The Dictators
An odor has remained among the sugarcane:
a mixture of blood and body, a penetrating
petal that brings nausea.
Between the coconut palms the graves are full
of ruined bones, of speechless death-rattles.
The delicate dictator is talking
with top hats, gold braid, and collars.
The tiny palace gleams like a watch
and the rapid laughs with gloves on
cross the corridors at times
The Sun Wields Mercy
and the sun wields mercy
but like a jet torch carried to high,
and the jets whip across its sight
and rockets leap like toads,
and the boys get out the maps
and pin-cushion the moon,
old green cheese,
no life there but too much on earth:
our unwashed India boys
crossing their legs,playing pipes,
Our Beautiful Children….
.
Our beautiful children are dying
In Africa, Europe, the Middle East
Asia, the Americas,
And in every projects where there is no peace.
Our black children are dying
For lack of basic necessities and because of the lies
And the carelessness of their greedy leaders.
Our white children are dying
Because of the expensive weapons and the nuclear reactors.
What About The Children
What about the children?
Will they know know what is a Polar Bear or Elephant?
As the global warning of climate change echoes extinction
Will we have the truth and reconcilliation finally?
So, the Great Peace return
And will everyone live without tyranny
As the dictators are finally jailed for
Crimes against Humanity
And experience what they did to their fellow man
Could we have fun without wondering
Presidential Honeymoon
(The First 100 Days)
While the honeymoon
Is still going on,
And in the late afternoon,
The whole world is looking at
Every detail like an inquisitive moon,
Like an aggressive and ferocious big cat,
All need to be patient, all need to understand,
All must cooperate, all must comprehend
Thinker's Invisible Wings
Thoughts are thinker's invisible wings.
Anything but thought can be snatched away
Given up or forgotten,
'Cause it's what a thinker lives for
A thinker must think for the love
Of mankind without self-pity -
Marching on the front line in the war
Of civilization against barbarity,
Democracy against autocracy,
! S I N
Language is a blessing and a curse –
sometimes uniting, sometimes dividing,
sometimes an arrow, sometimes blown blossoms,
misplaced seeds..
How can we of the Western world
imagine what it’s like to speak a tongue,
as Persians, Hebrews, Aramaics, Arabs
are so blessed that they possess –
The Soul Of Spain
In the rain in the rain in the rain in the rain in Spain.
Does it rain in Spain?
Oh yes my dear on the contrary and there are no bull fights.
The dancers dance in long white pants
It isn't right to yence your aunts
Come Uncle, let's go home.
Home is where the heart is, home is where the fart is.
Come let us fart in the home.
There is no art in a fart.
Still a fart may not be artless.
The American Way
1
I am a great American
I am almost nationalistic about it!
I love America like a madness!
But I am afraid to return to America
I'm even afraid to go into the American Express—
2
They are frankensteining Christ in America
Immigrants In Our Own Land
We are born with dreams in our hearts,
looking for better days ahead.
At the gates we are given new papers,
our old clothes are taken
and we are given overalls like mechanics wear.
We are given shots and doctors ask questions.
Then we gather in another room
where counselors orient us to the new land
we will now live in. We take tests.
Some of us were craftsmen in the old world,
The Star-Apple Kingdom
There were still shards of an ancient pastoral
in those shires of the island where the cattle drank
their pools of shadow from an older sky,
surviving from when the landscape copied such objects as
'Herefords at Sunset in the valley of the Wye.'
The mountain water that fell white from the mill wheel
sprinkling like petals from the star-apple trees,
and all of the windmills and sugar mills moved by mules
on the treadmill of Monday to Monday, would repeat
in tongues of water and wind and fire, in tongues
Shall I Ever Be Free
Alas, my child you shan't!
Get used to a world of can't!
Our brains are fully scrubbed
Like kids in a foaming bath.
Rub-y-dee, rub-y dee dub.
We've been brain-spanked to
not ask any questions.
We don't dare question numbers!
Oh, no shush no!
In My World
In My world,
Poverty shan't exist in our world.
Everybody would be treated with equality,
Yet hard work would always be present.
In My world,
People would be judged by what they could do,
Not by their color, religion, or age,
Nor by their gender, beliefs or looks.
** Scarecrows!
SCARECROWS!
They told me that scarecrows do not scare
birds or crows any more!
Nor those statutes of world dictators, -
Their heads remain adorned with bird
droppings galore!
Doomed pigeons shuttle back and forth, -
in our polluted skies!
The air is full of dust or smog and gunpowder!
Valentine Day- Quest From Souls
Valentine Day-Quest from souls
Friday, February 14,2020
4: 35 AM
If wars were won by violence
it could have been done by weapons
mighty forces might have over run the nations
with the power of guns
if the blood bath was to be taken from murders
Cry And Remain Sad
Cry and remain sad
As we progress
We too face
Lots of human problems
Some are self made and badly turn
Dictators rule with stern hands
Many people disappear and their life ends
No one may get any clue
Machine Churning Above
I do not care for political scandal and intrigues
because only those with the same moral guilt,
the same capacity for wrongdoing, throw the
stones, whenever they come to power they
become worse dictators
People blaming others for what is wrong just wait
to sing their own song of corruption - I appreciate
them playing games and wish them luck; whistle-
blowers take over from those they sack, no reform
A Panegyric
[To my Lord Protector, of the Present Greatness, and Joint Interest, of His Highness, and this Nation.]
While with a strong and yet a gentle hand,
You bridle faction, and our hearts command,
Protect us from ourselves, and from the foe,
Make us unite, and make us conquer too;
Let partial spirits still aloud complain,
Think themselves injured that they cannot reign,
And own no liberty but where they may
A Tribute To Our Troops
For the brave hearts that go forward each day,
people would not be freed,
from their dictators of tyranny.
For the brave hearts that go forward each day,
We should pray for them for they
! Heroes Are Dead!
Like sacrificial lambs
were heroes quite dead,
with courage they thread
the fate that others feared
to die for sake of majority.