RealityLet us go then, you and I,Reality3 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
to watch the waters lap oh so high
to watch the lakes grow oh so dry
while they blow smoke to the sky
and frack our future.
distort the trouble,
doubt the science
on the double
lie and cheat and make a fuss
in money we trust.
And the waters they rise,
and the islands they sink
Southern Louisiana's right in the drink
The wars are here, the thirst has come
but too many bigshots sit and hum.
Repeating the mantras won't change a thing
repeating the mantras won't change a thing
repeating the mantras won't change a thing.
On the Fear of WritingCrackling words break the backs of silence.On the Fear of Writing15 hours ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Words. Words. Screamed from the mouths of eternal horses.
Upon the backs of men seeking a path from hell.
There's no way to know.
There's no way to tell.
Is the world's getting smaller?
Or are we getting too big?
Wars fought over oil paint blood in the sand,
while the whole planet smiles,
"Ain't it fine?" "Ain't it grand?"
The cracking of the globe, splitting faces in two.
With some halves in the "Us's" and others in "You's".
Rising from the pheonix's ashes
to smush oily words upon the gate.
For babes are crying and winter's dying
when love is left to rot.
No more feathered wings to cradle it.
No more tender hands to keep it.
There is only the swollen pregnant moon
in the gnashing yellow night.
AirportsYou can board a plane,Airports1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And in a matter of moments;
Lay on a sandy beach,
Swim in a pearly ocean,
Feast on the finest feast,
Slide on a powdered mountain,
Or you could;
Wash your hands in warm blood,
Walk down a death strewn pavement,
Flee monsters from above,
A child screaming on a table,
You can board a plane,
And be anywhere,
In a matter of moments;
It just depends,
Which airport is closest.
©Alexander E. Musset
Killing PotentialBuilding walls to watch them crumble;Killing Potential1 day ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
raising men to watch them fall
Burn your hometown down to rubble
stand in silence at the call.
Cutting forests in the spring,
smashing eggs to smithereens.
Smelting down engagement rings
just to hear the children scream.
Shut down the lawmen in their prime
kill the carpenter at work.
Stop the conman in his crime
hang in innocent in flirt.
Crush the change before happens;
halting progress in it's step.
Just watch the future's slipping
There is no shifting what is set.
the Lay of IllIllkvæðithe Lay of Ill12 hours ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Si! Lyss till sången, den sällsamt sorgsna,
om svek och sveda, i Sviþiods land.
Hur en smitta småsint, i smälekens smedja,
med spefull spinnrock, spinna illsluga nät,
hur folksjälen svärmas, med svartaste svårmod,
då samfälldhet sina, och sågas isär.
Hören nu alla, om de härskna herrar,
vilka högsätet inta, med högburet hull.
Hövdingar alla, som härska i hallen,
med hövisk tunga, och skenhelig håg.
Dessa högborgens hökar, vårt rikets herdar,
nu hyckla och häckla, om ofärd och harm.
Då hetsas till tinget, hembygdens söner,
på hastiga hovar, från trygghetens hamn.
Med hatets hetta, de lockas att härja,
i blanka harnesk, för hem och för härd.
Också hyrda hirdmän, till härmönstring kallas,
på järnskodda hästar, i hiskelig hast.
Härolder hojta, och bl
Inside-The-OutsideAnother treacherous hourInside-The-Outside15 hours ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
ticks the heavenly, caged.
Between Life and Death
and the Rich and Beseiged
Inside the Outside lies one of two worlds
One of the men
and one of the girls.
One earth of curses,
the other a plus.
'Twix men who ride horses
and who walk in the dust.
They'll never rest
There will always be more
For those that go looking
are not those that go seeking
Because you must look
to find the In-Betweens
King JesterSo, crown the jesterKing Jester15 hours ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
in his plight
of the laughing widows, merry.
Each cackle and haw
tears him apart
in his fields of poppies.
Given him the crown
make a scepter of his bread.
Carry him on
to his throne of glory;
a sordid pile of the dead.
Mock him as he cries in anger
laugh at every tear.
Chain him to his crown of glory
and listen for the jests and jeers
FarmlandSeeing life through shattered eyesFarmland16 hours ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
hollowed out by crows
stinking words of slurping lies
death in perfect form.
The spoiled minds of children
who slither in the dust
devour whole their kindred
in a never-ending lust.
Come now, lads, lay down your arms
shed your hands and grin.
Fill the through and feed the farm
break your bones and skin.
Stick out your tongue and ring the bell
gorge yourself to bursting.
Taste heaven in the devil, sell
your lands of birthing.
Broken PeopleBroken shattered facesBroken People1 day ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
in a burning paper town.
It's the way it's always been,
like the earth goes 'round and 'round.
There are no tales to tell;
no shining knights who slay;
No high and mystic castle walls
keeping evil at it's bay.
Just piles of old rubble
in lay the footsteps of the past
to remind us that we're temporary
and that none of us can last.
Crumbling people travelling
on long crackling roads
who have been journeying forever
to destination unknown.
Tangerine ChildrenTangerine childrenTangerine Children1 day ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
float high in the sky
o’er mandarin cockroaches
who wriggle and lie
down at five 'o' clock
singing the blues
while the swans in the mire
are braying the truth.
Watch her standing there
hands in her head
she's crying out tears
for the lives that she's led.
Screaming and marching
to unending doom
for the pangs of adulthood
are one song too soon.
The skies are of bureaucrats
clouds are red tape
but I'm raining down love
into puddles of hate.
walls made of gold
for that paradise lost
the canons will roll.
Generation NextWe try to make our in a worldGeneration Next1 day ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
that doesn't want us to succeed.
Cramming food down our throat
off the plates of those in need.
Keeping safety under lock and key
for those who buy a password
and blaming those who lie in cradles
while cursing the blind for the unsightly.
We attempt to carve a space
in a burning burning walled up planet.
As we try to hide ourselves
in our prison's darkened place.
If we are ridiculed to know nothing
it's because we've heard it all.
We're raped right from the womb
and the empty babe gets the blaming.
We scream at the empty void
mocked for vanquishing the earth.
We fear the sun and shun the night
so we live beneath the greenhouse light.
There is no room for us upon the land,
but there's a torrent on the sea.
How dare our need to breathe
when there are profits to be planned.
It is not our fathers who bear the load.
It falls on them to commit the sin
and smear the blood upon our faces
and choked our mouths and tongues are slowed.
We may not fight our battles.
Crime of ViolenceHe lifts his hands in celebrationCrime of Violence1 day ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and brought them down in exclamations
of pain from the mouths of the dying,
This blood shall be the story
of his hands bespecked in glory
to his current victims' end.
He strikes his hands about the face
and tastes their pain, his heart does race
to know them to be crippled.
He mercifully took the eyes and nose
ear are next on what he has to dispose.
He'll rid them on each sense.
For this he feels no guilt
to make his conscious twist and lilt.
His only crime is violence.