Political Verse on lit

quietpoet

Really Really Experienced
Joined
Jul 26, 2004
Posts
302
My thoughts on politics may differ...shall we duel....


Tuesday Evening (forever remembering/hoping)

A sentinel dolphin slaps the surface
of the windswept, grey lagoon.
A lone Osprey eyes a dinner smorgasbord
near Paul’s Island.

We sit, slightly nervous,
In the television’s ghostly flicker,
awaiting final tabulations.

We survived the barrage of campaign ads,
long lines at polling stations,
patiently mulling candidates, parties, pet issues,
and the rest of the propaganda
our electoral process has become.

Democrats are Liberals (read communists);
Republicans are Conservatives (read fascists);
usually, neither is true,
but we want so much to believe something…

The entrenched want us to be afraid (give us your vote),
they want us to feel safe (we will protect you),
but one cannot burn both sides of THAT candle
without enduring the scorch of the flame.
But when innocent blood is shed,
anger will necessarily be the response,
and throwing money at it won’t fix anything,
unless money is one’s primary allegiance.

Living together requires sharing,
living together requires loving.
Symbiosis requires both, and nothing less.
Dying for a cause seems noble,
and killing for a cause?
depends on the cause, to my jaded eyes.
Killing innocents? That may raise
the red flag of revenge to another level,
one we may NEVER be prepared for
in our white picket fenced isolation.

How about killing religious fanatics?
Is what is good for you,
also good for me?
What about eliminating the Falwells
Robertsons, Reeds, and their brethren?
Of course we wouldn’t, but how different
is the level of fanaticism in their beliefs
to the Taliban or other religious extremists?

Is it so significantly less potent and righteous
that they could not attract fanatical adherents?
Hasn’t that already happened in burnt cross
executions across the southland. Lives extinguished
only because of real or perceived difference.
When one is spiritually right
and everyone else is wrong,
we plant doomsday seeds of superiority,
hatred, and reckless vengeance
for something we don’t even
have the patience, or will, to understand.

At what point is killing justified
when it is patently not self defense;
our courts would not have any qualms
about delivering a guilty verdict.
By our complacency and refusal to stand up,
are we not unwitting accomplices?
Do we not really know why these people
want to kill us? Maybe a little history lesson is
in order, but wait, I digress. Our children are so
busy preparing for an FCAT test measuring
their school, that history is relegated to that
back burner of trivialities like geography and science.

Because someone is ethnically or culturally different
should not condemn them to subservience or death
from the richer and more powerful.
Narrow thinking in leadership is the enemy,
replacing objectivity with dogma,
creating a polarized society where political discourse
is based on hype, ridicule and hyperbole.

Our memory is short, perhaps even shorter
than the fuse of oblivion burning beneath our feet.
A future based solely on what we need today,
Is no future at all for our civilization.

We have become a country of pettiness,
our bank accounts, cars and houses
are more important than our friends
and infinitely more important than others
finding shelter under alien colors.
We can’t even take care of millions
rotting under our OWN colors.

John Fitzgerald Kennedy once made the bold statement
“ask not what your country can do for you,
but what you can do for your country”.
It seems that since 1980 we have lost our
sense of community, replaced with
terminal poison of corporate consumption
and painfully rationalized righteousness.

Yes, I sometimes call myself a writer,
though Stephen King is probably not feeling too
threatened. Sometimes my words are strong,
sometimes not, really depends on how
heavy my heart is that day, moment.
I see the raw beauty around us, the dolphin, the Osprey,
the rolling waves of the majestic Atlantic,
yet never too far is the pain of not quite fitting in.

It may be because I have never been a gazillionaire,
tasted the fruits of unlimited bank accounts,
had a boat that drinks fuel like lemonade
on a hot summer day to
motivate between my jet-set parties.
I’ve never had that trophy wife,
but I did get a few trophies for bowling!
Somehow, I don’t think that is on the same level.

But here I am again, watching the ticker on the bottom
of CNN, New Jersey Senate, Florida Governor, etc.,
the idealist in me hoping, praying for a change
that really means something. Is there anyone else
out there who can see that our current leadership
is sadly lacking in objectivity, that their God thrives
in dollars and lessons in CYA?

Somehow I can’t believe that Patrick Henry’s
patriotism was all founded on protecting the status quo.

So still, redundantly, I sit in front of the tv, watching numbers rise
and states change from red to blue, blue to red,
ridiculously hoping for a world without righteousness and greed…

Wishing silently through a stubborn veil of tears,
that I was poling my canoe in the lagoon,
watching the acrobatics of silver mullet jumping
and the successful crash of diving brown pelicans,
while knowing, knowing that my grandchildren,
and their grandchildren, will be able to experience
God’s perfect symmetry of nature in balance without threat
of toxic waste, uncontrolled birth rates,
slash and burn development,
or the unscrupulous killing of misguided wars.

The hungry pelican really doesn’t get it,
she can’t possibly comprehend the whole picture…
but her precious life is absolutely dependent…
on OUR getting it.
 
my political blot

Denial

New age Americans driving SUVs,
need big league stars on their plasma tvs.

Credit card deck
owns their over priced home.

Spoiled little siblings
are left home alone.

And cheers to the patriots
who send your sons to sea,
humming that tune
“We are God’s country”.
 
I wrote this on April 22, 2004

America, the Hypocrisy

Human beings,
such complex characters.
I wonder who can count to one-hundred first,
or pronounce "America" correctly.
Ready? Set? Go!

So miserable everyone seems to be
since the wonder drugs -
Prozac, Ritalin, pot, heroine...
took place in our everyday lives.
We all want a taste,
we all claim to need it
twice as much as the previous fool.

We can be the world's police.
We can put corrupt dictators into office
for our own greed and hypocrisy to state
that mistakes were made, that we are the terrorists.
America put him into office,
America made him what he is today.
America, the beautiful, was always a lie.

We can be the world's police,
but only if we want what they possess.

Oil?
Sure, pile it on! Faster, faster.
And if you don't,
we'll load our weapons full of ammo.

Zimbabwe? Where's that?
Rape camps? What are they?
What's rape?
Women. What's happening to them?
Never mind.
What they're going through doesn't matter.
Women have no voices! They are not heard.
Their growls and stampeding are hushed
by corporate business and designer suits.

So disgusting our dream has become.
 
hello I must me going

I came to say I cannot stay I must me going.

Which dream spelled wrong
you have to be asleep to believe that

in motor city production is crawling
but the pollution from the hey day
lingers as legend in the sky

in this age the the mirco mini
chips consumed fast
you can't just eat one
but they aren't made here

lives are out sourced and
the people dry tumble weed
cause they were wronged by
outside forces so they shouldn't be
responsible for setting it right

the poor complain they have no strength to climb the ladder
the middle class complain they don't get the perks of being poor
the rich complain about wealth restriction

All these things are wanted based on the merit of
our name but were is the skill
what do we have to offer the world
besides Hollywood and hollow possibility
 
AChild said:
I came to say I cannot stay I must me going.

Which dream spelled wrong
you have to be asleep to believe that

in motor city production is crawling
but the pollution from the hey day
lingers as legend in the sky

in this age the the mirco mini
chips consumed fast
you can't just eat one
but they aren't made here

lives are out sourced and
the people dry tumble weed
cause they were wronged by
outside forces so they shouldn't be
responsible for setting it right

the poor complain they have no strength to climb the ladder
the middle class complain they don't get the perks of being poor
the rich complain about wealth restriction

All these things are wanted based on the merit of
our name but were is the skill
what do we have to offer the world
besides Hollywood and hollow possibility


a child,

it's nice to see a piece of poetry in this genre that does not deteriorate so it reads like nothing more than condescending spam from someone who is sure they know more and better than you.

i have learned to be suspicious of people who are certain they are right, and moreso when they preach it. :) and poetry that does that makes me cringe.

i find intolerance of any kind, especially the intolerance of life, troublesome.

but i am also very bothered by the intolerance of words.

truthfully, i see that intolerance of opinion as much from the left as i do from the right. i am always confused when people become so sure they are right that they ridicule and disallow opposing thought . . .

the acceptance of opposing thought is one of the cornerstones of freedom.

and i wonder if both extremes, left and right, do not bear a scary resemblance to the things they purport to hate.

they both seem to encourage their own subtle versions of bookburning, and a love of the stake.

*******************


I am not God. I am not stupid.
I have a mind, a mouth.
So do you.

I hate fire.
I love all things human.

I love you.

I am not sure about right and wrong.

I hate war, I hate death.
That, I know.

I have been touched by both—
on battlefields and the streets of New York .

There is a place in this world
that is beautiful. Take my hand,

show me where it is.
 
In Shanghai we're drinking bolly
the money that goes around
comes around if you wait
has been around and came around again
with enough 'know how' and poor
we're cheap at the price
and everyone wants goods at bargain rates
even those that complain
their lives are being outsourced
but so were ours once and now
they're not.
 
bogusbrig said:
In Shanghai we're drinking bolly
the money that goes around
comes around if you wait
has been around and came around again
with enough 'know how' and poor
we're cheap at the price
and everyone wants goods at bargain rates
even those that complain
their lives are being outsourced
but so were ours once and now
they're not.

also good stuff, bb.

:)
 
TheRainMan said:
also good stuff, bb.

:)

Thanks RM.

The irony being, I've been mentally constipated for ages. I've wrote a lot of poetry (ALL BAD) and endlessly frustrated myself and that little poem took me as long as it took to write. Sometimes you just need to hit on the right subject to break the dam. :)
 
bogusbrig said:
. . . I've been mentally constipated for ages. I've wrote a lot of poetry (ALL BAD) and endlessly frustrated myself . . .


ahhh, poetry from the planet of TryingTooHard.

i know all about it. ;)
 
Nancy Griffith can't drive on the left side
but she's seen what I've seen
and politicians have children too
so how is it that the political
quit being the personal?

Politics are personal at their best
the ability to free
persons to do what they must
to keep the water clean
and riots down but I wish
I long for a smaller politic--
a politic of the heart and the sandbag
and of the hand extended
to the person trapped
in a burning car.

Micropolitics is what I'm after
petri dish size
and maybe when we get that right
we can line them all up
all the petri dishes
side by side until we have something
that radiates without
being deadly.
 
Illegals

Go to Centraal Station early
around 5am you will see them
warming their hands in their armpits
huddled around a single cigarette
waiting for the koppelbaas* to pick heads
hoping this time they'll touch the paper
because there is nothing else to do
but this endless waiting to be picked
and hopefully, paid.




*a kind of subcontractor who, does not undertake the whole of a project but merely supplies labour, at prices lower than normal.
 
quietpoet said:
My thoughts on politics may differ...shall we duel....


Tuesday Evening (forever remembering/hoping)

A sentinel dolphin slaps the surface
of the windswept, grey lagoon.
A lone Osprey eyes a dinner smorgasbord
near Paul’s Island.

We sit, slightly nervous,
In the television’s ghostly flicker,
awaiting final tabulations.

We survived the barrage of campaign ads,
long lines at polling stations,
patiently mulling candidates, parties, pet issues,
and the rest of the propaganda
our electoral process has become.

Democrats are Liberals (read communists);
Republicans are Conservatives (read fascists);
usually, neither is true,
but we want so much to believe something…

The entrenched want us to be afraid (give us your vote),
they want us to feel safe (we will protect you),
but one cannot burn both sides of THAT candle
without enduring the scorch of the flame.
But when innocent blood is shed,
anger will necessarily be the response,
and throwing money at it won’t fix anything,
unless money is one’s primary allegiance.

Living together requires sharing,
living together requires loving.
Symbiosis requires both, and nothing less.
Dying for a cause seems noble,
and killing for a cause?
depends on the cause, to my jaded eyes.
Killing innocents? That may raise
the red flag of revenge to another level,
one we may NEVER be prepared for
in our white picket fenced isolation.

How about killing religious fanatics?
Is what is good for you,
also good for me?
What about eliminating the Falwells
Robertsons, Reeds, and their brethren?
Of course we wouldn’t, but how different
is the level of fanaticism in their beliefs
to the Taliban or other religious extremists?

Is it so significantly less potent and righteous
that they could not attract fanatical adherents?
Hasn’t that already happened in burnt cross
executions across the southland. Lives extinguished
only because of real or perceived difference.
When one is spiritually right
and everyone else is wrong,
we plant doomsday seeds of superiority,
hatred, and reckless vengeance
for something we don’t even
have the patience, or will, to understand.

At what point is killing justified
when it is patently not self defense;
our courts would not have any qualms
about delivering a guilty verdict.
By our complacency and refusal to stand up,
are we not unwitting accomplices?
Do we not really know why these people
want to kill us? Maybe a little history lesson is
in order, but wait, I digress. Our children are so
busy preparing for an FCAT test measuring
their school, that history is relegated to that
back burner of trivialities like geography and science.

Because someone is ethnically or culturally different
should not condemn them to subservience or death
from the richer and more powerful.
Narrow thinking in leadership is the enemy,
replacing objectivity with dogma,
creating a polarized society where political discourse
is based on hype, ridicule and hyperbole.

Our memory is short, perhaps even shorter
than the fuse of oblivion burning beneath our feet.
A future based solely on what we need today,
Is no future at all for our civilization.

We have become a country of pettiness,
our bank accounts, cars and houses
are more important than our friends
and infinitely more important than others
finding shelter under alien colors.
We can’t even take care of millions
rotting under our OWN colors.

John Fitzgerald Kennedy once made the bold statement
“ask not what your country can do for you,
but what you can do for your country”.
It seems that since 1980 we have lost our
sense of community, replaced with
terminal poison of corporate consumption
and painfully rationalized righteousness.

Yes, I sometimes call myself a writer,
though Stephen King is probably not feeling too
threatened. Sometimes my words are strong,
sometimes not, really depends on how
heavy my heart is that day, moment.
I see the raw beauty around us, the dolphin, the Osprey,
the rolling waves of the majestic Atlantic,
yet never too far is the pain of not quite fitting in.

It may be because I have never been a gazillionaire,
tasted the fruits of unlimited bank accounts,
had a boat that drinks fuel like lemonade
on a hot summer day to
motivate between my jet-set parties.
I’ve never had that trophy wife,
but I did get a few trophies for bowling!
Somehow, I don’t think that is on the same level.

But here I am again, watching the ticker on the bottom
of CNN, New Jersey Senate, Florida Governor, etc.,
the idealist in me hoping, praying for a change
that really means something. Is there anyone else
out there who can see that our current leadership
is sadly lacking in objectivity, that their God thrives
in dollars and lessons in CYA?

Somehow I can’t believe that Patrick Henry’s
patriotism was all founded on protecting the status quo.

So still, redundantly, I sit in front of the tv, watching numbers rise
and states change from red to blue, blue to red,
ridiculously hoping for a world without righteousness and greed…

Wishing silently through a stubborn veil of tears,
that I was poling my canoe in the lagoon,
watching the acrobatics of silver mullet jumping
and the successful crash of diving brown pelicans,
while knowing, knowing that my grandchildren,
and their grandchildren, will be able to experience
God’s perfect symmetry of nature in balance without threat
of toxic waste, uncontrolled birth rates,
slash and burn development,
or the unscrupulous killing of misguided wars.

The hungry pelican really doesn’t get it,
she can’t possibly comprehend the whole picture…
but her precious life is absolutely dependent…
on OUR getting it.


the minute's
grew a dragon
that can not be tamed

only monuvered
and that depends on...
who is guiding
 
Legacy

You can bet your life that
somewhere in the middle of Africa
there's still a subsistance farmer
agitated as his cattle wander
aimlessly through the yellow grass
blaming the British for his plight
and the low milk yield of his cows
nothing has ever been right
since before they came and went
even his cows are aware all they left
was football and the term
‘Fuck Off!'
 
Last edited:
Tomorrow

What do we say to politicism of everything?
Do we close the door on inspiration?
Do we trash all opposing viewpoints?
The country fails the majority,
disappoints the minorities,
and worst of all,
poisons the dream
of possibilities.

QP
 
good take

I love this!

cherries_on_snow said:
Nancy Griffith can't drive on the left side
but she's seen what I've seen
and politicians have children too
so how is it that the political
quit being the personal?

Politics are personal at their best
the ability to free
persons to do what they must
to keep the water clean
and riots down but I wish
I long for a smaller politic--
a politic of the heart and the sandbag
and of the hand extended
to the person trapped
in a burning car.

Micropolitics is what I'm after
petri dish size
and maybe when we get that right
we can line them all up
all the petri dishes
side by side until we have something
that radiates without
being deadly.
 
Some sunsets blaze

I watch the wars
of movies play
into the long hours
of night, watch
the trial of Saddam,
obeisance to Magabwe,
Vietnam's mnemonics
and still elephants
fall for ivory, women
race to the pyre
and children die
of cancer.
 
Earth

There is a part of this planet
that holds the roots
of trees, the beginning
of new life
created from seedlings
blown on an ancient wind.
Another part holds the bones
of souls, buried together.
 
Demonstration

We really did believe then
confident we had all the answers
marching down Oxford Street
behind the unfurled banners
towards Trafalgar Square
where we listened to the speeches
that subverted our answers
into questions that defied
the logic of our simple slogans
before we folded away the flags
and went home
 
Last edited:
fear will conquer all
almost all
and each through a different path
we will all come
almost all
to be mice.

yes, mice.
 
It stalks you,
follows you home at night,
talks to you in infomercials,
leaves luminescent black trails...

It creates wealth,
but only for a select few,
brings black and white answers
to those that expect them...

It kills innocents,
destroys lifetimes of work,
forgives no average people,
leaves no stone unturned...

It separates,
brother from brother,
believer from believer,
country from country...

We choose,
stare at the glowing touch screen,
ponder sensitivity and honor,
innuendo and paraphrases...

We awaken,
to a world lush and green,
air clean and water pure,
smiles routinely caressing souls...

We awaken,
in fits and starts,
at the slightest sound,
knowing something is waiting...

We awaken,
to a world without choice,
where terror is the mot du jour
and gentle voices are silenced...

We choose,
stare at the glowing touch screen,
feel our heart and yearnings,
choosing the path of balance?
 
Dark Side of the Desert

All of what could be
or should or what was GOOD about US is
dimmed in desert winds.
Our name,
'sacrificial lamb'
lives on the sidelines
of creed created by greed,
gathered into our federation
penetrating trinity 'til the blood thirst of
three becomes One...
 
Celibate Diversity

In Medieval times
God was feared!

how long has it been
since then?

since fire and brimstone
threats from some self absorbed
pastor condemning your IMMORTAL
soul to hell
just
for
breathing

But, Is He a loving God, is He

Is He a benevolent God,
is He?

Does he Love us, I wonder
with more wonder at the joyous
creatures and swim the depths
of beauty that He ga\ve us

He gave us

Life

to fight over, to kill one
another in HIs name

He is God, is He not?

it strikes me that war could be
avoided, if only He had made us
all
the
same

but He did, didn't He
 
nice!

This write is exceptional, IMHO. Thanks for reviving it!

QP

TheRainMan said:
written on the 30/30, but it fits here too.

i do not like the term 'political,' when it comes to poetry. not mine, anyway. this is about as 'political' as i will allow my writing to get.


The Passion of Toys


The diary of your work is everywhere—

in rows of identical white stones,
a stray doll lying in the road,
a mother’s plea to be taken too,
so wrenching it becomes my wish for her.

On hot days, I can smell the blood.

Boys are playing at you again.
They still pretend you can’t come to them.
They bring you back themselves

but they do not rehearse their memories,
have collected those instead
behind their eyes, in saved places.

These children are brittle now.

There are some to whom the glaze
on those young eyes
means nothing, for whom it has no meaning
that these babies are oddly spun
of glass. To some, all of this means
nothing, you mean nothing. To some, you

are just a harmless beast that lives in a box
in their family room. They
lounge and watch you, eat popcorn.

They think everything can be replaced.

They think a home is something you buy.
 
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