#100Days100Poems Day 46

Not just over the air, but on your screens, on your streets, in your town halls, over phone calls, throughout the first 100 days, throughout the that’s-all-you-get four years.

You Say You Want a Revolution?
For the tired, the poor, the huddled masses.

Despite the wishes of those in power,
This revolution will be televised.
The poor; sick; starving masses who cowered,
Will no longer accept a genocide
Of economic strangulation, while
Beings who possess so much continue
Demanding more – even as they revile
Souls suffering in need. Flesh and sinew
Will awaken; spirits rise ‘bove contempt;
The angry will be heard; the hungry fed,
And homeless housed when we find redemption
In helping others ‘long a path all tread.
 This world will emerge, better than it was,
 When every man’s fate becomes our cause.

 

© Bud Koenemund – The Mad Sonneteer – 2015

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You can find The Mad Sonneteer on Twitter at @TheMadSonneteer.

His blog is located at  MadSonneteer.blogspot.com

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For the first 100 days of the Trumpet administration, this blog will feature a new poem of protest, by my own hand and by others. They will be polished gems, or rough cut drafts of rage, or in process pieces searching for peace. They may be haiku or tanka, limericks or lyrics, verses free or fettered. If you would like to submit to this endeavor, please send an email, with poem saved as a word document (.docx) to waxyandpoetic AT gmail DOT com. All rights remain with the author.

VISUAL ARTISTS ! Do you have something visually poetic that you’d like to submit? GO FOR IT!

Please address any formatting preferences in your email. I will post submissions time permitting, with at least one per day. Editing will be limited to obvious errors of spelling and the like.

Read, follow, share, re-tweet, submit, live, love, spread light! Don’t forget to use #100Days100Poems !

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#100Days100Poems Day 20

Day 20. One-fifth of the way through. Eighty days to go. If there’s one thing we’ve learned from the (mis)administration so far, it is that money is, indeed, the grease that gets the gears of this government going.

Thoughts from the Mad Sonneteer:

Dollars and Sense

Some will deny facts; refute evidence;
Censure prophets whose message fuels outrage;
Ignore inevitable consequence;
In defiance of danger, disengage;
Celebrate dividend distributions
Over the desiccated bones of Earth,
And trumpet their only contribution:
Endlessly monetizing nature’s worth;
Squeezing every dollar from land and sea;
Placing short-term profit ‘bove common weal;
Assuming no blame for the bill they’ll leave:
A world’s future condemned without appeal.
   Disbelief does not make science untrue,
   But will compound the penalties accrued.

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© Bud Koenemund – The Mad Sonneteer – 2015

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You can find The Mad Sonneteer on Twitter at @TheMadSonneteer.
His blog is located at  MadSonneteer.blogspot.com

*****

For the first 100 days of the Trumpet administration, this blog will feature a new poem of protest, by my own hand and by others. They will be polished gems, or rough cut drafts of rage, or in process pieces searching for peace. They may be haiku or tanka, limericks or lyrics, verses free or fettered. If you would like to submit to this endeavor, please send an email, with poem saved as a word document (.docx) to waxyandpoetic AT gmail DOT com. All rights remain with the author. VISUAL ARTISTS ! Do you have something visually poetic that you’d like to submit? GO FOR IT!
Please address any formatting preferences in your email. I will post submissions time permitting, with at least one per day. Editing will be limited to obvious errors of spelling and the like.

Read, follow, share, re-tweet, submit, live, love, spread light! Don’t forget to use #100Days100Poems !

*****

#100Days100Poems Day 12

In light of recent developments that challenge the very essence of that with which Liberty is Enlightening the World, I present to you, from the Mad Sonneteer, a sonnet.

What Would Jesus Say?

For the tired, the poor, the huddled masses.


What would Jesus say if he knew those with
Abundance refuse souls truly in need?
When their ignorance serves to feed a myth
Rather than a mouth, would He call that greed?
Should His pride unfurl when hatred is hurled
At women and children by those who claim
To believe in One who made the whole World;
Or, will His judgment serve to kindle shame?
He commands, “Suffer the little children
To come unto me.” Yet, blessed with plenty,
Many fail His word, condemning millions
Of innocents to life in poverty.
   It is human weakness which makes gold’s worth
   Seem higher than our brothers on this Earth.

© Bud Koenemund – The Mad Sonneteer – 2015

.
You can find The Mad Sonneteer on Twitter at @TheMadSonneteer.
His blog is located at  MadSonneteer.blogspot.com

*****

For the first 100 days of the Trumpet administration, this blog will feature a new poem of protest, by my own hand and by others. They will be polished gems, or rough cut drafts of rage, or in process pieces searching for peace. They may be haiku or tanka, limericks or lyrics, verses free or fettered. If you would like to submit to this endeavor, please send an email, with poem saved as a word document (.docx) to waxyandpoetic AT gmail DOT com. All rights remain with the author. VISUAL ARTISTS ! Do you have something visually poetic that you’d like to submit? GO FOR IT!
Please address any formatting preferences in your email. I will post submissions time permitting, with at least one per day. Editing will be limited to obvious errors of spelling and the like.

Read, follow, share, re-tweet, submit, live, love, spread light! Don’t forget to use #100Days100Poems !

*****

M. Jordan, where is my painting? — NPM

The following is an attempt at a sonnet in French (panic not! a translation, rough like sandpaper, follows). For those francophones who follow the blog, it is not really a sonnet in French, given the sketchy scansion and non-rhymes of some lines. So let’s call it a faux-sonnet, or a fauxnnet, shall we?

 

 

La Société Surréaliste
 
 
Les araignées et les citrouilles font la grève,
dans laquelle je vois des immeubles flambés,
allumés par les dalmatiens-pompiers.
Au jardin, un chameau lit un journal, fume, rêve

de l’avenir, de l’eau.  Il feint d’ignorer l’élève
qui essayait de nouer un plan.  Mais il s’est
noué dans ses idées.  Et le chameau, il sait
libérer cette peste—ils s'associent à la grève.

Les araignées, les citrouilles sont sérieuses
bien que le chameau et l’élève dansent et chantent
en écoutant la musique des manifestants.

Je me demande:  Comment on capte le merveilleux?
La télé montre cette spectacle obsolète
et n’importe où quelque dieu se gratte la tête.

The spiders and pumpkins are on strike,
in which I see burning buildings
lit by firefighter-dalmatians.
In the park, a camel is reading a newspaper, smoking, dreaming
 
of the future, of water.  He pretends to ignore the student
who is trying to come up with a plan. But he's caught
up in his own ideas.  And the camel, he knows
how to free this pain in the neck--they join the strike.
 
The spiders and pumpkins are serious
even though the camel and the student sing and dance
while listening to the music of the protestors.
 
I wonder:  How do you get the marvelous?
The TV captures this obsolete spectacle
and where ever you like, some god is scratching his head.