Last Viewed Political / Social Poems (810)

the talking heads are also comics
these economic geniuses after years
are spouting praises of Misernomics
quick study concluded we're in arrears

and need to decapitalize life today
don't spend anything you ain't got
to forestall our tomorrow going away
good advice founding fathers caught

and don't pay for what you don't need
so therefore we'll cut back education
sound advice in sane person might heed
to better manage our bankrupt nation

and health and vitality merely frills
no need to waste our coins on want
when trying to cover economic ills
monetary mismanagement returns to haunt

what we want is to address our need
to count ourselves and sum our greed
those roads, bridges, electrical grids
mattered back when the things we did

were more important than take home pay
we'll keep it all and count it up
what you knew then, has now gone astray
soon Spend-it-omics could again erupt

our future, our kids, our progeny all
"This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want"
matters minor, in our countless pall
our poorest desire, the possible, too daunt

in the mean time we say "thanks a bunch"
We'll save our lives for better times
food for thought on societies free lunch
We'll save our monied economic crimes

as Silas Marner tabled reclusive coins
no weighty matters outweigh the economy
these fearful economic times purloined
might priorities reflect our tragicomedy?

© agoodguy2have 2011-07-06

One cannot walk
this path
that shines
this path
that has been
carved
through the concrete jungles
of lies and deceit
through the rotting smell
of corruption and greed
where there are people
who lurk within
people
who have nothing
but stunted twisted
seedless thoughts
on the need
to keep you
and your children
submissive
compliant
weak
on your knees
so they can feed
on your blood
sweat
and tears

One cannot walk
upon this path
that has been
carved
through the concrete jungle
of lies and deceit
this path
that now shines
dimly
though the falling mist
of broken tears
that lay gently
upon the scattered bones
of those
who stood their ground
who held
their head up high
and carved this path
though the jungle of lies
trying all alone
to put things right
for the young
for those
who have yet to arrive

One cannot
walk this path
that has been carved
though this concrete jungle
of lies and deceit
though the rotting smell
of corruption and greed
one cannot join
those who are left
who stubbornly continue
to walk
this lonely path
that has been carved
by those who came
before them
those
who got off their knees
to carve this path
to help the kids

The problem
with photos
is the same problem
with ones mind
they can be
very good
at lying

Where is the honor
fighting
for a country
where your women
and your children
cannot even
walk their streets
without fear
Where is the honor
fighting
for a government
that gives you
nothing
but pious words
nothing
but a park bench
cardboard blanket
and a hard pillow
for your wounds
Where is the honor
when you shout
those hollow words
for freedom
for justice
for liberty

Look really hard....
See? Here I am
The packaging is a bit worn perhaps
But look inside
Beyond the wrapping
See?
No....wait!!
That one's unfinished, unversed...
I know it's agleam now, but that will fade
And the packaging will fray


Look really hard.....
I'm in here

Tiger Woods is arguably one of the greats of all-time but not the best
deemed super human led to preferential treatment unfair to the rest
It affected others to hear Media say 'they're playing for second place'
when someone bested Tiger I bet they yearned to shout "In your Face"

Tiger this! and Tiger that!... inevitably became painful to my ears
constant praise was beneficial to Tiger while insulting to all his peers
Fact is Tiger was conducive to excitement in golf reaching contagious
that said..making the other golfers seem insignificant was outrageous

On numerous occasions I witnessed him more fortuitous than good
even when out of contention the focus rarely shifted from Tiger Wood
When less than his perfect self the excuses always came pouring in
it was seemingly unacceptable if almighty Tiger fell short of the win

Fact #2! NO sports figure is worth near the ridiculous money they make
real folks work lifetimes earning less than many do in one games take
Media created a "Holier than thou" Tiger which produced carelessness
arrogance turned his history making career into a nightmarish mess

Athletes guilty of beating on woman should be banned from the sport they play
cheating is also a reprehensible act Mr.Tiger Woods learned the hard way
Fans can be too much but the athlete must appease so they master the facade
I don't hate the Tiger..I do hate when ANYONE is worshiped like some god

Sometimes we must fail
To rise, sink to swim –
Sometimes we must be ugly
To be beautiful

The goslings fell and fell
Their first second and third
Attempt at flying

But they kept getting up
Running and dancing
Backwards and forwards
Lifting and flapping
Higher with each attempt

Sometimes we must lay
Down our pride
Like a sword
And bare our souls and hearts

Sometimes we must anchor
Ourselves in pain
To lift the veils of change

For change can come
Like a twister
Or grow steady like a tree
Sometimes we must fail, we must let go
To grow…and

One never fails when one
dares to change
One never fails when one
dares to fail

The Lie
by Sir Walter Ralegh


Go, soul, the body's guest,
Upon a thankless errand;
Fear not to touch the best;
The truth shall be thy warrant:
Go, since I needs must die,
And give the world the lie.

Say to the court it glows
And shines like rotten wood,
Say to the church it shows
What's good, and doth no good:
If church and court reply,
Then give them both the lie.

Tell potentates, they live
Acting, by others' action;
Not lov'd unless they give;
Not strong, but by affection.
If potentates reply,
Give potentates the lie.

Tell men of high condition,
That manage the estate,
Their purpose is ambition;
Their practice only hate.
And if they once reply,
Then give them all the lie.

Tell them that brave it most,
They beg for more by spending,
Who in their greatest cost
Like nothing but commending.
And if they make reply,
Then give them all the lie.

Tell zeal it wants devotion;
Tell love it is but lust;
Tell time it meets but motion;
Tell flesh it is but dust:
And wish them not reply,
For thou must give the lie.

Tell age it daily wasteth;
Tell honour how it alters;
Tell beauty how she blasteth;
Tell favour how it falters:
And as they shall reply,
Give every one the lie.

Tell wit how much it wrangles
In fickle points of niceness;
Tell wisdom she entangles
Herself in over-wiseness:
And when they do reply,
Straight give them both the lie.

Tell physic of her boldness;
Tell skill it is prevention;
Tell charity of coldness;
Tell law it is contention:
And as they do reply,
So give them still the lie.

Tell fortune of her blindness;
Tell nature of decay;
Tell friendship of unkindness;
Tell justice of delay:
And if they will reply,
Then give them all the lie.

Tell arts they have no soundness,
But vary by esteeming;
Tell schools they want profoundness,
And stand too much on seeming.
If arts and schools reply,
Give arts and schools the lie.

Tell faith it's fled the city;
Tell how the country erreth;
Tell manhood, shakes off pity;
Tell virtue, least preferred.
And if they do reply,
Spare not to give the lie.

So when thou hast, as I
Commanded thee, done blabbing;
Because to give the lie
Deserves no less than stabbing:
Stab at thee, he that will,
No stab thy soul can kill!
ca.1592

HABITUAL reasoning always streaming

Through the woven times of ours.

Always wanting to step beyond the border we cannot see.

CAN WE NOT SEE?
IS WISDOM LOST?

Systematicly being put in check, by the habituality of our inhumanity,

Wearing us down reluctantly.


Scorpley - late 2006

I go to the exremes and have to cut my mind on a jagged edge to burst my emotions before I explode into a thousand selves
We can be who we are or play more games
Maleable like a stream my other selves give birth
The I and the flesh
The antenna of the soul
Our biology tells some of it all, but can we be free?
In the cave we know, but who is brave enough to tell that we are porns in the scheme of it all
The life is a shaddow and Of myself I can do nothing and waste my days
A meloncholy messenger, a cut price Jesus
I play with it all while the truth is told about the one who creates
One architect for it all
The will protests and wants to flow free imagining many shapes in a colourful parade
I ramble, I stumble my detrators persue
They wish to dance and be it all
I played, I succumbed to be part of the crowd and now rocks are thrown at my weary head
The parade, the parade the madness and all
The questions that died from not being asked a long time ago
The rants and the chats all by myself....
Can I see the Sun through the trees and find the way that he walked