Spike Milligan

So Fair Is She

So fair is she!
So fair her face
So fair her pulsing figure

Not so fair
The maniacal stare
Of a husband who's much bigger.

INRI, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)



Introspection

Nowhere to be found

Rational thought

Is forbidden



In to do so

Negates the norm

Reason the victim

Inquisition



If to ban query

Never to question

Relegate oneself

In submission



In thus they claim

Never to falter

Rebel hero

In written word



In pior mytholgy

Never consider

Reject the truth

It is nothing new



It was Socrates

Not afraid

Reveled in challenge

In that of authority



In history proir

Not unique

Refused to submit

If those above him



If those above him

Never considered

Reason in question

In introspection



It's not a trope

New to Jesus

Rebels existed

In prior history.
(end)

Also posted at my home thread at Rational Responders post #521 hosted here http://www.rationalresponders.com/forum/...ent-414817

Lyric for Cage (By ManMachine)

























MM

Civil Weapons, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

We've been around
For a long time
We've tried the tactic
Of brute submission

Our species not honest
About the reality
Be it religion or business
Or nationality

We seek patterns
We think will work
If only the world
To wich would submit

If a gun you use
To avoid scrutiny
If a gun you use
To avoid blasphemy

You are not defending
You or me
You are merely defending
What you want to see

The only weapon
That keeps us civil
Is that of the pen
Which keeps us from murder
(end)

The above poem is also hosted at Rational Responders at it's home page post #543. Hosted here at the following link, all rights reserved.. Civil Weapons, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

http://www.rationalresponders.com/forum/31771?page=10

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
T.S. Eliot

Quote:LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question….
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

It's a long poem so I won't include it all here, but it's the one of two that have followed me almost all of my life. I learned it in high school, and it both fascinated and scared the shit out of me, and when Hitchens quoted a portion of it in one of his last articles, I put my face in my hands and wept.

Recompense, by Robert E. Howard

I have not heard lutes beckon me, nor the brazen bugles call,
But once in the dim of a haunted lea I heard the silence fall.
I have not heard the regal drum, nor seen the flags unfurled,
But I have watched the dragons come, fire-eyed, across the world.

I have not seen the horsemen fall before the hurtling host,
But I have paced a silent hall where each step waked a ghost.
I have not kissed the tiger-feet of a strange-eyed golden god,
But I have walked a city's street where no man else had trod.

I have not raised the canopies that shelter revelling kings,
But I have fled from crimson eyes and black unearthly wings.
I have not knelt outside the door to kiss a pallid queen,
But I have seen a ghostly shore that no man else has seen.

I have not seen the standards sweep from keep and castle wall,
But I have seen a woman leap from a dragon's crimson stall,
And I have heard strange surges boom that no man heard before,
And seen a strange black city loom on a mystic night-black shore.

And I have felt the sudden blow of a nameless wind's cold breath,
And watched the grisly pilgrims go that walk the roads of Death,
And I have seen black valleys gape, abysses in the gloom,
And I have fought the deathless Ape that guards the Doors of Doom.

I have not seen the face of Pan, nor mocked the Dryad's haste,
But I have trailed a dark-eyed Man across a windy waste.
I have not died as men may die, nor sin as men have sinned,
But I have reached a misty sky upon a granite wind.

Boru

Not the best, but I like it.

"This orderly universe,
full of chaos,
consists of a delicate balance of
Death and
Life
is precious
A small snapshot, a single chance

Your one choice

Choose wisely."

-Anonymous

The most erotic line of poetry I ever read (and granted, I am a failed horticulture student, so your mileage may vary on this) was from Neruda's XIV:

"I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees."

So...I've been writing this poem for months. I've rewritten it about a million times. For the life of me I can't seem to properly express the emotions of being betrayed by a mother and finally having to let her go. I can feel the pain but I can't seem to get it to show as much as I think it should. If anyone has any advice. Also, I couldn't think of an appropriate title.


Porcelain white skin
I'm your baby, I'm your doll
"Hush now, don't cry
Momma never let's you fall"

Untouched unscathed
Girls are precious, innocent
"Hush now, don't complain
Girls should smile and be content"

Sixteen, don't hurt me
A godly man with a devilish grin
"Crimson stains, so much shame
Marriage will absolve your sin"

Seventeen, washed clean
I'm your baby I'm your doll
"Hush now don't cry,
God will never let you fall"

Porcelain white skin
Bloodstained and bruised
Sealed lips, secrets
Beaten and abused

Doctors frown, ultrasound
It's too late, nothing can be done
Tiny angel, pool of blood
He took away my son

Turn another blind eye
I'm your baby, I'm your doll
Nothing to hold on to
Left alone to fall

Innocence long gone
Tell me that I'm precious now
Can't wash away the scars you made.
Tell me that you love me now

Porcelain white skin
Broken and discarded
Your guidance lead me here
Left me lost and broken hearted

Porcelain white skin
Precious daughter left to die
Hush momma, I forgive you
But it's time to say goodbye

Hayhaoya Ishishdo, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

Kenji Kenji

What have they done

Kenji Kenji

They've taken your son


Mother Ishishido

Is everyone

Crying from

The rising sun


He carried no weapon

He will rise above

No matter how many

They needlessly murder


Kenji Kenji

No parent wants

To survive the death

Of their children


Ichiban

To the world you are

Kenji Kenji

The real hero


Kenji Kenji

Junko knows

The pain of the loss

Hahaoya Ishido

(end)


"Hahaoya" means "Mother". Ishido is Junko Ishido the mother of the murdered reporter Kenji Goto.

Also posted at my home thread listed in my signature post #553 hosted by Rational Responders.http://www.rationalresponders.com/forum/31771?page=11