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Tag Archives: alone

Poem: Uncultivated

you made it clear, yes you did
how I have no style or grace
or natural charm at all

I am the merely weedy
popping up and unwanted
a damn unsightly eyesore

funny how there’s no problem
with my slipping in your bed
and hiding under your bush

there I can boldly go wild
resting in the damp darkness
where no-one else can see us

I’m useful in my own way
just not out and on display.

 

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Poem: No Religion…

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(Credit: Randomly found via Google – no name on post)

Can you imagine
a world united in disbelief?
a world where we love one another
instead of an invisible sky god?

Can you imagine
where we’d be if we took
the time to help each other up
instead of wasting time on our knees?

Can you imagine
the word living as one?
Unified without being crucified
dignified because we realized?

Can you imagine?
Come on let’s grow up –
let go of those fairy tales
and make the world a better place.

Will you imagine?
Prayer never changed anything
without real action and effort
moving muscle and dripping sweat.

Imagine!
and be the change.
Imagine!
and feel the change.
Imagine!
not what is – but what can be.
Imagine!
And the world will live as one.

Poem: And What of Paris?

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(Credit: Randomly found via Google – no name on post)

Paris is burning
I can see the smoke
smell the reek of flesh
and charred remains

From far away
I watch
I weep
I pray

In the name of the father…
and of the sons
and of the daughters
– scarred by hate.

In the name of the light…
my faith is dying
– brilliance fading to black.

In the name of reason…
smoke smothers my soul.
– breaking down all logic.
.
In the name of the law…
mercy turns to suspicion.
– rules shattering like glass.

In the name of fraternity
love turns inward
– breaking all trust.

My spirit is broken
beyond all healing
beyond the keening of words
our voices have no meaning
we have become the croaking of crows
swarming in murder
blackening the skies

In the name of art…
beauty is vanquished
– canvas tattered in the wind.

In the name of speech…
how can one write
– these pages red with blood.

In the name of poetry
mocking all prophets
– poets weep ink.

In the name of enlightenment
We now ashamed to be human
– remember we are born of mud.

And to mud we return
dust and ashes
we are not gods
we are but flesh
born to die

If your god tells you to kill to prove your faith
then your god isn’t very good.

Photo: No Words for France

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(Credit: Randomly found via Google – no name on post)

Photo: Beauty in the Cold and Rain

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