Justice EntertainmentThey don't call it the fairJustice Entertainment2 hours ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
But cotton compass, give a soft direction confection
Until sour teeth turn into light reflections
Of a sugar mouth, defeating a compression
The spirits of grime and grit try to fit into
Like a kid searching affection, but progression's what it did do
So we are far from fair.
075. WheelchairsJust because someone is handicapped075. Wheelchairs15 hours ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
Does not mean you have the right to
Bully them, talk down to them
Or anything else mean
Put yourself in their
Shoes for a day
How does that
Mother of ExilesBring forth from war-torn landscapes, valleys of the deadMother of Exiles1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
And regroup upon my sanctuary
Across shining seas, beyond rich plains and mountains
Past golden gates stands Lady Liberty
Children, lay down your weapons and swim towards my shores
For you need to fight a war no longer
Let me cast your battle stress far away, for I
Conquer by sword, but my tongue be stronger
Fear not for my hand is a blade of swift justice
My eagles fly high raining fire, defeating
Hopelessness and oppressing forces approaching
I stand my ground with strength never fleeting
And by word I shall suppress the raging evils
Afar. I face insurgency, grinning
As I'm gripping faith and duty firmly, knowing
We may rest easy, my Sons are winning
A nation of ever growing strength welcomes you
Wary outcast of a country ruined
But behind my colors as vivid as ever
Be fields of patriot's paradise vision
modern slaveryprimitive days following behind modernitymodern slavery1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
briskly sweeping up the dregs of humanity
gently calling, softly, sweetly, tempting
too easy to be caught sleeping
within a primitive way of breathing
anger deep inside is seething
teeming with the termites
determined to eat through to lights
day refusing to dawn with effulgence
bodies taught and tense
wondering if there's a point beyond this
seeking some sort of death's kiss
crisp twenties passed from hand to hand
yet we claim no slavery in this land
Inferno Revisited: IV - The Avaricious + ProdigalIV.i. The AvariciousInferno Revisited: IV - The Avaricious + Prodigal1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
Too late our sins we sad misers repent!
Our words would fall on deaf ears should we pray.
We suffer since the only thing we spent
In life were years - built up each wasted day -
In frugal loneliness: wherein men try
To gather gold, yet throw their lives away,
Neglect the poor, ignore their anguished cry.
For never did we share material things -
And even less so, gifts that multiply.
Our long years lacked the joy charity brings.
We clutched at riches for riches' own sake,
Yet prices can't be placed on angel's wings.
Our choice was not to give, but merely take.
For this, the blessed ones our souls forsake.
IV.ii. The Prodigal
Our love of fashion was our deadly curse.
We wanted fresh, the popular, the new,
And used up every penny in our purse
Acquiring all that salesmen drew us to.
Their jingles echoed in our thoughtless minds -
Bland, useless wares we would madly pursue,
Wasting our wealth on pleasures of all kinds.
Inferno Revisited: VIII.ii - The Flatterers (WIP)With dazzling spotlight shining in their eyes,Inferno Revisited: VIII.ii - The Flatterers (WIP)1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
We followed at their feet like loyal hounds.
Disguised all truth and dressed them up in lies -
For telling a great story knows no bounds.
Longing for fame, we gave them what they craved:
They dominated images and sounds
Until the day they finally misbehaved.
Once-honoured names dragged howling through the mud,
Those blessed ones now monstrous and depraved.
We crushed them in whatever way we could -
Smearing their souls, exposing every vice.
Those loyal hounds soon turned once they'd smelled blood.
Success meant scandal: no-one gained from "nice".
And here we pay, just as they paid their price.
Nice people...The world is filled with nice people. If you can't fine one, become one.Nice people...1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
I Bear the Blood of CharlemagneI bear the blood of CharlemagneI Bear the Blood of Charlemagne1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
And tonight it boils once again
To see the works which have been wrought
Causing and not relieving pain
These men know not what they have bought
Or with whom their spirits are caught
Their wicked ways will see an end
All will see how their spirits rot
How can any call God their friend,
Who doesn't help others' hearts to mend,
Who loves not others as one's self,
And seeks only their wills to bend?
What good comes of killing one’s self,
And killing others with the self
It serves one more to daily kneel
Leave self destruction on a shelf
I write these words as an appeal
For the dead and whom lives do steal
Hear your victims and feel their pain
Change now or your fate you will seal
DeafeningThe bomb goes off,Deafening1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
loud and threatening,
yet the dead's silence
is much more deafening.
The Collector's ABC'sThe Collector's ABC's2 weeks ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
A is for Amber Hagerman, who was only nine when taken.
Now an alert is named after her by a country that was shaken.
B is for Bella in the Wych-Elm, found in Hagley Hall;
Who put you there and who wrote the graffiti on the wall?
C is for Carmen Colon, one of the three alphabetically-minded maids from school.
Someone obviously thought the double-initials were cool.
D is for Dahlia, black of course; for her passing was no gaffe,
Her career and her body were both cut in half.
E is for Elisa Lam; an accidental mini-movie star,
How she ended up in that tank was really bizarre.
F is for Fossey, the zoologist who lost her head in Rwanda.
No one is sure who wielded that deadly panga.
G is for Grimes, the sisters who went missing after going to see an Elvis movie.
Found in 1957, their mysterious demise is still considered juicy.
H is for Hinterkaifeck, a farmstead set in the heart of Germany,
Said to be haunted; it’s where someone sl
Soyez Courageux Paris!Be brave, ParisSoyez Courageux Paris!2 weeks ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
And don’t give in
For might is not right
And the good will win
The West won’t be bullied
Nor give into terror
We will keep our heads up
And fight this together!
City of LightSitting along the banks of the Seine,City of Light2 weeks ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
Lies the beautiful city of Paris.
Elegantly magical in sun or rain,
Tonight betrayed by evil's malice.
The City of Light, the name you are called,
Many out enjoying your wine and bread.
But now the world looks on appalled,
When acts quite usual left so many dead.
So many innocents lost in the theater,
A high price to pay for any song.
The devil lying in wait like a predator,
But they can't stop the music for long.
Out for a night, a friendly game of sport,
No one expecting the violence which came.
Our way of life these terrorists would thwart,
But our love of life, they will never claim!
For we are Paris, the City of Light,
We sing our anthem and band together.
Our hearts love strong and we stand tonight,
To fight for our freedom you cannot tether.
The Eiffel Tower standing tall in its beauty,
A graceful presence to light the way.
Reminding us of our strength and duty,
Stand unafraid, honoring those who died today.
©2015 Carol Gregoire
smoke and mirrorswe speaksmoke and mirrors2 weeks ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
a language of
leaders thrust and parry
smoke and mirrors
band aids for the world
placed upon our fears
we dine alone
monitor the calls
on our phone
watching evening news
complaining about the mess
Poem - VisionistVisionistPoem - Visionist3 weeks ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
Poem for Day 311 – 20151108
They call me the visionist,
I am here to inspire your life.
Matters not if my words aren't true,
as long as they strike a chord in you.
I've done well for myself,
but I imagine I could top even this.
Allow me to reveal a more perfect world,
the one where I climb to higher heights.
Sincerely felt as reality,
my visions proclaim with veracity.
It only matters if they speak
to the man I should have been.
The gospel in another realm,
alternative histories duly spun,
to inspire those unduly burdened
with the chains in a truthful world.
Outside the bounds of my visions
everything I speak is the truth.
No middle ground in my views,
you'll see only deceit and truth.
Separating these is difficult,
worry not as I cloud your minds.
Only the purest of frauds are pursued
to educate and to delude.
They call me the visionist,
the only truthful candidate.
All others are unduly bound
by the truth when they inspire.
To catch me out is not enough,
I will repeat
An 'Education'"You're luckyAn 'Education'3 weeks ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
Don't you know
There are people who'd give all
For what you have free?"
Don't you know
That I've given near all
To suffer what's forced on me?"
Poem - The Bearded LadyThe Bearded LadyPoem - The Bearded Lady3 weeks ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
Poem for Day 308 – 20151105
Farewell to the bearded lady,
goodbye to the dog faced boy,
the freaks are now among us,
but they're much more hard to find.
The big top is in front of you,
the attractions a glance away,
farewell to the overt freaks,
they are in your midst ever more.
Gender identity is a fluid thing,
the choice to be a girl or boy,
or somewhere in between,
to cis or not to cis quote the bard.
The outward expression my be subtle,
or completely out of sight,
the plumbing does not matter,
it is felt deep inside.
Consider the ways of sexual attraction,
the driver of shared intimacy,
who is chosen may surprise
the ones that drift by their lives.
Sadly the different too often are
in the in the closet's shadows.
The lucky few know the truth,
all others are outside the dark.
Lastly consider body modification,
transformation of the base degree.
Purveyors are like the iceberg,
a small portion is seen above the beam.
The outside trappings play a part,
Send the refugee men backEvery single male refugee of the age of 18 to 50 are cowards. They are cowards because they are the type of men who should be in the wars, fighting for their countries and sending their women to safety of Europe. These men are here because they are cowards, who don't have balls and don't deserve to come to the Europe for protection.Send the refugee men back1 month ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
When Finland was at war with Soviet Union during the second world war, Finnish women and children were sent to Sweden for safety. Every single male who tried to cross the border and got caught was executed by an firing squad. These refugee men are doing the opposite. They are them selves coming here while leaving their families to be slaughtered.
What I'm going to bring up as an good suggestion, is to send every single male, age 18 to 50 back to middle east to fight in these wars. If any male is found to cross the border, shoot him.
Germany has said that it will take over 800 thousand refugees, which maybe 80-90 percent are mostly male. Imagine how fast ISI
KredithaieKredithaien gehört das Paradies!Kredithaie1 month ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
besitzen sie einen direkten Draht
zum richtigen Gott
in den Opfersieg
bald erwacht die goldene Zeit!
bald ist das Weltende erreicht!
so die Weisung
sich selbst erfüllt
ob nachgeholfen, ob zugemüllt!
fällig geworden, die Beine breit
fremdem Wohle trauen:
gefallene Engel nach dem Heil!
kein Eigenwert ist sonst was wert!
wenn die Geiststruktur
sich im Schneckenhaus verkehrt -
feiert der Pilgerweg Konjunktur...
noch ist die Vollendung nicht vorbei!
obwohl ihr Gott dies Werk vollbracht -
die fehlerhafte Mitarbeit jeden Kindes:
zur Einheit erwacht!
im Auftrieb nur, gelingt das Nützliche!
beschwörend all, was profitiert -
ihre Himmelgunst profiliert!
dauergeprüft im durchsichtigen Becken -
Poem - Soul UnconsoledSoul UnconsoledPoem - Soul Unconsoled1 month ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
Poem for Day 301 – 20151029
I don't need to know more,
I saw what happened.
There in my mind's eye,
the abuse of the past,
the recycled patterns
of the social injustice,
these are what I saw
with the scene now frozen.
The skin of the new
echo the hate of the past.
I blame more than them,
this is so much larger.
A single sole person
bears the sins of the whole
as history descends
on the unfortunate one.
The ghosts of the past
speak their minds to me.
The ancient combatants
The heartstrings are pulled
as wounds are reopened.
The record restarts
with old tunes repeated.
I know this is true
because my blood runs cold.
My emotions are triggered
as my rage overflows.
My fear is released
as the scene does unfold.
The truth is transparent
in the pit of my soul.
Don't speak of facts,
of outlying conditions.
I've heard these before
with acts of contrition.
They lie at their heart,
lives trampled again,
with justice delayed
the truth again missed.
I'll say t