Poetry competition CLOSED 4th October 2011 3:28pm
WINNER
rayheinrich (Death Plane for Teddy)
rayheinrich (Death Plane for Teddy)
WINNER
Indie (Miss Indie)
Indie (Miss Indie)
RUNNERS-UP:
ImperfectedStone
and lepperochan
What Is Your Issue?
Poetry Contest Description
Write about a human issue that matters to you, your family or your culture.
If you need a nudge, start here for inspiration and/or research:
http://www.buzzle.com/articles/list-of-human-rights.html
Explore, (if you need to) and choose a topic that moves you to empathy, anger, or just write to bring awareness to an issue/issues you think is/are important; something you know won't change the world, but damn well should.
Go. [:
I forgot to add, you may enter as many times as you like. Bring 'em on.
http://www.buzzle.com/articles/list-of-human-rights.html
Explore, (if you need to) and choose a topic that moves you to empathy, anger, or just write to bring awareness to an issue/issues you think is/are important; something you know won't change the world, but damn well should.
Go. [:
I forgot to add, you may enter as many times as you like. Bring 'em on.
line up line up get your plumpynut*
donated by the not so well off
brought here by the [i][i]giants[/i]
[/i]
the astronaut is never hungry
there is no dog here to feed the leftovers
of a well cooked sunday lunch
and the sound of the fork scraping
brings a tinge of guilt
it's the same old story on the t.v
mother's crying,children eye the flies
and the men scurry back with a bowl
the hunter tamed,tamed by who?
i ponder the age of science, technology
as i discard an empty pack of fags
and i wonder why in gods name
we can buy a ticket to the moon
but we cant stop incessant hunger
by choice,at any price
*plumpynut = the nutrition bar given out during famine by the red cross
donated by the not so well off
brought here by the [i][i]giants[/i]
[/i]
the astronaut is never hungry
there is no dog here to feed the leftovers
of a well cooked sunday lunch
and the sound of the fork scraping
brings a tinge of guilt
it's the same old story on the t.v
mother's crying,children eye the flies
and the men scurry back with a bowl
the hunter tamed,tamed by who?
i ponder the age of science, technology
as i discard an empty pack of fags
and i wonder why in gods name
we can buy a ticket to the moon
but we cant stop incessant hunger
by choice,at any price
*plumpynut = the nutrition bar given out during famine by the red cross
Abracadabra said:No apologies J, for reposting this again
& again & again & AGAIN...
http://tinyurl.com/3uc3ouf
never apologies. and add more if you want. [:
& again & again & AGAIN...
http://tinyurl.com/3uc3ouf
never apologies. and add more if you want. [:
SEASONS:
Seasons change,
But what remains?
It’s nothing new or splendid.
It is just an us (a people) of a world that turns,
While we remain unmoving------
Unwilling to embrace Love and all her beauty.
Yet if the man in Japan realized how his neighbor was starving,
Or that woman in New Zealand fought for better education,
And that teen in Italy began a petition against the spread of AIDS,
Or if I, an American, took the time to prevent further global warming
Then less of us would remain unmoving----
In fact, we would be momentous in effecting change;
And each of us could spread the word of Love,
Along with all her wisdom.
For seasons come and go my friends,
But what remains?
It’s a something new and splendid:
The Knowledge that we (a people) are brothers and sisters of this Earth,
Compatriots and relatives to a greater cause-----
The fight for Tomorrow’s children in Today’s world.
Seasons change,
But what remains?
It’s nothing new or splendid.
It is just an us (a people) of a world that turns,
While we remain unmoving------
Unwilling to embrace Love and all her beauty.
Yet if the man in Japan realized how his neighbor was starving,
Or that woman in New Zealand fought for better education,
And that teen in Italy began a petition against the spread of AIDS,
Or if I, an American, took the time to prevent further global warming
Then less of us would remain unmoving----
In fact, we would be momentous in effecting change;
And each of us could spread the word of Love,
Along with all her wisdom.
For seasons come and go my friends,
But what remains?
It’s a something new and splendid:
The Knowledge that we (a people) are brothers and sisters of this Earth,
Compatriots and relatives to a greater cause-----
The fight for Tomorrow’s children in Today’s world.
Kick a humanist in the head, for me
He stopped me with wide-stretched arms, which annoyed me
so I took out my headphones and explained
the flaws to his body language.
"You have now insisted that this conversation
during which you attempt to prise money from me
commences with me being irritated... You have 60 seconds
to sing their sob story."
And, so he went on. Nonsense about how fifty pence a day
could stop children being mistreated or beaten
by parents and their obscure versions of love.
I could see the Christianity in his eyes
so I stopped him at 67 seconds to help him out.
"I'm afraid I can't help you"
"Why," he asked
"50 pence a day is a packet of tobacco a week,
I need to smoke as often as possible, and...
I do not want to protect these children,
the sooner they learn what they'll be growing up in to
the better..."
He looked disgusted with me, so I walked away
from his lack of understanding.
I've heard it all before: 'They're just children.'
If the NSPCC starts putting their funds in to castrating
the spineless fucks that conceive sprogs
for their own sick and twisted pleasure
then they can have my fifty pence a day...
Fuck it I'll double it.
But, for the moment, when there isn't a single
government notion suggesting not to have that child
They can find the next humanist mug
who is probably walking five paces behind me
thinking about how protected he is.
He stopped me with wide-stretched arms, which annoyed me
so I took out my headphones and explained
the flaws to his body language.
"You have now insisted that this conversation
during which you attempt to prise money from me
commences with me being irritated... You have 60 seconds
to sing their sob story."
And, so he went on. Nonsense about how fifty pence a day
could stop children being mistreated or beaten
by parents and their obscure versions of love.
I could see the Christianity in his eyes
so I stopped him at 67 seconds to help him out.
"I'm afraid I can't help you"
"Why," he asked
"50 pence a day is a packet of tobacco a week,
I need to smoke as often as possible, and...
I do not want to protect these children,
the sooner they learn what they'll be growing up in to
the better..."
He looked disgusted with me, so I walked away
from his lack of understanding.
I've heard it all before: 'They're just children.'
If the NSPCC starts putting their funds in to castrating
the spineless fucks that conceive sprogs
for their own sick and twisted pleasure
then they can have my fifty pence a day...
Fuck it I'll double it.
But, for the moment, when there isn't a single
government notion suggesting not to have that child
They can find the next humanist mug
who is probably walking five paces behind me
thinking about how protected he is.
This one's for our Tammy...
Choking on a Stolen Marshmallow
It's zero tolerance
just like a paedo
I'd put plago's like you
on a register
tag your IP address
and ban you for life
Just like the nazi writing
you ripped from the web
you could never quite grow
the right shaped mustache
Just like your shiny new titles,
your gushy little thank you's
and your pretty please profile notes
only fit for the trash
"Poor you,
not enough minutes
in a writer's day..."
Just like a fraud,
a liar and a thief
run off of Facebook
and not a poetic bone in your body
worthy to break
but when the truth washed up
you stank like a rat
in the jaws of disgrace
And thank you
advanced search Google
for helping me piss
this much honesty
so deservedly
in your face.
Choking on a Stolen Marshmallow
It's zero tolerance
just like a paedo
I'd put plago's like you
on a register
tag your IP address
and ban you for life
Just like the nazi writing
you ripped from the web
you could never quite grow
the right shaped mustache
Just like your shiny new titles,
your gushy little thank you's
and your pretty please profile notes
only fit for the trash
"Poor you,
not enough minutes
in a writer's day..."
Just like a fraud,
a liar and a thief
run off of Facebook
and not a poetic bone in your body
worthy to break
but when the truth washed up
you stank like a rat
in the jaws of disgrace
And thank you
advanced search Google
for helping me piss
this much honesty
so deservedly
in your face.
Anonymous
Unrefined Persecution Mania of a Boy, Aged 13
------------------------------
I clicked
stole music, movies, the tinged thrill of pink flesh
I have two dads
each one loves the other
and they often fight
they often sleep in different bedrooms
The phone rang while I was standing around
eating chips, watching youtube
there was a crackle, a fuzz
a hard, cold voice
"Do you know where your fathers are?"
I said nothing.
"Do you know where your fathers are?"
I left the receiver on the carpet
switched to videos of women
choked and gagged, clothing torn,
roughly the age of my mom
if I had one.
I think I hear helicopter blades outside the window.
------------------------------
I clicked
stole music, movies, the tinged thrill of pink flesh
I have two dads
each one loves the other
and they often fight
they often sleep in different bedrooms
The phone rang while I was standing around
eating chips, watching youtube
there was a crackle, a fuzz
a hard, cold voice
"Do you know where your fathers are?"
I said nothing.
"Do you know where your fathers are?"
I left the receiver on the carpet
switched to videos of women
choked and gagged, clothing torn,
roughly the age of my mom
if I had one.
I think I hear helicopter blades outside the window.
There is no escape
From the pyramids imposed on us so long ago
When man-gods stood atop
Channeling the galaxy which beams into divine scepter
The triangle always pressing down with its rigid nature
A few on the hill with all the gold
The most cunning devils harness all the souls
Evolution is the only escape from the grip reaching down
So difficult to live when that hand snatches your breath
Three sides so strong in a shape supporting each other
The trinity driving control with mass mesmerism
Nothing will ever change
War is in the blood of the cold
Reptiles slither in the eye
Needle point that pierces the sky
Ever drawing energy
Pissing down the will
Upon those so timid they choose to remain still
From the pyramids imposed on us so long ago
When man-gods stood atop
Channeling the galaxy which beams into divine scepter
The triangle always pressing down with its rigid nature
A few on the hill with all the gold
The most cunning devils harness all the souls
Evolution is the only escape from the grip reaching down
So difficult to live when that hand snatches your breath
Three sides so strong in a shape supporting each other
The trinity driving control with mass mesmerism
Nothing will ever change
War is in the blood of the cold
Reptiles slither in the eye
Needle point that pierces the sky
Ever drawing energy
Pissing down the will
Upon those so timid they choose to remain still
This one's for our Tammy...
Choking on a Stolen Marshmallow
It's zero tolerance
just like a paedo
I'd put plago's like you
on a register
tag your IP address
and ban you for life
Just like the nazi writing
you ripped from the web
you could never quite grow
the right shaped mustache
Just like your shiny new titles,
your gushy little thank you's
and your pretty please profile notes
only fit for the trash
"Poor you,
not enough minutes
in a writer's day..."
Just like a fraud,
a liar and a thief
run off of Facebook
and not a poetic bone in your body
worthy to break
but when the truth washed up
you stank like a rat
in the jaws of disgrace
And thank you
advanced search Google
for helping me piss
this much honesty
so deservedly
in your face.
Finally lol someone else seen what I seen... Wonderful poem ;)))
Choking on a Stolen Marshmallow
It's zero tolerance
just like a paedo
I'd put plago's like you
on a register
tag your IP address
and ban you for life
Just like the nazi writing
you ripped from the web
you could never quite grow
the right shaped mustache
Just like your shiny new titles,
your gushy little thank you's
and your pretty please profile notes
only fit for the trash
"Poor you,
not enough minutes
in a writer's day..."
Just like a fraud,
a liar and a thief
run off of Facebook
and not a poetic bone in your body
worthy to break
but when the truth washed up
you stank like a rat
in the jaws of disgrace
And thank you
advanced search Google
for helping me piss
this much honesty
so deservedly
in your face.
Finally lol someone else seen what I seen... Wonderful poem ;)))
Anonymous
[font=Verdana]The Heslop Clan
I suppose what I hate most about
the Heslop clan (save the fact
that we're not rich) are our simple minded ways,
claw hammer like resolve, the kind of brute stupidity
only the British would call guts.
When faced with madness, suicide,
mostly wrought by my dad's wives,
our answer is to scrub the bath
and make tiny sandwiches.
Nanny P, the lady don,
with her long accrued wisdom,
passes judgement on the bitch
who dared to be depressed,
and openly insults my mum.
But she's not evil, simply dull
to the feelings of the meek,
and any outsider who dares
to infiltrate her chintz gangland.
We're working class, blue collar types
who like to say we're mannered, prim,
grim survivors who still know
how to hold a butter knife.
I suppose what I hate most about
the Heslop clan (save the fact
that we're not rich) are our simple minded ways,
claw hammer like resolve, the kind of brute stupidity
only the British would call guts.
When faced with madness, suicide,
mostly wrought by my dad's wives,
our answer is to scrub the bath
and make tiny sandwiches.
Nanny P, the lady don,
with her long accrued wisdom,
passes judgement on the bitch
who dared to be depressed,
and openly insults my mum.
But she's not evil, simply dull
to the feelings of the meek,
and any outsider who dares
to infiltrate her chintz gangland.
We're working class, blue collar types
who like to say we're mannered, prim,
grim survivors who still know
how to hold a butter knife.
Manipulating the world
Endlessly shaping it
Deciding what stays and goes
Incorporating your own views
Attacking at will to control
Capitalizing on ignorance
Of those who trust you
Notoriously feuding all
Tactically dethroning
Rebelling against power
Offering no solution
Leaving a repeat to feed on
Endlessly shaping it
Deciding what stays and goes
Incorporating your own views
Attacking at will to control
Capitalizing on ignorance
Of those who trust you
Notoriously feuding all
Tactically dethroning
Rebelling against power
Offering no solution
Leaving a repeat to feed on
