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Kingdom of One

This exploitative supersizer stands
In the fires of envious aggrandizing
Stoking self-centric delusional grandeur
With the gasses of his invented felicity.
He throws his simple poison darts at
Us who deal with his ostentatious predilection
For aggravated agitation's precocious desire.

He blows his inflatable stories up with hot air,
Expanding to epic proportions
The vacant cavity of his hollow reality
Above all we could ever dream of
Or ever hope to be for he is better than we,
And we are nothing more than weeds
To be scythed with the blade of his tongue.

He gloats and drives us to derision
With the tasteless virtuosity of his eminence
In his ultra-phantasmal kingdom of one,
Where he reigns and reigns supreme
In his paper castle and palace of cards.

Pity this self-important maximizer who
Seethes in the fires of envy, for he will burn.
Lament this jealous aggrandizer who
Stands in the fleeting gasses of invented felicity,
For they will dissipate and he will implode.

And when it all comes tumbling down,
There will be nothing left of the pile
That was made of nothing before.

poem by D.E. Navarro
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The progress

Cooking invented, I have lost my teeth.
Tools invented, I have lost my hands
Carts invented, I have lost my legs
Electricity invented, I have lost my sight.
Calculator invented, I have lost counting.
Computer invented, I have lost faculty
Internet come, I lost neigbours.
Is mankind on march to stability?
08.05.2007

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Big Slick

Just after BO ok’s more drilling
Gulf rocked by large explosion
People killed, fires, toxic gasses
Proves fossil fuel abomination

(Quit suppressing alternative energy technologies)

ROTMS

poem by Ray Lucero
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Extinct Family

Say lovely lady, can you help a gentleman safely cross the street?
Escort him home at night, treat him to dinner by romantic candlelight
Emancipation reigns supreme
She wears the trousers, skirts are rarely seen
Emancipation reigns supreme
Its just a matter of time for men to become extinct finally
Say, whats for dinner honey?
No, he will never say those words again
Be quiet when she gets home
In this feminine system youd better leave her alone
Emancipation reigns supreme
She wears the trousers, skirts are rarely seen
Emancipation reigns supreme
Its just a matter of time for men to become extinct finally
Men extinct finally, gone
She wears the trousers, Kate Bush for president

song performed by by Undeclinable Ambuscade
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fans

Submitted by: Ladywiz
Before we ever made the headlines
Or toured the concert halls
We survived our share of bar rooms
Stared at many motel walls
The years in Carolina
And all the one night stands
What kept the fires a burnin'
Back then, was you, the fans.
We two stepped out to Texas
Round and round the dance hall floors
Played the fair in Minnesota
I wish we could've played one more
We hope you remember
We're just the boys in the band
And what keeps the fires a burnin'
Is always, you, the fans.
(la da da, da da, la da)
I wish this night could last forever
Ah, but the show must go on
And we'll take home the memories
And we'll leave you with our songs
It's been good to see ya'll
Can we come back again? and again, and again
What keeps the fires a burnin'
In us, Is you, the fans.
As long as you remember, the boys in the band
We'll keep the fires a burnin'
For all of You, our Fans...

song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paper Cup

Wishful thinking I might be yours
Drifting on every step
Im always drawn to the dark horse
Sweet sweet, oh nothings said
And every dream, every, is just a dream after all
And everything stands so still when you dance
Everything spins so fast
And the nights in a paper cup
When you want it to last
Wishful thinking you might be mine
Every shiver sends
One breath under the bridge of sighs
Bending where the river bends
And every dream, every, is just a dream, after all
And everything stands so still when you dance
Everything spins so fast
And the nights in a paper cup
When you want it to last
And every dream, every, is just a dream after all
And everything stands so still when you dance
Everything spins so fast
And the nights in a paper cup
When you want it to last
And everything stands so still when you dance
Everything spins so fast
And the nights in a paper cup
When you want it to last

song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lonely

l o n e l y

on the paper, on the screen
all by itself

l o n e l y

is it,
does it think it is,
is it happy to be like that
is it happy to be,
does it hope for company
does it enjoy its own company?
does it look at itself
and say oh look
I'm one
guarded by two ells
that's alright then

Shakespeare, yes, was
the first to use it,
made it up
all by himself
felt he/we needed it
to say something that
hadn’t been said before
in quite the same way with
quite the same sound
the sound of lonely

he invented more words
than any other person
ever
why was that

next time
you read it

l o n e l y

you might think of him
being lonely
or exactly the opposite
smiling as he invented it
knowing it could be useful

smiling at you
saying yes I know
but I’m here for you

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Fire

There are many things we call a fire.
The ones we light to keep us warm.
The fire that burns within our heart
whenever we fall in love.
There are the fires of passion
that ignite within our soul.
There fires can burn eternally
and we feel them everyday.
All the fires that burn around and within us,
burn throughout all the days of our lives.

12 January 2009

poem by David Harris
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The stuffed men

I

We are the men stuffed with what
society needs us to be
and when the government draws the strings
we jump; we obey against our own will,
we are the stuffed men who were taught
lethal skills to be turned on and off
like mere machines
to be unleashed against a enemy
consisting out of other men
and our lives, our own humanity
to the government is totally meaningless.

II

We were shaped and formed
and forced into military training camps
into a stark cohesion
where the individual soul perishes
and the group reigns supreme
where those who goes into eternity,
goes into death, knows us
as if we are some of them
where violence, killing is measured out
by great and sincere men
who like rag dolls are stuffed,
like marionettes have to obey
the commands given to them.

III

In dreams there are eyes that we avoid,
situations that reoccur,
the stark reality of living
after others have perished
and reliving through the slaughter of war
as if we were made for greater things
and have eternal difficulty to comprehend
sending men to their end
and voices, screams, events, people and places
stays with us
and the pain, the desolation
return in dreams
as if they are trying to draw us to the kingdom
where death reigns supreme.

IV

The battlefields remain,
where from burial trenches
images rise, where shot-out tanks
armoured cars and weapons of war
that were destroyed are nothing more
than rusting metal coffins
left in the wind and rain
and forever remain as testimony
of the cruelty of man
under the lonely stars of the Southern Cross
and these places are now left alone
are only visited by wild animals
digging up the bones of killed men
to gnaw on them.

V

But we are destined to return
in memories, in thoughts and ultra realistic dreams
to these valleys of death and desolation,
to the bushy plains
where corpses lie as skeletons
and eyeless gaze at the setting sun
as if these are the last places
where we meet with the effect
of the deeds that we were forced
to participate in
and in this world of sin
the stars of the Southern Cross
seems to give direction
to another world beyond
and not just to determining
how to go north.

[Reference: The Hollow Men by T. S. Eliot.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Wheelwright. For David

The wheelwright worked, as carefully,
yet so fast, as a wheel spins.

One day, someone said to him,
the centre of the wheel never moves.

Infuriated, the wheelwright worked night and day
neglecting his other work,
to prove this was not true;

he invented a wheel which was all rim;
but it still needed a hub, an axle;
but he had invented the flywheel;
his business flourished despite him.

He invented a wheel with a hollow at its centre;
but had to devise a radiating hub;
yet he had invented machinery;
his business thrived.

After many years, he sank back,
beaten by philosophy; reduced to stillness.

Around him, a huge business enterprise;
he, the hub, the axle,
the still centre.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Why Not Eat With Gusto An Unbuttered Bread?

at an age
where bad cholesterol reigns
the kingdom
of your veins

do not ever
think of butter
and cream
or jellies
or margarine

eat some unbuttered bread
one that is bland
and even tasteless

they too serve
the palates
of the brave

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Bow To The First Man

My Bow to the first man
To the first man and women who born
On this earth
To the first man who eat something
To come out of hungry
TO the first man who made a tent for him
To the first man who invented fire
To cook his food
To the first man who found water
Which satisfy his thirst
To the first man who seeded
First plant to produce food
To the first man who used
Sharp object to kill wild animal
For his survival
To the first man who made horse
As his travel animal
To the first man who found
Agriculture as his necessity
To the first man who invented
Language for communication
To the first man who made his
Life with wife
To the first man who got a child
Of his own to build family
To first man who invented
Pain reliever for wounds
To the first man who invented
Social life by making villages
I bow my head before their feet
And remember them always

poem by Tulasi Suguna Prasad Kalvala
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Believe In Trees

Belonging from, nowhere to somewhere, never in or to - Company of the twisted tongue, spend with snakes i prefer to your screaming tongue, the one which ash flames to a fires back - Invented by noone, excuses of the everyone, that blame is for your face the shame - Hands on my knees, the singing of the bees, the buzz rings true to the lost of my hive, rather i choose to be free, truthfull, as to live my lies of life and not to be me - i saw the trees, i see without leaves, i believe without a bark, dogs to grief

poem by Unic Cjonr
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Stand in The Rain

She stands bellow the tree,
As she looks out towards the sea.

Her eyes see the blue, yet her mind is lost,
It has left her on it's journey remembering what it lost.

The breeze blows though her dark crimson hair,
And still she does not blink, she only stares.

She stares though nothing only seeing pain,
The pain that has left her standing in the rain.

The rain falls around her on the sea,
Yet still she stands under the tree,

It will not leave her, it will not go,
What she has seen will never go,

She will always remain alone,
She remains in the wind as it moans,

She feels movement of the air,
Yet she does not hear it, she does not fear,

Se fears not the storm, only the pain,
She stands by the side of the sea, stands in the rain.

She stands here, still,
As the pain begons to kill.

She stands and looks past her heart through the pain,
As she stands in the rain.

poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Pessimism and Optimism

Life is love, lovely and loving
Grief influences life better than everything.
Having ever so beauty as like as heaven
Life is a strong attraction of spiritual illusion.
I love the wonderful world and want to love
I see the repentance of a dove.
I find felicity whenever and wherever
I encircle grief to form a wreath of cheer.
It is simple math, life is unique and felicity is enormous
Having sense of sorrow is inadmissible and obvious.
Making the obviation of sorrow is needed must
To be enjoyable and carefree in the universe
Grief is the founder of felicity forever
Helps to know ownself with the existence.

poem by Onon Sarker
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Factrory Food

Factory Made Food.
A perfect microwave dinner for one
sunrays drink from the wine bottle
The dinner is tasteless,
and the rest of the wine is warm
as a cat licks its paw and has no worry
about the morrow.
Who invented tuna fish with mashed potatoes?
It must be someone without a mother,
or if he had one, she must have been
a busy executive and time poor.
At the orphanage they eat left over of dinners
they never had, forever made into a stew
children do not care; yester-days loaf.
He sits in his mansion, count his money and
think of other variety of frozen food he can
invented preferable something that looks
looks like vomit.
He is a vegetarian and hate mankind for
liking meat…he hates greedy little children too
even his own, serves them burger made of
fat full of sugar and salt.
Knows he will follow them to the grave and
be the longest living man on earth.
Who the hell drank my wine?

poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Poet Of Ignorance

Perhaps the earth is floating,
I do not know.
Perhaps the stars are little paper cutups
made by some giant scissors,
I do not know.
Perhaps the moon is a frozen tear,
I do not know.
Perhaps God is only a deep voice
heard by the deaf,
I do not know.

Perhaps I am no one.
True, I have a body
and I cannot escape from it.
I would like to fly out of my head,
but that is out of the question.
It is written on the tablet of destiny
that I am stuck here in this human form.
That being the case
I would like to call attention to my problem.

There is an animal inside me,
clutiching fast to my heart,
a huge carb.
The doctors of Boston
have thrown up their hands.
They have tried scalpels,
needles, poison gasses adn the like.
The crab remains.
It is a great weight.
I try to forget it, go about my business,
cook the broccoli, open the shut books,
brush my teeth and tie my shoes.
I have tried prayer
but as I pray the crab grips harder
and the pain enlarges.

I had a dream once,
perhaps it was a dream,
that the crab was my ignorance of God.
But who am I to believe in dreams?

Anonymous submission.

poem by Anne Sexton
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A Copper Plated Poseidon

A copper plated Poseidon stands testament to the immortality of the Gods.
Water runs smooth shivers down his spine. Black swans soaked in morning
Dew drift upon the wings of one another nearby. Close to the scene stands a memorial
To all those souls sent to the slaughter of the Somme. A church stands,
Un-forgiving in grandeur, concave mirrors flip reality upon the slip side.

poem by David Lacey
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Castrated men

China odds were aplenty
Plenty to puzzle our mind
Fear of infedility led emperors to
Castrate men who helped run
The Palace including 3,000 concubines
But alas, some of these men with
no ball wielded so much power
They actually had the emperors by the ball
And run the Middle Kingdom
One of them Tsai Lun was to be a genius
Who invented the paper
That revolutionised the world
Comic stories told of blunders
At the castration centres
Resulting in sham eunuchs
Who later busied themselves
With the forbidden fruits
But castrated balls and penises
Were never thrown away
They were preserved in tiny jars
And put back to their original place
Before the burial of each eunuch
So that they will be reborn as real men

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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a poem for Rosie

the castle of paper
that we create from a
sheet of white
bond paper
stands on the brown
table
tall and proud so
they say
but we know Rosie
that this is just plain
creativity
could be a way of
expressing your
self's discontent of the
surroundings
the foul air
the heavy rain that
seems not to stop
the muddy path
to the market and the
church
betraying fate
and foolish friends
but you know Rosie
very well that nothing
lasts forever
the water paper
the paper castle
gathers dusts
and soon we are fed up
on this
i am going away and
you too
but we shall not
be together for i also
get fed up
on you as you shall soon
to me.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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About The Winner

he was once the winner
and they listened to him
every word he says becomes
their new laws and he amazed
them with all his wits
and they all liked him

he made a name for himself
and for this
he forgot his real name
the one given by this mother
when he was born

and for that new name
he invented
all the stories about himself
how he was as a warrior who slayed
the dragon in their heads
how he saved the princess from the
clutches of the beast
how he built his castle in the clouds
where they can all be happy

and all his stories were recorded
as truths and
they all believed them
until finally
he lost his face
and hands and
he kept on looking
for all of these
in the sands of the desert
under the orange moon

and then one day he found
his pair of eyes
and opened it before all of them
he told the truth
that all his stories are lies
that he who is now making a speech before them
is no longer himself
he is a lie. and that is the truth.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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