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I saw some of the wannabe greatest minds of our generation, corrupted by the compulsion of capital,
Bow down in loyalty to the non-existent king whose propaganda talk of spite and hate seduced the minds of citizens,
Splintering the nation of once rational folk into troops of outraged souls.
I saw citizens their humanity revoked as neighbours stood idly by fearful that a fictional technicality would mean they were next,
The lawmakers presenting logics backed by shaky facts and figures exaggerated, plucked from the ether, as men do declaring the size of their ****.
I saw brother turn against brother for a non-existent belief in the greater good whilst all the while lining the pockets of the king and his wannabe greatest minds of our generation,
Their hate and anti-hate spewed onto the bonfires of vanities that is the home of the daily town square.
I saw the followers of Gods betray their philosophies and fellow worshippers predicated in the knowledge that all are Judas and only they have the true understanding of what God really meant,
Their esoteric knowledge not God given but used as defence for their power grabbing, humanity destroying acts executed with the upmost of callousness.
I saw him cry “How long before they banish my demons and pray the straightness into me making me a soldier of God and they as Christ?”
“No God of mine is full of spit and bile against fellow brothers and sisters who are who they are and proud to be so. I see through the flimsy guise trying to indoctrinate the public believing they are fools to be bent to their will.”
I saw the anguish and despair as the words fell on deaf ears, wanderers bypassing the truth unable to take up the challenge.
I saw the shameful and inferior minds of our generation, the ones they call the greatest, fellating each other’s egos armed with rhetorical daggers ready to be launched in the back,
Those smiling assassins destroying friends and colleagues all for the crown.
I saw lives slowly eroded, held ransom by the leaders of nations,
Grifters hawking the latest think tank theory of late night pub politics where patrons believe they have the answers to all life’s woes as seen through the beer goggles of rationality.
I saw humanity rise up, flex its collective muscles, refuse to back down, and slap the **** out of them,
Knocking great minds and kings back to the depths of hell or whichever cess pool they emerged from contradicting Darwin’s theory.
This is inspired by the poem Howl by Allen Ginsberg. You can probably guess who this is aimed at. Leaders of the world beware, you are there because we allow it. However, we can and do end it.
Raghu Menon Jul 22
The drizzling has stopped
Temporarily, maybe to take a gap
The winds are catching up
A lone hooting owl
A dog that howls afar

A little thunder far away
The winds chilling now
The rumblings can be heard
Rumblings of a distant rain.
rainy nights with light rains has its own music, of owls, dog, the drumming thunders, the rumblings ..
Ander Stone Apr 2024
Sheep don't know
The meaning of the word
Rules.

They know only the barking of the dog
And the howl of the wolf.
Brandon Jan 2023
He barks in the distance
Howling at the moon from jagged cliffs
Anxiously waiting for her response,
Dolefully widened eyes grasp for her
With a warmth withstanding gelid air

Her symphonious ocean drowns his cries
She illuminates her inconsolable sea
Her waves absorbing his mournful song
She reaches for him from high heavens
How terribly she yearns to be with him, just once more
I see
the roses
in you, the
delicate
petals of
of being
human,
the thorns
of us have
broken
the chains,
our feathers
glide when
darkness
once
wished
to down
the soar
of our
wings,
feathers
glide from
loud howls,
floating
up to the
place we
call truth.
Louise Apr 2022
Sweet envy,
I'm envious of how she was blessed by the gods to have looked into your eyes, eye to eye. To study their color and watch how they look when you lie.
She knows the way you blink and how you close them when you sleep at night.
I hate thinking how you've both spent some nights.
The thought of her taking granted of breathing the same air as you boils my blood.
I'm jealous of how she was able to graze her fingers upon your skin, let them travel across your back
and how her hand once held yours... only to foolishly, finally and thankfully let them go.
I curse and bless the day she broke your heart.
I curse each day that I have to live with this jealousy.

Holy jealousy,
I'm jealous of the kind of jealousy you've made her feel, like when you would glance at another girl when you're together.
Or how you'd talk to a girl in a cafe or bookstore when you thought she wasn't looking over her shoulder.
Or how you'd talk to anyone about anything at all without uttering her name.
I'm jealous of how you two probably used to stand across each other in a room and throw blames.
I could imagine countless of scenarios but then
I also imagine I'm the one feeling that too.
I can take that any day, as long as we're together too.
Because the only jealousy I feel is jealousy of your past. This fiery envy towards your history.

****** history,
I'm reading into every words you said like memoirs and piecing every excerpt trying to look for answers. Answer as to how and whyㅡhow she broke your heart and why she did it.
Would you change a thing about everything you did?
I ask and scream these questions to the moonlight.
Yet if you tell me and show me the answers yourself, there's not a single battle that I would win and fight.
Yet I search for clues in every old photo, in every message and through my sly, secret ways.
Must I scour every corner and highway?
So I can come up with answers to my own 'how and why'? How can I mend your broken heart?
Why do I love you this much?

Because above all, I am a revolutionary.
I acknowledge my envy, work through my jealousy and respect your history.
But then again, with every dark history comes the need for revolution and change.
And I am the catalyst who will spearhead that game.
I am your new age.
I am your renaissance.
I am your vengeance, nirvana, revolution and everything at once.
Lawrence Hall Apr 2022
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                     No Howling, Please

                                   A rebuke to Ginsberg
           While acknowledging that the typewriter is indeed holy

I saw the best of my generation
Refuse to howl, not in the situational poverty
Of their birth, not in others’ noise and drugs
Not in their elders’ go-fight-our-wars-for-us

I saw the best of my generation
Doubling up in unfurnished rooms
Doubling up on the day and night shifts
Making each sweated-out life into a poem

I saw the best of my generation
Work
                     and thus rebuked for their privilege
Mark Wanless Nov 2020
the timber of my wolf voice
scares me

i cannot back it up yet
i keep howling

i hear just words from lips
thought to be wise

my own voice included
in the nothing

what came before now
is imaginary

i know i am just here
i howl
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