when foxes come

swallowing moonlight
with half naked humility,
aftertaste of unpleasant cloud
the day would sacrifice me,
me a host to the yellow sun
wrapped in a fleece
of further understanding,
a measure to the international indifference
patron to the act of ignorance,
this is a race, our race
spend life in an aggrieved chokehold
as time seeps the stupid sore
picked at by eager interference,
of state
in desperate need of rescue

ticking

ticking

only asses and chickens
claw at the dirt
spreading a mess
soiled by their own entrapment
it would be unforgiving
when the foxes come

crisis of the ordinary heart (a poem to all protests )

smoke and soot
did not touch
those iron faces of tyranny,
with their steel machines
of absolute subjugation,
out here beneath flags
toiled those of the land
the factory
the shop
the office
doctors bound by bureaucracy
cast stones and blazing petroleum,
accepting water cannon baptism,
cause and conquest paramount,
streets configured
by the ordered suburban dream
now frenzied battlegrounds
of a martyrs distinction,
resolute and proud,
those with only hope as protection
fought on

 

 

el humo y el hollín
no tocó
esas caras de hierro de la tiranía,
con sus máquinas de acero
sometimiento de la absoluta,
aquí debajo banderas
trabajado los de la tierra
la fábrica
la tienda
la oficina
médicos vinculados por la burocracia
tirar piedras y petróleo en llamas,
aceptar el bautismo cañones de agua,
causar y la conquista de suma importancia,
calles configuradas
por el sueño suburbano ordenado
campos de batalla ahora frenéticos
de una distinción mártires,
decidido y orgulloso,
los que sólo tienen la esperanza de que la protección
luchó en

 

la fumée et de la suie
ne pas toucher
ces visages de fer de la tyrannie,
avec leurs machines d’acier
assujettissement des absolue,
ici sous les drapeaux
peiné ceux de la terre
l’usine
la boutique
le bureau
médecins liés par la bureaucratie
jeter des pierres et du pétrole de plomb,
accepter le baptême de canons à eau,
provoquer et de conquête primordiale,
rues configurés
par le rêve de la banlieue commandé
les champs de bataille maintenant frénétiques
d’une distinction des martyrs,
résolue et fier,
ceux avec seulement espérer que la protection
combattu sur

 

дим і сажа
не чіпали
ці залізні особи тиранії,
з їх стали машини
абсолютного підпорядкування,
тут під прапорами
трудилися ті землі
завод
магазин
офіс
лікарі пов’язані з бюрократією
кидав камінням і палаючий нафту,
приймаючи водомети хрещення,
викликати і завоювання першорядне значення,
вулиці налаштовані
впорядкованої приміському сні
тепер скажені поля бою
з мучеників відмінності,
рішуча і горда,
ті з тільки сподіватися, як захист
воював на

 

Rauch und Ruß
nicht berühren
diese Eisen Gesichter der Tyrannei,
mit ihren Stahl-Maschinen
der absoluten Unterwerfung,
hier unter Fahnen
geschuftet aus dem Boden
die Fabrik
der Shop
das Büro
Ärzte von Bürokratie gebunden
werfen Steine ​​und brennenden Erdöl-,
Annahme von Wasserwerfern Taufe
verursachen und Eroberung von größter Bedeutung,
Straßen konfiguriert
von der bestellten S-Traum
Jetzt rasenden Schlachtfelder
eines Märtyrer Unterscheidung,
entschlossen und stolz,
diejenigen mit nur hoffen, als Schutz
kämpften auf

 

الدخان والسخام
لم يتطرق
تلك الوجوه الحديد من الاستبداد،
مع آلات الصلب بهم
إخضاع المطلق،
هنا تحت أعلام
كدوا تلك الأرض
المصنع
المحل
المكتب
الأطباء ملزمة البيروقراطية
يلقي الحجارة واشتعلت فيه النيران البترول،
قبول المعمودية خراطيم المياه،
وتسبب الغزو قصوى،
شوارع تكوين
بواسطة حلم الضواحي أمر
معارك الآن المسعور
من التمييز الشهداء،
حازمة وفخور،
أولئك الذين لديهم الأمل الوحيد كحماية
قاتلوا على

 

 

Diego Rivera – Carnival Of Mexican Life Dictatorship (1936)

Diego Rivera

also follow this link for a great short documentary and further information of Diego Rivera

http://www.biography.com/people/diego-rivera-9459446

steps to a mocking truth

my shoes have grown
as my heart and eyes have seen
they walked with me,
since those first inaccurate stumbles
seeing surface and texture
slipped on,
tied,
buckled
leather formed about the feet,
or thrown in disgust
at a politicians head,
they walk with us
mutely seeing and interacting
as the  animal they once where
to a human misery,
without shoes connecting to earth
and nature of earthen creation,
ski hardening
to dust
stone
and blacktop,
miles witnessed
to a freedom attained
toes as extremity population
encounter first and enjoy
what was once an overall entrapment
thorns may spike
stones may pierce
batons beat
and electrodes burn,
washed and anointed
our shoes are needed
protect
shelter
enable
and keep away the awful pains,
shoes see more
than we think

dversepoets.com

 

geometrics and some physical optics

he woke
he pissed
he smoked,
sat at the desk as others
before him,
heavy oak resonance,
with politicknife would cut policy
it had become about color,
the blue the yellow
strove to adjust to each other,
the red the green
so incompatible,
clarity was needed in misdirection
politicknife more palette than blade
scraped bluntly over canvas
to portray the country
texture and relief,
some of it muddied
stained like shit on a public toilet,
he spoke on TV
bright suited as a clown
body language and gestures
seen and felt as colors of betrayal
it was beyond functionalism
and wider knowledge
colors bled
every perception was not upheld,
people took to tree lined avenues
beneath autumn auburn,
held poster paint placards
chanting,
colors adjusted
all attitudes changed,
again at his desk
looking at errors of doctrine,
the religious confined to sunday
men of friday peace,
zealots who ranted for any god
they where unifying
he felt afraid,
colors that should never combine
on palette or canvas,
became alive,
betrayed inside government halls,
closed eyes so that the brightness
would not be visible,
humanities noose
had underwritten his future,
rainbows can be clutched
in eager hands and each strand
peeled apart
scattered
like shotgun pellets,
reflected refracted
no more distinction
it was over,
slashing the canvas
pissed over it
pouring gasoline
it burned,
defeat knew a cell door
and he was content,
within gray and bleak darkness
color could not and would not intrude
now he felt alive

Jose Guadalupe Posada

Suppose we were chaff, that was lying about
When a very small whirlwind brushed us to the sky,
And then at the moment when we sailed highest,
A wind that was stronger blew us apart…

Goodbye little brothers,
Dear parents, farewell
Here my sins end,
I have no more to tell.

Jose Posada  1852-1913 Artist, Illustrator and Cartoonist with strong beliefs during the Mexican Revolution with his publisher Arroyo, illustrating ballads and poems and images for day of the dead

secret and vague in austerity

moon in nightspace became silversmith

light hammered over island

catching the nudity

i kept vigil over,

a saddened animal

hunched in an undergrowth habitat

i fed on something that dreams give

as i watched

her polished by tides overwhelm,

i could of been a nation on it’s knees

waiting for that one that comes

and brings a substance,

yet too afraid to show yourself

for fear of spoiling a grand occasion,

damp skin

natures jeweler working diamonds on,

a martyred bird called out

shriek of the night

she turned and i was certain of being seen

my eyes would be vivid in the darkness,

retreating with a tread  so soft,

knowing as you saw swept long hair

i would not possess

despite the urgency of my loins

without satisfaction i would have to wait

as this was not the night

angels at the pagan threshold

landscape seen by standing eye

on wind stripped rooftops edge,

answers pilgrims of nausea

fall as if from the depths of the sky,

horizon alone with forest

sun faced green silk and gold,

tracks of those who journey in faith

into the still of wooded glade,

within voices imagined

brambles pulled by enraged fingers

mess and tangle hide

that place used as a remote hope,

he should be there

pale faced

emotions a fountains stream

pleasure would not be found

with slackened vines,

this horizon embraced him

pulled into its complex afternoon

where time lie down

petal seconds fall,

chaos is not for choosing

sleep will not be heeded

as these files of thought

are put away,

staunched by class,

those in power jailers to tomorrow,

gas would fill indecent blue

and many more would fall,

for the sake

of secrets of kings

wordle

defects of the elephant crush many

shadows standing empty

as we moved from the tree,

he worked with sweat for bread,

she wore only handmade dresses

fabric accumulated from a saving mother,

he had written to her heart

as it understood the depth

that his motive went to,

every day in lengthy plan

hours conceived into moments

stolen away from the factory

to the hill,

sanctuary of silence from the state

propaganda and revolution,

fresh baked filled the air with a resonance,

they as patriots fervent as they are lovers,

planned wedding and battle

as an intertwined plan,

analogy of expectation

that had no sourness,

ignore siting safe indoors

sound the bells of union,

warm tingle of happiness

before the steely clamor

of guns

 

Men In T Shirts

When Syria was falling apart as Assad began to strangle the country this is what i wrote in August last year

smoke encroaches the sky
men gather
unarmed
by the barricades
gunfire rattles
a chattering fear,
they move in groups
seem aimless powerless
what to do
to call , to chant
to pray,
to unify,
and hope together
will survive
tank wheels
closer now,
fear a sharpened
sword swinging ever closer
do you hide
inside,
or call and shout
defiance.

 

http://poetry-24.blogspot.co.uk/2011/08/men-in-t-shirts.html