Last Viewed Political / Social Poems (810)

Definition for: unum

accusative singular masculine of unus, one
nominative and accusative singular neuter of unus, one

As a healer, I witness suffering daily,
I have a very soft spot for those in distress among us,
More so for those whose anguish is emotional,
More so for those who are tender of age…

Although, I have seen great dis-ease in my therapy room,
Often, I’m more mortally influenced when I view it outside, in the great beyond we call our society, when my guard is down and I least expect it…

I will be at a theatre,
And there, in plain sight,
Yet hidden from the untrained eye,
Is a beautiful young blonde, languishing,
Frame ever so slightly bent,
Breasts ever so slightly caved in,
Legs not so pert,
Their liveliness and sauciness absent tonight,
The smile ever so slightly fake,
The twinkle certainly missing from lack-luster eyes…

Who knows her pain?
Who will whisper a word in her ear to make it better?
Did she get the minimum of eight hugs we need daily, just to break even,
today?
Who will give her ten or twelve hugs,
Brotherly hugs, healing hugs, not leeringly or lustfully?
Sigh, I sigh sooo deeply,
But, I pass humbly on,
Powerless to offer succor,
I leave her to the universe,
And I contemplate the cavernous bond that meshes us all together,
For, assuredly, I would not notice such travail in a ‘stranger’, if that stranger were not inexorably intertwined with me,
And me with the great ‘unum’…,
And you, and you, and you…

You can’t see what’s inside of me
You think that I am empty
All you see is a blank staring face
And a mouth constantly drooling

You make fun of me, call me names
Say that I’m wasting air breathing
It pains me so these words I hear
You don’t know I can hear you

There is no way to let you know
That I'm here, inside of me
I think and feel just like you do
But there’s no way I can tell you

So count your blessings while you can
For life is so uncertain
Before I drove whilst I was drunk
My life was fairly normal

My luck ran out, I’d pushed too far
This was one time, once too many

Many years ago, when I was a volunteer non-combatant in South Africa’s apartheid war against Namibia,
I experienced a life-enriching phenomenon, which I would like to share with my fellow poets in this corner of the galaxy…
Why share? Well, I find myself a party to combat again, and introspection of how to peacefully settle the matter brought this incident to memory…,
Its serving me well now, just as it did several decades ago…


I was standing guard unarmed on ‘my’ side of the Zambezi,
On the other side was the ‘enemy’, of course…,
My fellow-soldiers, who for some unknown reason liked me, used to daily jibe me about ‘defending’ my country with my eyes, rather than an FN assault rifle…,
Fire was often exchanged between the Zambians and the South Africans across the mighty and drop-dead gorgeous Zambezi…,
Which, mind you, did not seem to deter the local crocodile and hippopotamus congregations, for whom life went on as usual…,
Neither did it stop the exotic fish eagles from emitting their haunting and beautiful cry as they fished daily at sundown…

However, to my utter astonishment, it did not deter another hardy trio,
Every day around sundown, a daddy, a mommy and a little girl with fiery blond hair, would come chugging along in their little fishing boat between the two groups in this war-zone,
The crocodiles leering hopefully at them…, and their fishing lines hanging overboard…

At first, my logical and protective mind criticized the parents for being irresponsible, but, a little reflection showed me that here were two advanced beings teaching us that the only thing to fear is fear…,
And that there are no ‘other sides’ to the Zambezi,
Just the eternal tranquil expanse,
On which, for fun, we get to choose our reality,
Peace or conflict…
May we all ‘requiescat in pace’ this side of the far side as well, instead of waiting for the other phenomenon…

Twenty-six kilometers north of Limassol, there’s a place called ‘governor’s beach’,
I love going there, especially when I feel my heart closing…,
Especially when the beauty within me becomes sparse and it needs replenishing,
For one thing I know,
As within, so without,
So I take care to be a conscientious gardener of the beauty within…,
For beauty is g-d, and g-d is beauty…


I like to sit there, on top of the hill and look down on the vast Mediterranean,
I’m writing this from there now,
There’s a gentle breeze entertaining my face, and there are thirteen souls on the beach below,
A playboy yacht is lazily lounging nearby,
Three little kids are cavorting at the water’s edge,
Elisavet and Angelos are two of their names,
The third, a little girl not older than 4, is obviously the ‘gang-leader’, I did not hear her name as she is the chatterbox who is incessantly barking out the important orders of the business at hand [in Greek, of course], of building, demolishing and rebuilding their sandcastle…,
Their mother, a svelte young woman, is talking on the mobile, for half an hour now, “…what’s the point of coming to this corner of paradise and yet have your ear glued to the cancerous device…”, I rhetorically ask myself…


I take a deep breath, I begin to disengage from the human elements,
I gaze at the sea,
I count ten different kinds of turquoise today,
Now, I try to connect to the infinite,
I greatly feel the need,
On the tree, above me, a crow sounds his very strange call, as if in agreement with me, and to spur me on…,
For a closed heart does not a body any good…,
I pack pen and paper reluctantly away,
And start opening my heart,
“…how are you today dear g-d…”, is my opening salvo to the infinite…

i was floating on a cotton bud high up in the sky,
when an angel flew by, and asked me ‘hey, why?’
there’s so much work that needs to be done
here on this earth, so many issues. everyone!

i told the light creature, that i’d had enough,
of humans who’re selfish, uncouth and so rough.
for all his intelligence, man has ruined this world
with plastic, and warheads, and hatred unfurled.

look at the environment, the seas. even space.
the murder of forests, and oceans’ deface.
dead satellites in orbit, we now call space junk,
what’s there to shout about, this planet is sunk!

so the angel got busy, to turn me around,
from my floating carriage, in silent surround.
go back my dear fellow, to the sins of the world,
but look at the goodness, your vision unfurled.

the birds in the skies, chirping and singing away,
the great humpbacks of the oceans, a sight on any day.
the lord of the jungle, with his mighty roar,
and the graceful gazelle, we all love and adore.

there are good people, if you really care to look,
not in the bible, the koran or any other holy book,
but just look around you, and marvel and see
happy children’s faces from any degree.

for that aught be the reason, to strive and to toil,
and make this earth safer for them to grow tall,
the beauty of love, and the tests we must solve
to get goodness remembered, and bad to resolve.

so i floated down gently on the same cotton bud
and got off my carriage, with ne’er a thud.
and looking around me, i was in this room
chockfull of children, and no elbowroom…..

all colours, all sizes. all smiling. .... no gloom.

The earth baked into a hot hard crust
Where refugees cannot escape the lust
No water no food just political disgust
Oh lack of rain earth large cracks deepest
And thristy leaves curl stunted fruit barest
Little relief fade as clouds are fewest
Passing still no drops of rain sparist
Awaiting anxious harvest in toil frankest
Baking down make powder fly from dung disgust
Children squatting with gasping breath frailest
From journey brought on bonely legs weakest
Across wicked wasted plains of drought gravest
Breaking hearts and destroying dreams proudest
Oh give a heart and help the earth's poorest!!

The phrase "smart alec" arose from the exploits of Alec Hoag.
A celebrated pimp, thief, and confidence man,
Hoag, his wife Melinda, and accomplice "French Jack",
operated various con games in New York City in the 1840s.
Most was done by pickpocketing,
with Melinda taking the victim's pocketbook,
while the victim was otherwise engaged,
surreptitiously handing it to Hoag or French Jack.
The key to this activity was that they did so,
in close association with two police officers,
who shared the loot and provided protection.
In the "panel game" trick,
Melinda would make her victim lay his clothes
upon a chair near a secret panel.
She would then take him to her arms
and closely draw the curtains of the bed.
With the dupe not likely to heed outside noises,
she would cough, and Alec would slily enter,
rifle the pockets of every farthing or valuable thing,
then disappear as mysteriously as he entered.
The victim was persuaded to hurrily leave through a window,
when Alec banging on the door, posed as an aggrieved husband.
Hoag used this trick to avoid paying off the police.
When he was caught, the cops were in no mood to aid him.

we are very busy in life
we have only one life here
so we need to fulfill our dreams
as soon as posible
and we think ,no chance to get
enough time for it.
need more time to reach the top
so we are avoiding so many things
happenig around us.
it means no time to waste..
we made walls between our homes
and even in our soul
its not nice to hear others problems
those we can easly solve for them.
we need more care and love from others
but fails to give these to others
we forget that , we are human beings
who can only give and get what they wants...

When will I die?
Are we really going to have huge job losses starting September 27?
Why does God let bad people get away with all their crap?
Did the dinosaurs die off, or just turn into chickens and bald eagles?
Was life better when we just had 200 million people on the planet?
How do aliens exist in space that is so vast it boggles the mind?
When are we going to get hard evidence of Bigfoot?
Are the poor people of India really happier than the rich in the USA?
When are we going to have a really good president again like Kennedy?
When are we going to visit Mars and the moons of Jupiter and Saturn?
When will we have electric cars that are affordable?

Well, old Osama is a goner, even though he played a loner.
Barak helped him on his way, and thank God for yesterday. *

Hopefully al Qaeda is now headless, no direction, or a bit less.
nine eleven and some others are avenged, let's hope no-one is deranged!

It's the good old USA, told the 'terror', no hay pray.
Twentyseven virgins in the sky? Not for bin Laden, he's left dry.

For the sake of all mankind. Christian, Hindu, or Islam.
Make the journey on this Earth, pleasant, wholesome and convert,
for the real common dictat, is love your neighbour as thyself.

And may your God Bless you.