One Last Suicidal Prayer
Here I am now
with the reflection of a child,
crying
Wanting out of this prison
Caged in steel bars of judgement
and criticism
The pounding noise of a gavel
Manipulating my gullible ear drums
with degradation
A social rape victim
Lured by perverts with the false hope:
ACCEPTANCE
One last suicidal prayer
for the blessing of the deities of attention
Unanswered
Unanswered...
poem by Justin Tallman Gonzalez
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Suspicions In The Way
Weren't we once in love?
Or was that just another game to play?
Weren't we once there for one another?
Or was that just for public display?
Questions unanswered.
Time lost and investments hindered.
Broken and mended,
With emotions on the fence.
I was never in love like that.
Nor have I ever,
Been that way since.
Weren't we once in love?
Questions unanswered.
Or was that just another game to play?
Questions unanswered.
Weren't we once there for one another?
Questions unanswered.
Or was that just for public display?
Questions unanswered,
And...
Suspicions,
In the way!
Can't get off the fence,
With suspicions in the way.
Can't get off the fence,
With suspicions in the way.
Can't get off the fence,
With suspicions in the way.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Before the beginning
Why does the human race exist?
Unanswered questions will persist.
Philosophers and scientists
All try to penetrate the mists.
It seems as if each answer found,
leads to a question more profound.
It often seems the evidence
flies in the face of common sense.
Some premises I accept as true
may seem quite different to you.
The things we know or think we know.
Frequently prove to be not so.
It all depends how we perceive
the so called facts which we believe.
Is there a God it would seem so.
I can believe but do not know.
We cannot prove it either way
and so unanswered questions stay.
Unanswered now as they have done
since mans history was begun.
Although we ask we get no reply
Is God still there or did he die?
16/04/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Unanswered Prayers
Just the other night a hometown football game
My wife and I ran into my old high school flame
And as I introduced them the past came back to me
And I couldnt help but think of the way things used to be.
She was the one that Id wanted for all times
And each night Id spend prayin that God would make her mine
And if hed only grant me this wish I wished back then
Id never ask for anything again.
(chorus)
Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers
Remember when youre talkin to the man upstairs
That just because he doesnt answer doesnt mean he dont care
Some of gods greatest gifts are unanswered prayers.
She wasnt quite the angel that I remembered in my dreams
And I could tell that time had changed me
Inn her eyes too it seemed
We tried to talk about the old days
There wasnt much we could recall
I guess the lord knows what hes doin after all.
And as she walked away and I looked at my wife
And then and there I thankedd the good lord
For the gifts in my life.
*chorus*
Some of gods greatest gifts are all too often unanswered...
Some of gods greatest gifts are unanswered prayers
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Child Abuse
How many pleas go unanswered
as their cries echo through the night?
Too many, I am afraid to say
as we hear about child abuse almost every day.
Committed by those who are most trusted,
our guardians of the young
are the ones who defile
the young lives in their care.
What about those who are abused
will they become abusers one day
for the treatment they have received?
That question will remain unanswered
until sometime in future years.
15 October 2009
Author's Note:
Although this poem may depict that all child carers are abusers, they are not. Although in the news in England of late there have been several cases in which child abusers have been people who were in charge of children. I wish now to apologise to the genuine carers that are perfectly innocent if they feel offended by my poem.
This poem was written to underline a question do those abused in turn become abusers.
DVH 15/10/09
poem by David Harris
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A Bond Built
In a valley
Midst purple hills
Far away far
from the noise of man.
Built of wood bondage.
Poles and bars
separate him
from once his freedom.
Round and round
in circles he ran.
First one way
rear and run the other.
Unbroken spirit
wild of eye.
A challenge flung
each time we met.
Through his prison bars
I watched.
What magic spell
lured me near?
Never will I know
the reason why.
From my world
into his I stepped.
Ears cocked high.
Steel muscles trembling
nostrils flared hooves pawed.
True warrior facing me.
We eyed each other
suspicious at best.
Who would be willing
first to show trust.
Eternity it seemed.
Really seconds few.
Then step by step
closer we moved.
To show my faith
I turned away.
Patiently I waited
his response.
Soon soft velvet I felt
whisper upon my cheek.
His breath a warm caress
with a gentle friendly nudge.
No longer a need
for poles and bars.
Between the two of us
a bond of love for life had formed.
poem by Kurt Hearth
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Perverts In The Sun
(feat. The Trolls)
The USA is movin' south
Our power is mostly mouth
Miami beach to Malibu
Hot weather makes'em wanna screw
Shemales, jumps bails
Weird tales on the scales
If it fails chip'n dale
Hit the gym in animal skin
Perverts in the sun
Perving everyone
Perverts in the sun
Perving everyone
Fruit punch
Go to crunch
Take a pill
Lose your will
Get a job, in street promotion
Pushing handbills on the ocean
Gang fights all night
Garbages can's got a tan
Rich men and hungry chicks
Stick'em in the blender - hey big spender !
Perverts in the sun
Perving everyone
Perverts in the sun
Perving everyone
O.J, O.J, Jose Sammy too, got nothin' to do
The realtor hit the floor
He's disgusted
Wants to get'em all busted
Perverts in the sun
Perving everyone
Perverts in the sun
Perving everyone
You guys are perverts
Perverts in the sun
Perving everyone
Perverts in the sun
Perving everyone
Perverts in the sun
Perving everyone
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prison As Metaphor
The time was almost right
for the recitation of a poem
when the judge asked me
if I had anything to say before sentencing.
I wanted to say Yes – why the 'anything to say' ritual?
To make me squirm
before the varnished gavel comes down?
Oh, and why the gavel ritual?
But I said No.
I am guilty
so there is nothing else you need to know about me,
My crime, not me,
sits in a cell with green walls
When I arrived I would not lie down
Because that would make it my home
A voice on the radio says
“My life feels like prison.”
I want them to use a different metaphor.
One that doesn’t suck my life up
and turn it into a little diorama with plastic figurines
in aluminum foil chains
Behind bars made of pretzels
As if I could eat my way out of here
poem by Michael Philips
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The Prisoner
the afternoon
sun shines upon
a row of
iron bars
the temperature
has subsided
heads of unknown
men begin to
appear
like shadows of
mushrooms
upon the dark
mouths of caves
they are some
of the questions
still unanswered
by the
claim that there
is justice
in humanity.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sympathy
I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals--
I know what the caged bird feels!
I know why the caged bird beats his wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
And they pulse again with a keener sting--
I know why he beats his wing!
I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,--
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings--
I know why the caged bird sings!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Beat Goes On
Drums keep pounding rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da
Wait till you have reached the age
Blah blah
History has turned the page
Blah blah
We still want to hear a brand new thing
Uh huh
We still need a song to sing
Uh huh
And the beat goes on (6x)
Drums keep pounding rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da
Love is a thirsting, lasting on my mind
From tomorrow until the end of time
And the beat goes on (4x)
And the beat goes
And the beat goes
And the beat goes on
Drums keep pounding rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da
We still move to a rhythm just like this
We still dream of sharing our first kiss
And the beat goes on (4x)
Drums keep pounding rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da
Well our kids are turning faster everyday (everyday)
We still want to dance the night away
And the beat goes on
And the beat goes on
And the beat goes on
And the beat goes on...
(to fade)
song performed by by Britney Spears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Dread the Silence
I need noise when I’m awake
I dread the silence when I am not asleep
It’s either pounding my eardrums with songs, music or any mp3s
or razzing it to an audio book or MTVs
Noise has been a means to cover up the reality
I dread the silence for it prods a cognizance that I’m alone despite the crowd.
I dread the silence fearing that I wake up from my self-created imaginary world
I dread the silence for fear that it made me question about my existence
I dread the silence fearing that I will hear the inner voice
clamoring and wanting to escape from this dragging circumstances
That still small voice which prefers peace
that still small voice wanting to get away from this kind of place.
that still small voice, crying from this senseless pace.
that still small voice, wanting a break from this pointless race.
poem by Champs Ulysses Cabinatan
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Unanswered Prayers
The greatest gift
Can sometimes be…
Unanswered prayers
Life composed…
Then unexpectedly exposed
as a labyrinth of layers
For what you pray today…
could be The opposite of…
your prayers upon the morrow
And the granted prayer
Now wished undone, becomes…
A source of new found sorrow
Take care in prayer
Intone it wisely…
waste it not, I pray of you
Take care in what you pray for
For your prayer…
just might come true
poem by David Whalen
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Child Of Babylon
(coverdale/marsden)
When I heard the sound of thunder
On the day that I was born,
I was blinded by the lighting
An baptised in the storm
My father started crying
When he saw what he had done,
But, my mother started praying
Have mercy on my son,
He is a child of babylon
I am a child of babylon,
Lord have mercy on a wayward son
Nowhere to hide, nowhere to run
I am a child,
A child of babylon
When Ive fooled around so many times
When Ive known it aint been right,
But, I paint it all in colours
When it really should be black and white
I sail my ship through muddy waters,
Try to open every door,
When I saw the seven wonders
It left me wanting more
I am a child of babylon,
Lord have mercy on a wayward son
Nowhere to hide, got no place to run
I am a child,
A child of babylon
On my day of judgement
I know how it will be,
Im prepared to meet my maker
With no hope for charity
Ill stand alone and pay the price
For everything Ive done,
cos there aint guardian angel
For a child of babylon
I am a child,
A child of babylon
I am a child of babylon,
Lord have mercy on a wayward son
Nowhere to hide, got no place to run
I am a child,
A child of babylon
Child of babylon
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just a Vessel Blessed
Where am I going to take this?
To realms,
I can not explain.
If I could,
Your question would not be left to go...
Unanswered.
If I did this to impress,
My ego would have been addressed.
And 'this' would have been left,
As an accomplishment to gain your attention.
And in a way...
I have nothing to say about this at all.
I'm just a vessel blessed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Social Conditioning From Earliest Age
we care condition
our children
from earliest age
with sense perception
a baby behind tiny bars
or inescapable
walls of a bassinet cot
walls of a prison cot?
taken out put
back at our own
convenience
or lifted up with love?
time passes feeds
nappy changes
baths powders held
in loves welcome or?
a toddler behind bars
or walls of a play pen
a toddler given free range
conditioning individuality to conform
to condition to rules
social norms of society
control imposed for
parental convenience as
social acceptance
is imposed upon
unique individuality
constrained modeled into conformity
or control imposed
only for safety assurances
huge freedom given
to nurture grow confidence excel
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
See also ‘Social Conditioning Before Arrival Birth’.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Experience As It Exists
Between and betwixt,
Or just bothered...
By the complexity of it.
This life we live,
To experience as it exists...
As a blessing given to gift.
And the 'why' asked from heard lips,
Has more questions to add...
Going unanswered to satisfy,
Those of hungry curiosities.
To perplex even more,
A mind seeking to respond.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Irony
people who look at me as dispenser of justice
do not know, that i am a victim of injustice myself.
as i wear the black robe, i too, hide within this cloth
my own suffering from the political system that swears that
everything is owned, one must have a master,
that in this small stage, they try to make marionettes
out of our broken bones, their hands are there manipulating the strings
and those who do not follow, who do not dance shall be severely
punished
i keep this irony, i close my mouth and then i bang the gavel
hard, i give you justice, no one gives me the same.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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No Need to Second Guess(response to comments on) 'A Scar Called Rape')
the answer to your comments
are right there in the seems
stitched up tight
hatred, fright, that night
fictional accounts
do not hold up right
the seems rip from lies
the right is not given in poetry
to fictionalize a true occurrence
a real moment in time
yes the rape happened
words of hate cannot describe
in such detail of my account
you say i hope
i hope it is false
but it is true
I'm am living proof
rape happens
we cant second guess people
their ability to inflict upon others
in the way rapist lead a victim
control them long after it is over
i am living the life of a survivor
it is not fiction
to make a story
about such an image
a scar of an occurrence
a fallacy called rape
it is not pleasure to read I'm sure
but we cannot compose ourselves
we cannot dream it be true
we do not think its possible
the sickness spread from fetish
controlling a woman
an innocent girl
fiction it is not
it happens
no need to second guess
we live in a rotten world
poem by Audrey Marie Kay
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The Prayer
My brother kneels, so saith Kabir,
To stone and brass in heathen wise,
But in my brother's voice I hear
My own unanswered agonies.
His God is as his fates assign,
His prayer is all the world's--and mine.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Hearts In Armor
(written by jude johnstone)
One more day
My hearts in armor
Though I meant to let you in
In an effort not to harm it
I have missed my chance again
I was singing when I freed you
But my pride was just a veil
I pretended not to need you
Now my heart tells a different tale
And every hour that goes by
The harder I become
Because I let that well run dry
Because I left you unanswered
Then like a fool I kept my secret
When it made no sense to try
Now I can no longer keep it
For its late and the moon is high
And every hour that goes by
The harder I become
Because I let that well run dry
Because I left you unanswered
One more day my hearts in armor
Though I did not see it then
I would finish what you started
If I had that chance again
I would finish what you started
If I had that chance again
song performed by by Trisha Yearwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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