Category: Political

If I Was President, Poetry by Molimau Fatu

This country would actually
Cherish the diversity
It has instead of using it
Like an illusion of unity
Only to earn dollars
Building it not from the bloodshed
Of genocides and chains of slavery
But use the gift of each civilization

Genre: Political, Society, Life

 If I Was President 
by Molimau Fatu
This country would actually 
Cherish the diversity 
It has instead of using it 
Like an illusion of unity 
Only to earn dollars 
Building it not from the bloodshed 
Of genocides and chains of slavery 
But use the gift of each civilization 
To develop the master plan 
Of true unity and love from 
The Most High to not think of 
Greed and actually help out each other 
As life is already difficult 
To treat everyone as human beings 
Regardless of skin color 
Or how much you have 
To have no more homeless 
No more wars 
No more Federal Reserve 
No more FBI 
No more CIA 
No more secret societies planning agendas to kill the people of the world 
No more private prisons 
More schools that actually teach something that we use in real life 
More music that uses words to inspire 
 
 
To guide the youth 
To become more aware 
More consciously and creative 
With joy to live 
Life not enslaved by anything 
But free knowing that 
They won’t have to look over your shoulder 
Yet, visioning a Samoan with his formal ie lavalava on 
With his chocolate thick mocha wife, 
Her dreads all out 
Sundress with big glowing earrings 
And a smile comforting as the sunset 
Usos cooking outside with the rocks 
Making bbq chicken and ribs 
Peeling the skin from the taros 
With the white house no longer being white 
Now in living color 
With melanin and Polynesian blood 
Flowing rhythmically 
With all cultures of the world 
As the women display their beauty 
By that walk of confidence 
Hips moving side to side 
Hair blowing through the breeze 
The aroma so pleasant and strong 
You become mesmerized 
 
 
By the hospitality 
By having a real person as president 
Not some paid puppet 
Of wealthy private bankers 
Then……. 
Damn 
I wake up 
And say 
Only if I were president 
 
 

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Magpies, Poetry by Richard Rensberry

Where bare branch
fingers sky
they congregate, gossips in tree tops
cackling birdbrained
as the moon sets
quarter drained.

Genre: Political, Nature, Society, Religion

Magpies by Richard Rensberry
Where bare branch
fingers sky
they congregate, gossips in tree tops
cackling birdbrained
as the moon sets
quarter drained.
Down at the church
autumn has come
frozen toed
in winter shoes.
It’s the first Tuesday
of November
as voters slip
into a booth to confess,
not to a priest or God,
but the Devil’s rule
for the next four years.
The magpies
shuffle uncomfortable in their seats, turn
their yellow eyes toward heaven
and explode into a storm.
Richard Rensberry, author at QuickTurtle Books®
Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle

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Paris – The Atrocity 13th November 2015 – Poetry Reading by Jane Gill Wilson, Read by Maya Wolosyzn

I was given the opportunity to submit to Wildsound following the publication of ‘Paris – The Atrocity’ on the poetry festival website. After reviewing some poetry performances I thought it would be beneficial to promote my work to a wider audience via Wildsound.

Watch the Poetry Reading: PARIS – THE ATROCITY 13th November 2015:

Get to know poet Jane Gill-Wilson:

1) What is the theme of your poem?

The theme of ‘Paris – The Atrocity’ is Human Interest, Emotive, Rhyme.

2) How would you like people to respond when they read or watch your poetry reading?

My aim is to draw the reader/listener into the heart of the subject matter. In the case of ‘Paris – The Atrocity’ I hope the poem will allow people to explore their own thoughts surrounding the tragic events, and raise an awareness of the secondary consequences of such atrocities.

3) How long have you been writing poetry?

I began writing poetry as a cathartic process during some troubled times in 2010.

4) Do you have a favorite poet?

No, I don’t really have a favorite poet. I am very much inspired by life events and write inspirational, biographical poetry. My style is always rhyming verse. However, I have been influenced by Pam Ayres who is an English poet, comedian  and songwriter. My next book due to be published by Pegasus Eliot Mackenzie in 2016 is a humorous collection of dating stories told in rhyme.

5) What influenced you to submit to WILDsound and have your poetry performed by a professional actor?

I was given the opportunity to submit to Wildsound following the publication of ‘Paris – The Atrocity’ on the poetry festival website. After reviewing some poetry performances I thought it would be beneficial to promote my work to a wider audience via Wildsound.

6) Do you write other works? scripts? Short Stories? Etc..?

Yes, I am a songwriter and regularly co write with other artists. I am also writing my debut novel.

Some of my songs and those of my co writers can be heard at:www.reverbnation.com/janegillwilson

7) What is your passion in life?

My passion in life is my creativity through words.  I am never happier than when I’m writing, be it a poem or a song.

—–

Poetry performed by Maya Wolosyzn

Produced/Directed by Matthew Toffolo

Editor/Shot by John Johnson

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2015, Poetry by Dawdu M.Amantanah

We all slid into 2015
On the tremulous wave of last year
Surfing past years
In Jeremy Clarkson built time machines
Mercury chats to the stars in the dim light of retrograde moonwalking super moons
Awakened by the force of stars

Genres: politics,love,inspiration,revolution,science,society,death,rhyme and popular culture

2015
by Dawdu M.Amantanah

{Poetic Culmination}

We all slid into 2015
On the tremulous wave of last year
Surfing past years
In Jeremy Clarkson built time machines
Mercury chats to the stars in the dim light of retrograde moonwalking super moons
Awakened by the force of stars
Women walk below them embracing the sparkle like diamonds
Wearing dresses we can’t quite determine the color
Was blue the hue?
Most say glistening gold
No it must be purple
We all need to hold hands
Singing hymn’s praying in circle’s
Cause the mass shootings and police brutality
Birthed looting and revolution
And the pain of the slain
Drips like sewage in the ghetto’s all across the world
with no one sticking around long enough to pay attention
Hilary Clinton’s personal emails got more attention
While rockets are launched into orbit chewed on like gum by the atmosphere
And salvaged like precious metal
What a 2015 we had
Closer to Mars we are
Rest in Peace
Tamir Rice
Sandra Bland
Laquan Mcdonald
And the hundreds
Unnamed that were slain
I pray the cease of 54 years of limited cargo
Breaks the embargo between American and Cuba
I got 8 quarters in my pocket
Gas is under two bucks
What luck!
The blizzard of 2015 broke records even the abominable snowman gave up
This is just a poem
As the world jot’s down
Two thousand and fifteen ways to evolve
Yet each year we have more to solve

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What If?, Poetry by Anabel Gonzalez

What if the world saw kids through our eyes?
Will they see successes in disguise?
What if they saw diamonds in the rough?

Will they know capturing their hearts is not just fluff?
What if the focus was not on the test?
Would it be enough to just do our best?

Genre: Education, Political, Life

What If?

by Anabel Gonzalez

What if the world saw kids through our eyes?

Will they see successes in disguise?

What if they saw diamonds in the rough?

Will they know capturing their hearts is not just fluff?

What if the focus was not on the test?

Would it be enough to just do our best?

What if there was really nothing to measure?

Will we ever find that hidden treasure?

What if we could tear down classroom walls?

Would we teach at the beach or at the mall?

What if the computer could take the lead?

Would it make teachers obsolete?

What if we stop trying to find fault?

Could we find a remedy and stop the verbal assault?

What if differing viewpoints we could try to see?

Could we agree to disagree?

What if we taught kids to care for the least of these?

Would it be as important as learning ABC’s?

What if we stopped asking the hard questions?

Will we address the issues of education?

What if we stopped asking why?

Could we really turn a blind eye?

What if everyone could catch a glimpse into our world?

Will they be able to see that precious pearl?

What If?

 

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After the War, Poetry by Stone Fox

There was nothing remotely familiar,
I could see no one and every one all at once.
These people were lost, they were all dead.
Salem grew dark-blushing from a freshly spent temptation.
A seduction created from the ideas of rash men,
that was then danced into destiny’s details by the devil.

Genre: War, Society, Political

After the War
by Stone Fox

There was nothing remotely familiar,
I could see no one and every one all at once.
These people were lost, they were all dead.
Salem grew dark-blushing from a freshly spent temptation.
A seduction created from the ideas of rash men,
that was then danced into destiny’s details by the devil.
It continued breeding shadow as every flame,
owned by the light was savagely snuffed-out.
Murder was now on a most elegant hunt.
Each diminishing spark documented each kill,
becoming a growing list of victims.
Meanwhile the thick lingering Blackness
kept a informal score as the shadow grew in strength.
Secretly, far off in the distance, a melody of sweetly soft smothered shrieks
signaled and started a symphony of serenely sobering sobs.
Sobs that began shaping and shifting into
unarticulated sighs and cries that never faltered.
But still, it was met with one lone menacing Nightmare.
A over stayed it’s welcome Terror.
It circled any remaining flame of light like a bottom feeding vulture.
Pushing it’s poor neglected lies unto any and all close by ears.
It could be heard loudly whispering to your hopes and dreams:
“Fret not” it almost always began,
“For though you have truly lost it all-your lives included-
there is a promise to clothe you.”
There was no hiding the disdain from it’s voice or face at the last two words.
But as quickly as the emotion appeared, it was replaced
with a plastic sneer as it finished with,
“All things look good, even better, dressed in our monograms.”
I found it’s night terror or tall tale amusing,
meeting this Nightmare face to face
as my insistent smirk escaped my control,
unnoticed by all including me.

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T H E I N T E R N M E N T, Poetry by Melodic Rose

They will lie and impale you
Throw your bones to the wolves.
They will castrate and frustrate you
Bound for damnation.

GENRE: Political, Social Commentary

T H E I N T E R N M E N T
by Melodic Rose

They will lie and impale you
Throw your bones to the wolves.
They will castrate and frustrate you
Bound for damnation.

They will toss you bits
Of mouldy bread
You will eat the shreds of
Flesh hanging over an open carcass.

Gorge your belly
with the repugnance
of rotting meat.

And they will tell you to be happy.

Be satisfied that your palace is made
Of dirt,
Your throne built from the bones
Of the dead.
The floor a sweltering dingy pile
Of crud.
Because it is still a palace,
After all.

They will offer you bare bits of change.
Dangle precious pearls before your eyes.
Taunt you with every sort of desire,
your flesh has longed for

They will beg you to dine at their table.
Make you an honoured guest,
If you will only sacrifice
And sacrifice you will.

For they will pour vials of poison
Into your veins.
Drive blades through your sockets,
Remove your tongue with the blade
of the knife

And toss the gun from hand to hand
Playing games with your very fate.

They will psychologically rape
The intellect out of you,
Shoot an arrow through your
Heart.
Plunge the dagger through your belly
and skewer you like a sunday roast.

You will be nothing but a pile of ash.

They will tell you to sit,
To laugh,
Be gentle
Be strong
Move like a semi automatic sliding door.
All gear clogged,
Created on a factory assembly line.

Until there is nothing left
Your body a host for spare electrical parts.

They will chain you up,
Beat you to submission.
Lead you like an animal to the slaughter.
Herding you into maximum security
For safe keeping.

Your ignorance, the only chain
Needed to keep you under captivity.

They have fed you fecal matter
And called it a gourmet meal.
Clothed you in burlap
And called it silk.

They will thread wires through your ears
pulse you with electrical currents.

They will radiate your very will to live.
Steal the words from the tip of your tongue
and tell you never to speak.

They will laugh at you,
puppet wire you
and pull you by the strings,
They have made you into the byproduct
of the their intention.
They will claim you were their i n v e n t i o n,

And you will dance on point
and learn to laugh.
Move like all the other droids.
They will remove the very breath from your lungs

one tear gas,
one vial of poison
one compromise
one deception
one war,
one institution
one moment
one historical m a n i p u l a t i o n
one vote
one protest
one force
one grand consummate scheme at a time.

They will call it a D e m o c r a c y

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Invisible Man, Poetry by Dawi Opara

I am the
Invisible man.
Not science fiction,
Nor of H.G.
Wells’s imagination,
But fact.
Transparent blacknuss
In white abstraction
Of reality.

Genre: Political

Invisible Man
by Dawi Opara

I am the
Invisible man.
Not science fiction,
Nor of H.G.
Wells’s imagination,
But fact.
Transparent blacknuss
In white abstraction
Of reality.
A vibrant, live,
Meaningful energy
With hopeless
Aspirations.

I am the
Invisible man.
Surviving centuries
Of indifference
And human denial.
Descending
Stairways into live,
Exploding nightmares.
Living the visible
Repercussions of
White kind’s
Scheme dream
For supremacy
As I attack,
Attempting to rearrange
A deranged mentality.

I am the
Invisible man.
Trapped in a
Deadly drain game
Of mental gymnastics.
An expendable,
Usable, reusable
Statistical test tube
Soul of the
Twentieth century search
To attain godliness,
All for the
Visible benefit,
Improvement, and
Propagation of
White kind.

I am the
Invisible man.
Scholar, athlete supreme
With visible expectations
Of reaching for more
Than invisible dreams,
For whatever
Towering heights
I soar to attain.
But to white kind,
They are simply
Invisible gains of
My invisible pain.

Yes, I am the
Invisible man.
From the womb
To the tomb,
Saturated with doom
And gloom.
Clever ideologies for
The destruction of this
Black invisibility
Are designed
For the destruction of
Black self-esteem,
To keep us out of the
Visible scheme of things,
To take us to
Annihilation or assimilation,
Siphoning this
Invisible black power to
The white nation.

I am,
I am the
Invisible man.
This jet-black,
Blue-black invisibility
That now threatens
White folk
Visible reality.

I am
The invisible man.
And I am
Mad as hell,
‘Cause you see,
I am the root,
I am the root
From which human
Life has sprung,
Yet I remain
Firmly entrenched on
The bottom rung.
My invisibility confirms
My right to be,
You see.
Even his history hails,
Proclaims this black-shinned,
Nappy-headed,
Big nose,
Big-lipped man
From the womb
Of Mother Africa
As the father,
The father of mankind

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