Political / Social Poems (810)

politics is the art of deception,
trained to outwit people,
through the art of words,
just like a salesman,
selling a product,
bought by many,
sold by few
politics

sometimes, I find my self lost in a kind of chimerical bubble like the molokini-crescent-shaped-crater-maui-hawaii...,
i simultaneously see my self as the whole of it, or an infinitesimal throw of the dice, a frenzied ‘quanta-dance’,
my logical, empirical, and carefully trained mind is intentionally sent on sabbatical,
i find myself ‘rhumba-ing’ to some melodious yet impudent refrain, of a fate yet amorphous, gyrating, driven yet unperturbed, the rhumba being a vertical expression of a horizontal wish...[whatever the hay that means anyway, really??? lol, lol and lol again...]
i want to allow for a composite of diametrically opposing forces to, with wild abandon, give themselves over to this thing called:- verve or pizzazz, yet intertwined with élan, with a devil-may-care attitude of consequences..., embracing the jovial and the rakish..., leaving the lugubrious, responsibility-driven, caliginous, upright and uptight restraints of an ultra-disciplined mind behind, waaayyy behind...

oh, what sweet relief, oh what unspeakable joy, oh want wordless bliss that engenders...,
being one with the deepest passions,
being one with love,
being one with compassion,
being one with peace,
being one with eternity,
indeed, being one and in harmonious tune with the infinite...

oh it could of been the armoured car,
or it could of been the gun,
instead it was the germans thats were it all begun,
,
banks in gambling money,
they ignored the peoples plea ,
sold of the irish human rights,
to protect their dignity,
the government our christian rights,
as they moved the vatican out
jobs now ten a penny ,
this reward is what we got
,
tax there is on everything ,
down to air we breathe,
sick they lie on trolleys,
as in poor st vincent helps them out,
oh leave us a little on the bone,
as our children are our future,
ohh whats this bloody nonsense taxes on our shite ,
as we all struggle hard in life,
we are the fighting irish,
who fought hard to keep invaders out,
now tax the ruling government with wages way to high,
bring back the armoured car ,
and the f---ing gun
the land of saints and scholars ,
thats were i am from,
we are the servants of the rich,
who get very little pay
all we get is cuts and more
they gamble each and every day

A baby's born into this world
It's fat and round and jolly
Eyes wide in wonderment
A whole world awaiting

Baby boy is soon a youth
A pride and joy for parents
Many plans for future made
He dreams of being a doctor

The youth a man to war must go
To fight a foreign battle
Face in sand life slips away
A casualty, a number

When will you see what we have lost
That these are not just numbers
Each a life so unique
There will never be another

You're just too ugly and far too fat
But buy my video for super abs
And look at your waistline, your stomach, your gut
Just order my new video to get a firm and tight butt
Because you cant possibly be happy looking like you
So look like me Mr Atlas the fitness guru
And if Im not on T.V. you can check out my ads
Their in every magazine on every single stand
You know the ones that you read because you want to live life vicarious
Escaping your own existence for a life that seem much more fabulous
And with every page you turn you feel less about yourself
With every article you read you pretend to be someone else
You're not good enough and you shouldn't wear this, but wear that
But I say be yourself and don't follow the popular trap
It will only lead you to forgetting who you are
Just so you can feel a little bit more like a star
A puppet mastered being pulled by invisible strings
It must be getting expensive keeping up with those scenes
You should never get your style from printed pages or cultured TV
Because as long as you love yourself your still beautiful to me
So Mr Atlas tell again if I could do this all from my home
Why on this crazy world would I buy your video for
And no Miss Spandex I dont want your machine that can fit under my bed
Ive got a pair of Nikes and a million miles of road I can tread

*JJF*
4/18/2013

What’s in a name you ask my friend
It seems that there is plenty
What you call the things you do
Affects how people see them

Now I don’t need to name the place
Where people murdered most heinous
But we sit back and just ignore
Because it was called ‘ethnic cleansing’

In the past this mistake they made
Let’s take the Ku Klux Klan
Maybe should have called it ‘racial cleansing’
Instead of white supremacy

We can go back further still
To the time of the Holy Wars
How does ‘religious unification’ sound
Much better than fighting a war

So you can see my friend if names we change
We can sit back and sagely nod our heads
This sound fine, nothing here is wrong
Must be right because no-one calls it murder

We shall have no more wars
We will have ‘national unification’
Should some die while this goes on
Why … just call it ‘collateral damage’

am like a prism
of many colors
when am down my world is black
darkness i see and i feel sad

the dark lonly days i feel no hope the gloom
i give out sad depressed feelings that linger like a cloud over me this is my black days

when am happy my color turns blue happy i am the light from my blue shines so bright like a weight lifted of my chest i feel so glade bright the blue feeling i have inside
happy to be alive wish all day where my blue days

some days i see red pain and anger i feel tormented by pain of bitterness this pain hurts my mind and body makes me moody
takes me to place inside my mind anger ifeel bitterness and sad
moody i becum am no fun to be around these days are no fun

bitterness i feel to the outside world
these red day lead to my days of gloom into the world of black am consumed

I believe its the

"Clock Timer"
Guy

Held in the highest Esteem of
The
"Time Changers"

He has many hands to his time
Throughout the worlds

He can bend time
Forward Backward

The High Priest of Time

Is already here
has been

You are All aware

A sleep of later
A wake of early
morning

My pretty flowers
amused at the dawning

We talk of progress as an improvement in our life
But is it Really a good thing or just what they want you
To believe, looking back in time to the turn of the
20th century we had candles to light up our homes

At night, with the advancement of electricity.
Yes electricity was a progressive step for everyone
But when you consider the cars we had to the cars
We are using now, the latter cost far more and fall apart

So easily. Yes quality is missing in these vehicles,
They are modern and flashy, but are they as efficient
As there earlier counterparts? The answer is 'No'.
The problem is that nowadays things are thrown together

Cheaply but there cost is extremely high, for it is a bad
Mix of 'what you see is what you get.' Well, if you make
Rubbish it will run like rubbish, but the consumers can't
Percieve this when they buy it, for they rely on their trust for

A seller, though all that you see now is things that say that
They deliver, while the real fact is they don't: it is poorly
Made manufactured merchandise sold at extremely high prices,
For large companies, such as supermarkets, needing profits,

And it is the public who pays for these overrated goods at
Ridiculous prices. Yes, it seems, progress is not always
A good thing beneficial for people's needs.

Woman......too silent
As a girl touched
In the wrong way
I was silent
A teenager touched
I was angry and silent
As a young woman touched
No respect was given
Still silent
As a woman too silent
To demand the respect now
On the street the young men "Pssst"
No respect I am given
Silent again
No
Not again....... Not ever again
I will shout.....I want to be heard
No more silence....I must be heard
Don't touch me....not in that way
Don't touch my daughter.....she isn't a plaything
I will not be
I will not be
Silent
No not silent
Anymore