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My Poems

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Richard Roark
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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. :D

Edited by ann r kay
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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.

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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!!!

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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

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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.

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  • 2 weeks later...

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. :lol:

Edited by Richard Roark
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  • 2 months later...

:dough: 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!

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