Political / Social Poems (810)

Fear is chosen by the mind,
If you do not look,
How can you understand and find
What is in the dark,
We light those corners so we can see,
But it is so many yet so few that know,
What it is like to be.

A lie cannot be told without, some
element of truth,
So i ask,
Do you trust your eye's not to denie the proof.

Just walk on by.

She is
the month
of May
I am
December...

We met
one day
she became
a flaming
ember...

She is
the morning
I am
the twilight
sky...

She is
flower given
in springtime
vastness swims
in her eyes...

I'm lucky
luck can be
so many
younger guys
she chose me...

Migration drop the ashen cloak
the closing stages, a time of yore,
nestlings raring for the yellow dots rage.
The roast folds the carbon
diffusion release the form, a blade
oil and stone shave the steel.
Icy blanket of white death
emotional heat splits into factions, war
lifeless sword in the pale maroon frost.

Please can you hear me
I know I’m small
To you I might not matter at all

I feel pain and love as well
Words sting, I feel their shame
To you I might not matter at all

I cry at night, hot tears of shame
Soak my pillow with wretched pain
To you I might not matter at all

So listen now, I’m someone too
You carried me and gave me life
I’d like to know to you I matter a lot

I'm working out at Wongilly Station
My job there is mending fences
Most nights beneath the stars I sleep
The campfire my sole companion

Sometimes I shoot a roo for food
Then there is meat aplenty
Fire crackling and meat sizzling
Gets my mouth to watering

From out of the dark so quietly
The blackfellas start coming
Don't know how, but they all know
Tonight roo is on the menu

The eerie sound of didgeridoo
Soon fills the night air
Some here, some there, the singing started
We soon had a corroboree going

Bodies twisting by flickering fire
And drink passed from hand to hand
As the night draws to a close
There's bodies everywhere laying

Woke by sun in eyes shining brightly
This is Sunday, day of rest
Gone were all the blackfellas
Just as quietly as arrived

Bad-bahtiye sogaath'an imrozey kawaar'aa kant
braath'e keh beh bith duzhmin sadd duzhminey kaar'aa kant

hoonaani drradey aamaach jonaani bazein jangal
shaantul tahe sheehzaar'aa teerani tawar'aa kant

BALACH nah meeraan ent BALACH selah band ent
BALCH modaam koh'an hukkaani shekaar'aa kant

jangani medey malpad laibjaah ant BALOCHANI
Anwar wati holaak'aa cho shingein mahaar'aa kant

You ask me why do I cry, these tears upon the ground I spill
This wretchedness that grips my soul, what brings it all about
Look around my friend, look, before your eyes what do you see

In the gutters children dying, stomachs bloated, starved for food
The rich get richer, tables laden, only the best will do for them

People dying of diseases, medicines there are that could easily help
No insurance, we will not treat you, if you die that’s not our problem

Families splitting, children broken, take the blame upon themselves
All this pain and insecurities, and so the cycle begins again

Crime is rising, home invasions, even the elderly not safe at home
Streets not safe to walk day or night, drunken teens ready to fight

Judges, lawyers, police and more, upholders of all that’s just
So many bent and crooked, manage to turn a blind eye

Children innocent and young, preyed on by those who should protect
Priests and teachers abuse them, managed to slip between the cracks

You ask me why do I cry, these tears upon the ground I spill
This wretchedness that grips my soul, what brings it all about
This is but a small portion, evilness that grips the world
Only one can make a difference, only one can make a change
I keep praying that it happens, before it is all too late

A congressman named George Henry Looper,
He was considered a conservative trouper,
"til he voted YEA
When the party said NAY
Now - he's a party pooper.

Promises, promises, all you give are promises.
Building up my fragile confidence.
Issuing such sweet, alluring dirty lies,
Are you a vicious demon in disguise.

Constantly telling me how you will make things better,
How you are such a righteous, upstanding go getter.
Tell me again how much richer, wiser and healthier I will be,
If only to your secret plans I will unconditionally agree.

You instruct me to follow you blindly about,
Never to questions or show any doubt,
Your endless devious drivel gets repeat every day
Telling me never to wander from your path or to stray.

You shout from the roof tops, and whisper in my ear.
That I should blame this one or that one for all that I fear.
You take from my pocket, by enacting new laws,
All to give to another dubious less deserving cause.

You grip my soul, my very being in your hand,
To squeeze out my essence, every last strand.
You wish me to crawl and beg at your feet,
Whilst you tell me one more great myth or deceipt.

Is breaking my spirit your ultimate goal?
Slowly draining the dignity from my very soul?
I am to become your obedient slave?
For the rest of my life until the grave?

Should I be grateful for the few scraps you distainly give?
Is this the way I am now meant to live?
Crushed and destroyed by your cruel lies.
Of a the better life, of endless blue summer skies.

Is this bitter tale about a spiteful love?
Is it a divine cruel beauty that I dare speak ill of?
A siren singly sweetly, luring me to my doom?
What person or thing could cause such dire gloom?

It is not of just one person these lines do speak,
They instead tell of the ignorance and arrogance of a powerful sneak.
That orders me to give up every last cent.

It Is My cruel lying Government!

Nursery Rhymes for the modern age.

Baa Baa dumb sheep.
Are you really such fools?
Yes sir, yes sir, the taxes you can pull.
But none from the bankers, or those who reign,
Everything must be taken from the many poor that live down the lane.

Jack and Jill went up the hill to build a lovely dormer
The economy fell down and broke the town
And employment came tumbling after.
Before up got Jack, his home the banks got 
As fast as they could caper
The politicians were in bed with the banking head,
All election promises had just been on paper.

Hey diddle diddle, the politicians were on the fiddle,
The bankers jumped over the moon.
The property developer laughed to see such fun
As the Government ran off with your silver spoon!

The Grand old Duke of York he had ten thousand homes
He built them on the top of the hill
And built them all with loans.
Before they were even up, he put the prices went up.
And when the economy went down, the prices went down
And when the homes were only halfway up
For purposes of the property tax they were up not down.