Here is a list of Political / Social Poems ordered by Last Commented, posted by members. Read poetry, post your own poems or comments. Poems on these pages are copyrighted © by the authors who entered them. Click here to post a poem.
The Flipside
Your words ring of poison
An there's hatred in the air
Only you know your background
But i'm sure no one did care
Your opinion is tainted
An a different point of view
The intensity of your words
Reflects broken images of you
Broken from the past
A childhood so severe
That nothing ever lasts
An love was never near
Or is it that you run
With the futuristic pack
Where there is strength in numbers
But alone....you are slack
You sit in devils garden
With hate on your side
An use your mouth aggresively
An mistake it for pride
You are what you are
An i'll accept that fact
But disrespect an ignorance
Is not good tact
But that doesnt bother you
For your life is a haze
An everyone around you
Just puppets in the maze
I hope one day you will see
The good side of life
An treat it with tenderness
To keep you out of strife
An there's hatred in the air
Only you know your background
But i'm sure no one did care
Your opinion is tainted
An a different point of view
The intensity of your words
Reflects broken images of you
Broken from the past
A childhood so severe
That nothing ever lasts
An love was never near
Or is it that you run
With the futuristic pack
Where there is strength in numbers
But alone....you are slack
You sit in devils garden
With hate on your side
An use your mouth aggresively
An mistake it for pride
You are what you are
An i'll accept that fact
But disrespect an ignorance
Is not good tact
But that doesnt bother you
For your life is a haze
An everyone around you
Just puppets in the maze
I hope one day you will see
The good side of life
An treat it with tenderness
To keep you out of strife
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2011
Post Comment
Misernomics
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
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
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2011
About this poem:
we're counting...on you
Judgement Day
Oh ye so cruel who doth take life
And think of it as naught
Who take delight in mother's wail
And orphan's tears which flow
You dance with joy at bodies broke
And spirits crushed, defeated
As death toll rise and bodies mount
You claim for you the victory
But remember this, you need to know
The day you stand before me
I am God who judges all
And you will feel my vengeance
And think of it as naught
Who take delight in mother's wail
And orphan's tears which flow
You dance with joy at bodies broke
And spirits crushed, defeated
As death toll rise and bodies mount
You claim for you the victory
But remember this, you need to know
The day you stand before me
I am God who judges all
And you will feel my vengeance
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2011
About this poem:
I knew there was a reason I don't watch the news...
Border Reflections
advantage taken of human need
as desperation laws do break
while US agri-business moves with greed
into the after-NAFTA wake
family fields of decimation
failing grains, lives at stake.
shy-of-heaven cross 8-foot-high
ribbons of discontent in wind blowing
not tall enough to carry all souls’ loss
walled-in people, walled-out hope growing
in the midst of such devastation
wondering just what seeds we’re sowing.
work-permits-limited limits survival, dreams
coyotes traffic in the middle
to feed on human flesh do scheme
free versus fair left to riddle
leaves one with no revelation
trading life for profit its current quibble.
permeable boundary where breath’s air
cut off again leads to plight
full value, full cost, full pockets, despair
from flames of injustice arises Phoenix flight
bold with rainbow-colored feathers, wings elation
as Justice GA 2012 prepares to fight.
where Arizona SB 1070’s fingers of injustice tread
hands join to make love a more powerful deed
diverse societies come with actions to spread
releasing the grip of fear and hate, the need
witness on racial and economic justice, immigration
for reason and love to rule, god speed.
empty hate’s coffers to redeem from sin
let the healing power of knowledge and love begin.
as desperation laws do break
while US agri-business moves with greed
into the after-NAFTA wake
family fields of decimation
failing grains, lives at stake.
shy-of-heaven cross 8-foot-high
ribbons of discontent in wind blowing
not tall enough to carry all souls’ loss
walled-in people, walled-out hope growing
in the midst of such devastation
wondering just what seeds we’re sowing.
work-permits-limited limits survival, dreams
coyotes traffic in the middle
to feed on human flesh do scheme
free versus fair left to riddle
leaves one with no revelation
trading life for profit its current quibble.
permeable boundary where breath’s air
cut off again leads to plight
full value, full cost, full pockets, despair
from flames of injustice arises Phoenix flight
bold with rainbow-colored feathers, wings elation
as Justice GA 2012 prepares to fight.
where Arizona SB 1070’s fingers of injustice tread
hands join to make love a more powerful deed
diverse societies come with actions to spread
releasing the grip of fear and hate, the need
witness on racial and economic justice, immigration
for reason and love to rule, god speed.
empty hate’s coffers to redeem from sin
let the healing power of knowledge and love begin.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2011
Post Comment
Rhythm of time
The Rhythm Of Time
There’s an inner thing in every man,
Do you know this thing my friend?
It has withstood the blows of a million years,
And will do so to the end.
It was born when time did not exist,
And it grew up out of life,
It cut down evil’s strangling vines,
Like a slashing searing knife.
It lit fires when fires were not,
And burnt the mind of man,
Tempering leadened hearts to steel,
From the time that time began.
It wept by the waters of Babylon,
And when all men were a loss,
It screeched in writhing agony,
And it hung bleeding from the Cross.
It died in Rome by lion and sword,
And in defiant cruel array,
When the deathly word was ‘Spartacus’
Along the Appian Way.
It marched with Wat the Tyler’s poor,
And frightened lord and king,
And it was emblazoned in their deathly stare,
As e’er a living thing.
It smiled in holy innocence,
Before conquistadors of old,
So meek and tame and unaware,
Of the deathly power of gold.
It burst forth through pitiful Paris streets,
And stormed the old Bastille,
And marched upon the serpent’s head,
And crushed it ‘neath its heel.
It died in blood on Buffalo Plains,
And starved by moons of rain,
Its heart was buried in Wounded Knee,
But it will come to rise again.
It screamed aloud by Kerry lakes,
As it was knelt upon the ground,
And it died in great defiance,
As they coldly shot it down.
It is found in every light of hope,
It knows no bounds nor space
It has risen in red and black and white,
It is there in every race.
It lies in the hearts of heroes dead,
It screams in tyrants’ eyes,
It has reached the peak of mountains high,
It comes searing ‘cross the skies.
It lights the dark of this prison cell,
It thunders forth its might,
It is ‘the undauntable thought’, my friend,
That thought that says ‘I’m right!’
There’s an inner thing in every man,
Do you know this thing my friend?
It has withstood the blows of a million years,
And will do so to the end.
It was born when time did not exist,
And it grew up out of life,
It cut down evil’s strangling vines,
Like a slashing searing knife.
It lit fires when fires were not,
And burnt the mind of man,
Tempering leadened hearts to steel,
From the time that time began.
It wept by the waters of Babylon,
And when all men were a loss,
It screeched in writhing agony,
And it hung bleeding from the Cross.
It died in Rome by lion and sword,
And in defiant cruel array,
When the deathly word was ‘Spartacus’
Along the Appian Way.
It marched with Wat the Tyler’s poor,
And frightened lord and king,
And it was emblazoned in their deathly stare,
As e’er a living thing.
It smiled in holy innocence,
Before conquistadors of old,
So meek and tame and unaware,
Of the deathly power of gold.
It burst forth through pitiful Paris streets,
And stormed the old Bastille,
And marched upon the serpent’s head,
And crushed it ‘neath its heel.
It died in blood on Buffalo Plains,
And starved by moons of rain,
Its heart was buried in Wounded Knee,
But it will come to rise again.
It screamed aloud by Kerry lakes,
As it was knelt upon the ground,
And it died in great defiance,
As they coldly shot it down.
It is found in every light of hope,
It knows no bounds nor space
It has risen in red and black and white,
It is there in every race.
It lies in the hearts of heroes dead,
It screams in tyrants’ eyes,
It has reached the peak of mountains high,
It comes searing ‘cross the skies.
It lights the dark of this prison cell,
It thunders forth its might,
It is ‘the undauntable thought’, my friend,
That thought that says ‘I’m right!’
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2011
Post Comment
10 different kinds of turquoise…
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 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…
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2011
Post Comment
you will be free
I see you in my dreams I hear your painfull screams over mountains and the seas,I know you will break free from the river to the sea Palestine will be free!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2011
About this poem:
This poem is about the people in occupied Palestine.
what am i?? (solved by mr. swade)
i'm the strongest material in the world
but you can tear me with one swipe of your hand
i'm all over but most noticeable in the fall
but you can tear me with one swipe of your hand
i'm all over but most noticeable in the fall
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2011
Post Commentode underwater
I've got this listing, sinking feeling
that I owed most of my life to my bank.
Hands in the air, reaching for debt ceiling,
yet another fine mess, with no one to thank.
Guns all put down, the pen reigns mightier
can't fight the bank, let alone hit myself.
Contracts contracted, assurances flightier
seems the whole world's overextended itself.
I ode some words, I owed some dollars
'course everyone I talk to is in the same boat.
Can't answer my phone for collecting callers,
looking to ourselves, line of credit, to float.
I'm maxed they've determined, but I'm appealing
my mortgage, in arrears, beyond my credit score.
All my creditors say that defaulting is stealing
I gave a stone and blood, still they want more.
Seems to everyone, I owe myself, that's no joke
shouldn't be depressed, but maybe I oughter.
Dunno if I'm myself, or like all nations folk,
I've underwritten much of this ode underwater.
'course if I owe some B and B owes to C
and C owes somebody else...well back to me,
then it seems that we all owe to each other,
our mountain of debt is brother to brother.
Would some rebalancing of our balance sheets
starve our children, kick us out into streets?
Maybe we should waive our bankruptcy hearing
and admit it's to life we're really endearing.
© agoodguy2have 2011-06-10
that I owed most of my life to my bank.
Hands in the air, reaching for debt ceiling,
yet another fine mess, with no one to thank.
Guns all put down, the pen reigns mightier
can't fight the bank, let alone hit myself.
Contracts contracted, assurances flightier
seems the whole world's overextended itself.
I ode some words, I owed some dollars
'course everyone I talk to is in the same boat.
Can't answer my phone for collecting callers,
looking to ourselves, line of credit, to float.
I'm maxed they've determined, but I'm appealing
my mortgage, in arrears, beyond my credit score.
All my creditors say that defaulting is stealing
I gave a stone and blood, still they want more.
Seems to everyone, I owe myself, that's no joke
shouldn't be depressed, but maybe I oughter.
Dunno if I'm myself, or like all nations folk,
I've underwritten much of this ode underwater.
'course if I owe some B and B owes to C
and C owes somebody else...well back to me,
then it seems that we all owe to each other,
our mountain of debt is brother to brother.
Would some rebalancing of our balance sheets
starve our children, kick us out into streets?
Maybe we should waive our bankruptcy hearing
and admit it's to life we're really endearing.
© agoodguy2have 2011-06-10
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2011
Post CommentTwo birds of prey…
Two birds of prey… are hitched to my buggy,
One white, one black,
The white one represents the love that surrounds,
The black one, the murkiness that diminishes me, that draws me into the illusion…,
They’re forever in a contest for my allegiance,
Damn them, for in their own way, they both prey on me…
The mist begins to fade along with the cobwebs of the last dream…,
Awareness slowly returns to the Seeker-as the Seer[used in the sense of a person who sees; an observer] reluctantly recedes…,
Proneness, stiffness, blandness envelop the Seeker for the umpteenth time as he perceives the circling grayness drawing nigh…,
He is once again astonied at the bull-dog tenacity of the demon of mediocrity, and how it never gives up its dark struggle for possession…,
Resolutely, the Seeker summons the Seer and surrenders the seeking, he knows from ample experience that seeking is a futile cause, and that the only way to reality is to move to the seeing, on the way to life, the ultimate “illusory-reality”…,
He knows this academically, with only the odd scarce and sporadic epiphany here and there…,
The battle between demon and Seer, however, is easily won, the product of decades of practice, the demon ignominiously skulks away…
The Seer now starts courting love, the only lasting weapon,
“…what the hell is love, anyway…”, he wonders,
“… love, joy, peace…”, he chants…,
“… love, joy, peace…”, “… love, joy, peace… come to me…, cloak me”,
For this to happen, though, he knows he must see himself as the beloved…,
He rises, eyeing the black bird regretfully and sighing softly…, maybe next time he thinks, right now, Ms X is due in an hour for her weekly hypnotherapy session, and her currency helps pay the rent, whereas the numinous love that surrounds us has been a little reticent with its euros lately…
He makes one last attempt, optimist that he is,
“… guide me love that surrounds me…, guide me…”,
Whereas my toothbrush?
One white, one black,
The white one represents the love that surrounds,
The black one, the murkiness that diminishes me, that draws me into the illusion…,
They’re forever in a contest for my allegiance,
Damn them, for in their own way, they both prey on me…
The mist begins to fade along with the cobwebs of the last dream…,
Awareness slowly returns to the Seeker-as the Seer[used in the sense of a person who sees; an observer] reluctantly recedes…,
Proneness, stiffness, blandness envelop the Seeker for the umpteenth time as he perceives the circling grayness drawing nigh…,
He is once again astonied at the bull-dog tenacity of the demon of mediocrity, and how it never gives up its dark struggle for possession…,
Resolutely, the Seeker summons the Seer and surrenders the seeking, he knows from ample experience that seeking is a futile cause, and that the only way to reality is to move to the seeing, on the way to life, the ultimate “illusory-reality”…,
He knows this academically, with only the odd scarce and sporadic epiphany here and there…,
The battle between demon and Seer, however, is easily won, the product of decades of practice, the demon ignominiously skulks away…
The Seer now starts courting love, the only lasting weapon,
“…what the hell is love, anyway…”, he wonders,
“… love, joy, peace…”, he chants…,
“… love, joy, peace…”, “… love, joy, peace… come to me…, cloak me”,
For this to happen, though, he knows he must see himself as the beloved…,
He rises, eyeing the black bird regretfully and sighing softly…, maybe next time he thinks, right now, Ms X is due in an hour for her weekly hypnotherapy session, and her currency helps pay the rent, whereas the numinous love that surrounds us has been a little reticent with its euros lately…
He makes one last attempt, optimist that he is,
“… guide me love that surrounds me…, guide me…”,
Whereas my toothbrush?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jun 2011
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