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 Spiritual Foundling...
The spiritual foundling woke up in a trash heap in a dusty rural town of a forgotten continent when he was not yet past Shakespeare’s proverbial ‘first stage’ of life,
One of the first memories he has is of stealing the H2O-merchant’s horse and water-tank and running wild through the village like some modern charioteer,
Of course, he got the whipping of his life for it by his mother, but, “hell...”, the ride was worth it...,
This experience, some half a century later, kind of set the tone for the tapestry of his life...
During the first few months of school, his elders discovered that he could not see the blackboard and or read the pages of the readers,
Spectacles and vision, at last catapulted him from last in class to first, a title he never lost for the rest of his school career,
In those days of yester-year, he was the only kid in school with specs, so ridicule from the other kids and the epithet ‘four-eyes’, bit deep into his psyche, leaving emotional wounds that still hinder him, setting him up for a life of ‘being-different’ and a cosmic kind of loneliness...
From the fringes, he watched with an aching heart, as the other kids frolicked, beclothed with fun and laughter, as he reticently held himself back,
He was, after all, ‘different’,
And being a harmonious soul, he avoided conflict by lingering in the grey areas...
Fast-forward, past lonely teens, young adulthood, marriage, children, higher education, career, mortgages, etc., etc...,
Inside he’s still the lonely little boy,
Still seeking the community that he knows will heal him,
Suddenly whilst watching an episode of the TV series ‘Northern Exposure’, the truth finally gets through to him,
He will never find the community he seeks, unless he takes the initiative to found and build it himself from scratch...
One of the first memories he has is of stealing the H2O-merchant’s horse and water-tank and running wild through the village like some modern charioteer,
Of course, he got the whipping of his life for it by his mother, but, “hell...”, the ride was worth it...,
This experience, some half a century later, kind of set the tone for the tapestry of his life...
During the first few months of school, his elders discovered that he could not see the blackboard and or read the pages of the readers,
Spectacles and vision, at last catapulted him from last in class to first, a title he never lost for the rest of his school career,
In those days of yester-year, he was the only kid in school with specs, so ridicule from the other kids and the epithet ‘four-eyes’, bit deep into his psyche, leaving emotional wounds that still hinder him, setting him up for a life of ‘being-different’ and a cosmic kind of loneliness...
From the fringes, he watched with an aching heart, as the other kids frolicked, beclothed with fun and laughter, as he reticently held himself back,
He was, after all, ‘different’,
And being a harmonious soul, he avoided conflict by lingering in the grey areas...
Fast-forward, past lonely teens, young adulthood, marriage, children, higher education, career, mortgages, etc., etc...,
Inside he’s still the lonely little boy,
Still seeking the community that he knows will heal him,
Suddenly whilst watching an episode of the TV series ‘Northern Exposure’, the truth finally gets through to him,
He will never find the community he seeks, unless he takes the initiative to found and build it himself from scratch...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2010
Post Comment
UNvailed
As they unvailed the loss city at record speed
Devoured savage strangers with odd ease
Climbed to the steeps to seek out the weak
Privelaged all the elders to speak wisdom seeked
Supposed claims of fortune veer them astray
Havoced common culture in the graves they lay
With all wisdom their conscience cause them pain
Never listening to the wise resulting in no gain
Devoured savage strangers with odd ease
Climbed to the steeps to seek out the weak
Privelaged all the elders to speak wisdom seeked
Supposed claims of fortune veer them astray
Havoced common culture in the graves they lay
With all wisdom their conscience cause them pain
Never listening to the wise resulting in no gain
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2010
Post CommentFear...
Raw, pure, unadulterated fear,
Everyone is periodically smitten by it,
In the wink of an eye it can take you from heaven to hell,
From riding the crest of the wave, to being you’re convinced you’re lower than shark excrement...
It is a harsh and heartless enemy,
It makes a snivelling coward of the bravest among us,
It saps the very life and smile out of you,
Fear..., means darkness, despair, dejection, disenchantment,
All ‘d’ words, reminiscent directly of the devil and his demons...
It mocks your manhood, it tarnishes your femininity,
It feeds on your demise,
“Oh wretched man that I am”, as the Saint says,
“What shall deliver me from this plight?”
Different things for different folks,
There is no easy salve,
There’s no ONE magic bullet,
Nay, the way out of the Mephistophelian labyrinth is as diverse as the many sons and daughters of eve and adam,
Only you can look deep inside you and find the elixir that will cause your Phoenix to rise from the ashes once again,
To once more put a smile on your lips,
To once more bless you with a beloved’s meaningful touch,
Your child’s laughter,
Your fellow-mans gratitude,
Your soul’s “namaste’”
Everyone is periodically smitten by it,
In the wink of an eye it can take you from heaven to hell,
From riding the crest of the wave, to being you’re convinced you’re lower than shark excrement...
It is a harsh and heartless enemy,
It makes a snivelling coward of the bravest among us,
It saps the very life and smile out of you,
Fear..., means darkness, despair, dejection, disenchantment,
All ‘d’ words, reminiscent directly of the devil and his demons...
It mocks your manhood, it tarnishes your femininity,
It feeds on your demise,
“Oh wretched man that I am”, as the Saint says,
“What shall deliver me from this plight?”
Different things for different folks,
There is no easy salve,
There’s no ONE magic bullet,
Nay, the way out of the Mephistophelian labyrinth is as diverse as the many sons and daughters of eve and adam,
Only you can look deep inside you and find the elixir that will cause your Phoenix to rise from the ashes once again,
To once more put a smile on your lips,
To once more bless you with a beloved’s meaningful touch,
Your child’s laughter,
Your fellow-mans gratitude,
Your soul’s “namaste’”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2010
About this poem:
It was one of those days today...UNCLE SAM
Would you like to sit with me
Do you have the time
What are you reading
I was forced into crime
Whats it all about
Do you really want to know
Its how our country
Sold us americans out
Our future is dark
We all walk the streets
Hold up cardboard signs
With no shoes on our feet
We all have cell phones
So they can track us down
They follow all our moves
Hear every call and sound
You can't get away
They know where you live
So please pay your taxes
And what else you can give
He's your big brother
So its best to be nice
Just try to get out of line
A hard fist more than twice
It wont be long now
We'll have a chip under our skin
When we need to terminate you
We'll press the button begin
Our futures so bright
I gotta where shades
A suitcase full of nukes
Would you like to trade
Fill out your census
Let them access your life
They know all about you
They've been in bed with your wife
Do you still want to sit with me
Your face is beat red
At least I know your listening
To everything that I've said!
Do you have the time
What are you reading
I was forced into crime
Whats it all about
Do you really want to know
Its how our country
Sold us americans out
Our future is dark
We all walk the streets
Hold up cardboard signs
With no shoes on our feet
We all have cell phones
So they can track us down
They follow all our moves
Hear every call and sound
You can't get away
They know where you live
So please pay your taxes
And what else you can give
He's your big brother
So its best to be nice
Just try to get out of line
A hard fist more than twice
It wont be long now
We'll have a chip under our skin
When we need to terminate you
We'll press the button begin
Our futures so bright
I gotta where shades
A suitcase full of nukes
Would you like to trade
Fill out your census
Let them access your life
They know all about you
They've been in bed with your wife
Do you still want to sit with me
Your face is beat red
At least I know your listening
To everything that I've said!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2010
About this poem:
where all living at a very strange time right now...this is just my take on what i see all around me,pray we all don't end up on the street!!!The problem with positive-thinking ...
First off, I ‘love’ positive-thinking gurus, well, to a point,
Some do get nauseating past that point, though...,
They certainly pose many valid, logical, unarguable tenets,
They quote all the ‘holy’ scriptures and the gurus gone before them to corroborate their philosophies,
And, I have tremendously benefitted from applying their advice,
Not always, though, not always...
You see, in the final analysis,
You can only really criticise them after 50 long years of applying yourself,
I mean, you can’t give up before then,
“C’mon, its just that one more step that will fill your bank account...”, goes the tired old litany...,
But, but, but,
If after 50 long years you still have not ‘reached-your-dream’,
Well then, carry on dreamin’ in ‘the-other-side’ sucker, who are you going to complain to now anyway?
They’re all long gone by now...,
God bless the gurus...
Some do get nauseating past that point, though...,
They certainly pose many valid, logical, unarguable tenets,
They quote all the ‘holy’ scriptures and the gurus gone before them to corroborate their philosophies,
And, I have tremendously benefitted from applying their advice,
Not always, though, not always...
You see, in the final analysis,
You can only really criticise them after 50 long years of applying yourself,
I mean, you can’t give up before then,
“C’mon, its just that one more step that will fill your bank account...”, goes the tired old litany...,
But, but, but,
If after 50 long years you still have not ‘reached-your-dream’,
Well then, carry on dreamin’ in ‘the-other-side’ sucker, who are you going to complain to now anyway?
They’re all long gone by now...,
God bless the gurus...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2010
Post Comment
man's badlands
who knows what evil lurks out there
in the badlands of men's bloody hearts
willing to rage rage against the light
and pull the frayed corners of decency
to the bubbling hot geysered muck
of anger, ever higher, more explosive
always angry red, spilling, spattering
boggled mind at the sinister uselessness
of acts of wanton depravity of soul
to hurt ever more creatively, wrecklessly
denying the refuge of dying peacefully
the darkness revels in cries of pain
from the villages and fields and streets
the old men, the children, young women
dragged into the badlands, all tortured
pulled into the men's black hole of evil
where only God can reconcile the bottom
and give mercy of grace to victims cries
© agoodguy2have 2010-04-09
in the badlands of men's bloody hearts
willing to rage rage against the light
and pull the frayed corners of decency
to the bubbling hot geysered muck
of anger, ever higher, more explosive
always angry red, spilling, spattering
boggled mind at the sinister uselessness
of acts of wanton depravity of soul
to hurt ever more creatively, wrecklessly
denying the refuge of dying peacefully
the darkness revels in cries of pain
from the villages and fields and streets
the old men, the children, young women
dragged into the badlands, all tortured
pulled into the men's black hole of evil
where only God can reconcile the bottom
and give mercy of grace to victims cries
© agoodguy2have 2010-04-09
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2010
About this poem:
sometimes the daily news just utterly confounds the soul...wtf!The Lie
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
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
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Feb 2010
Post CommentPredatory Universe...???
Patience, pursue, pounce, prey...,
The way of wild African animals,
Or wall-street wizards?
On the one hand, the mother crocodile tenderly takes her young to water,
On the other it ruthlessly and without hesitation will take some other mother’s young in her steel jaws of death,
Which is right, which is wrong?
Is there right, is there wrong?
A suburban family looses their home,
But their devastation becomes a venture capitalist’s successful day at the office: “Today I bought 3 foreclosed homes for pennies on the dollar, honey...”, “Oh that’s wonderful hubby, I’m glad you had a good day...”
Which is right, which is wrong?
Is there right, is there wrong?
A father gets unexpectedly laid off, his wife and children greet the news with shock and sorrow...,
Whilst the CEO gets a pat on the back for ‘saving’ his company by strategic and successful layoffs...
Which is right, which is wrong?
Is there right, is there wrong?
A man ends an ‘oppressive’ bond and breathes a sigh of ‘relief’ at his new-found freedom, whilst the woman weeps disconsolately...,
Vice versa, a gold-digger spurns a man for ‘greener pastures’, whilst the man’s manhood is crushed yet again...
Which is right, which is wrong?
Is there right, is there wrong?
The drug dealer works hard and risks his freedom to ‘make-a-living’, whilst the health of the users ‘goes-to-pot’...,
Which is right, which is wrong?
Is there right, is there wrong?
The western world is gripped by an obesity epidemic,
Whilst 30,000 children die every day from malnutrition-related causes in the ‘third-world’...
Which is right, which is wrong?
Is there right, is there wrong?
Eat, starve?
Buy, sell?
Stay, leave?
Fight, surrender?
Love, hate?
Pray, prey?
I often wonder, my friends, which fiendish mind ‘created’ all this,
I often wonder...
The way of wild African animals,
Or wall-street wizards?
On the one hand, the mother crocodile tenderly takes her young to water,
On the other it ruthlessly and without hesitation will take some other mother’s young in her steel jaws of death,
Which is right, which is wrong?
Is there right, is there wrong?
A suburban family looses their home,
But their devastation becomes a venture capitalist’s successful day at the office: “Today I bought 3 foreclosed homes for pennies on the dollar, honey...”, “Oh that’s wonderful hubby, I’m glad you had a good day...”
Which is right, which is wrong?
Is there right, is there wrong?
A father gets unexpectedly laid off, his wife and children greet the news with shock and sorrow...,
Whilst the CEO gets a pat on the back for ‘saving’ his company by strategic and successful layoffs...
Which is right, which is wrong?
Is there right, is there wrong?
A man ends an ‘oppressive’ bond and breathes a sigh of ‘relief’ at his new-found freedom, whilst the woman weeps disconsolately...,
Vice versa, a gold-digger spurns a man for ‘greener pastures’, whilst the man’s manhood is crushed yet again...
Which is right, which is wrong?
Is there right, is there wrong?
The drug dealer works hard and risks his freedom to ‘make-a-living’, whilst the health of the users ‘goes-to-pot’...,
Which is right, which is wrong?
Is there right, is there wrong?
The western world is gripped by an obesity epidemic,
Whilst 30,000 children die every day from malnutrition-related causes in the ‘third-world’...
Which is right, which is wrong?
Is there right, is there wrong?
Eat, starve?
Buy, sell?
Stay, leave?
Fight, surrender?
Love, hate?
Pray, prey?
I often wonder, my friends, which fiendish mind ‘created’ all this,
I often wonder...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2010
Post Comment
Why Do You Write Poetry?
Why do you write poetry?
Is it for the recognition?
Maybe for the glory, or just to see if someone,
somewhere is even listening.
Do you make up stories of pure fiction?
Or are you just desperate for some attention.
Why is it so important to be noticed, to be heard,
To be thought of as a voice of reason?
Maybe it is just an addiction, like smoking or drinking.
You can never get enough.
Nothing will satisfy the hunger or need.
But what is that need that habitually leads,
To that feeling of “I have to be seen”, “I have to be read”,
“I have to be understood”.
But in fact, you do not have a clue as to why you are the brain’s food.
So keep writing, keep going within,
Making up stories, telling the truth, hurting others and deceiving yourself,
And maybe someday you will see,
It has just always been about you and your need.
Is it for the recognition?
Maybe for the glory, or just to see if someone,
somewhere is even listening.
Do you make up stories of pure fiction?
Or are you just desperate for some attention.
Why is it so important to be noticed, to be heard,
To be thought of as a voice of reason?
Maybe it is just an addiction, like smoking or drinking.
You can never get enough.
Nothing will satisfy the hunger or need.
But what is that need that habitually leads,
To that feeling of “I have to be seen”, “I have to be read”,
“I have to be understood”.
But in fact, you do not have a clue as to why you are the brain’s food.
So keep writing, keep going within,
Making up stories, telling the truth, hurting others and deceiving yourself,
And maybe someday you will see,
It has just always been about you and your need.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2010
Post CommentNew lady liberty
lady liberty in new york city
with saddness and pity inside her heart
thy new new liberty hast a golden heart to start
a great jugdement to those
and shall kill those who are thy foes
to the heart
she looks into their eye and with a low
she shall stand in the heat with no tears to weep
welcome you with open arms , but you may be beat
if thy shall have money in hand thy should have many man
our land is not as grand for thy have money low
this land is not for thy who have angry foes
welcome you evenif did a crime
she loves and welcome when thy time comes
with saddness and pity inside her heart
thy new new liberty hast a golden heart to start
a great jugdement to those
and shall kill those who are thy foes
to the heart
she looks into their eye and with a low
she shall stand in the heat with no tears to weep
welcome you with open arms , but you may be beat
if thy shall have money in hand thy should have many man
our land is not as grand for thy have money low
this land is not for thy who have angry foes
welcome you evenif did a crime
she loves and welcome when thy time comes
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Mar 2010
About this poem:
is about a nation is slimliar like the usa, but they tell truth about there countyrPoems entered on these pages are copyrighted by the authors who entered them. They cannot be reproduced without the author's written consent. © Copyright 2001-2024. All rights reserved.
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