society

Howling


Cry with the wolves,

And watch the devils play,

With advantageous eyes,

On the souls of men.







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Coffee Stained Phone Bill

I'm pining in Limbo. 

Becoming derecpit and swollen in the damning Vestibule. 

Scintillating, squirmy memories of goey boredom that laminated me with a spackle brush; and happiness that came and went so quickly,

it should have been sold to me in a bottle. 

Cigarettes and college jerseys cleave to my naps like a fitted sheet.

Sleep, big woman,

sleep away your worries for your tinkling, cocaine babies.

Sleep little man.

Rub your nose on your corduroy pants.

Do your duty, child.

Lock and load.

Do not tear your tongue away from the window of the bus. 

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Game - March 29, 2013

Stuck in this chaotic madness,

I can't tell wrong or right.

I'm yet to see an end to this.

I'm yet to stand up and fight.

They held me down and made me hurt.

They showed my shame until it burned.

I cannot stop their hateful game;

they won't stop until my last day.

I'm so far away from home.

I'm trapped, desperate, alone.

It can't stay going their way.

I'm done with being lost prey.

I tear the key from their wretched hands,

I unlock my shackles and break free.

My heart's breaking, you leave it in strands.

All that's left is the shame inside me.

I stand in my prison cell, ready to fight

for my pride, my lust, my simple human rights.

I'm a person, deserving freedom too.

I am disgusted by the one they call "You".

I raise my fist, my rights, my pride;

I strike down the foe that deny my life.

I erase you from this cold society

in hopes you'll see that I've set you free.

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The Crucifixion Of Humanity (formerly 'Eyes Wide Closed')

 

I found my daughter dead today with a needle in her arm,
I thought I taught her right from wrong to shield her from such harm.
Authorities preach “Just Say No!”.  Do they simply play the “game”?
Society yields a great cash flow…their naivety a shame.

Egos argue a dollar bill amount….
As innocent lives don’t seem to count….

A man decays behind steel bars…
He pays for his mistakes….   And ours.

The fight goes on…
What’s right?
What’s wrong?

The lesson’s learned.
Be careful what and how you enjoy.
This life….so brief….is not a toy….

         …….I found my daughter dead today.

 

© 2002

 

Edited by a Title Change 2013 © 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

 

When we read a story about someone else's misfortune, it can be difficult. That is when all we have been taught as child comes tumbling down upon us. It sears into our psyche and emotions in much the same way that a branding iron burns a mark onto the new flesh of a baby steer, leaving with us all of the anger that we can seemingly hold to last us a lifetime to fuel our revenge for who we perceive as the one who caused us to become so stigmatized by an event or action of another. When grave misfortune happens to ourselves, it can be quite different. Trauma is something that will make you or break you. Ask any veteran who has healed from the traumas of war if given the chance, would they have declined invitation into the military. You may be surprised to hear that many of them will say that they have no regrets and would never change a thing. I do not know, because I am no where near an expert on much of anything at all, let alone psychiatry, but I am pretty sure that is how it is supposed to work in the best scenario, given the fact that there has not to my knowledge, ever been born, a person who has lived a full life without having things go wrong. Things are suppposed to go wrong, I think. The phrase, 'life handed to them on a silver platter' doesn't really happen to anyone. It is a fairytale that we imagine happens. The murderer, the rapist, the theif, the adulterer, usually has a previous life of hell or psychological and emotionsl turmoil before they commit the horrific acts that we judge without any consideration to our own tresspasses or what they must have experienced to commit the act in the first place. It is much easier for us to project the 'good vs bad' scenario that man's conditioning has created and shove them away into the darkness of our minds, crossed off the list as 'a job well done', and move on as if we have completed the task. It doesn't work. On the other side of the karmic drama we have the first time victim, who usually sees life cloaked in a picture frame of pleasantry and flower paved roads until the plastic shell that their conditioning created buckles under the rigors of reality and cracks the surface to give their soul a breath of it's own antipathy to balance the scales of justice within. And then there are those from war torn countries who have lived nothing but trauma... I do not know, but understanding trauma now as I do, I am thinking about what happened on September 11, 2001, was altogether different from what we were told. If we do not see trauma for what it is, --a need for the balance of inner harmony-- it can result in years of pain and anguish, and the trauma is never healed. The divine spark within us will continue to create the same story over and over in our lives until we learn to accept our best and most useful self as the version of who we are....who we were meant to be from birth, before the opinions of conditioning and the scales of justice invented by men twisted our own inner scales and toppled down our divine tower of reasoning and discernment that was meant to shape the puzzle piece of ourseves to fit the larger puzzle we call 'life'.

Accepting facts can be difficult when it comes to a truth that we must face about ourselves. We can ignore it, justify our actions, hide it away as though it never happened, and see what we want to see. When we broaden our scope of vision, we can clearly see that everyone has these moments in their lives. The things we endured did not happen because we were, or are, any better or worse than anone else. They happened because they were meant to happen for us to learn from. In between the taboos, conditioning, and lies that we are raised with, some people are able, through spirituality, through a 'God', through another friend or relative whose lives touch them in some magical way, to break down the walls within ourselves and look at the world in a way that promotes the balance and peace of mind we need to accept that we are human, and we make mistakes. Sometimes, a ray of light somehow makes it through the tiny cracks in the places of our mind where we have neglected to be merciful with ourselves, and we become free to accept that we all enter this life with a purpose, each individually designed to complete it's own task in order to move the wheels of evolution a step furthur into the future for ourselves, our loves ones, and the people of this planet. The great wall of our conditioning can run alongside of each culture like a childhood friend. We honor it as our friend, we love it as we do our cultural birthright, but like any friend, it has no capability or place in our lives when it comes to our own innate discernment about our purpose on this earth.  A mirror reflection of our dark side, it is there to remind us we are fallible, but only if we have the ears to listen to it.

We justify our right to label those who do not deserve the labeling to give them, under the petty faults of our 'parents, teachers, and society's' judgements of 'right' and 'wrong', 'their purpose' whilst being ignorant to our gods, divne intelligence and inner gifts without conscience in attempt to  create harmony for ourselves without regard to the harmony of all beings, and then we wonder why the pieces of our puzzle do not fit. It doesn't make sense.

"I found my daughter dead today"

Children Of The Earth

Squandered without consideration,
A heartless act of bitter vengeance at the world,
Feeling rejected, ejected from familiarity,
Contemptuous and scorned younglings,
Unarmed and void of forbearance,
Becoming a vacuum for anguish without release,
And a mirror of community neglect,
Reflection of parental confusion and malevolence,
Rancid energy bouncing out and back again,
Like a lifelong game of handball with societal ills,
Defective skills, knowing no better,
Seeking no end, with peace undefined,
Due to taking root in a life unkind,
What will grow in this wasteland?
Putrid soil of chemical waste,
Splintered shreads of nothingness,

Spitefully believed to be gods,
Dreams, falling to ash like rotted flesh,
The shells of what once sustained hope,
Lying in the cocoon of human ignorance,
And no returns of virtues past,
For the sake of reaping a fool's gold.

 

© 2013

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem is about today's youth.

View nightlight1220's Full Portfolio

Ignorance

Whimpering sighs,

Soulful eyes,

Disgrace is clearly seen,

Serene in trance,

Limping by, silent...

In a dream.

Welts and bruises decorate,

Regret and shame,

"So second rate",

She smiles....

      ....and I, the passerby.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

this is about abuse and how it is so often silent and ignored

View nightlight1220's Full Portfolio

Endangered Species

I traveled miles out of town to see your face today,

Drove past the city limits through the desert far away,

Surrounded by barbed wire and a K-9 crew or two,

I wondered would I meet Mr. Houdini here?…or you?

You stood behind a piece of glass that stifled every word,

It didn’t matter though, the plea for help could still be heard.

The room was filled with people shouting loudly through the glass,

I even heard a woman tell her friend to "Kiss my a-s!".

Two hours passed too quickly and it hurt to say goodbye,

And as I left I winked as if to say, "See, I won’t cry".

I’ll stand beside you always with each letter that I write,

I know we’ll figure out how we’ll get through each lonely night.

The part that really gets me is the way we build in space,

But where are all the brains to help reform our HUMAN RACE?

We teach the kids by actions we display to shoot and kill,

Then lock them up, ignore them, and complain about the bill.

It’s "rehabilitation" at it’s best here at the zoo,

And a label of psychosis makes a tort hard to pursue.

The workers only give a damn about their lazy hides,

At best they blame the inmate’s past, not really look inside.

"Who cares about some kid who got pissed off and shot the block!!

We’ll just give him some lithium and blame it on hard rock!!

Just watch your back and get the check, that’s all that we can do,

For people locked away in super-max like SMU."

Abuse of all this power will be sure to make life worse,

Unless we conquer fears of ones who feed into this curse.

The men who claim it’s their right to judge that a single life,

Could possibly be worth no more than all this time in strife,

They need to learn a lesson ‘bout how wrong a "right" can be

When men abuse their right to power close their eyes, refuse to see.

I’ll see you here again and pray each night and every day,

Don’t worry ‘bout my love ‘cause it won’t ever go away,

But if by chance we drift apart I’ll hold this memory dear,

It’s taught me that with lack of love all humans know….

…….is fear.

Copyright © 2002 Liz Peterson-Braveheart

Author's Notes/Comments: 

About having a loved one in a super max prison.

Your Party

Folder: 
Dreams

I ruined your party,

Your great feast.

You shouldn't have invited me,

It's your own damn fault.

 

You wanted to fight,

So I put on my boxing gloves.

Until you start complaining,

I am hitting you too hard.

 

I ruined your party,

But I ain't telling by what.

One thing I know for sure:

You can't deal with me.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A dream I had.

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War Machine

Throwing away pennies as the hustler goes in retreat,

The voice is but an echo of what was once thought,

No soul can bend the guiding star, though not for a lack of trying.

We bury the dead until they have risen to the surface,

Just another resource, product and bought.

 

Freedom is an exemption from what we are told to believe,

Tightly packed mannequins fed with money and fear.

The fires are spreading, directed by blame,

Blissfully unaware that they will return again,

Sealing the fate of each broken man.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

History repeats, programmed to destroy and kill.

 

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