 kelkel1967
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Points Whore
787 points
41/M/greensboro, North Carolina
Join Date: Mar 2008 |
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Simply, Change
Pick one direction to travel
Septic is the ground under us
Matched in an unwavering hope
We, who voted for you,
Stand and wait
Simply, for change.
Pick one direction to travel
History swoops down to greet you
The masses ignited by the chant
“Yes we can”
We, who voted for you,
Stand and wait
Simply, for change.
Pick one direction to travel
For we are family, friends, city, and state
Farmer, lawyer, gay and straight
All of us are the constitution
We, who voted for you,
Stand and wait
Simply, for change.
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There are mountains pulled together by bridges.
There are lands separated by oceans.
There are believers, they say our time has come.
What should we do? Should we stand or run?
The candle of freedom has melted down.
Kings of our country unfavored the crown.
Motionless as the oceans and bodies of streams
Don’t let innocence come between the madness of our extremes.
Tears don’t weaken the body
Tears don’t weaken the soul
Tears don’t weaken the body
Only strengthen the soul.
Castle by castle the soldiers raid.
Women are turned to powerless slaves.
Fortresses are built to keep out new raids.
Inside the nomads are showered with parades.
While the poor are left to die,
And many are separated by haste.
Grief is a problem no one can hold
And the dead are left with only a stone.
Tears don’t weaken the body
Tears don’t weaken the soul
Tears don’t weaken the body
Only strengthen the soul.
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The Mind of All Poets
Sometimes at a loss for words,
But really to strike out with something new.
Sometimes waiting for special words and phrases,
But ready to ride a shooting star to nowhere’s end.
Sometimes holding meaning to themselves,
Yet ready to speak man’s common language.
Walking, talking, seeing, feeling, loving,
Understanding in living color.
Molding sizing, shaping, holding,
Letting go of words, for dislike and pleasure.
The mind of a poet is like no other,
For they need living space,
To convince and write living poetry.
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Standing My Ground
Sick of pride!
Sacrificial grounds under a flaming torch.
Words of ambition,
Toil in tradition
The House of the Holy is there for the taking.
Sick of fighting!
Worn out from pulling in modern beliefs.
Saddles up, praising a religion,
Calming down, filled with premonition
Dying is no simple cause, but a simple defeat.
Sick of famine!
Eat, drink, and pray to Mother Mary.
Some of us are kept alive,
Most of us bleed to survive
So cover the surface of the sun in sand.
Sick of lies!
To each their own before the hammer falls.
East and West information.
East and West annihilation.
Broken gla** is shared by the bewildered young.
Sick of racism!
A square shell always remains square
Tear could spoil man’s illusion
Tongues speak out in confusion.
Awaiting another battle Royale.
I Shall Overcome!!
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I believe there will always be poetry and people to read. Looking for meaning and/or outlook with likes and dislikes. For no one poem sums up life and no one poem tells the while story.
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