Daylight Court Buildings
phoenix moment
smooth criminal
Italian black
white lines
crosses silk
tie smiles back
into daylight
court buildings
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Crosses Burning
black-eyed poverty,
angry negativity,
sanity or vanity,
aint nobody free...
still the wheels of life
keep on turning;
in the land of want,
crosses burning.
hate me, hate yourself,
liberty on the shelf,
worthless unless it sells,
drawing water from the well...
still the wheels of life
keep on turning;
in the land of need,
crosses burning.
black and white bleeding red,
cant feed the poor, raise the dead,
drinking water laced with lead,
nooses hung around our heads...
still the wheels of life
keep on turning;
in the land of hurt,
crosses burning.
children sold into slavery,
homeless tents, misery,
wars without victory,
governed by plutocracy...
still the wheels of life
keep on turning;
in the land of sorrow,
crosses burning.
microwave Jesus, tattered flags,
boys come home in body bags,
buildings crumble, bridges sag,
numbered souls without a tag...
still the wheels of life
keep on turning;
in the land of lies,
crosses burning.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Incantation
A white well
In a black cave;
A bright shell
In a dark wave.
A white rose
Black brambles hood;
Smooth bright snows
In a dark wood.
A flung white glove
In a dark fight;
A white dove
On a wild black night.
A white door
In a dark lane;
A bright core
To bitter black pain.
A white hand
Waved from dark walls;
In a burnt black land
Bright waterfalls.
A bright spark
Where black ashes are;
In the smothering dark
One white star.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black man be human
Black man takes out his wallet and lays it bare for all to see
Marauding notes casing his dignity
Black man be human
Question, how can I be?
Equal to the white man, silk hair smooth skin
Black man be human
Status restored but dignity ignored
Simply shaped by his disfigured identity
Causing all to scream
Black man be human
Black man takes out his wallet and lays it bare for all to see
A face achieved yet sadly he realises
Now the world screams
Black man you are human
Shaped in a western perception
Of what it means to be
Black man you are human
Black man: ‘I am human'
As they told me to be
No uniqueness
Or vision
Shaped
Character
Just like them
Black man: ‘I am human'
poem by Lindsay Maasdorp
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Chinese buildings are like American buildings, with big footprints. People don't care about daylight or fresh air.
quote by Helmut Jahn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black And White World
I was looking at the black and white world
it seemed so exciting
if you'd only put me back to back with that girl
when the night's inviting
with just a little lighting
there'll never be days like that again
when I was just a boy and men were men
you'd never go from moment to moment
you're the living double of a single fiction
you're the very colour poets compliment
cause you feel the fingers friction
it's a freeze frame, still it's real life
you don't want to look
cause you've seen the film and read the book
I was looking at the black and white world
trying to name some pin-up
in those days she was just a beautiful girl
now she's framed and hung up
I thought she was younger until
I saw her last night in close detail
though they all fade away when you're so pale
it's more than just a physical attraction
starts with a face and ends up a fixation
but you're never going to feel a fraction
the way it used to work on your imagination
when you were looking at a black and white world
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At The Level Crossing
Here I come to a halt
At the closed doorstep
Of the level crossing
On my daily path.
From the ashes
Of the driver’s seat
I rise like a Phoenix
And in no time get lost in the remains
Of a drowsy past.
There, I delicately felt
The dry petals of a red rose,
The clumsy lines of a crumpled love-letter,
And broken smiles of a pair of white lips
Pronouncing a few unintelligible
Alphabet at the parting time.
And I lend my anxious ears
To the dying echo of her
Receding footsteps overtaking me
During a heavy moment.
I also remember
How I pitied all and sundry
Who hastened to console me,
For they claimed to decipher
The language of my tears silently flowing
From the Gangotri of my eyes.
Here I wake up
On hearing the deafening honk
And metallic commotion
Of throbbing automobiles at my back,
As the level crossing opens
Before my eyes.
Who Bears The Guilt.... (In The End)
i close my eyes and go back...
sixties angry churning deep south,
to the old oak tree in the clearing.
where two bodies hung side by side;
one young black man, local,
one young jewish man,
who came from the north to protest.
both stripped naked, badly beaten,
whose sins did they die for?
black and white Jesus's,
neath a guilt ridden limb...
whose crown of thorns?
and who will roll away the stone?
45 years later,
a couple lines in the news.
a young gay man hanging from a rafter.
the victim of bullying and discrimination.
will we never learn?
how many Jesus's?
how many crosses?
in the end... who bears the guilt?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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H-K (Hunter-Killer)
The conscious man is dead
And I buried him
Beneath this scarred tissue
Armored skeleton
The machine is now alive
Desensitized with open eyes
Powered by an angry mind
And is refueled by those I despise
I've become what the detest
A delinquent survivalist
Without fear and no regrets
They fu*king say
I am a criminal
I am a criminal
I am a criminal
I am a criminal
I must steal to survive
I must kill to moralize
Leaving people victimized
Fuels my angst inside
I'm your judge
And your jury
You don't get an attorney
With my verdict of guilty
An execution in fury
The machine is now alive
To wreak havoc in your lives
There's no use to hold me back
I am ready to attack
Repeat second verse
I am a criminal
I am a criminal
I am a criminal
I am a criminal
song performed by by Fear Factory from Demanufacture
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mother
Every criminal has a Mother!
And this Mother goes to the *Supreme Court
And begs for his Son!
Then the Magistrate tells her;
'I am sorry Mother, your son has killed another son.'
Then Mom says; 'In Your honourable Court every criminal hangs? '
'That depends on the Witness.' The Judge said politely.
'O.K. Sir, You hang me and send my son home because he wants to be a Judge one day! '
You see, only a Mother can sing that sad song!
[*This special Supreme Court even the Magistrates could practice.]
* To Maxim Gorky for his superb novel 'Mother'.
Quoted from 'get on the bus' (Uniting children with their mothers and fathers in prison.) 'I noticed things about my mother: She was pretty and she looked like me.I found something in common with all the children on the bus.They have a Mother in prison too. -a little girl-
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Peace
Peace is white
White be, a dove, a flag
High snow, higher clouds, higher more twinklings
White is tranquil, honarable, reliable, honest and decent
But white is dubious too
As the sparklings dotted in black sky
And black is immoral, bad, evil and sorrow
Yet black is utile too
Like these writings on peaceful white
White is the most sought
As wite is peace disliking conflicts
Yet peace is stuck with wars 'cause
Providence eventuates agitating criminal energy
Beyond love and hate, pain and pleasure
Hidden in is peace special
An exclusive providence unknowing to create evil
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Yearning
Misted the flowers weep as light dies
Moon of white silk sleeplessly cries.
Stilled - Phoenix wings.
Touched - Mandarin strings.
This song tells secrets that no one knows
To far Yenjan on Spring breeze it goes.
To you it flies
Through the night skies.
Sidelong - Eyes. How
White tears fill now!
Heart’s pain? Come see -
In this mirror with me.
Black and White
My world is black and white,
The colors I see is black and white,
Hold me tight,
Don’t let me go,
See the tears I have cried,
Listen to my cry,
Look into my eyes,
My world is black and white,
Cut my wrist,
Black my eyes,
Blacken these thoughts I think of,
Black and white is all I can see,
The tears is all I can feel,
Feel me fading away,
Watching myself falling apart,
Look deep into my eyes,
Can you see me,
Can you feel the pain I feel,
I don’t understand why I am feeling this sad,
All the moments that once we shared has faded away like others have,
I never did tried to see the beyond the black and white clouds,
I need to face what I have become,
I need to find my way back,
The black and white is all I can see and feel,
My world has been black and white.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black & White World
I was looking at the black and white world
It seemed so exciting
If youd only put me back to back with that girl
When the nights inviting
With just a little lighting
Therell never be days like that again
When I was just a boy and men were men
You never go from moment to moment
Youre the living double of a single fiction
Youre very colourful with your compliments
As you feel the fingers friction
Its a freeze-frame
Still its real life
You dont want to look
Cause youve seen the film and youve read the book
I was looking at the black and white world
Trying to name some pin-up
Those days she was just a beautiful girl
Now shes framed and hung up
I thought she was young
Up until I saw her last night in close detail
Though they all fade away when youre so pale
Its more than just a physical attraction
It starts with a face and ends up a fixation
But youre never gonna feel a fraction
Of the way it used to work on your imagination
When you were looking at the black and white world...
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kathleen
'Going out there is no other
coming back there is no trace'.
Love and care for one another,
Smooth the sadness from her face.
Like Orestes how she travels!
Light-foot ever, onward roams;
as the skein of life unravels,
everywhere she makes her homes.
Loves she keeps in golden cages,
(LOVE she smiles at from afar) ,
turns (with smiles) her golden pages
(climbs her grass blade to her star) .
Still the sadness does not leave her
though she smiles and smiles again
and her gladness like a fever
is shadowed round with wisps of pain.
'Going out there is no other
coming back there is no trace.'
(Love and care for one another;
smooth the sadness from her face.)
Like Eurydice she lingers
where Pluto reigns as King of Shades
while Orpheus touches gentle fingers
and her sunshine slowly fades.
poem by Brian Taylor
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Silk and A Rabbit
Dark at eight o’clock
and the night is like black silk
wrapped around a tired landscape.
A rabbit crosses the road
confused by the car’s light
it stops.
Lights dimmed it continues
and I hope it will live long enough
to see the sunrise.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Black Market White Baby Dealer
My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me
My black market white baby dealer
Is rooting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Kidnaps clean, fresh white babies for me
Clean, fresh white babies for me
My smile is dime a dozen
My lips are cherry red
My eyes are blue like the sky is blue
I got good shoulders under my head
I look like your mother
I look like your great-aunt
So sit me down in the family photo
And everyone tells me that i, I look just like you
My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
He brings back
Oh my god, he brings back
He brings back clean, fresh, white expensive babies
He brings back
Oh charlie, he brings back
He brings back clean, fresh, white expensive babies
I come post-production
I dont need natal care
Im already fully assembled
Down to the very last part, its all there
So take me to your family
So take me to your home
Buddy, take me in as your next generation
And Ill take you out of the lost one and into mine
My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Over His Latte.
He's only just sat down
in the cafe when she enters
and stands at the counter
waiting to be served. He lets
his latte settle. Allows his
eyes to scrutinize. The waitress
serves the woman in the white
hat and black dress. He notes
her fine figure, the low cut at
the neck, the thin straps over
shoulders. He tries to breathe
in from where he sits her perfume,
but it doesn't come. The woman
orders an espresso and says it
with an Italian accent. He follows
her with his eyes as she walks
to a table alone. She looks like a
girl Modigliani would have painted.
She looks at her watch and then
around the room of the cafe.
She crosses her legs, one over
the other, thigh revealed. He sips
his latte. Wipes his lips with the
back of his hand. Bad habit, mother
would have slapped his hand as a
child once. The waitress delivers
the woman's coffee; he notes the
waitress's fine behind, the hands
serving, the legs touching together.
Then she's gone. Just the woman
in the white hat to study. The way
she lifts the small white cup to her
mouth, her fingers holding delicately,
as if afraid to break. Get a life Brody
would say if he were there. But he's not;
he's away with that girl from the office,
having a lay. The woman in the hat
stares at him, her eyes devour, her lips
part like legs before sex. She looks boringly
away. He sips more latte. He doesn't like
her white hat or black dress anyway.
poem by Terry Collett
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A Million Murders
Smooth, soft, silk robes of royalty—
Sparkling, shining jewels of majesty—
Grand and great the riches uncoil—
Stones and steel rising from soil.
The coloured peoples gaping in envy
wishing they could be the whites in jealousy:
Oh, if only we had such beautiful buildings
Oh, if only our country was as inspiring.
Yet, in the ground, a buried irony—
For azalea red runs blood and ruby—
For beneath the stoic, impassioned gargoyles—
Behold! The tears of those who toiled.
Their monuments built with Asian antimony—
Their statues and artifacts, African ivory—
Their advanced machines by Eastern oil—
A thousand thefts, a people despoiled.
Smooth, soft, silk robes of royalty—
Sparkling, shining jewels of majesty—
Grand and great the riches uncoil—
Bones and steel rising from soil.
poem by Ong Kar Jin
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Black and White and Red
Black and White
And Red I see
Demons they do
Torture me
Black and White
And Red all day
The voices are real
Or so they say
Black and White
And Red abound
I'm lost I call
I'm never found
Black and White
And Red flow out
I scream but you
Don't hear me shout
Black and White
And Red so bright
Exit blood and
Enter light
Black and White
And Red of death
Now I breathe
My final breath
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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Making The World A Safer Place
If humanity truly aspires, to globally evolve interact,
aspires to make the world a better safer place, for all people;
then would we, should we, not cooperate to fight crime?
Should we create an International Criminal Court
a permanent tribunal to prosecute individuals;
for genocide, crimes against humanity, war crimes,
and the crime of aggression against other nations?
Would this help stop wars, aid the cause of world peace?
Should we cooperate internationally, to stop crimes of aggression?
Would this be an effective aid, in wars against terrorism?
Rejoice global peace loving nations, have indeed created,
supported in law, such an International Criminal Court.
The International Criminal Court, the ICC, currently it
cannot, will not; be able to exercise
jurisdiction over the crime of aggression;
in any way before the year 2017 but
slowly steadily we are making progress,
in the right direction, yet still the question
lingers, is progress fast enough to save us?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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