Monday, November 13, 2017

Just Another Day

Just Another Day

A soulless stare with demons’ eyes,
counts his money with surly wry.

A coin for lodging, a coin for sleep,
A coin for water n’ wine to keep.

Now rest away your weary head,
just one night’s sleep on feathered bed.

Clock is ticking, conserve your strength,
Tomorrows work, three coins for length.

Eyes wide shut while, time fades away,
To dungeons dark, with walls of grey.

Screams and sirens pierce the night,
Fouling dreams till mornings light.

And then awake, the roomers call,
It’s check out time, beside the mall.

Face unshaven, clothes all haggard,
Direction plain, walk is staggered.

Hunger bites its morning blues,
Now coming down from the booze.

A soulless stare with empty eyes,
Arrives at work, disorganized.

The day is long, three coins are paid,
Now journey's back, to where he stayed.

A soulless stare with demons’ eyes,
counts his money, with surly wry.

A coin for lodging, a coin for sleep,
A coin for water n’ wine to keep.

About this Poem: 

Society lives in a prefab illusion where people are willing captives in bondage to an economic system that is no better than slavery. The painful truth of a corporate programmed society…

One of the escapes chosen by people is alcohol which carries a demon inside. All too often its use becomes a routine that slowly steals the health and mind of its victim. Apathy towards societal change is all too common due to its creeping theft of will power and memory, which is why this industry is controlled by the criminal establishment. 

Saturday, November 11, 2017

Remembrance Day

Remembrance Day

Remembrance of war long ago,
fill these aging eyes,
essence gone flickers to life,
in grey November skies.

Silhouettes slowly moving,
parade my inner thoughts,
with Bayonets at ready,
emotions tied in knots.

Trenches filled with soldiers,
waiting for bombs to stop,
in search for some damned reason,
to charge over the top.

Reliving moments gone,
life passes before their sight,
apologies made for wrongs,
with wishes to make them right.

And then the truth comes knocking,
it rears its ugly head,
and paints astonished faces,
on all the soldiers dead.

In bloody mud and empathy,
lay the soldiers dreams,
another child forever lost,
to sick psychotic memes.

Lifeless now their bodies lay,
their spirits carry on,
lost amongst the shadows,
of the millions who were wronged.

The Citizens bought a story,
soldiers sent to die,
in someone else’s homeland,
the reasons just a lie.

Generals take their orders,
from economic forums,
receive another medal,
adding to decorum.

Final letters make it home,
all written months before,
carried to the grieving,
by a knock upon the door.

With promise to remember,
a day is set aside,
but hidden the real reason,
for why it is they died.

Today I do remember,
who’s lives for me were given,
but the bastards who sent them there,
will never be forgiven.
BY: The Activist Poet

World United Productions

Folk & Acoustic Music - 2010 to 2019

Progressive Rock - 2000 to 2019

Poetry & Prose

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