original poets

The So-Called Aristocratic-Marxist Lady |  Naduni - A Poetry Website Featuring Poems by Contemporary Poets

The So-Called Aristocratic-Marxist Lady | Naduni

You, the seemingly white dove
Who advocates egalitarianism
Who calls us ‘friends’
Are a capitalist to the core.
The deepest irony is embedded in the
Faux gold and pearls
On the fingers
That crave for women and ears
Deaf to the hushed murmurs of
The poor, the average, the rural and the ignorant
Spending a whole life on converting
Nonsmoking women
To smokers and heterosexual women
To homosexuals
Ruining married lives under the veil of
Empowerment
You laugh from you throne
Which to the infiltrator is a
Mere wooden chair
Gilt to deceive the gullible
The uneducated, the rural and
The innocent.
The luxury vehicles are appropriated
From others’ permits
Which you never deserved
The driver holds the door open for you
Who is obviously humiliated under my gaze
He doesn’t know I am from the same village
You drag your feeble feet
Too old to stand straight
After a lifetime of self-deceit
Deceit, falsity and a continuous struggle to
Become an elitist
The sign value and the exchange value of your
Ornaments
Beckon me to uncover a secret.
I know their secret
They merely laugh at your foolishness
‘Conspicuous consumption’
In other words.
Where will you end
Even you are unaware
This poem comes to an abrupt end
Symbolic of your own end

Boots Left Hanging |  Richard William Kirkpatrick-Thorne - A Poetry Website Featuring Poems by Contemporary Poets

Boots Left Hanging | Richard William Kirkpatrick-Thorne

Dirty Black,
Road Like A Ribbon That Stretches For Miles,
Stealing Nautical Glory From Any Landed Shark,
With Its Fair Share Of Allure And Cripples,
Six Feet From The Gravel Or Its Gold,
Down To The Reservoir To Break It For A Ditch…


Smokeing Smooth-Shogun Soul Spilling Out From A BullDozer’s Blasted
Guts,
Checkered Shirted Engineers Of The Endorphin Bum-Rush Pulling Its
Levers…

With Ghosts And Prostitutes Hooking Their Hitches Off The Level…


White Collared,
ATypical UnTill Typically By The WaySide Evangelical And Tight,
Sniffing Out The Details… Droplets Of Blood On The Braille,
CrossRoads Dusty To Trust The Hanged Man’s Tree With Scratched
Initials,
Six Feet From The Grave Or Its God,
Up To The Bough To Make It For A Witch.

More at http://rwkt.blogspot.ca/2014/08/boots-left-hanging.html.

I Breathe Heavy (Was It a Sigh?) |  Anuradha Fonseka - A Poetry Website Featuring Poems by Contemporary Poets

I Breathe Heavy (Was It a Sigh?) | Anuradha Fonseka

Imagination you fed me
Blind images I drank
And breathed your words
I lived unreal

All gone now, I see well
I breathe air and move myself
With real food and
Water

I carry on my life
You are past, let’s hope so
We are done, not you and
I anymore

For your good and mine own
For the sake of reality I let you go
I breathe heavy (was it a sigh?)
Yet I promise I’ll pen no more
No more of you or us
I breathe heavy (was it a sigh?)

My New Life |  Naduni - A Poetry Website Featuring Poems by Contemporary Poets

My New Life | Naduni

Holding you in my arms
Saw the world for the first time
The warmth of the sun
Is not unfamiliar
It is this warm yellow
Vision, unfamiliar
Breathing heavily
Like a big, grown up man
Reclining on my breasts
Big and tender
Full of love for you
The bloody bundle
Has turned to an angel
A guardian angel
On whom will I rely from today on
My new strength, my new courage and my new life
I hear your breath and I can see it
Yes, see it
The 25 year long blindness
Diminished
We climbed the hill together and
Are at the top
We see the sun walking up from his home
We together will change this world
If not we will have a cozy world of our own

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