ann r kay Posted April 3, 2005 Report Share Posted April 3, 2005 (edited) I finally got a chance to read your first poem here, "No More". Wonderful piece of work, something that I could have written. It reminded me of growing up in a Catholic household, the fear of God and/or the Devil (caps are on purpose for emphasis) always being forced onto me. I will read another one of your poems soon. Edited April 3, 2005 by ann r kay Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richard Roark Posted April 3, 2005 Author Report Share Posted April 3, 2005 Thanks for the reply ann r kay. That is what No More is dealing with. I grew up in a Catholic household and held onto the faith until it lead me down the road of disaster. This was the catalyst that made me change over to Objectivism. The poem is a statment about what I would not accept anymore and what I would. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richard Roark Posted April 4, 2005 Author Report Share Posted April 4, 2005 This is one is my longest poem. A Righteous Rage The Flames of righteous rage burn deep Constantly do they come, flow, and seep Like the sticky, salient sap of a tree For this rage is easy to spot and see It resides in anybody who wants to be free What did you say you are already free? This begs, Free in every form of life Free from the threat of a knife? That comes during the long night Or even when it is daylight That can, slaughter, come and kill Just by the whim and the will Free to actually have a choice? And have your own simple voice And not having others telling What is theirs for the selling? Or screaming, hollering, and yelling That this is not the way to be? Why can’t you just see? Yet most importantly Free from the needs of others? Aren’t we all just sisters and brothers? Isn’t this is what is told to you And that you must give them their due That you matter not, but live to serve They hit you and strike every nerve They come at you with pity And say that it is morality To serve others and be helpers Yet only the lowly paupers Are good enough to receive Yet we have all been deceived For you are nothing more than a slave To those who don’t have They have you shackled in chains Bringing it on with the emotional pains That you will not be good If you don’t give some food Or perhaps it is some money To make them feel sweet like honey That they are after and seek For the so called poor and weak And it must be given with meekness And never should you feel happiness For it is your purpose and duty To give all the earned booty Does this mean that kindness is wrong? Yet, is this truly the tune of the song? That they give to you and ask? No, they have given you a greater task You will be the savior of all Even if you happen to stumble and fall And end up another brick in the wall And instead of standing high and tall You are leaning and stooping in shame You haven’t given enough in the great game Or is it that you haven’t had enough lashes? On the bare back without the sashes To protect you from the mighty whips Yet they won’t be happy till the flail’s tips Are soaked through with your blood And your body sweats like a flood With the worry, concern and stress That you haven’t done enough to address The problems they have set forth And that you are of little worth Yet, burning deep down is the rage Just waiting to break free from the cage It is the very thing that the masters For they are the very blasters Of the object that is seeking release Spouting blasphemous lies all they please Against this sole single object That is the much-feared subject That they won’t touch Nor will they even vouch That it should be in existence This is the very persistence That allows everybody to be a slave They have put blinders on the eyes With the deceitful and cunning lies This lie that is so witty and sly? That every man who is suffering and dies Is your fault and lies at your feet Isn’t it all just so tidy and neat How it all fits together and continues Yet there is some brand new news That they don’t want to be seen It is the, what could have been This is the rage that burns deep Just wishing to come out and seep Into the very heart of world Much like the whiteness of a pearl That is hidden in the oyster So it is hidden all the deeper With in the very heart of you You must grant it its credit and due For this object, the one that will grant you true freedom Is nothing more than your SELF!!! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richard Roark Posted April 11, 2005 Author Report Share Posted April 11, 2005 Another Poem The Sleeper This man you well know You walk by him with the flow Jostling in the crowd while on the go And it just goes to show That when standing in the brilliant glow Of a man who is on the threshold One willing to be daring and bold Willing to grab on and take hold Of what it is so simple and clear Never showing any mind numbing fear Or a shiny single wet dewy tear Has it become any clearer? Or is it possible that a look deeper Is needed to see this man cleaner For you have placed him in the grime And it truly is a heinous crime Yet everybody will see in time When the man who is the keeper For he will no longer be a creeper Faltering along the Road of the Weeper For he is The Sleeper Now The Sleeper has awaken Everything is now his for the taken Free, proud and no longer shaken Taken with great joy for what is his Not by the force of the fist Yet by the earning of the keep And from the very high of the deep That warm place down within him The happy light outshines the dim For he is the Sleeper Awaken And the World is his for the taken Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
B. Royce Posted April 12, 2005 Report Share Posted April 12, 2005 Another Poem The Sleeper This man you well know You walk by him with the flow Jostling in the crowd while on the go And it just goes to show That when standing in the brilliant glow Of a man who is on the threshold One willing to be daring and bold Willing to grab on and take hold Of what it is so simple and clear Never showing any mind numbing fear Or a shiny single wet dewy tear Has it become any clearer? Or is it possible that a look deeper Is needed to see this man cleaner For you have placed him in the grime And it truly is a heinous crime Yet everybody will see in time When the man who is the keeper For he will no longer be a creeper Faltering along the Road of the Weeper For he is The Sleeper Now The Sleeper has awaken Everything is now his for the taken Free, proud and no longer shaken Taken with great joy for what is his Not by the force of the fist Yet by the earning of the keep And from the very high of the deep That warm place down within him The happy light outshines the dim For he is the Sleeper Awaken And the World is his for the taken Richard, this last stanza strikes me as the best thing you have done. The unnecessary bad grammer at the ends of the lines ruin it, however. Why not something like this: Now the sleeper is awak'ning; Everything's now his for the taking; Free, proud, and no longer shaking, Taken with great joy for what's his; Not by the force of his fist, Yet by the earning of his keep, And from the very light of the deep---- Thar warm place down within him, The happy light outshining the dim. For he is The Sleeper Awak'ning And the World is his for the taking. Notice, by using "light" in line seven more emphasis is placed on "happy" (and thus, the whole, contrasting, "happy light"). Also, "awak'ning, "taking", "shaking", are now active, thus representing an active living being. The idea of the poem and the basic stanza structure are excellent, the latter a good fit for this strong, self-assertive declaration. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
B. Royce Posted April 12, 2005 Report Share Posted April 12, 2005 Oops! Sorry about the misspelling in line eight. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richard Roark Posted April 22, 2005 Author Report Share Posted April 22, 2005 (edited) For the time being I will not be putting up anymore poems. I wish to begin writing some more poems, as well as begin work on some other projects. Also, I am thinking about self publishing these and other works. So I better not post all of my works for free viewing. Edited April 22, 2005 by Richard Roark Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richard Roark Posted June 30, 2005 Author Report Share Posted June 30, 2005 A new Poem and Yes I am still around, just taking a break to sort through matters. The Most Dangerous By Keith Engel © The most dangerous man of all, Is the man with nothing to lose. No lower can he go in his fall. For it is up to him to choose. Which course will he go? Will he curse the cruel twist of fate? And shake a mighty fist at the woe. Just waiting for the gruesome date. And treating life as the real foe. Never finding true and real bliss, In this great grand grotesque Dance, Despising even his lover’s kiss. While leaving it all to chance. Going into a spitting mad rage Banging his fists with chilling screams Like some schizophrenic in a cage. Never willing to do the dreaming! Or will he chose a different path, Just viewing this as another route. Looking at the plan, simple, math. For the stars he can now shoot, He doesn’t curse his existence, Or where the road is leading him. For it is with great persistence That he doesn’t let his light dim. For he will now be daring, Willing to reach out and grab hold. He is never one for the fearing Wanting no part of that particular fold For there is nothing to be earned If there is not the gritty trying. And going on what he has learned, He is not one for the dying. So reaching out with a hand, It is with purpose and love That drives him on this land. And when push comes to shove, He won’t let it slip away. For he will be standing tall, Not fearing the coming of day, For he is the most dangerous man of all! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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