Coup de Grâce

16 01 2012

She was down on the ground

Balled up in defiant defeat

He had her in his palm

One last kick

At her shaky pride

His victor’s grin

He could not hide

She told him he’d won

He said he wasn’t done with the fun

She told him to leave

Find someone else to torture

With words so very cold

And threats so very bold

He said the last spurn would be his

And he made it so

Her mind and body red and raw

He raised his fist

A coward’s coup de grâce

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The Dead Villager

14 01 2012

Here I lie

Unseeing eyes

Wanting to cry

Those soldiers have come

In planes so large

They block out the sun

Shots destroy every silent night

My whole word screams but one word, “FIGHT!”

Who said they could come?

Who said they could come

And just take over

Pushing us around

Like a bulldozer

I’ve seen atrocities

That would you astound

And knock you speechless

Flat on the ground

Like me

In this hot desert sand

A worthless olive branch

Limp in my hand

We don’t need them

They think they’re so good

Go back home

Words are for peace

Not soldiers with guns





The South in Haiku

12 01 2012

Sorry, I couldn't make the picture any bigger. The South is the farthest region down on the right, in dark green

I am from the south. Most days I am proud to be a southern belle, but sometimes I am not.  Please do not think that these haiku are exact representations of the south.  As a matter of fact, they represent the general stereotypes of the south.  Many of my readers are not from the US, and I wanted to give them a taste of where I am from.  The haiku below do not represent the entire, distinct culture down here.  There are in between’s and also a great deal of cultural diversity.

The above picture shows vernacular regions, also called perceptual regions.  Vernacular regions are not formal regions and exist only in our minds.  A more global example would be the middle east. Other maps will show different shading and generally the southernmost part of Florida (my home, the little part jutting out at the bottom right) is not included.  Remember, vernacular regions are what society makes of them

 

WHY I HATE IT

How big is your truck

How muddy are your old boots

How redneck are you

 

Do be god-fearing

Don’t accept progress and change

Stay stubborn as hell

 

Oh look, it’s a deer

Let me get my brand new gun

BAM! Look at that rack*

 

* refers to the size of a deer’s antlers

 

WHY I LOVE IT

Please come in and sit

Southern hospitality

Will never turn down

 

Condensation falls

Sliding down a tall clear glass

I love my sweet tea

 

Great big families

Always there, love and support

There no matter what

 

 

 

 

 

 





Kristallnacht

10 01 2012

– I just finished rereading the book “Night” by Elie Weisel, a true account of one man’s survival through the Holocaust.  The Holocaust has always fascinated me because it and other genocides, like Rwanda, are proof of prejudice’s raw destructive power.

 

Broken glass

Shattered by hate

Pride kept behind

A gun guarded gate

Lives that were lost

At useless cost

At the word

Of a man deranged

So much pain

Hidden from the world

For too long

Until it was too late

 

But even then it was denied

The existence of a genocide

 

 

 





Be Something

10 01 2012

Be the voice

That sparks the change

Be the mind

That imagines the impossible

Be the hand

That lifts the fallen

Be the heart

That beats for all

Be the clock

That counts down to freedom

Be the arms

That carry the weak

Be the bridge

That connects worlds

Be the word

That urges progress

Be the hammer

That shatters the wall

Be the dream

That inspires reality

Be the person

Who makes a difference





Truth

9 01 2012

The elusive grey shadow

Morphing every moment

Hiding at the end of a maze

Protected by a lying haze

Oozing past lips

Changing every time

Not caring if it hurts

Or if it helps

The ultimate judge

Of everything

Never takes sides

Just sits and bides

And sometimes never finds

A moment for exposure





What I Am

1 01 2012

I was rather hesitant to post this poem because I was concerned people would be offended.  The older generation of which I speak in the following verses is mainly a reference to many of the political and business leaders on an international scale, but also on a local/national scale.  The world being left to my generation is not a stable one, but I have faith in my contemporaries that we have learned enough the make improvements and influence the generation behind us from reverting back.  I’m not saying that everything is bad, it is just from my point of view nothing is improving, money is that damn thing we hate to love, and the road is full of big, rusty nails just waiting for my brand new tires.

I am the voice that today is ignored

But tomorrow will ring true

I am the mind in which a generation’s mistakes are stored

And believe me they do not number few

I am the one who will turn things around

And right all past wrongs

I am the hope you have not yet found

How dare you mock my choice of songs

I am the door more open than you

The one that does not segregate

The souls it lets through

I am your future and you are my fate

Balanced on my shoulders there is

An ever-increasing load

Composed of your failed ideas

The trash you leave as you walk this endless road

I am the day no one starves

The day prejudice is no more

The future explorer of the stars

You really should pay attention to me more

Lazy is what you call me

Ungrateful of what I am given

My faults outnumber fish in the sea

By my hormones I am driven

Blind is what I call you

Ignorant of what you have done

Your mistakes could block out the sun

Greed fuels all that you do

I am the rock on which humanity stands

Accept it or not it is the truth

And I will one day join my many hands

For I am all Youth