Michael Walkerjohn

Gold Star - 13,805 Points (January 01 / Earth?)

Not Foe, But Friend - Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

Conflict, speaks
of consensus to
continue in disagreement
within or upon an issue…
Bleeding pleading’s bleat
from resolution’s menu
and bringing sorrows to all
of Humanity’s tomorrows…
Of this stench; seldom is
any truth held within the marrow
while tepid rhetoric is the lasting kernel
which proves hollow, contrived and
shadowy, reeking of pretense that is shallow…
To this the world must say, ‘oh hell no’
more so needs be said, of nothing’s
nested within one’s breast, as
truth is not for the demure
or meek or ‘little people’…
Propagated propaganda
paraded through those
‘partisan’ views; putrefaction so
rules that whole exist, the real intent
by truth’s lament, what is held
as it, is apathy amused…
Substance beguiles
the trust of US
in this contract fixed
such question of an
inquisitive stance; by
reasoning’s chance beret
of intension’s slant towards
the wise of why?
Wiley then, let each
of US begin, to rend
apart this tragic trend…
Proposition’s question thus
are we to be the species burst; or are
we to become souls soon freed again?
Beasts do portray in Nature’s sway, by
lock and key, freedom’s antonym…
What if any consensus gleaned
results in this truth as synonym?
Function, form, or contrasting mien
to date an end to whose means, while
consciousness played in an unconscious
war; one where words and or bullets fly…
‘Left’ to err or error’s scorned; forlorn
is humanity to be within the each of US?
An answer pleads, release my questioning
thirsts; is ‘right’ resolved to rule this roost
by any ‘ways and means’, deemed necessary? …
Which side; in shallow shadows lays
the ‘middle’ majority’s sleeping Reich?
Or, is that button to be pushed
in so rigging an election swayed?
Ruing roils suppressed, confirming the gest
each knows that ‘test’ to taste this ‘toxic mix’…
‘Centrist’ ideals try reasoning’s appeal; butt
those far ‘corners’ yet ply the “status quos” behest
what’s known of this, we each resist
and huddle hushed and timid
condemned to feed on that
‘fodder’ gleaned, off tongues
that please the ridiculous…
Best or yet, that which is
beyond contempt; in words
which prove to be lethal
in these ends I say, let US
rescind all this diatribe insidious!
Humanity’s niche in the all of this
perchance eternity’s insanity?
Constant tense or present teased
the word for US; is blithe profanity!
Image missed, imagine all of this; as an end
to all war; is the finish of humankind’s vanity…
And further too, all war’s ending breaks the rule
for those few who consider the masses vainly…
Now comes the stroke of midnight’s last; when
“those” and “they’ and “them” unite
unnecessarily, this ‘minority’ streamed, an
untoward mix of flesh and blood contrite, as
profoundly steep are the heights they seek, above
‘Babel’ is where their memory is ‘banked’…
Conflicts subsist is that sorrowful cancerous cyst
in the each of US; it is their thought to plant
and graven is ‘their mindset’ scorned, as the
few and far between become the many…
Doom beckons the mix of ‘them’, to that
‘one’ beneath, as the all of US stand ready…
Grovels so, this groups lost control of
their ‘educated’ and ‘bought’ menagerie…
All pertinent sense sans commonness, so
understand the senselessness of ‘their’ quackery!
Under these conditions please, do so ignite your
individual insistence of each, and of every nuance
list, one single word to assist war’s enemies
that steels the will and calms the verve
bringing peace as our only lasting indemnity…
Humanity, as a single species bourne, must
accept and respect this highest responsibility!
Which will it be, our last chance, our final eulogy; or
our future freed of humankind’s banalities?
To the point returned, there is something born; within
the wiles of words, and in the wounds of war…
It is this sense that the past resists
the present’s tense, and
the future’s humbled imagery…
A cause that ensures all that is
of good and dear, to the
essence of humanity’s continuity
must surely be all that we each see
as clearly the answer to our finality…
Profane as it seems this is not
all a dream; many work to
elicit the means and ends, so
do volunteer your thoughts
and words and deeds held deep
within and dare; for irreality is not
that difficult to ascertain, challenge
and forever made an absurdity…
Transcend the din of the minds
that bend the awesome thought
of a worldwide community
and dwell within the reality
that each of US is
not foe, but friend.

Topic(s) of this poem: community, conscience, political, thought


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, November 3, 2015



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