Tag: Society

GARDEN, Poetry by Nadya Raymond

There are dead flowers in my garden

Red ones

Brown ones

Yellow ones

Blue ones

Rotting, stems riddled with decaying passion lit in a parable of blackness nestles under clots of angelic guilt as sweet occultation-s seep through anxiety pulsating in a distant reflection of youth almost kissed by innocence embrace touching tones of tomb-ed incubust-ed bubbles of illusions

Genre: Life, Society

GARDEN by Nadya Raymond

There are dead flowers in my garden

Red ones

Brown ones

Yellow ones

Blue ones

Rotting, stems riddled with decaying passion lit in a parable of blackness nestles under clots of angelic guilt as sweet occultation-s seep through anxiety pulsating in a distant reflection of youth almost kissed by innocence embrace touching tones of tomb-ed  incubust-ed bubbles of illusions

 

There are dead flowers in my garden

Red ones

Brown ones

Yellow ones

Blue ones

Stoic, blushed in beauty entangles in amiss of darkened veils eclipsing under intense incensed lust frolicking in deep mid-night spasms wonders unto empty streets matted in cobble stone and tar

Nails bright pink, crooked like talons

Hair wrapped in mud like mesh

Lips, soft and sweet dripping like blood spewing into veins parched from centuries of slumbered a-comma-ed dreams

 

There are dead flowers in my garden

Red ones

Brown ones

Yellow ones

Blue ones

Stagnant, a dull moon pines to breathe sets in the distance over a quiet quaint quilted town on the edge exasperation cooling in the frost of solidarity straggles strolling through an unfamiliar jungle of mirrored images seeking companions hacking up raw avant-garde-ed wit

 

There are dead flowers in my garden

Red ones

Brown ones

Yellow ones

Blue ones

Benumbed in hunger, a town lives on the brink of amnesia craving for the thirst of salvation from a distilled lineage of distant lands reigning in terror over a masterpiece painted by phantoms children basking in the freakish enchantment desperately singed in sweet agony and glass masquerading in an orgy of congressional delusions

Wake up

 

There are dead flowers in my garden

Red ones

Brown ones

Yellow ones

Blue ones

Peerless, lifeless dreams creep through window panes in ashes as beads of sweat shimmer under such on intriguingly magnetic light flickering scents of sugared vanilla laced in leather and petty coats abstracted  in realms of eternal holocaust-ed fate convolut-ing in gardens whispering murmurs of secrets under banyan trees

Shhhh

There are dead flowers in my garden

Close your eyes now

 

SHACKLES OF LIFE, Poetry by Lois Terrans Bradbury

The shackles of life can tear the flesh.

Cut deep.

Silence the heart and suffocate the soul,

crush the spirit and drown all hope,

bury the love and hobble expectation,

chill the laughter and boil the hate,

twist the mind and steal imagination.

Genre: Rhyme, Life, Society

SHACKLES OF LIFE

 by Lois Terrans Bradbury

 

The shackles of life can tear the flesh.

Cut deep.

Silence the heart and suffocate the soul,

crush the spirit and drown all hope,

bury the love and hobble expectation,

chill the laughter and boil the hate,

twist the mind and steal imagination.

 

The wound goes so deep,

the scars never heal.

Memories shadowed in darkness,

fighting to be seen,

dreams shattered,

never to be born.

Cries of desperation choked,

never to be heard.

And the blood of the innocent spilled,

never to be loved.

 

The turbulence echoes like a maddening menace,

consuming any flame that dares to dance,

chasing any joy that wished to flee,

imprisoning thoughts that struggle to be free.

 

The undercurrent too strong,

the sands of life vanish,

songs of love are erased.

Passion is tormented,

tenderness is broken.

 

Music’s magic touch gone forever.

Eternity to be wrapped in blankets of pain.

Forever sorrow to reign.

 

 

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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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Odd Walking Thoughts – Unique Mirror, Poetry by Matt Taggart

I smile with broken teeth.

Crookedly we both see,

smiling into our mirror.

Genre: Society, Frustration.

Odd Walking Thoughts – Unique Mirror by Matt Taggart

I smile with broken teeth.

Crookedly we both see,

smiling into our mirror.

It’s not us.

Blood.

It’s my time.

You’ve shared enough.

Walking along looking at leaves.   ?

 

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Mouth Me, Poetry by Wendy Norman

FREE POETRY CONTEST – Deadline: https://festivalforpoetry.com/

Genre: Life, Rhyme

Mouth Me

Poem by Wendy Norman

www.seafarrwide.com

 

If you were a mouth nothing more nothing less

What thoughts and sentiments would you express

Watched closely you can see what it can be

A scarlet vermil tinctured gash swearing profanities

A pink rose bud singing words so pure and sweet

Luscious peach that makes you bow and weep

A yellow stained pot of putrid breath

With singhing puffs from wilted lungs left

Dripping red gloss leaving stains of pain

Pale nude dry rough as sand paper

Devoid of knowledge, love, life or caper

Lizard licking trickery devious intent

A whisker and lipstick so seriously bent

Flowing words of a canaries song

Or laced with ice to make them wrong

Wit and intellectual spiels from thin lines

Passions full lips tantalize and entwine

Toothless gobs of verborrhea

Perfection portrayed in a Model’s leer

Newborns purity precious unique

Virgin angelical a life to seek

Natural lips that outdo rose red

With morning dew of lovers fed

Our mouths tell a story you cannot hide

What is truly you trapped inside

Sentiments and emotions linger there

Constituting beauty

Mouth me I dare

_____

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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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POETRY, Poetry by Caiubi

but bitter
more bitter
a keepin abstence
well said from who looks
shiping the simple silence to burning words
a pray

Genre: Life, People, Society

POETRY
by Caiubi

but bitter
more bitter
a keepin abstence
well said from who looks
shiping the simple silence to burning words
a pray
a flame as an answer to the world
mute river
deaf move
inert stone
the matters is the poem
imperious hand in a missin work
brings to incandescent spirity
and all call thought incinerated act
water throught abort a will
to you
to everything
to a glorious achivements that only one can do
this poem
gathering mountain of shame
waiting to raise a mirror hand
and nothing
suspect of amnesia
lying absorved
desperade
…
don’t be afraid
play an end
blink love
crimson leaf

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Plastic Limitations, Poetry by Maka Nyingwa

Dolls lined up in neat rows of ten,
each equally afraid of lies, pain and disappointment
Drawn with aching smiles and soulless eyes:
cages are imprinted with redundant words to spark interest

Genre: Life, Society

Plastic Limitations
by Maka Nyingwa

Dolls lined up in neat rows of ten,
each equally afraid of lies, pain and disappointment
Drawn with aching smiles and soulless eyes:
cages are imprinted with redundant words to spark interest

A new era of egocentrically selfless dolls pollute the aisle
while the rest are left to decay into the dust they rose from
And as damaged beauty is glorified,
hearts are lost to the physical eye:

Money, magnified, manic
Absent, apathetic, abandoned
Grated, generic, glorified
Empty, effortless, edited
Damaged:
the end of each relationship is the beginning of every insecurity…
Damaged.

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FILLED GLASSES & LIT CIGARETTES, Poetry by Noemi Moncayo

Nobody promised you a manual on how to face the burden of heartbreak and loneliness.
This life doesn’t equip you with the first aid kit to pull together and repair your soul after you face the sad reality that you have to save yourself from every hell you go through.

Genre: Addiction, Life, Society

FILLED GLASSES & LIT CIGARETTES
by Noemi Moncayo

Nobody ever said it was easy.

Nobody promised you a manual on how to face the burden of heartbreak and loneliness.
This life doesn’t equip you with the first aid kit to pull together and repair your soul after you face the sad reality that you have to save yourself from every hell you go through.

Your lungs were not made to inhale the toxic smoke you use to numb your mind. You liver isn’t meant to handle the alcohol intake on the nights you feel so empty there’s a hollow vibration in your cries.

Your heart was not prepared for the hands of lovers who are masters of broken promises and had the audacity to drop it.

Your ears were not made to hear words that resonate in the back of your mind and make you contemplate weather death is a train you want to ride on.

Your eyes, fragile glass crafted by God to see the beauty that this life has to offer, were not meant to see her in your bed with another.

Your lips were not meant to quiver when the first tear falls after you feel your heart sink to your knees. Love is not supposed to sound like an apology when it resonates off the walls of your mouth.

Kisses are not meant to burn your lips when you pretend you don’t know the truth.
You shouldn’t have to force yourself to pull her closer and you shouldn’t have to look away when you see yourself dead inside her eyes.

The truth is; bottles and packs can numb the pain, but not if she’s the one filling your glass and lighting your cigarettes.

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THE PRICE OF LOVE $$$, Poetry by James Gary

What can this madness be
That dost cause my mind to see
You, as if you were near
When only in spirit, your soul is here
What voodoo dirge I’m under

Genre: Rhyme, Life, Society

THE PRICE OF LOVE $$$
by James Gary

What can this madness be
That dost cause my mind to see
You, as if you were near
When only in spirit, your soul is here
What voodoo dirge I’m under
That wouldst my heart to wonder
With such a steady pain
Liken to a Far eastern monsoon rain
Be thou still aching heart
What troubles thee, seizures mind
Less from my body I should fling apart
Oh that I could leave thee two behind,
And as my journey should anew
‘Out heart or mind to see me through
And o’er this circumference I should go
They’d say from Hades, a being sent
With shuffle-step he dost wander
His eyes a fixed and catatonic glow
And faculties successfully rent
Only he’d known his feelings wouldst grow fonder/
And wish if I were able To have never set foot upon this place
Saw thy beauty at the table Grecian love etched thy face
And to never have taken that first glance That played the stage for fool’s romance
And greater cause of, histories melancholy
More renown than General Custer’s folly

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