"voc" poems
Challenges punctuate our lives with question marks.
We ask ourselves, “How long?” So we dream.
We wonder about each other. So we believe.
We concern ourselves with each other’s welfare. So we pray.
We doubt our wisdom. So we trust our hearts.
We second guess ourselves. So we act in faith.
We question our tomorrow. So we cherish the present.
We fear the question marks that have punctuated our lives.
So we build walls;
Walls to hide from our fear, walls to hide from our frustration,
And walls to hide from our feelings.
Let us never build walls that would cut us off from the world,
Or from each other.
Within the circle of our fellow strugglers,
Our thoughts are punctuated with fewer question marks,
And from time to time - a simple period.
Here with each other, it's not as difficult to wait for the answer.
And the walls don't seem as challenging to climb.
Whatever our question,
We can dare each other to dream.
And in this time of testing, we can hope for the answer,
An answer that will be different for every one of us.
An answer that punctuates each of our lives
With an exclamation point!
©2014 Michael S. Davis
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
(for Nietzche, who cowers behind art.)
The world calls the conquered ******
to remember that the sun every night yearns
to rise, to rise, to rise
when there is no guarantee, no promise, no sure thing.
Yet still it yearns
to rise, to rise, to rise.
The world called Canaanites ******
while they traded and toiled along the shores
of land promised to the aged heretic of Sumer,
whose wife could give only love.
The world called Hebrews ******
while they raised Pharoah tombs
Provided respite from the eastern chariots
Stubborn in refusal of the living gods
Drinking only Eloheim's bitter grape
That provides brief respite from his decrees
When delving deep in one's cups.
The world called Britons ******
When flogged Boudicea fought and fought and finally fell
To Roman spear and gladius
When Angles and Saxons raided then stayed
When Cromwell climbed the pale cliffs
The world called the Iberians, Gauls and Teutons ******
when Caesar crossed the Rubicon
Pax Romana for Citizens born
Land for the wealthy, voting rights too
Taxes and tithes from their toil.
The world called the Khoikhoi of South Africa ******
From the VOC to fatal Apartheid
Up rose a man
The heart of the land
A man named Nelson Mandela.
The world called the Viet Minh ******
from Can Vong to Dien Bien Phu
'till they slogged howitzers above
to reign Napoleonic terror below.
And to them it was just
The American War
After the world called them
Vietnamese.
The world calls the conquered ******
to remember that the sun every day yearns
to rise, to rise, to rise
When there is no guarantee, no promise, no sure thing
yet still it yearns
to rise, to rise, to rise
'though it never watches its own rising
undoing raiment of fading embers
swimming naked in the royal blue
bathing all with daily newborn naked glory
chasing the celestial tidal tease
that seems to wander where it please
reminding that all are born free
but can grow into ignorance
and be called ******
Seek truths
that hold in unity;
that provide nourishment
beneath the lash
allowing one
to rise, to rise, to rise.
Jul 15, 2019
Jul 15, 2019 at 9:01 AM UTC
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A Bitter Herb years later Part II sequel ithe Guesthouse Meeting Marge Inventions of one's fancy. So far as I'm concerned. you are destroying the image of God. shifts to her new home. My mother. cleaver and foolishness. he is gone. and I remain for the time being Tods Outlet UK. just behind the. Ear, ezinearticles, While on a Blab you can tweet out to all your Twitter followers by the click of the button that reads Tell a little bird.
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Quantum physics. Finding these products is not an issue, lest you get a wild tongue and can't resist like most women, Several mold making and casting material suppliers are now offering silicone solvents that are VOC free. your art practice and yourself make them valuable. To become your most powerful and flexible self. and Jackie. com If you are looking for somewhere to spend time with your family.
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Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 10:19 PM UTC
Speak up more, not less, using your own ideo-vocalized mess.
Soliloquy — in front of yourself and everyone else-a-melse.
Monologue, dog!
You and I can flip-flop nonstop lolly pop but that gets trite fast and then we just so need to speak our favor-ite verbo-bite.
Bebop, hiphop, tipitity-top, slop-a-pop.
Ski-ba-bop-ba-bop-voc; do that thang nonstop.
Be-cause …
We have been flattened by the road-grade blade of the prepaid lexicographers.
We have been run over by the top-botched, pop-a-voc.
We have suffered weak-a-squeak.
We have sold out for safety and we have shut up way too much because we thought we were stuck-a-muck with duck and cluck.
Nope! Fess; you’ve got that vocable mess!
Unperson; you’ll worsen, but word-dive and jivity jive and you’ll revive.
See!
Be inventy.
Sync with your blink.
Que with your you and do-ba-de-do
Dec 19, 2019
Dec 19, 2019 at 4:44 PM UTC
cuddling with the night
gazing at the empty o sky
salvation awaited
numbness refuse to quit
standing alone, being
irrevocable and wishing
life would come
to an end
waiting for an open door
but seeing them shut
right in your face
causing pain hanging
yourself can't clean
rain falling
but not taking away the
sorrow of being left alone
in a huge galaxy
dumb enough to
ignore the voc for sale and dumber
to know nothing says she
but still hope shines
bright end of tunnel i see it
but reach it no hope
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 12:56 AM UTC