Poetry Blogs (2013, futility)

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Deluge of words,

Too many to handle.

After the fact,

Not much remains

But sadness.


More of my deep short poems at www.unconventionalbeing.com.

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No Love For Valentine

No Love for Valentine                                    


Valentine’s Day 2003 Hans Blix’

will deliver his report to condemn or

free a rebel country held to high ransom,

ruthlessly sanctioned, surveilled and surrounded.


It’s supposed to be the day we say who we

love (or secretly admire) want and desire.

A day for smiles - not hate and guided missile

range – 93 mil...

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FMF PoemFutilityRepeated MistakesWar Zones

Creation's Quantum

Time took the whole.

What I thought was mine.

Swallowed up.

We share this moment with all creation.

One quantum between all of us.

Creation's quantum.

I believed experience to be whole.

I have only fragments.

And those are, at best, images and feelings.

Time eats us.

Swallows us whole.

And when all's said and done.

We leave with nothing.

Save knowing that we'...

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futilitypresent momenttime

The Death of All Hope

The Death of All Hope


     There is always the counterstrike,

A reply to anything and everything encouraged,

Every altruistic benevolent deed,  

Any reference at all to gestures of good will,


      It  has always existed;- teasing and tarnishing a good many -

And make null and void - every positive thought,

No choice but to experience its wrath,

None understanding...

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Just blow the whistle (collaboration)

Just blow the whistle

and lets be gone

we cannot bear this

sickness long


The air is still

as death awaits

St Peter

lingers at the gates


As triggered fingers

itch to kill

its rather them

their coffins fill


At close of day

this battled ground

will have its blood

and flesh by pound


And measured gains

the sum of naught

will come...

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Reflections on a victory

That some should revel 

in this pit of death

where lives are gone

and split from joy.


Where on this field

of human play

the dead 

are dead

what’er they say.


Where lies

undid all human trust,

and Judges Judged

how settled dust. 


No day, 

its Sun 

however bright,

can set the sunken 

vessel right.


No relief 

that men

had ...

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On Chicken Street

entry picture

On chicken street under wilting plastic

traders watch the earth wash brown,

no footfall

just rainfall,

two days now

and still it comes.


Between discussion

and calls to prayer,

tabang wallahs 

contemplate a better place. 

Where tourists 

happily re-distribute wealth.


Still the rain comes.

Mechanical suckers 

block the streets, 

filling their ta...

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entry picture

What is absorbed is expelled,

the process of such, 



The flash to bang of shock,

of disappointment.






is no friend to the heart.

The eternal battle with mind

blazes through a life.

Two forces repelling,

each knowing one must succumb

before the victors flag is pitched.


In all of this then,


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Empty box

Life unravels like jazz

in moments before there is complete clarity,

there-after, chaos.



is wrapped in the seekers journey,

once open

its purpose was clear.



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entry picture

The whistle blows to sound the charge

and over the top they bustle and barge,

covered from head to toe in mud

and soon tainted with flesh and blood.


Up the ladder with slippery rungs,

a scream of rage from terror filled lungs,

adrenalin coursing through every vein

with the fear of not coming back again.


Knee-deep mud sucking boots from feet,

tangled in barbed w...

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entry picture

Death; the dealer

of the final deck of life.

No hidden agendas,

just a cold slate to wipe.


With hand and sword

or rock and stone,

with shaft sailing deadly

through grey skies, alone.


The smarter the weapon,

the reaper delights

at a fulsome harvest

of terror and cries.


They split the atom

and split the odds,

they split the proceeds

but nev...

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let us pretend

Let us pretend 

that we haven’t been this way before

too recently and too often

that this is the way forward

that it is the road to the peace

which eluded you when you sent 

planes and tanks and men 

into Lebanon, Ramallah, Jenin,

Gaza, Gaza, Gaza.


Let us pretend

that this time will be different 

that this time will be worth it

that you can tot up the lives...

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painted into a corner

I paint myself inspired, intense,

dismayed but remain just a fat old man

who can’t get laid

such a contrary slut
bathing myself in the corporate filth
served in styrofoam cups

the master of diversion

ooh look
the circus is in town

maybe now is my chance
to pull up and over and run away
with a tired old sawdust queen
sold as seen

amidst this arrid contemplation

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futilityself Imagestoicismwishful thinking

The Futility Of War

Death, The Dealer,
The final deck of life.
No hidden agendas,
Just a cold slate to wipe.
With hand and sword,
With rock and stone.
With shaft sailing, deadly,
Through grey skies, alone.
The smarter the weapon,
The reaper delights.
A fulsome harvest,
Of terror and cries.
Split the atom,
And split the odds.
Split the procee...

Read and leave comments (1)


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