TIME FOR A WORLD CONSTITUTION
by: S.A. Brazille, K.G. Brooks, I.U. China, M.D. Easton, U.V. Euro, E.N. Africa, and F.B. Isaacs
The task before them seemed immense, magnified by heat.
They mulled around the sun-streaked room deep in thought.
Some knew from rumors: there couldn’t be a better time to meet.
Others motioned to adjourn, their minds were overwrought.
With windows closed for secrecy, this “parliament” now quarrelled, fought;
Old rulers now dispelled, new rules had to be made.
One man cried out “the time for kings will never more be sought!”
Another man agreed but wondered will this motion… fade.
If hard times come and one man of eloquence
Could raid the votes of multitudes with empty words and sincere smiles….
He rose and said, “in this, our constitution, let’s make it clear from hence
no one man can rule the rest with little more than wealth or style!”
“Let’s guide our country and document a governing by many.
“Let’s write a system, three branches, that check and guide their goals.
“Let’s make it difficult for private interests to puppeteer with money
“Let’s make our laws build a haven for each and every soul.”
“Then, no one group could make an army for business needs
“And questions raised about taxes would be answered without war.
“And changes could occur to harness power and hinder greed.
“And people could argue carefully for taxes they could afford.”
That was then. But now, computers broke the harness
Power—fueled by greed no longer hindered by intricate laws—
Has made a free nation a haven for foreign thieves whose quest
Is wealth, reaped from their home-lands filled with governing/business flaws.
Upgrades for a country too slowly guard constituents,
Overwhelmed by time and work their voices disappear,
A dragon of a force now fueled by bytes and greedy vigilence,
confronts one senator per million, their words, their only spear.
The dragon, it is merciless, its wings have swept humanity.
It craves a richer diet after feasting on the poor.
Its netlike flight has carved a nation to divide the meal: posterity
Its goal to slice the wealth and reap the benefits of war.
Then it will hide itself in some obscure net-databank
Bury its head in the megabyte world of modern-day terrorism
Secure its feasting grounds while masking its international rank
And drain all nations into third-world sects of feudalism.
All this will be—unless senators multiply their ranks and tasks,
So as to listen to those being robbed and tricked; to secure borders and flights;
So as to monitor banking systems, human resource centers and I.D.s that mask
Black market networks that cause: endless debt and Dark-Age plights.
The senators must be from all countries; must be checked
by laws that protect—each citizen, each woman,
each village, each city—from business interests that
benefit only a few. There should be a world constitution.
There should be a world constitution.
ALLAH... LOOKS DOWN --By "NEMO"
They do not cringe
these rich men
who see the hungry of their land
and know the envy of these neighbors
They do not look afraid
when poor people snear at them.
They know to point their fingers
toward the West [[East]]
"The culture there
destroys your chances
in this, our desert
[[--in this our industrialized--]] homeland.
are your enemy."
They do not plead or cower. They imply:
"My money, my 'business', my lifestyle
is not to blame.
It is the Western infidels [[the Middle Easterners]]
who cause your poverty [[your Trade Center losses]]."
like a decoy from their own greed,
pittances of cash or favors
the poor of their kindred people
to sell their lives
for promises of securities left
or promises of
a heaven no one truly knows.
Allah [[God]] has become a prodding tool for war.
As assassins buy contracts on themselves
and blindly send pieces of their bone and flesh
(like shrapnel) into children,
into trashyard graves.
[[as employees blindly shred evidence
take gratis jobs;
work for companies
that trick their workers or partners in other countries
And these rich men know to act proud
as they send their would-be murderers
onto faraway sites
and teach these desperate poor,
these trained bombers,
these war-schooled followers,
or brainwashed students
[[media-saturated readers of yellow journalism]]
to stop the greed
in other countries
--not in their own.
if we could see his reaction to all this--
we would see him lower his head like a saddened father
looking at his beloved creations
as he is filled with
shame for them:
for those so easily led,
for those who lead so selfishly,
in His name.
--Tired of the lies in Allah's [[God's]] name
[EDITOR's NOTE: Some readers have commented that "Allah [[God]]" would not bow His head since He is all powerful, so "NEMO" has agreed to alter the poem to read as above. The word "bow" has been taken out.]
The Following Poems are available as Laminated Plaques $8
Send money order to P.O. Box 563; Glenolden, PA 19036
Order tapes of up to five poems by sending $25 US to: PoetryPlus.com, P.O. Box 563, Glenolden PA 19036. Specify poems to be included.
Glastnost has quelled us./
Bomb shelter fears become /
a silliness, a novelty./
New fears arise /
as 6- & 7-figure salaries /
steal the souls /
of the powerful /
and strings are pulled to make us dance /
a healthcare-packaged sideshow /
while paying for the song /
and praying it continues... somehow. /
No shelter helps now. /
The poisons rise and sift, stir /
the mix of air we breathe— /
Poisons of convenience, luxury: /
nail polish removers; /
perm-burn solutions; /
cyanide compounds for foams /
and glues /
—Fumes so ingrained into our culture /
that to boycott the products that cause them /
seems a paltry gain of air /
considering the benefits of /
polished nails, /
wavy hair, /
a cushion, /
or a sticky liquid fastener. /
Terrorism need not show its ugly head of destruction: /
We destroy ourselves. /
Doctors note /
their patients talk /
of aching bones /
and pain they thought /
for those /
their seniors. /
Children cough and wheeze, /
gasp for air late at night /
for no apparent reason. /
Asthmas on the rise. /
“The luck of the genetic draw”— /
we figure /
as we wade in an ooze of air. /
steal our lives /
like an unleashed genocide /
on all races.
Glastnost has freed us to see— /
the imperceptible /
robbing us of /
Who started this? /
How woven is the world /
when killers are so numerous /
that our jobs and homes /
harbor the deadly? /
Who planted these? /
in its yearning for success and glamour /
like a captured monkey, trained /
by generations of corporate greed, /
has chased its golden banana /
off a cliff. /
We tumble into chemical intoxication /
and third world poverty. /
Who can we blame? /
Not our parents alone /
Not our enemies alone /
Not our ancestors or ourselves... alone. /
their dreams, our dreams /
have led us to /
this cesspool of products /
that corrode our health, /
our humanity, /
our —once believed sacred— goals. /
The American Dream /
(that has become the world’s) /
has caused a pollution /
of land, sea and soul. /
Is there a star, /
a wise man, /
a savior now? /
Or must we each try to be /
these three beings /
to preserve /
—NOT OUR LIFESTYLES— /
to preserve... /
our lessons learned /
so that life, /
in human form, /
can THRIVE without /
the annihilation of /
this vaporous ball /
of molten landscapes /
and oceans pulled by the moon.
. (author: -C.M.W.C.)
+++ copyright 1996 - C.M.W.C. +++
8-1/2" x 11", illustrated (flame background), laminated $8
A child screamed at his brother //
So his brother hit him, //
His mother scolded him for being loud. //
A child threw a stone to the ground //
So his neighbor shot him. //
His town leaders slapped his hands for throwing stones. //
A child pointed a gun at a border //
So a country sent an army and bombed his home. //
The world told him, “You should not aim a gun!” //
Even though the gun was empty. //
A child killed another child //
And a wave of fear enveloped a nation //
Prompting vigilante zealousness //
To erase a race of people from existence. //
Hitler is born again in the hearts of the descendants //
Of concentration camp survivors. //
Hitler is alive and well in the synogogues of Israel, //
In the minds of the young in Jerusalem. //
Hitler has arisen through the practice of appropriation //
Used by Israeli settlers //
Claiming Palestinian lands. //
When will they hand out six-pointed stars to Arab citizens? //
When will they line them up to be shot? //
When will there be gas chambers for townspeople of Arabian descent to bathe in? //
Or will they just firebomb their businesses //
And impoverish them so they become thieves to survive. //
That has been their way //
To isolate and irradicate by poverty //
By prejudice, by taunts and pointed fingers. //
There may never have been a plan to hinder in this way //
But a bully has held a child by the hair //
For so long //
That the child lashes out //
Anyway he can. //
By: Fiorin Fyre
++++copyright 2000 – Fiorin Fyre++++
Excerpt of “INTRICATE WARS”
Homeland of Jesus // nurturer of his soul, // resting place of those who witnessed // ... miracles, //
So much has been taught by you, // taught and forgotten // taught again-- // so much to learn: // of human nature, // hatred, // prejudice, // tolerance…. //
So long have you been targeted // in numerous cultures, lands-- // victims of accusations-- // there has been centuries // of living as a people without a country, without a land to own. // You know what it's like // to live on borrowed space, // borrowed times of peace.
Back when the holocaust first became a world-known horror, // when your people were refugees saved from gas camps // but left floating on ships with no destination... // Palestine gave you a home. //
Palestine gave you a home. // You suckled like a hungry babe who grew to nearly devour his mother. // Nurtured once, find a way // to give your one-time nurturers // something back. // Palestine is part of you, but Israel has grown to be more capable of nurturing now. // Consider them... your children // and that of your ancestors. // Traces of family mingled in Arab ties… // the possibilities // make bigotry seem more like self-loathing. //
Brotherhood // should be cherished. //
Your prodigal brothers deserve // your guarded friendship. // May GOD-YAHWEH-ALLAH allow this between your people... // without retribution // at whatever answer they give. // Keep offering…. //
Remember // when your people // were so much like // the people of Palestine. // They should be treated as you would have your children be treated. // A holocaust for TWO nations...// can be prevented. //
Palestine-- // migrant people // of easily-fueled passions--
guide and guard your brothers again...// all of them. //
Brotherhood // should be cherished.
By Fiorin Fyre
Copyright 2000 – Fiorin Fyre
BETWEEN TWO COUNTRIES
A Wall is needed…//
like China’s, //
like Berlin’s, //
with checkpoints //
built by the U.N. //
Each checkpoint monitored by four representatives, //
two from each side //
and a U.N. staff of two language experts //
with a back-up of six impartial peace-keepers //
No part of Israel shood touch Palestine // without a “U.N. partition”. // Palestine shood be free and separate. // All shared holy places // shood have only U.N. officers //—not Israeli, not Palestinian— // for a two mile radius // of the religious area. // Once peace is established, // both groups should be permitted monitored access… // via metal detectors and check points. // All trials for war crimes, // should be monitored or commanded // by impartial, U.N. judges.
Trade shood be separate—completely. // Via airplane or helicoptor, // the U.N. shood insure and inspect // delivery of material, // indefinitely. //
Sometimes the hand that throws a bomb to damage Israel // is the hand of an Israeli, //who doesn’t want peace.
Sometimes the hand that throws a bomb to damage Palestine // is that of a Palestinian, // who doesn’t want peace.
Blame is sometimes misplaced. Wariness is wealth.
If Palestinian settlers in Israel // are persecuted // or suspected (without proof) of crimes, // Israel and the U.N. // should give them the fair market value // of their home and business investments // then escort them to peaceful areas // “outside” of the country. // An apology for the need // for prejudice // should be offered.
If Israeli settlers in Palestine // are persecuted // or suspected (without proof) of crimes, // Palestine and the U.N. // should give them the fair market value // of their home and business investments // then escort them to peaceful areas // “outside” of the country. // An apology for the need // for prejudice // should be offered.
A stone wall on sand // is better than constant war, constant fear.
Intense spending and labor now // could prevent greater spending…// could prevent many deaths // in the future.
Peacekeepers should build it.
By --a friend of Fiorin Fyre
copyright 2000--Global Properties
A family wanted to build a home. //
The land was “free”. //
So they built a home finer than they could afford. //
Then they were told, //
“The land is not yours, MOVE!” //
It was to be given back to people it was stolen from //
Long ago. //
The family left //
But hovered nearby //
Taunting the new owners //
Teasing the children. //
Coaxing them to fight //
With words, //
With sticks, stones…. //
Even guns. //
They had their words ready, //
Their own guns… ready. //
They just needed a reason //
To justify a fight, //
So they could get their home back again. //
If a nation was destroyed, it did not matter. //
They only wanted their home. //
And if not that, //
Vengence for the thievery they blamed on Palestine, //
A crime that was their own country’s doing. //
Rage rises… //
Due to blind men spending money foolishly: //
Buying trinkets for a borrowed land //
Has cost them a war. //
Wisdom! Give both people light. //
Hope! Come again. //
Power! Generate in generosity… somehow. //
Souls are at stake.
--by Fiorin Fyre
Excerpt of “INTRICATE WARS”
From the seed of a melon, came... The Scathe.
Born to wealth, he sold his soul for the pleasure of breaking a fellow’s legs. The keg of beer rolled so well down the dorm room stairs.
Bathed in power, he garbed himself in philanthropy, bought the words and voices of newsmen, And branded anyone who dared speak against his beliefs with rumors that lead to joblessness. Sometimes, he even created elaborate romantic situations to involve his enemies in liasons with diseased, desperate people who would seduce anyone for enough money to survive.
Beware of The Scathe. It may be his money that pays your child’s doctor bills if you simply say a negative comment about a co-worker. How easily... can your soul... be bought?
Beware of the Scathe in you!
...even a Scathe can change... nothing is worth the price of your soul.
FORSAKEN MOVERS by "NEMO"…. $15 -- book of short stories, poems
The following flyers are now available. Proceeds benefit the authors.
“ENEMY OF THE STATE”
He spoke /
and those passing by paused /
to listen: /
“ Be Warned, People! /
This building contains toxins /
not meant to be outside of concrete. /
They float on air /
in this ill-kept factory. /
They drift into your gardens, /
into your barbecues. /
They become the dander on your children’s heads!” /
The people he was with /
linked arms against the traffic /
waved signs reading, “ FALLOUT-BEWARE!” /
blocked cars for hours. /
He was the most vocal. /
He seemed the leader. /
He mentioned how kickbacks and nepotism /
kept places like this open. /
Notes were taken. /
He was added to a “list”, /
a list like Nixon’s. /
his home would be searched, /
his habits studied, /
his quirks emphasized /
and jobs /
would always be short-term for him /
no matter how skilled he was. /
Clients of the places he would work /
would back out of contracts—go elsewhere— /
due to a “list” someone made long ago, /
a list of people /
whose “offenses” /
were never clearly elaborated upon, /
a list of those condemned /
to suspicion… sometimes poverty. /
“Let’s demand accountability!” /
he said. /
“Let’s demand that skilled, well-paid- /
hazardous-waste-disposal maintenance crews /
work to upgrade these /
chemical-riddled buildings /
rather than let a politician’s nephew /
hire unsuspecting temporary handi-men /
to put a band-aide /
on an ulcerating problem.” /
The list grows on. /
as our freedoms are sold /
and our leaders are stifled. /
By: Fiorin Fyre
Copyright 2000 — Fiorin Fyre
Our lives are filled with unsaid things that push /
against our minds and lips and hide in thoughts /
that no words fit and only form in looks /
or moves or gaps where wars for love are fought. /
A time ago I had believed these /
unsaid things were senseless lags in spoken lines /
which showed a lack of thought or cause for chats /
continuing upon a smooth decline. /
I knew of those who felt the same about /
these words that can’t be heard, but we were deaf /
to life as sound-led bats are blind in light. /
The colored day is lost to them as we /
were lost to feelings felt inside a pause /
or blush, or wave, or change from shame to pride— /
or reasons making hidden fears or loves— /
these things when said have lost some touch with life. /
So if you feel a hate divulging for /
the lack of normal talking, think back to /
the eyes that speak, and call to come, or wince /
when leaving: think back to the hand that stutters, /
think back to the smile that sings, remember /
all those times that words had clogged your mind with /
thoughts which slurred your speech which had no meaning. /
Think! and don’t be dumb (and deaf) to words that
some Italian scholars—Greek, Moore, Anglo- /
Saxon too—forgot to install into /
Language long ago when men who knew not /
words from now, said much… with unsaid things. /
Copyright 1977 – C.M. Weiss
8-1/2" x 11", laminated $8
A THEBAN INTIMACY
(The painting that inspired this poem, according to a 1979 version of Bulfinch’s Mythology, hangs in a museum in Budapest, Hungary.)
Stilled, on a canvas, by Franz von Stuck, /
captured in brush and paint, /
a frozen image of a Sphinx is caught /
in a passionate moment of loveplay /
with a naked, Herculean man.
His neck seems ready to snap
from being arched back so far with her kiss.
Their two heads are profiled — hers above his —
both at the top, left corner.
Her cheek is all that’s seen of her face.
The rest is draped in shadow and hair
that falls to brush his left temple and cheek.
His eyes are shut; his brow lifted;
he seems to revel in the sensation of their closeness
as if he were "inside"
as well as "against" her naked form,
engaged in filling her with flittering seed.
The back of him is most of what’s seen.
Her left breast—round, full—
seductively lies upon his right shoulder.
The other breast — unseen — seems pressed
against his throat.
His left hand, blackened like he’d worked the earth,
holds her to him,
pressing behind her neck and shoulder,
but, as in a moment of sudden pain,
his right arm reaches out toward the sky,
his fingers, taut
Beneath them the dorsal, hind leg of a lion stands
where a woman's thigh and calf should be.
She is above him,
leaning over his upright, kneeling body,
flushed against him.
His groin is directly below hers
and pressed above his muscular buttocks,
in the shadow of the paint,
her feline claws hold him
while lightly penetrating his skin:
a readily lethal grasp,
sadistically enticing him
to satisfy his captor.
For hundreds of lifetimes,
from when that first sketch was drafted,
they’ve held this Elysian pose:
this godlike man of masculine beauty
and this seductive, deadly sphinx — half woman,
He reaches out forever
in a moment of lust, ecstasy, pain..., and horror,
and she eternally lures him in
with her mouth and womb
as his last breath
is lapped up by her tongue:
a perennial death
. (author: -C.M.W.C.)
+++ copyright 1991 - C.M.W.C. +++
8-1/2" x 11", illustrated, laminated $12 (includes S/H)
LOST KIN ARISE!
Serbia, Dear Serbia, / Once crowded land of now murdered neighbors: / Will your children's children know / Of the people now erased from history? / Will their ghosts haunt them / In books or graves, / In burned out shells of homes?
Will these children be them? / ...Be the reincarnated souls of those killed? / An eradicated race arisen in the bodies of their killers’ offspring? / Will nightmares flash them back to the time / When they were gunned-down in a past life / By the people, now, their grandparents or leaders?
Serbia, Oh Serbia, / Where will the souls of the killers be / In their next lives? / Will they see poverty? / Will they see prejudice? / Will they be born in deserts / Or swamplands prone to disease / Or floods. / Will armies of men come to their homes / And kill.
Serbia, Oh Serbia, / You will live and thrive again / You will sow and reap, and revel: / And in a generations time, / The price of all selfishness / May be levied to each person / Through a future life / In a place / That can’t be controlled.
Offset this with fairness. / Offset this with shared wealth, / Shared education, food, tools, crafts…. / Shared with races far and near… / So that all children born / Will have less chance / Of seeing their country / Torn / By selfish men / at war.
. -(author: Fiorin Fyre)
+++ copyright 2000 - Fiorin Fyre +++
8-1/2" x 11" laminated $8 (includes shipping & handling)
A MYTH'S TAIL
Here at the end
of our mythology
we stand, waiting,
watching the sky
for a sign
of a sequel
to God's "Revelations,"
Michelangelo's cloud-people to appear...
Scanning the dull horizon,
we wade through the air,
choking (air so thick... so heavy).
Each stifling breath is filled
with question marks;
they rise and swirl
with every exhalation,
and the clouds
take no form at all.
(author: -Kate White)
+++ copyright 1991 - Kate White +++
8-1/2" x 11" illustrated, laminated $8 (includes shipping & handling)
Poets come and go. Great poets speak a few lines to small audiences and fade to obscurity in a decade or less. This site is a chance for poets to share their chapbooks and single poem flyers with a larger audience and hopefully, via exposure and sales, enrich their lives financially enough that they can afford to keep on writing.
To post your poems, send up to 10 pages of submissions along with a $10 reading fee to PoetryPlus.com, P.O. Box 563 Glenolden, PA 19036. After your email is verified, and your work considered, you'll receive notice of its acceptance or suggestions on revisions.
Here, Poems shall be listed with the email addresses of the senders so that they can be contacted for sale of their work. All work belongs to the original creator of it. Copyright remains theirs. Poetryplus.com and its affiliates will not be responsible for plagiarized work. If accepted submissions are published and are not the work of the sender, the email address of the sender of the "plagiarized" poetry will be posted and available to the proper authorities.
If you wish to become a sponsoring member of PoetryPlus.com, email firstname.lastname@example.org. A donation of $25 will entitle a sponsoring member to receive a print of "Freedom: Runaway Slave-410 A.D." and will be permitted to submit 5 pages of work to be considered for publication on the site. Photos and art are also accepted. Please be sure to copyright all work prior to submission.
copyright 2000 C. M. A. W. Celley