Old Poems of a Social Nature

By the term 'Old Poems' I mean poems that are semi-aged in their three to five months of living. I recently took a creative writing class and these are some highlights, yes highlights (weird) well good poems.

Hello Destiny

I don’t know who you are
But I know you’re there,
Out there somewhere

Silently unseen by the common
Unwashed masses
Who deny your existence

Feel it indifferent to be
Without you, lacking the wisdom
That you gather and hold steady
For destiny you forever stand
At the ready

What are you destiny
The future, the faith, the fear
Of moving on, rising up, slowing
Down and growing up

You’d be hard pressed to find
Some fine fellow who’d enjoy
Being thrown to be devoured
By the cold hard ground
Known as the “real world”

Everybody wants to succeed
Surpass their neighbor
Earn some favors and
Acquire some recognition
For their life’s work

It’s all in the past
That leads to the future
Prayers and cares are
Like blank lonely stares
A fixation on that which
Is not attainable

But by some miracle
We do, that is destiny


Off The Wall

Throw our weight around
Act like some big man in town
When we all are so small

Paint ourselves up,
Hoist our lies high up
So all can see our misery

We cause attention
Relish some fiction
That we ourselves create

A pull draws us in
A call to arms
A call to win,
Some name to chant
Prayers to say
Lives to save
Your own heart to betray

We all serve some purpose,
We must stay

If somehow we were
Abolished from this earth
For lack of knowledge,
Lack of self-worth
It would be a loss to all humanity

Everyone with a beating heart
Has a drummer with
A personal rhyme scheme
Only you can translate

And must for all the world to see
For soon it’ll be too late
For you, For me


Passion Promise

Tread the path that
You create,
Step into the footsteps
Of those whose shoulders
You now stand upon

Drive passion into
Your thoughts of change
Dive into the deep divine,
Locate the troubled lamb

Unify and clarify
Aid the radicals
Guide them to the center

Build the bridge
That your own hand
Burned to a cinder

Mend the seems
That once tied
You to your
Lonely dreams

Face the troubled
Soul, gain that
Chance to regain
The whole

Step back from
Quiet observation

Do the act
Demand your salvation
From inhumane humanity

Don’t deny your mind
The chance to speak

Assign your mouth
As messenger

Push the questions
To the limits


An Ode

To kid and country
Like minded minds, and
Deranged individuals

Alleys full of catcalls
Militia men in uniformed unison
Women praying, down on hand
And knee

To sacrifice, and sacreligion
Tears on cheek for wounds
That burn much too deep

Knowledge and power
Highways to hell, and
Fast tracks to failures

Reverting back to old
Bad habits, lessons learned
But hardly applied

A cause to stay alive

To ones in crisis
And ones stable

You might be young
But you are able

The ones you love
The ones you have yet to
The ones you reject
The ones who reject you

They don’t know you like you do


Yankee Doodle

Yankee Doodle went to town
Riding on a pony
Sought a pear for a half price
Share and ended with It stony

Yearned to change the far off
World, make it to the big time
But when he did
He knew it not

Grim gray skies
Soon rose to rot

Yankee Doodle went from town
Sailing off a stage
Said he’d done the world a wrong
Now his price to pay

Soon he sees his two
Worlds part, now no way
To mend this heart

Oh Yankee Doodle
What a lad should’ve seen
Him decked in plaid
The finest saddest tale
We have

For his plight failed
To mend the seams of the
Broken yester dreams


Old Soul

How she cried for
Socialism and burned
For the riots

Fell for the propaganda
Almost died despite it

Watched in silent anguish
When the screws were tightened
To her comrades dear

It so seems that when
Morning came they were
Called by some other name

She was a cautious one
Took to the conservative
Side-lines, out of danger
Out of site

Now she writes

Her forever untold stories
The old bat swears how
She would be dead
If not for all these worries


High Time for Sky Time

The birds are breaking up
Taking to the skies
Not making up
They flock,
Then form their
Separate ways
No borders but the sky
Above, The ground below
Where shall they go
Anywhere but here
They freely flow
Southern comfort
Offers much to a bird
In need, as long as
They are not diseased