POLIΠΟΛΗPOLI2 weeks ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Σε μια πόλη σκλαβωμένη
η ζωή παγιδευμένη
Γίναν' μπετά τα όνειρά μας
και σκλαβώνουν τη ματιά μας
Δίχως ορίζοντα, χαμένοι,
Σαν ποντίκια στριγμωγμένοι,
The Ghost of MengeleThe Ghost of Mengele1 month ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
"I will curse thee with my last dying breath,
Josef Mengele, the Angel of Death"
The years have passed yet the memories haunt,
my mind hangs on to the past.
I've tried to move on but the voice still taunts,
sometimes I wish I'd been gassed.
At least those who died have rest from the pain,
their suffering long since gone.
As for me these scars have left my heart stained,
in his hands, simply a pawn.
"Brilliant" they said, "Innovative" they bragged,
the Fatherland's brightest and best!
They tied up my hands and had my mouth gagged,
"Be still son, it's only a test."
He prodded and probed and stuck me with pins,
my flesh he cut with a knife.
An innocent boy, no knowledge of sins,
how dare they toy with my life!
"Here little one, a chocolate for you,"
that voice, so charming and sweet.
"You did well today, o' little boy blue,"
my spirit sank in defeat.
As I laid on that bed, weeping and cold,
my thoughts took me back to the past.
Mummy and daddy, a teddy to hold,
how I wish
[Censored]From: ______.co.uk[Censored]1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The situation is really [redacted]
And the conflict is long and protracted
We’re experiencing unheard of [typing error]
And unprecedented levels of terror
There doesn’t seem to be [deletion of expletive]
And the calls for talks are hollow and repetitive
Lives are being [word not found]
To save Euro’s, Dollars and the pound
All thanks to [name withheld]
And they chop at us like trees to be felled
Then there’s that lot from [space intentionally left blank]
You’d think they all worked for the bank
I never get home now before half eleven
Yours sincerely [subject: no 1001297]
Caste asideA society caste asideCaste aside3 weeks ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Divided by prejudiced pride
Ode to the SouthOde to the South1 month ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
O muse of my heart let, me sing to my land,
Which hath born me, and raised me, and seen me a man.
From its clear running waters, and high mountain peaks,
Its beautiful inlets and soft flowing creeks.
The South I have known as a child knows his kin,
And Dixie has followed wherever I've been.
It holds my ambitions and all my desires!
My loves and passions, and all that I aspire!
It's people so stalwart, and gentle, and kind,
No other on earth like the Southern you'll find;
Defiant, yet loyal, to home and to God,
And to the sacred soil of our own native sod!
The blood of its heroes and men who were slain,
Still speck all the fields of its scarred battle plains
Though gone, they are living, in each Southern's mind,
To strengthen our spirit and of freedom's cost remind!
This land which I love, my dear southern home,
No matter how far from your heaths I do roam,
You always are with me, so close to my heart;
And though we are distant, we're never apart.
RevolutionDestroy to rebuild,Revolution2 weeks ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
ideals lay to rest.
Revive or get killed,
long enough been suppressed.
Hope is weeping,
carry it to the grave.
Where your morals are sleeping,
and the majority is still enslaved.
Break their chain,
run with the wind like a beast.
feel freedom and release.
Burn their rules,
watch the flames rise.
We are not their tools,
our light will burn their skies.
No sky will ever be the limit,
where does it even begin?
Reveal your spirit,
stand tall and raise your chin.
We need the execution,
we want to see blood.
To begin the revolution,
drowning the old ways like a flood.
We take back whats ours,
let the capitalists burn.
Make them face our powers,
its time for our hearts to return!
In for a PoundI’m sure we’re all quite familiar with the name of Ezra PoundIn for a Pound2 weeks ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The bloke that despite being quite clever had thoughts unsound
They say he was the father of several movements poetic
A pity that he succumbed to an ideology hateful and despotic
He’s heavily associated with verse that stimulates imagery
But then followed that up with publishing anti-Semitic forgeries
He witness the Great War that slaughtered many and spare too few
And somehow concluded that the best solution was to crush the Jew
When war in Europe look to be making a come back
Dear Ezra, clever so very clever Ezra gladly bought a new shirt in darkest black
America had never really appreciated the Herald of Imagism
But he found a home, in Rome marching in the Vanguard of Fascism
After that war did clever Ezra finally learn his lesson?
Sadly not, it appears his mind had suffered an irreversible recession.
He publicly abandoned his past acts, but this surface supplication
Was a fraud, for one of his new frien
The other side to charityThe charity accepts another three poundsThe other side to charity1 month ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
After it pounded on their doors
Screaming ‘save the cancer in me’,
It’s yours to take and yours for free
While accompanied by the amassed selfies.
The accountants, lined up like dominoes
Have highly important quotas to fill
So off it goes to CEOs,
Wages, stocks, campaigning pros,
Or employees who buy the Oreos.
After all, their office supplies are running low...
Occasionally, they might save those precious lives.
That’s good. While patients breathe, it’s spectacular,
But since 1902, increasing souls wane and slow,
Is there something we don’t know?
Where does that money really go?
The InternetA boisterous crowd,The Internet5 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Dawdling epicenter for grumbling, humdrum intrusions,
Just kindling lipservice.
My newsfeed opens, peace quakes.
Restless sleeper, try underwhelming Valium.
What exhorts you? Zilch.
Street CornerEvery Monday morning you see them thereStreet Corner3 weeks ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Huddled around, coffees in hand
You see a hoodie, reply with a glare
Could this all be planned?
You see darkened eyes
Under even darker clothing
You shield yourself with lies
Cloak yourself in loathing
Not for a second do you pause
Never do you think
Perhaps they deserve applause
After seeing shrink after shrink
Just keep walking
Gilded in ignorance
One day you’ll find it shocking
When you realise their brilliance
There is life there
And talent too
Look not at what they wear
Look at what is true
They’re always on that corner
You sit and watch them
See each one as a forlorn mourner
Silently weeping for a lost gem
For the ones lost along the way
Friends, companions, brothers,
They fought side by side in the fray
Against any and all others
Now they fight anew
Against this society
Against people like you
Trying to erase their notoriety
Would it hurt to stop?
Would it kill you to chat?
Maybe you have a story to swap
Or you just like a tat
why am I [10/30]awash in feelings oh-so-strong andwhy am I [10/30]3 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
wishing time would move along;
always me, who cannot cope;
kites are flying, high on hope.
The Revolutionary Formerly Known as PrinceBefore Kropotkin became an Anarchist he was once a PrinceThe Revolutionary Formerly Known as Prince1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The contents of his books made his relatives wince
For they were well fed
When reading Conquest of Bread
Sadly they haven’t sent him a birthday card since
ShroudThe brightest star that takes the fearShroud1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Away from night and makes it clear
To those who navigate the skies,
A wonder shines within their eyes
That lights their hearts with newfound hope
A small amount, but still they cope
And even thrive above the clouds
That from below their venture shrouds.
The darkest midnight every year
Instills a blackness laced with fear
Among the people from below
Who Heaven never thought bestow
The piercing light above the clouds;
And so the ever-weary crowds
Must carry on, and not elope
Into the skies that hold their hope.
Feels like....Is there a buyer in the highest balcony?Feels like....2 weeks ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Tax my vices and fine my reason,
Is it worth it?
Release of the death rattle,
commodities and slaves
to this clockwork little happiness.
The fall of the hammer deafens
as they strip us clean
to the smiles of pigs.
We laugh as they shut our senses down,
filed away and replaced.
Newer, better, cleaner, designer.
We put on our show for them:
killing our brothers for a taste
of what the television regurgitates.
Horse blinders and diamond eyes.
We're vacant and we don't care. We don't care. We don't care.
Care as they lock us in 16 karat cuffs.
Feels just like happiness.
Feels just like home.
Feels just like.
The gap widens and we're falling.
The gap widens between us and them and we're falling
Falling, falling, clockwork.
Feels just like.
SomedaySomedaySomeday3 weeks ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I will be brave
I will be courageous,
I will take the bull by the horns
And be who I am
Without the fear of being teased
Or treated as less of a person
Simply for what I love and who I am.
I will be able to wear what I please
Without fear of being objectified
Without being cat-called
And treated like a toy
By some boy that doesn't understand
That he is sexually harassing me
For the simple fact that I wore heels.
I will no longer have to fight to be equal
I won't need to brace myself when I identify as a feminist
Because people will respect what I went through
With having to deal with the inequality,
That I grew up around.
I will be able to be who I am
Without fear of being told that I am wrong
That my life is worth less than others
Because of my interests and values
Or my gender and sexuality.
I will be treated as a human being
By every single person I meet
No matter who they are
Or what their story is
Because that is s
The Great Human RaceThe Great Human Race,The Great Human Race3 weeks ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
We blacken the sky,
We burn and we kill,
And we swim and we fly,
And there's no escape,
From the freedom we bring,
You'll love all the labor,
The shanties we sing,
The people below us,
Covered by boards,
The people above us,
Threaten with swords,
You've either got money,
Or no life at all,
And no glass of water's
A glass that's not tall.
The Great Human Race,
We rip on the guy
Who's trying to live
And who's trying to die,
We leave good men bleeding,
Bad men to the throne,
And as the dying man watches,
He gives a low moan.
The Great Human Race
Will look down on the same,
And mockingly ask,
'Do you really like pain?'
But it's over their head,
That they're half the problem;
The question in's self,
Shows just who's to blame.
The Great human race,
Are you proud of yourselves?
You take all the credit
And blame all the elves.
You lie long and prosper,
You love the sight of the sea,
As you poison and kill it.
Is that really in me?
Who's Afraid of the Big Bad WolfWho’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf1 month ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Whatever is the matter child?
You’ve such a pallid pall!
Why are you up so late tonight?
Can you not sleep at all?
You had a scary dream you say?
Oh dear, well that won’t do!
A dream about the Big Bad Wolf
and what he’d do to you?
In that case dear come close at hand,
would you a story hear?
The true tale of that Big Bad Wolf
that we unfairly fear.
The Big Bad Wolf, as you will see,
was not so big, or bad,
he simply tried the best he could
to keep the life he had
for poor old Wolf had lost his job,
a janitor no more,
His missus was no help alive,
She would not lift a paw
He had three pups, two girls, one boy,
he hoped they’d make him proud.
Alas between the three as yet
a brain was to be found.
So Poor Old Wolf, it’s fair to say,
Lived not a stellar life.
He had no job, three hopeless kids
and a less than helpful wife
So Poor Old wolf was out one night,
Seeking to drown his tears
On Sore Throats and Pointless VotesOn we marched, arm in arm, chanting chantsOn Sore Throats and Pointless Votes2 weeks ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
For peace, for justice, for freedom and fair trade pants
And here they march with a great big shield wall
Like old Praetorians guarding the Emperors hall
Truncheons out, helmets on and visors down
They hit everyone, Anarchist, pacifist, liberal and clown
It’s not enough they let fly with tear gas and spray
A canister lands amidst some preachers trying to pray
After clubs, spray and gas they bring out the cavalry
It’s all one big cavalcade of modern tyranny
Instead of state torturers urging us to confess
They can rely on their good friends the press
And after this alleged putsch on modern Rome
They’ll watch the tapes and come for you at home
And still they tell us that we are free
And can be what we want to be
Just go through channels and ballot box
And forget that the Plebs have lost their Vox
UntitledBe men of peace,Untitled5 hours ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Oh my sons.
For the world is full of fighting.
For there are many men of violence,
Many men of war,
Many men whose minds are made of death and cruelty.
So be men of peace;
Be not those who rush foolishly into death's waiting embrace.
There is no glory in war;
Death, and the battered, broken ones who escape it.
Be steadfast men of peace and let none call you coward.
To stay behind and be mocked takes more courage,
Than the vain pursuit of honor or glory.
Pity those that mock you;
For they shall not find those things on the battlefield,
Only horror, and the screams of men, dying ingloriously in some muddy foreign field.
If you must fight;
If you must lay aside peace.
Do so only for good,
Do so only in protection of justice and goodness.
Not for honor, glory, or riches,
Or other such hollow vanities.
Fight for only tangible, lasting things.
In all dealings be just and merciful.
Be as fair as you are peaceful,
In your dealings with all mankind
Solid as a RockLet me introduce to you, a fellow whose views are easy to mockSolid as a Rock3 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
He acts like he wears tuxedos, when he’s only got one sock
And claims to feast
On bread with little yeast
He is common worker and his name is Mr Block
The Long Memory"Yes, the long memory is the most radical idea in this country. It is the loss of that long memory which deprives our people of that connective flow of thoughts and events that clarifies our vision, not of where we're going, but where we want to go." Bruce "Utah" Phillips 1935 - 2008The Long Memory4 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
History is a lengthy catalogue of triumphs defeats and strife
But for the most part ignores the ordinary tales of work and wife
We know or should all know the tale of mighty Caesar
And the cautionary tale of listening to Goebbels the great deceiver
But not many know of the masses who toiled for others wealth
And all too often gave up everything up to and including their health
Now friend save your protestation
This ain’t meant to be a condemnation
Neigh it’s merely a statement of fact
About the knowledge we collectively lack
All I know is that with a few less armchair generals and egomaniacs
Mimicking the old warlords, and planning future attacks
And a few more poets, hobo’s and folk sing
Who are the Few? (Eating souls)Why so many beat so few? Or are the many beaten?Who are the Few? (Eating souls)5 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Who are the few, and why have they come.
How many souls have been eaten?
Consumed away, with mounds of joy,
TV, the news, the web,
So many the loss, but so quickly they gloss
over the souls that were taken.
Are the many beating the few?
Or is it just all in our heads?
Who says they are few in such a world,
were seven billion souls are lead.
Lead to believe in the "right" and "wrong",
Where grey is white and red is strong.
Red is the blood of the innocent souls,
that the TV sells and the movies mold.
Who wins in a war,the revolutionaries prance,
Where all angels weep and the demons dance.
The weapons, not guns, but words so foul.
The sharpest of tongue is the gravediggers trowel.
We are not so few, but so many in pain.
The loss of joy's soul is the demons' gain.
AmericaForever I'll be loyal,America1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Forever I will serve
Forever I'll protect you
And liberty preserve
Forever I will honor
Our founding fathers true,
Forever hold their values
And forever honor you
Since I left for other places
And lived among their men
I've searched for unity and zeal
And not found it again
Only you know this bonding,
This steadfast brotherhood
Only here is true camaraderie,
You are the country that I love
I never want to lose you
Where freedom is reality,
A place I can come home to