Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Samara Jan 4
threads of violins
shredded by violence
to stop the song of sirens
shrieking on the live wire.
it's twisted by air not felt
underwater
& captured by flash bulbs
that blind not deafen
- - -
suddenly we begin witnessing:
the tides are shifting
the tides are shifting

Odd Odyssey Poet Dec 2022
New
They're an author of their own authority
What's the majority in a government
Controlled superiority
—Gluttony; feeding pockets on
once starved fabric
Fabricate the news; I don't see anything new
Anything true, but the higher unfair rules, to rule
T.v. screens teach more about ***, than any
*** education in school
I don't see anything new, tell me what is new?

New in the terms of being stuck with another term
Terms of agreement; always a fine print
Always the somewhat cleanest character
With just a little filth
All to ***** with your motherland
Like a personal ****
I don't see anything new, tell me what is new?

I probably never knew!
Andreas Simic Jun 2022
Modern Warfare

Propaganda
Misinformation
Hearts and minds won

Cyber attacks
Encirclement
Diplomacy feigned

Bullying and intimidation
The UN meeting
Pleas for peace

Sanctions
Countermeasures
Advancement

Land grab
Rigged elections
Outrage

Headlines galore
Time passes
New normal tolerated

Status quo accepted
Mission complete
Rinse and repeat

Andreas Simic©
Carlo C Gomez Apr 2022
~
Corrosive elevation
Metabolic creation
At the mouth of cough drop falls
Trails of caustic, nomadic influence:
Coffee lips
Decaffeinated tongue
Resealable groove
Reusable embryo
White hunter
Melt snow
Hang fire
Black crow

Mechanical peak
Summit on a stick
Chiseled grey
The smoke ascending
They call "day"
Lovely shade of sadness, this
Wandering endocarp
Hidden in caves, hollows, crags, cellars, and cisterns
It came naked
From out of the acrid woods
And said

"The locust are upon us..."
~
Carlo C Gomez Sep 2022
~
Moving beyond the sun
to where our minds
are a fraction behind us,
believing they've found
the other-side.

I am glass shattered by redemption,
and I am now the shadow
of a mirrored divinity,
for somewhere out there
is a god resembling my face,
and its nakedness stares me down.

Raising eyebrows at the moon
as if this is love's culprit,
yet, opening arms and minds welcome
the thereupon lust as if
some devoted era:
bow and arrow shapes
of you and me,
falling out of love without travail,
but of constant ease.

I look better in black and white
than in vulnerability,
my exploitation of
private earth looms casual,
though I'm well aware
of the vibrations it sends.

Manipulators of love and war
were all we really wanted to be,
cheating destiny
by falling for the future.

And from this side of our mind
the sun was always cold,
just a vague old relic in a fresh grave:
a princess ruling among
the ruins of past decisions,
and happily she gives
a stagnant kiss of consequence.

Recommitted wind breaks
through, like turning, burning
pages desperate to speak.

But I'd rather that her white lies
take me now, than a waking grasp
or a skirmishing wave
terrorize me,
as this black [media] plagued sun's
desecrated heart bleeds
and recalls to mind
the coming blasphemy.

~
Yenson Mar 2022
In Red square
the cowards gathered
with green eyes and little minds
attack, attack its all for one and one for all

The white queen
and all her heirs are protected
see her white knights and all pawns
rightfully in white shining and stainless

See the black king
that is our enemy so attack
he has no knights and owns no pawns
easy target as we know his pieces have blacked out

In Red square
the cowards gathered
with green eyes and little minds
its all about colour and white is always right
we do it in the shadows and know how to spin the yarn
y
Carlo C Gomez Sep 2021
3-D
popcorn
and kisses in the balcony

little soldiers
showing dogtags
to get a free refill

before duck and cover drills
at intermission

it's all one big movie

whether the summer rockets
arrive with Flash Gordon

or by way of Cuba
Lawrence Hall Aug 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                 Boxes are for FedEx

You don’t want to hear about my boxes
I don’t much care much about your boxes
Boxes are for FedEx. And birthday gifts
Good Comrades check boxes;
                                                poets create
Beauty among the chaos
A poem is not propaganda; it is itself.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2020
Several times today, I stepped into stories
being presented as appeals for
belief because the teller says

this is what one of us knows, you must believe,
then know…

eh? I lift both brows, wrinkle my face,
quizzically,

and I recall knowing that in the universal truth,
there are bubbles of truths about stories,
told with idle words that fail to spark
the swallow reflex, too sweet…

ah, the family time at a theme park,
what is the theme

Apollo here, Isis there, Jesus, look, it is a ghost,
the Ghost of America as we wish it were,
we wish it were
we wish it
we wisht
weshit…

This is it. 2020. The real future.
All day every day, live, no jive... just me and those lizards at the casino.
\\
Next page