Unveiling of the Veil, Poetry by Farzana Moon

 Genre: Life

Irreverent pagans
From the coffers of their mighty legacy
Have bestowed upon women
Heathen gifts
Veil and hijab
Gift-wrapped in silken shroud
Of false piety

Marks of status and wealth

Those gifts rejected by Islam
For the ultimate gift of equality
Now paraded as heirloom of Muslim heritage
Religion scarred by lies
The well-preserved pearls of truth rusted
By the glitter-dust of distortions
How should one wear religion
This new millennium
Like any garland of truth
Perhaps
Strewn with love

On the gold-thread of
Wisdom, knowledge, understanding

http://farzanamoon.blogspot.com
 

 

 

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Wild Trumpasaurus, Poetry by Matthew Scott Harris

 Genre: Life

Trumpasaurus extinction iz a cockamamie rumor gone wild
thee above mentioned puckish, quasi-roguish, scarily threatening
utterly vainglorious wicked yikyak decreed donnybrook con
Vince singly fostered and feigned (with assistance from the grim reaper)
his deathly hallowed demise, though all the while in reality
donning himself with requisite accoutrements (such as coiffed,
colored, and cosseted image) as most terrible lizard and/or doubling
to play in a contra band one foo fighting doobie brother, sic:
wild arse beastie boy known to roam terrestrial firmament,
whose ego throve on moost pernicious incubated fabrications,
* * * * * * * * * *
Confabulations, and adulterations (hijacking thru nay saying
scientific rubric) especially factual evidence (sh…Keep
the following on the QT) monstrosity runs amuck disguised
as the beefy size oscar wilde sabotaging viz hiz eccentricity,
the basic fabric, and lyric swan song with refrain of i.e.
e pluribus Unum, that rallied generations of folks wild
with fortitude thus, this huzzah bin feels imperative mission
to broadcast this missive to exclaim vis a vis, this handy dandy
blues clues fierce some infant terrible will upend long entrenched
democratic theory, (loosed from forefathers – centuries ago
* * * * * * * * * *
As a wild and crazy idea fixx) will bid a permanent catastrophic
bed dee bye boo to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness
sans faux tricked putative death complete with the funereal
trappings rigged to eliciting truth to power, sans foursquare
contrived extinction reeks foul, and pea brained reptilian
deigns to o’er shadow (donned incognito as a dapper
democratic dilettante) scrapping the declaration of independence
and constitution with wild eyed excitement, he invites
Vladimir Putin to join ranks so together these free ranging pals
can hinder peace on earth, foment wild pandemonium, and define
* * * * * * * * * *
A greater giving a more harrowing definition as persona
non grata amidst the legendary legions that comprise panoply
of cut throat rogues night gallery thee unnamable overlooked
jabberwocky inscrutable hoax genii us wrought wish (with a
whoosh) to manifest as crude dude exude ding sinister
specie savors supremacy and floods the market with
gewgaws of his likeness (gamut of gnarly guised gizmos,
and game pieces life size or miniature model available
at sundry department stores wherever schlocky plastic
model toys sold)popular trapping of childhood imagination –
* * * * * * * * * *
imbued via vainglorious ventriloquist inciting fiendish cry
such kiddy paraphernalia forever a top selling plaything
snapped off shelves leaving allocated space bone dry
since time immemorial dinosaur makeshift gewgaws
did cap cha ominous jaws, and populated fertile land
of cave dwellers whereat swaddled kinder babes bellowed
believable farcically feigned ferocious fabrications
foraging bankrupt foretold foreclosure to espy real McCoy
perhaps assembled from mud, rocks and sticks
voicing noisome predators snatching innocent prey –
* * * * * * * * * *
Ripping to tatters and shreds unlucky victim rarely escaping
in fizz hicks of time – witnessed first hand proof positive
how me came that close (pinch thumb with index finger)
telly tubby simian snack aye haint fool’n witch cha,
nar doth this medieval troubadour –spin a yarn
approximating verity of nasty Hobbesian brute
trumpeting fiercely bruited his bombastic buzz hard
carrion feed small fry to Golgotha donning topface,
could dice in a flickr emulate, and twitter
ring one excited live hotmail riding Pegasus,
* * * * * * * * * *
While those in his Isis Petsmart warpath
on outlook to avoid get linkedin, per imp (of
the pervert) pale’n maws simultaneously masticating
and able to shutterfly hither and yon, to and fro rousing
seditious rogues gallery of reprobate ruthless minions –
ruminants to become apprenticed fired up en mass thru
the art of the deal vis a vis venal pet peeves (pygmy male hominids),
who revered his racially stirred debacle while straddling
as a humungous towering Taj ma hill, he pill or reed
like lex lucifer usurpation, whence auld dish diehard
* * * * * * * * * *
Don nah sore dominated as demented species, thus,
he didst not perish from this earth boot yielded wild
hest emperor – elected by the peephole,
four the pea pull, of the peep pill.
 

 

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For All We Know, Poetry by Eden P. Orbista

 Genre: Relationship

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This must be the last time that we talked
… the last time that we hugged
… the last time that we looked into each other’s eyes
… the last time that we tenderly kissed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My eyes are wide shut as you close the door
Tears are falling as my heart ached for you
For all we know you’re leaving for someone else
Reason that is difficult for me to bear.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The many years that we shared together
Breaks me into pieces to remember
I’m likened to a flame with a dying ember
For all we know you’re breaking my heart dear.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Somehow, there might be another time
Somewhere, there might be another place
For us to rekindle the love we knew, but…
For all we know this might be the end.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Letting go is loving you
My arms want to hold you close
To touch you, to feel you once more, but…
For all we know this is goodbye.

https://edensnookforeverything.wordpress.com/2016/06/01/for-all-we-know/

 

 

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Futurist I am, Poetry by Stephen Karnaghan

 Genre: philosophical

 And the smell of the final cadence lingers … purging me of the strength to run away … and no one
can remedy … no one can feel … the pains that just won’t go away … memories invade … of the scorn
… the hate … the arrogance of those in the crowd … mocking me … hating me … for I didn’t care …
didn’t care to be … just one who dreams and dies … to dream and die with beer and gut … to dream
and die with gossip and stuff … thrusting me forward alone in the dark … always presuming that
solitude mark … which gave me … thrust me to my purpose my life … beckoning wisdom … and
furthering hope …
Music … music … the music – the dance – the love … listen to the words my friend listen to the words
… bring forth the wisdom and let us set aside … set aside the stuff, the pride, the consumerist bile …
listen to the words that sing about hope … of a land in repair … with lingering beauty and love … the
musician bringing the soul to the fore … be strong and look for a life … the future to be found …
beckoning wisdom … someone must start …
Wisdom … truth in action … the perceived world can be … anything that we all desire … living in hell
as most of us are … the pain will stay with us all … but the soul to the fore … to trumpet change …
giving to the mind all the needs … fractured societies as the beat drives us on … to lingering beauty
and love … flora and fauna … repaired and set for life … the future is what I see …

 

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Dear You, Poetry by Chirayu

 Genre: Society

This poetry relate you by my world of Writing.!
Hello,
This is me a poetry teller
Rhyming down the line
Shimmering light of love
Pouching out my heart
in flame of different words..
Gifting you a secret beauty
Falling down on knees
folding hand behinds
Rearing one hand Front with a
Beautiful Rose to say!..
Will you be my valentine!…

the rays of beauty shines on face
where hides the blushing rose,
Pride of fragrant poetry
Prepared in sane of love;
Garland meet for beauty’s brows,
Hill and dale adorning?
Gentle maid the summer’s fled
And the hopeless Rose bright forever!!..
Till the next Valentine day!!…
– Chirayu

 

 

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I AM, Poetry by T. Altman

 Genre: Feminist

I Am
I am the mouthy bitch
Who barks and bites
Rejecting your conformity
Refusing to bind and blind
Rallying against miso-dogma

I am the stirring corruptor
Who scratches and claws
Pushing out ruminating tendrils
Pure and enduring confabulation
Pulling in original virtue

I am the hostile oppressor
Who marks and jabs
Antagonistic slights incurred
Aggressively bunting venom
Amazingly enduring in self-form

T. Altman 2017

 

 

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GROWTH IN BREXIT, Poetry by David Steven Twist

 Genre: Political

The Twist meme for cultural breakdowns or how to build a cultural map

Auto culture your unique cultural fingerprint

Micro responsive sensitive a small cohort with a scheme

Meso standard calendering time culture connecting the micro and macro culture

Macro interaction with the business environment a dominant scheme

Meta active mechanics in the way it is done

Peta aware Spirit the reward code dependent on spiritual climate

How do you make a game?

First off come up with some basic rules.

Kiss Cuddle
Shock Push

This is the Twist meme on corporate parenting this set can best be described as

Token Buy in
Dissonance Change drive

Four quadrants each with four functions The Reward Code is dependent on the spirit climate

Q1 f2 f1 Q2
f3 f4 f3 f4
f1 f2 f1 f2
Q3 f4 f3 Q4

Consider this a reward code is a brand flavor your spirit. However the climate changes how rewards are perceived and misjudging the climate means ultimately that your reward will be viewed in that context (Ed. Ice Lolly’s in a blizzard)

 

 

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CONFIDING, Poetry by Isabella Destrades

 Genres: Life, Reflection, Dreams, Introspection, Pain, Living, Contemplation.

 She laid down​
on the carpet in the ​
living room because​
she wanted to understand…​

It wasn’t that she didn’t ​
know what was happening​
or why she was feeling this way​
but she wanted to seek answers​
and consult the ceiling​
and the lightbulb ​
and the crack at the far​
left corner​
that had been there​
for as long as she could remember…​

There was so much she needed to know…​

But she laid there for too long​
and the ceiling grew too thin​
and she could see the stars peeking through​

As all of outside tried to come in​
and the ceiling faded into dust that consumed ​
her body as it lay against the fibers of the carpet​

She closed her eyes and started to whisper out​
towards whatever could hear her, or​
whoever happened to be listening to her at that time​

And images flooded her mind​
and took control​
of her body ​
and her will​
and her sense of self​

Images of knives being stabbed through her back​
as people laughed at her spasms and shrieks​
while others looked at her as if she were a specimen ​
under the glass of a microscope​

ConfidingIsabella Destrades

She cried for help, but no one could hear her​

There were images of hands touching hands​
under the lust of the moon’s glow​
surrounded by damp soil and wildflowers​
that thrived upon the hearts of young lovers​

And she could somehow, make out the image of​
a school bus arriving, veiled in fog ​
and wet leaves​
and mud​
ready to take her to the schoolyard​
where all her worries and disappointments​
became her breaking point​
and the people she saw there​
were just tamed circus mice​
following a path she did not choose to go​

But she said to herself ​
“I have no choice,”​
and continued on with her day…​

Suddenly, her eyes open up​
as a microwave beeps and a child’s​
voice is heard shouting on the ​
television screen ​

And she realizes that the dust from the ceiling​
did not cover her body​

And the stars were nowhere to be seen​
(which disappoints her a bit)​

She stands up and looks at the clock​
and decides she should go to bed,​
for the lights shine back at her 1:26 a.m. ​
and that is the sensible thing to do​

She heads to her room​

ConfidingIsabella Destrades
to take off her clothes​
and sleeps soundly​
hoping tomorrow ​
will be a better day…​

No one really understood her​

How her mind worked ​
and who she really was inside​
but everyone knew she had dreams​
and that was enough for them ​
to feel afraid…

 

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Ordinary Time, Poetry by Robert Drusetta

 Genre: Life
 

 Home
Must have this cursed alarm
Involuntarily extraction from my subconscious world
Apologetic self treatment
Face the day
Absent minded am ablutions
Natural aversion from duty
Contemplate spending choices
High noon purposeful respite
Saviour spending choices
Unnatural aversion to duty
Absent minded pm ablutions
Drop the day
Unapologetic self-healing
Voluntarily insertion to my conscious world
Don’t need this blessed alarm
Home

 

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THE DEFENCE OF THE DARK, Poetry by Helen Spisak

 Genre: Dark

Darkness has a very independent existence
Needing no reassurance of being
And no alliance of thought

Darkness holds burdens and secrets together
The extraordinary to the mundane
Where regrets are buried forever

Darkness tolerates the dreamy, watery moonlight
Hibernates from the extrovert sun
And clarifies all sound to a pindrop

Darkness loves to party with nocturnal friends
Hide all flaws and make amends
Sends restorative sleep and plays ‘nightmare roulette’

Darkness has pity for poor twilight
Loathes torches, fires and electric
Teases us from the edge of flickering candlelight

Darkness loves to shadow puppet on a moonlit wall
Lurk in cupboards, corridors and corners
And loves to make you tumble and fall

Darkness lives or hides in us all
You don’t have to light every corner of your soul

Written by Helen Spisak

 

 

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