is more than just a loc, a place you say you live, Queensland is the only place that has given so much, but still continues to give.
I love this state, ill never move. Till the day I die
Even if they said to me, it's easy if you try
But when I go remember that, I have been tormented, torn and broken,
but at least i lived in paradise the truest words ever spoken
Gavin H
20 May 2014
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 4:05 AM UTC
You partied hard when you could
Gold mini skirt and heels
But underneath the glamour
Were guts and nerves of steel
Home was fun and jolly japes
A lively social whirl
But work was war zones, scary scrapes
For our brave reporter girl
You found yourself in Libya
Met the mad dog's stare
He liked you, it was a feather in your cap
You made your name out there
Sri Lanka's where you lost an eye
To shrapnel flying in the dark
They thought you were a Tamil Tiger
Hiding in the grass
Back home someone told you off for smoking
Quick came your reply
Don't concern yourself, I promise you
That's not how I'll die
In Chechnya you made it out
Escaping with your life
As mortars fell you legged it
Eight days over mountain snow and ice
East Timor was your finest hour
Fifteen hundred people protected by too few
You refused to leave, they were saved
That was down to you
Luck ran out in Syria
You feared another massacre, tried to warn the world
So the shells once more homed in on you
And killed our brave reporter girl
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 6:26 PM UTC
There she was
An angel in beautiful words
Words found only in his dreams
In those hidden corners of lubriciousness
Musky shadows muted the sunniest of days
Like-minds grazed in intensity
And from those shadows rose her sun
Resplendent and bold
Illuminating every nook and cranny as she passed
There is no judgement as he reads
Those possibilities in her beautiful words
Could it be, there is another...kindred
But no, doubt fills a mind wrapped in norms and raised in terms of proper
Curiosity begs the question
Her truth answers his innermost lies
Looking for justification, a way out
Raised believing, too good to be true always is
Looking for a way to feed doubt and squelch a fledgling reality
Yet found his fantasies in this angel
With a face that made them real
What do you do when your demons become human
When your shame is no longer shameful
When you are accepted as you are, in all your seeming depravity
When your darkest yearnings are craved by another wading in the pool of lasciviousness
When your concupidity is realized
Crossing the line dragging fantasy into daylight
Holding on with both hands basking in the sun
There is a sweetness in this angel with beautiful words
A loving nature, a truth that cannot lie
And there is a gentleness in his heart that he cannot reconcile with darkest passion
So, what do you do with a dream come true?
You walk away into the norm and leave the joy to burn in her sun
Pretending her sweetness feels no pain
Hoping against hope, that her reality was never your dream
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 3:11 AM UTC
I know I don't exactly have a way with words,
Its just, when I look at you...
I feel the way waves look when they're crashing.
I can feel my thoughts smashing against each other,
And I can feel my heart racing.
This isn't a love poem,
This is a poem about fear.
You made me feel like the ocean,
And I was acting like a child running to escape the foam.
I was too afraid to swim in the water.
I was too afraid to experience all of what the ocean had to offer,
Because when I did,
When I did finally learn to swim,
I got caught in the undertow.
I tried.
I really,
Really,
tried.
I took such a long time to get in the water,
And when I did, I couldn't breathe.
I got pulled under.
Please, believe me,
I tried to swim in the same water as you.
I tried to swim to you.
I tried to swim using the very same technique,
I just...
Couldn't.
I got pulled under.
Do you believe me?
I did.
The water took me, and swallowed me.
I got thrown against the rocks.
I got caught between the rocks and the ocean floor,
And no one could find me..
I tried to get out,
I tried to swim.
I'm sorry.
I'm still stuck,
Here on this ocean floor.
I'm still trying to get out.
I know you're swimming in different waters now.
I know.
I'm still trying though.
I'm still trying.
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
"Congratulations" The head nurse was an attractive lady with the rank of squadron leader, I think." You have Amoebic Dysentery, that means you can't eat and you must drink at least eight pints of chilled water every day until you are clear, when you have eaten your first meal without any problems, you can go, until then keep drinking the chilled water, and under no circumstances must you eat any food at all"
We remained in the isolation hospital for about five weeks, It was tedious in the extreme but it had to be done, After the indignity of a medical, involving a swab of cotton wool on a pair of long nosed forceps, we were both given the all clear and discharged. We were instructed to go to the transit block and wait there for further orders, we would be sent for when a flight was available to take us to rejoin the rest of the unit in Australia.
the transit block was a huge empty three storied building that had once been used as a prison camp by the Japanese. We chose a smaller room at the end of the ground floor, it was a bit more comfortable there.
We used it as a base, for exploring the camp, no one seemed to want us, and as the days passed we spent a lot of the time swimming in the pool at the Selarang barracks. which was only a couple of miles down the road.
The walking and swimming was good excersize, but we needed to keep our eyes open, there were often snakes on the road, ready to bite the unwary.
One afternoon, we were stopped by a redcap. He demanded to see our twelve fifties ( identification cards). "Where have you two been for the last three weeks." "In the transit block Sergeant." "No you haven't, I have checked it every day." Where is your gear?" "In the transit block Sergeant." "Show me." he demanded. We did. "This is not the transit block, this room is reserved for fire pickets!" We have been searching for you two for weeks." I couldn't help smiling. The sergeant was not amused! Two days later we climbed aboard a twin engined transport .
We were bound for Australia via Ceylon and a small Island somewhere in The East Timor Sea. Of course nothing could go wrong, it was just going to be a routine flight!
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 9:19 AM UTC
Lightening
in a night sky:
not there,
there,
not there.
Our lives
in this world:
not here,
here,
not here.
From nothing
a brief flash
of being
before nothing.
Death does
not end,
it resumes.
No fear.
~mce
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
philosophia est scio nihil, continuum timor et taedium ego: actus automaton: in excelsis hospes.
in england the ad hominem principle
is easily brushed aside,
someone might have something
interesting to say, even though
all would agree to an abhorrence
in terms of moral relativism
which is an abhorrence-in-itself,
why make anything apart from
space & time relative? people change,
get with the grooves and your
free will and your freedom to commit
mistakes...
in england the ad hominem principle
is a farce... it doesn't exist...
that's why the english can't philosophise,
they can sing, but they can't philosophise,
because instead of ad hominem
we have the principle ad populo,
yeah, i'm an apologist of heidegger,
it took me 2 years and several other
books in between to finish his being and time,
because i believed he was onto something,
and the argument against him
on the principles of ad hominem is deflected
toward argumentation ad zeitgeist,
yet in england engaging with controversy
of the times is curbed and censored
by the principle ad populo, i.e.:
to the people.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
O Fear of the Lord! Wisdom’s beginning!
Humbler of the exalted! Exalter
Of the humbled! Thou, when none from sinning
Have refrained, cause Vanity to falter
In its stride, giving us David’s psalter
So that we might gain the ability
To tread well the path of humility!
O Fear of the Lord! Creation’s reverence
For her Creator! You make the poor one’s
Trembling dread a bridge to span the severance
Which disobedience made between sons
And their Father; He who all evil shuns
And yet with haste will pardon the contrite
Heart, for His mercy is His truest might!
O Fear of the Lord! Give us instruction!
By thy teaching all presumption destroy,
Lest our conceit become an obstruction -
Let not our hubris the Most High annoy!
Teach us how best this wisdom to employ:
“Know, O man, that thou wert formed from the dust;
And at thy end, return to it you must!”
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 9:15 AM UTC
Muitas são as cabeças que se agilizam em governar Portugal. Sim cabeças de políticos, que bem, ou mal formados nos encaminham no fracasso.
Aquilo que é de todos e contributo de todos deveria ser nosso. Falo do Sistema Nacional de Saúde em primeiro, para o qual todos contribuímos e onde muitos dos que lá trabalham, optam por de uma necessidade populacional fazer uma fonte de rendimento. A seguir e porque também a mim me toca, justiça. Como pode ser possível que a justiça, solene e a segunda coisa mais importante da Constituição, esteja hoje nas mãos da comunicação social que diariamente condena e absolve tanta gente, cometendo diariamente vários crimes de devassa e nada lhes acontece.
Infraestruturas de Portugal, redes viárias construídas com o dinheiro de todos nós e muitas delas exploradas por particulares.
TAP, EDP, PT, Correios de Portugal, águas e outras instituições privatizadas que hoje só esvaziam os nossos bolsos.
Em tempos Portugal era mais que um retângulo ao largo da península ibérica, era o Brasil, Angola, Moçambique, Guiné, Timor, Macau e muito mais ainda foi derretido nas mãos de quem as teve.
Cá dentro, apesar de pequenos hoje, Portugueses julgam-se os que vivem em cidades grandes e o interior cada vez mais é esquecidos e despovoado, onde os Portugueses que lá vivem apenas servem para pagar impostos, e no resto cada vez mais esquecidos, até o direito há saúde tem horário para se estar doente.
Caros senhores do poder, se querem que o interior do país não seja habitado mas sim esquecido, entreguem aos espanhóis o que lhes foi tirado tal como fizeram quando entregaram Macau há China, talvez assim as pessoas que lá vivem consigam sentir-se como pertencendo a um país .
Chega de arruinar a vida de quem trabalha e vangloriarem-se com a epidemia de gente que quer morrer, com a pandeleiragem e a prostituição humana que nos assola diariamente por nossas casas a dentro e nos chegam pela TV desde manhã cedo. Basta de maus costumes e má gente.
António Benigno
Codigo Activista 2018.06.04.01.06.2050
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 4:52 PM UTC
The death of tomorrow
rebirthed in stone
Its sculptor blinded
by fear unknown
The future vacant
the past denied
Where carved in darkness
—an image cries
(The New Room: June, 2023)
Jun 12, 2023
Jun 12, 2023 at 2:50 PM UTC