Greetings and Salutations Poets and Poetry lovers!
Please scroll down to the bottom of the page, click leave a reply and type your Poem, or simply copy from your wordprogram into textbox . . .
Greetings and Salutations Poets and Poetry lovers!
Please scroll down to the bottom of the page, click leave a reply and type your Poem, or simply copy from your wordprogram into textbox . . .
What news of Malcom’s message,
what shade of his beautiful black ghost still wanders
through the night,
whispering in the ears of disheartened youth?
Shouting down the concentration camp corridors
of the supermaxes, deathrows,
or into the minds of athletes,
pacified by that other colors rich allure?
Or have you not been welcomed,
since that fateful day your body left us,
nor remembered,
in a way that matters?
Is your ghost lonely and feeling abandoned,
and are you with brother Martin?
chewing on old brittle bones,
leaking the marrow of what could have been?
And what of us whitey’s who see the Prince,
so eloquently invoked in your eulogy,
who once you damned and rightfully so.
God knows some of my race have been the devil.
But somehow you were able to forgive us all.
Please know, some of us look at you and see Jesus.
You were not so different, you know?
You and he cut from the same peasant grade cloth.
With a loud mouth and eloquent words.
Irrefutable in their scathing logic.
Those of us who havent been blinded forever,
by ancient lies,
and historic omissions never corrected :
we find you beautiful, Prince.
For me, I sure wish you were here Malcom,
we need you more than ever, and a lot of shit
hasn’t changed much and in fact gotten worse.
You might feel disheartened,
like the youth, the old, the imprisoned, especially.
But I have no doubt you would rise to the occasion,
and demand that we do the same.
From many colors, perhaps at last,
we would come to fashion a rainbow.
We would follow you then,
home.
And the ghosts of Marcus Garvey and your Father,
Emmet Till and Frederick, James Byrd,
the ghost of you;
or the bloated sadness woven in the nooses of jena:
could teach us again,
what really matters.
And get us to doing . . .
the work that needs to be done.
this was the final poem i did at the first asheville slam.
LIVIN’ IN INFINITY
living in infinity
yet we’re convinced
it’s after life we’ll be free
from the cradle to the grave
taught to behave
cowards are portrayed as brave
in this backwards land
remaining loyal to logos and brands
while we sacrafice our family and friends
retaining faith in
wal-marts, burger kings and coca cola cans
music,telavision and sports games
we’re the biggest fans
of those who disstract us from the bigger plan
some cant take it!
their tired of this debate shit!
time to get these rulers faces
up on some stakes an shit!
but annger only leads to mistakes
the biggest danger comes from
sacrificing your freedom
to feel safe
when safety is onlny an illusion
power of pride
got us livin in a dilusion
believing nonsense
juust to feel patriotic
fuck dope,crack and tabacco
TV’s the number 1 narcotic
and the radio too
you really think clear channel gives a fuck about you
they got an agenda
and it’s just like fox news
so fuck democrat
and fuck republican
cause i’m a man in search of freedom
not some rhetoric with a nice name
tired of all these damn
labels and definitions
telliung us who we are
your a republican if you believe this
your a hippy if you believe that
all these catagorized social groups
is just to get us to think and act
in a certain prearranged format
i want real freedom
i wanna be able to walk downb the street naked
and have a nice talk with your grand ma
without having her jaw drop out of fear of
the natural beutey
that clouded by insecurities
and viewed with looks of impurity
you see cause telling an afgany woman
she gotta cover her hair
is equally as oppresive
as telling americans they gotta be wearin’
atleast uunderwear
think about it
it’ll come clear to ya
it’s all barriers
and it doesnt matter how big the cage is
when you still caged in!
it’s like them out dated slave days
some slave would be raised
by one of them “good” mastas
might even give ’em a penny or nickle for pay
but first chance dude got
he was running away
thats cause it’s 100% more satisfactory
to struggle and live free
then to live oppressed lavishly
rights are things another man allows you to do
freedom is a feeling felt inside of you
peace will not come to us
when everyone has equal rights
peace will consume us
when people are free to do what they feel
with their own life
Percel
stooges, servants, scrooges
self-hating, deprecating
justifying your faking with all this bacon you’re now making
swinging cell phones like switchblades
snapping, slapping, capping callers and coworkers
but your dreams are overlapping
and this ideal is so incredible at soul-trapping
get ahead
no matter who you hurt on the way
do you what you need to do for the company to pay up
souls somehow seeking to survive
but how can we succeed with life
when it’s profitable to be snide in the face of others’ strife
but you’ve got mouths to feed, I understand
and Christmas is coming ‘round
concluding in consumerism claiming
a couple more hours that you could have been using
to read to your son
but explaining we’re broke isn’t exactly easy
when a capitalistically conditioned kid is concerned with having fun
is this what they meant by rugged individualism
with developers dealing in division
creating unnecessary corporate schism
between human and being
enslaving and freeing
these subtle supporters of segregation
social stratification
serving up heartless damnation
and I would love to change the station
but they own everything
the greed of just getting by has infected this nation
so what do I tell the boy with innocent brown eyes
who at only twelve has been cast aside
when he frowns and sighs
that he has nothing to eat
save for what the crackers at the community center can buy
have you ever really been hungry
well I’m starving for justice
craving a cooperative that cares to see collaboration
coming together to shelter all from disaster and bad weather
a collective of kitchen tables topped with proper provisions
a community thriving on the coexistence of cultural divisions
a future formed out of the fission of personal vision and monetary missions
a helping hand instead of an eye for an eye
an enhancement of life’s quality through the elimination of polity
engulfing us with everlasting existential equality
but for real these bills and my work schedule keep stalling me
yea, I’m a slave too
maintaining my own roof
but ready to riot
to hopefully provide this famished boy with enough food
Thanks for the Poetic contributions Brethren!!! much appreciated.
Griffin, that’s a great Poem my friend.
One must condition themselves
to obatain vast amounts of Wealth
the true defininition of Wealth is Happiness-
and good Health.
Learn how to avoid Stress/
The human realitiyl is colored with crayons,
the Government and the Economy,
The King and the Queen; and We the Pawns.
Why or only source of Energy seems to be Gas,
and the Media teaches young boys to look at birls as a piece of Ass?
The reign of Babylon needs to pass.
The Devils inhabit the Earth!
What is our Child’s worth
if we lead them to the production line,
teach them not to use their minds,
destroy the Environment
and tell them everything’s going to be fine?
Parent’s too worried about smoking ciggarettes
and drinking wine.
All is due in time,
when the Demons are released from Hell;
but unitl then remember all is well.
Independent Press 4 the Environment and Arts
Derek
Alright, the time has come!
No really seriously Kapila, Doug, Griffin
and who ever in the Hell else is out there.
I would like each of you to have at least one poem published in the upcoming issue of the Independent Press for the Environments and Arts (I.P.E.A)
I have spoken with other Poets and Artist and I am working on the layout for a small publication (5×7) around 30-50 pgs; depending on number of entries. I would like to have this put togther with the next month or two.
There will be no cost involed only the want for your poems to be read and recorded. I am looking copyright laws to protect everyones’s poetry,
It’s time we get togther and stand in bond (stapled) print and preserve the local Environment and Arts with this poetic device!
Please contact me @828-808-7739
or carolina_press@bellsouth.net
I don’t have internt acess so the phone is your best bet.
Hope to here from everyone of you
and don’t make me come hunt you down damn it!
sometimes
when leave happens
it takes your heart
breath comes
harder than before
sleep has will of its own
strong one evening
barely at all the next
mystery leaves
questions unanswered
time elusive
annihilates ego
waiting doesn’t even
work anymore
sun rises
on another world
change rocks and rules
to spirit’s tools
take in what once
you never would
surrender to
river wild
awareness comes
you are
universe child
FROM FATHOMS BELOW TO THE SURFACE THEY QUAKE
The angels and demons from beyond,
How they came here once,
Their world a casualty of endless conflict
That reduces elements to cooling cinders
Drifting through the void
Straight from the core,
Born from the sun and built
Thousands of fathoms from the bottom,
An arena for souls discovered only
By those who know of their plight.
Creatures, these elementals,
They continue their struggle out of reach
Of our sight, while we, colonies of insects
That pour over and pollute,
Go about our affairs,
Proudly declaring battle below mere myth
Locked in our fixed, bound states
Of closed logic and knowledge,
Minds oblivious to the heat and chaos
That came from afar long ago,
And which has now dominated
The spiritual presence of our Gaea.
Soon the battle will pry open
Through the faults, the Ring of Fire,
And all of the aquatic vents
Charring out smoke and ashes,
To stream freely through the waters,
Over the land, through the air,
Turning our bodies into armor
And our limbs into weapons,
Our voices screeching out words
Of pain and defiance, victory and loss,
Till at last our world falls into entropy,
Into the chasms of the scape
That is the universe,
Scattered into fragments,
Never again to be whole.
– Jeffrey Douglas DeCristofaro © 2009