The Face Of Truth - Lyndon Queripel

I don’t want to know
The headline news today
Or what the morning papers
Have got to say
Nor hear the hourly show
Blow by blow 
On the programmed radio

I don’t want to read 
The propaganda page
Where freedom is kept
Locked in a cage
And I don’t need 
To know how you succeed
To feed all of your greed

The face of truth is in disguise 
Behind a web of media lies

I don’t want to recall
I’m trying to forget
How the cost of living
And the Third World debt
Will rise and fall
On a street called Wall
Or the secret of it all

I don’t want to see
Another live transmission
Or anymore of the war
On the evening television
When will we be free
From the inhumanity
And all the insanity

The face of truth is a mystery
Behind a veil of media unreality.

Lyndon Queripel

Image : Pixabay - OpenClipart-Vectors

Rough Beast - Richard Fleming

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world
W B Yeats
 
Beware. Down in the woods today
the Teddy Bears have gone away
and, in their place, a monstrous beast,
by some foul chance, has been released,
perhaps the beast Yeats wrote about.
It has great antlers and a snout
but walks upright, with slouching gait,
and fiery eyes brimful of hate.
Yeats’ famous poem got it right:
it’s written there in black and white.
Life’s started imitating art.
The centre’s gone.
Things fall apart.

Richard Fleming

Image : "The Thing What Whispers" by Kat Philbin (@stupidanimals)

Ship In A Bottle - Richard Fleming

He dreamed of oceans as a child;
would run away to sea when grown;
might sail the chill Atlantic, wild,
or broad Pacific, tempest blown;

but grown to adulthood, he failed
in everything. There was no prow
or spreading wake: he never sailed.
He seeks his ships in bottles now.

Richard Fleming


Image : Pixabay - fadliabravers

Letting Go - Becky Hall

fingers curled tight
to the memory
replayed in cinematic glory
on the reels of my mind
each time escalating
in volume and colour.

Interpretation of intention is the key
unlock the meaning
block pre-conceived ideas
rewind.

listen
drop the barricade
allow a different viewpoint
swallow
lick your wounds
loosen your grip
replay
new angle.

Becky Hall

Dog Days - Richard Fleming

Days gallop by, months, years, so fast
that panic of a sort sets in:
you feel that all the dreams you had
have slipped away, it’s all too late,
so when the scent of what’s escaped
drifts on the wind, your nostrils twitch
and, disregarding all the rules,
you follow it in hot pursuit.
In consequence, lives are destroyed:
homes, futures, harmony and hearts.
Too late, for what you lost, you yearn.
Old dogs, new tricks? They never learn.

Richard Fleming

Three Kittens - Trudie Shannon

She is a farmer’s wife, she is a farmer
She drowned the kittens
She said, it had to be done.
She said, It broke my heart
She said, I put them in a sack
She said, I plunged the sack snap, like that, into the bucket
She said, I had no choice
I was on my own.

It seemed barbaric to me
And I really didn’t want to listen or to hear.

I leave the farm and the farmer’s wife.

Now I reflect and consider,
How many small bodies has the sea swallowed
As the Syrian refugees flee their war?

It’s barbaric
But it seems we shed more tears over kittens.

Trudie Shannon

Les Bourgs Hospice: Angels? - Trudie Shannon

I have read and I have heard
About the ‘angels’ who care for those in the hospice.
I have met and shared with them, these ‘angels’
But never saw a golden wing or glowing halo
Never heard celestial voices singing in the corridors
Never caught a glimpse of heavenly perfection.
But each day I did see, did share, did live
With real, tangible people, diverse and individual
Who in their every word and action
Expressed the absolute beauty of true humanity.
To be referred to as angels is the ultimate tribute I guess
But to me conjures images of intangible figures adrift in the sky.
I’d rather see the mother, the wife, the child, the sister
Whose feet get tired, whose shoes get worn
Whose hearts ache, who have meals to cook, clothes to wash
Kids to get off to school, parents to care for, friends to laugh with
Who eat, sleep, cry, hurt, dance, sing, play, fall, and love
And love enough, to share with strangers, their quiet compassion.

Trudie Shannon

Battle Ensues - Valandra Bolan

Today's poem is a "Golden Oldie" and was originally published here in September 2012

I feel you
waiting, watching
ready to catch me when I fall

I know you are there
waiting to envelop me
grip me tight and not let me go

I could run from you
but I don't have the strength
you are stronger than I ever could be

I want to fight you
I need you to go now
repeating my mantra
tomorrow is another day

the tunnel light fades
your arms embrace me
a strong hold
I am yours yet again

Valandra Bolan

I Make No Apologies For My Passion - Lester Queripel

Today's poem is a "Golden Oldie" and was originally published here in September 2012

I make no apologies for my passion
My passion is what makes me .....me
My passion is not an item of fashion
A trend to be thrown away
I've had it since the day I was born
I'll have it till my very last day
It won't desert me, or make excuses for my being
It doesn't need to justify what everyone else is seeing
It is what it is
Excitable and creative
Tortured and emotive
It doesn't sit on the fence in a nonchalant way
It lets me know that it's there every single day
So I make no apologies for my passion
I make no apologies for being real
I make no apologies for the way that I feel
The person that you see
Is the real me
That's why I make no apologies for my passion

Lester Queripel

No Place Like Home - Diane Scantlebury

They thought their hopes lay in far off lands,
Dreams they had conjured
From golden images in their youth,
But reality struck a discordant note
When the bright flames of fantasy
Became the grey dust of truth,
Travel truly had broadened their horizons
The quest of curiosity had urged them to roam,
Soon the realisation that grass is not greener only different
Made them appreciate what they’d already had at home,
It’s never wrong to have a dream
Opportunities are fleeting and will not wait,
But pause and reassess what it is you may wish for
Because it may just lie through your own front gate.

Diane Scantlebury

Creeper - Christopher J. Hudson

Avoiding askance!
Avoiding askance!
How we avoid
The responsibilities set upon us
Sneaking up on our consciences
And whispering, “It’s okay, no one noticed.”
So we junk them
And we pile them in a pit
In our deepest darkest mind
But the rubbish
Builds up
Silently
Behind closed doors
Which bursting
EXPLODE forth and drown us
In a tide of our own vomit
What our minds could not accept
And we are carried away
On a tide of our own madness
Our everyday insanity
Paradoxes unresolved
Frustration released, anger and pain
Burying forever vestiges of humanity
Pre supposed towards insane thoughts already
Now, chaos is totality is life.

Christopher J. Hudson

A Different Road - Chris Hudson

I work
It is a mind-dulling, monotonous process
Relaxation is guaranteed to purge all rebellious thought in hazy absurdity.
Television and alcohol subdue thought, reducing
The polarised participant into and incapable, emotional torpor
Drugs which increase and sharpen awareness are kept under lock and key
Their criminalisation reducing their quality and purity
Feeding the unscrupulous profiteering dealers
Lysergic acid and cannabis, not opium or heroin
Political stratagems, ancient and modern regimes
Profit for undercover agents and tax dodgers
In the free world captors and slave-drivers benefactor façade removed
Illusions abandoned, the universal dance of impermanence
Static power systems abandoned, minds freed
Turning to the light, the truth, the life, listening to within
Cease all violent striving and watch power systems crumble
Death-grip on the throat of humanity released at last
Laugh, turn away and real life
Way forward to peace, all feeling, all seeing
Freedom from within, conquest religion
Subverted into enslaving people, dividing them
Liberate the human spirit
Let the select masses pampered and preened to perpetuate
The rule of trained power systems, self-abasing slaves in ignorance
Absolute ego-addicts, manipulating sub-symbols
Elasticity, poverty, electricity of elitism.

Chris Hudson

Reality - Diane Scantlebury

Quick put the kettle on
Make a cup of tea,
Earthquakes and tsunamis
Are all yesterday’s news,
Hurry can’t miss the next episode
Of “reality”
Who will win?
Who will lose?
It’s OK our conscience is clear,
We saw the appeal
We’ve given our donation,
So let’s spend more
To cast our votes,
To choose the new, latest talent
Of the nation,
Who cares about the real world outside?
Press the red button
It’ll do no harm,
Until another disaster intrudes,
We’re happy on our sofas
Oblivious, cosy and warm.

Diane Scantlebury

Wunderkind! - Chris Hudson

I am a serious poet, and also a serious headcase
Some days now I seldom show it, but I was once hit with mace!
Yes I want it, yes I need it, I bleed regret but I can’t feed it
I hardly know it but I’ve put a spanner in the works of Man
I never knew of the substance of the master plan

I’m such a hard worker, you know, even though my life is finished
Before it had even began, the red stamp on the rejected chip.
Opposing slings and arrows; fortunes became ever so diminished
Trammel up outrageous consequence, liberate companionship

A maid’s rumour inopportune? Hopes and dreams of every nation?
Here, set clear, and set in motion, we, set free, birth our foundation
With cheery glow in every soul, demonstrating our devotion

Then that became my beauteous fairy creature- Let me kiss your hands,
I kiss your forehead, clasp you to me, come my love, forget the rest,
Completely naked… I squeeze you to my breast while traffic gyrates…

Slowly to and fro, stop, go, jam on the brakes, obstruct the traffic flow
All over Town, drive around real slow! It’s the same wherever you go.

Said emaciated yoga practitioner as he opened the door:
“I ain’t gonna go on the astral plain no more,”
I’ve put my money where my mouth was
My middle-age where my youth was.

Chris Hudson

Battle Ensues - Valandra Bolan

I feel you
waiting, watching
ready to catch me when I fall

I know you are there
waiting to envelop me
grip me tight and not let me go

I could run from you
but I dont have the strength
you are stronger than I ever could be

I want to fight you
I need you to go now
repeating my mantra
tomorrow is another day

the tunnel light fades
your arms embrace me
a strong hold
I am yours yet again

Valandra Bolan

I Make No Apologies For My Passion - Lester Queripel

I make no apologies for my passion
My passion is what makes me .....me
My passion is not an item of fashion
A trend to be thrown away
I've had it since the day I was born
I'll have it till my very last day
It won't desert me, or make excuses for my being
It doesn't need to justify what everyone else is seeing
It is what it is
Excitable and creative
Tortured and emotive
It doesn't sit on the fence in a nonchalant way
It lets me know that it's there every single day
So I make no apologies for my passion
I make no apologies for being real
I make no apologies for the way that I feel
The person that you see
Is the real me
That's why I make no apologies for my passion

Lester Queripel

Reality - Julie Gallienne

Hearts of stone
cracked open
exposed.
Feelings flood in
unwanted thoughts and emotions.
No place to hide
head on colision
with reality.
Reaching out for help
with fingers clawing
at snippets of hope.
Life's blows
pull the rug from our feet
leaving vunerable exposure
for the world to see.
Tears can't always be hidden
from prying eyes
anymore than the truth
can be hidden by lies.
Take time to notice
those in need
for they can't always ask
or be lowered to plead.
Just a look
hug
or a smile
can change a perspective
in the blink of an eye.

Julie Gallienne