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A good bookshop is just a genteel Black Hole that knows how to read.
Terry Pratchett in Guards! Guards!
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If anyone has it rough at Guantanamo, it is the guards. They are constantly harassed and threatened by some of these terrorists. Prisoners tell guards, we know where your families are. We know where your wife is, your children, and we are going to kill them.
quote by Robin Hayes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Guards! Seize Him!
Guards cease to wander where the hounds stay,
Yonder is peace for the entering marvels that may.
Guards cause innocence to object on evil,
Then seize that man or woman or child who is able!
Inside the door, inside the prison and cells,
Lies a more hopeful gate of magic and bells.
Beyond the common goal is another objective
That worries murder spraying blood - addictive.
Please lay off guards, for the murder to be done,
Munching morsels shunning us, and now abandon!
poem by Naveed Akram
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Man guards himself
Man guards himself from animals.
Man made animals his servants.
Man guards himself from other men
By division of race, region and religion.
02.01.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Then, all of a sudden, here I am in the Press Room in the White House and walking in with the guards, who handed me three little pieces of paper asking me to send pictures to the guards at the White House.
quote by Majel Barrett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why There's Three Chairs
The first question
You're asked
When you arrive is
What do you declare
It's not like customs
About what you are carrying
The guards have other ways
For checking for that
Without asking
The guards want to know
For your protection
And theirs
What race do you declare
What are your gang affiliations
Do you need protective custody
Your race decides a lot for you
Decides who they'll house you with
Determines when
You'll be locked down
Allowed on the Yard
If you need an escort
It all depends
On your answer
To that first question
Yes they'll get around
To asking you if you want to harm yourself
Or others
What meds you're on
Do you hear voices
But above all race matters
For your protection
To minimize the potential
Of fights in a two man cell
The guards try
To match you up
The best they can
With someone you can tolerate
Locked in a five by nine-foot cell
Twenty-two hours a day
Outside the cells
By the guards' station
You can see the three chairs
Behind each chair
Bolted to the wall
Is a locked metal box
They all contain identical
Hair-cutting supplies
Seperate but equal
The first box is painted black
The second box red
The third white
The contents and the corresponding
Barber chairs are for Blacks
Hispanics/Others and Whites
And only for Black
Hispanic/Other and White
Barbers
Make no mistakes
The inmates enforce the rules
The unwritten rules
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Endless Dark
Softly the light shines in through
Gates of grace on me and you
Deceiving our restless hearts
A flickering flame so serene
It fires the night so we could see
Feeling alone so strong
And I know where I belong
Away from your guards
That heal our wounds in life
This endless dark
Endless dark
This endless dark
Lovely the light shines on you
Through the gates of fire entombed
Feeling on your own
Weak is the blaze that kept me away
From cruelty and tenderness embraced
Saving my soul no more
And I know where I belong
Away from your guards
That heal our wounds in life
This endless dark
Endless dark
This endless dark
I know where I belong
Away from you guards
That heal our wounds in life,
This endless dark
The shadow on you that tamed your burning heart
That buried my truth right into your arms
The words of the tomb of I fall on lone
That heal our wounds and light , this endless dark
That heal our wounds and light , this endless dark
That heal our wounds and light , this endless dark
That heal our wounds and light , this endless dark
song performed by by H.i.m. (his Infernal Majesty)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Are Black
There are black guards slamming cell gates
on black men,
And brown guards saying hello to brown men
with numbers on their backs,
And white guards laughing with white cons,
and red guards, few, say nothing
to red inmates as they walk by to chow and cells.
There you have it, the little antpile . . .
convicts marching in straight lines, guards flying
on badged wings, permits to sting, to glut themselves
at the cost of secluding themselves from their people . .
Turning off their minds like watertaps
wrapped in gunnysacks that insulate the pipes
carrying the pale weak water to their hearts.
It gets bad when you see these same guards
carrying buckets of blood out of cells,
see them puking at the smell, the people,
their own people slashing their wrists,
hanging themselves with belts from light outlets;
it gets bad to see them clean up the mess,
carry the blue cold body out under sheets,
and then retake their places in guard cages,
watching their people maul and mangle themselves,
And over this blood-rutted land,
the sun shines, the guards talk of horses and guns,
go to the store and buy new boots,
and the longer they work here the more powerful they become,
taking on the presence of some ancient mummy,
down in the dungeons of prison, a mummy
that will not listen, but has a strange power
in this dark world, to be so utterly disgusting in ignorance,
and yet so proudly command so many men. . . .
And the convicts themselves, at the mummy’s
feet, blood-splattered leather, at this one’s feet,
they become cobras sucking life out of their brothers,
they fight for rings and money and drugs,
in this pit of pain their teeth bare fangs,
to fight for what morsels they can. . . .
And the other convicts, guilty
of nothing but their born color, guilty of being innocent,
they slowly turn to dust in the nightly winds here,
flying in the wind back to their farms and cities.
From the gash in their hearts, sand flies up spraying
over houses and through trees,
look at the sand blow over this deserted place,
you are looking at them.
poem by Jimmy Santiago Baca
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This Doesnt Have To Be Love
Softly, love is standing here with its demands
(tell me what you want from me, you want from me)
Slowly, I think Im letting go of all my plans
(tell me where were goin to, were goin to)
Why, why am I afraid to give into this
Why am I afraid?
Chorus:
This doesnt have to be love
But its all I can feel, its all that I fear.
This doesnt have to be anything at all,
So hard to fall (from this high above)
But do we have to call it love?
I hold back, from everything I really want to say
(should I let my guards down, my guards down, my guards down)
I dont, I dont make commitments that could break
(maybe its just too late, its just too late)
I, Im so afraid to give into this
Im so afraid, oh
(chorus)
Need a little time to think things through, baby
Do I really want to give myself, give all myself to you, now?
I cant believe its happening so fast
cause I dont want to bring back what I left in the past, no.
(chorus)
So hard to fall...in love
This doesnt have to be...love
(love, love is all I feel...your love is what I fear)
Love me...love me
So hard to fall
So very hard to fall.
Fade
song performed by by Wilson Phillips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Changing Of The Guard
It’s hard
For a young upstart to compete with the old guard
For the old guard guards the old ways of doing business
With old business partners who also make it hard
For the young upstart
For they guard the old ways of guarding the business
From the brash and rash and flash of upstarts
But the old guard was also young at some age
Back when they fought the old guards of their days
And they too were young upstarts looking for change
Things for them seemed just as hard
And they placed each bet on each losing card
But before they knew it they were playing the old games
With the young upstarts who were looking for change
poem by P.R. Prosper
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That which everybody guards will soon disappear.
My Story Of Love And Heartbreak (The Paramirror)
I'll tell you a story about a man,
A man whose life is not so grand.
A story about love and heartbreaks too,
Heartbreaks too painful, sad and blue.
And blue are the days that will be the worst,
The worst of all time, feelings cursed.
The days will drag on, drained of my glory,
My glory dies in the story.
The story will start out with love of course,
Of course it's happy, no remorse.
Start out with my heart flying high and free,
And free is my soul...love, the key.
The key which will let all of my guards down,
Guards down...ready for what's around.
Will let the pain in when ready to strike,
To strike at me when it feels like.
Feels like the love is draining from my heart,
My heart was filled til she departs.
Love is gone and I feel all of the ache,
The ache of love and then heartbreak.
poem by Adam McKim
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The person who guards himself will not be destroyed.
Psalm XXXII: Happy the Man
Happy the man to whom his God
No more imputes his sin,
But, washed in the Redeemer's blood,
Hath made his garments clean.
Happy beyond expression he
Who debts are thus discharged;
And from the guilty bondage free,
He feels his soul enlarged.
His spirit hates deceit and lies,
His words are all sincere;
He guards his heart, he guards his eyes,
To keep his conscience clear.
While I my inward guilt suppressed,
No quiet could I find;
Thy wrath lay burning in my breast,
And racked my tortured mind.
Then I confessed my troubled thoughts,
My secret sins revealed;
Thy pard'ning grace forgave my faults,
Thy grace my pardon sealed.
This shall invite thy saints to pray;
When like a raging flood
Temptations rise, our strength and stay
Is a forgiving God.
poem by Isaac Watts
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If one man guards a narrow pass, ten thousand cannot get through.
Seize Him
Guards seize a practical man and subdue him!
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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