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Max von Sydow

Producers are not gamblers. They want a good return on their investment.

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They Want

They want!
Only with restrictions.

Restrictions are applied.
And they decide,
This is not what they want.

They want to be involved.
But with limitations.

When those limitations are accepted...
They seek to diminish them.
Since they are accustomed to pointing fingers.
And that is all they want!
With appropriate approval for their flaunting.

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Of That They Are Not Aware

A heart beating with no sign or clue,
To the meaning of empathy.
Or what others are going through.
And their suffering is in full view.
I question that connection to humanity!
I question those who do not feel...
A remorse.
Or to blind to see a society off course.

But then again...
Some are living in comfort zones,
Isolated.
As it has always been for them.

And accustomed to believe...
Those who suffer,
Are not as lucky as those...
Taught to dismiss their emotions.
And to ignore those less fortunate.

Although their fortunes,
One day too will wane.
Of that...
They are not aware.
And totally unprepared.
Or mentally fit for it when it comes.
And it comes.

Detention will have more meaning for them,
Than being late!
Those who rebel...
Will find themselves confined.
When that time arrives.
And 'this' will be that change,
They can believe in!

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The Rules Are Not Fair

JUST FROM MY ORDER
TO COURT, JUDGE AND ROYER
PRESIDENT, MPS AND BODYGUARD

THE RULES ARE NOT FAIR
THEY EVEN CAUSE ME BLOOD PRESSURE

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Poems are not bread

POEMS ARE NOT BREAD

Poems are not bread-
They are not money
In anyway-

You can write and read
A million of them,
And it will not pay
One small bill.

You don’t have to blame
The poems,
Because
You don’t make money.

But you have to know-
They are not going to save you-
In that,
either.

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Men Are Not Efficient

Men are not efficient
They slow and ponderous too
They fail to wash the dishes
And make 'sprinkles' in the loo
Men are just a waste of space
For so much they take up
Men are disobient
And don't deserve no love
Men are bad at grammar
And their spelling is quite dire
So woe betide the hapless man
Who lights miss moya's fire.

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There Are Not Too Many People

There are not too many,
Who can leave hurdles leaped.
That others seek,
To reach and stir someone within.

With a tone that is expressed,
From an honestness.
And that's how those protective walls,
Come to be shakened.
To break and awaken.

There are not too many...
Who can express,
An experience they possess.
Not one that affects,
A comprehension that connects.

There are not too many,
Who can say they have lived.
And this is believed.
From an understanding given and perceived.

There are not too many people,
Unafraid to 'be'.
Without their hearts,
Left to bleed on their sleeves...
Publicly!

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Close friends love you for who you are, not what they want you to be.

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Fearless One

Fear is the absolute feeling one conjures
When one is near the enemy.
Fear them when they speak and listen,
Inside is a deep emotion so harsh.
May the brain understand this fear
And convert it to energy for survival.
Scary people are not heavenly,
They want to see your blood.
If you are scared then arrest your thoughts
And turn your scares away,
For heaven is to play music with your soul.

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Perfect friends.

A perfect friend will love you for who you are
not what they want you to be
A perfect friend tells you if something is wrong
they don't leave you hanging there
A perfect friend never diss you
they should always be there with you all the way
A perfect friend tells you they love you & will listen as you speak
not change the subject and talk about them selfs
A perfect friend can never perfect
but im gonna keep searching til'l i get closer enough.

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Conditioned To Focus On Limitations

The message that they are getting to hear,
Is not the message heard they wish preferred.
And, coincidentally, it is not the content of the message.
They oppose and object,
It is the messenger who states this message,
With an eloquence delivered to them
They reject.

And 'if' that messenger had represented,
One of them
They'd be more inclined to pay attention.
But of course,
They have been conditioned to focus
On limitations to impress.
And not use their ears for listening
To a message they should address.

The message that they are getting to hear,
Is not the message heard they wish preferred.
And, coincidentally, it is not the content of the message.
They oppose and object,
It is the messenger who states this message,
With an eloquence delivered to them
They reject.

And it is obvious to those who know,
As to why most ears are ignorantly closed.
They want to raise the bar 'their' way.
But not with 'this' one.
Who has come to play,
Hardball with decked cards regardless.
Of what others perceive another should say.

They want to have it their way.
Even though their way betrays and begins to fade,
Those days of one's pigmentation.

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My Ears Are Yours And They Await

Confused by the ending.
And when it all began.
Did it end before the beginning?
Or was the beginning the start of the end?
I am confused by it all.
And...
In my confusion,
You want us to remain good friends?
Don't you think I deserve an explanation?

'I don't know where to begin.'

How about...
When you said you loved me!
Start from there...
To a connecting of that,
With us remaining as good friends.
I can not promise you friendship
But right now,
I can promise you my patience.
My ears are yours and they await!

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The Girls Are Not For Sale

Can you hear my voice

Can't you see my tears

Can't you see how small my hands still are

I'm the little
girl

Who wants to live her childhood

To play

To run

To sing

I want to grow up with my friends

I will go to school and be a good student

I will receive the best education

And I will graduate from the highest schools

I will be the person who can depend on herself

I want to be the woman who can protect her rights

To work and build my home

I want to be a lawyer

To defend the stolen rights

To Break the bad rules of jungle

To be a good and honest wife and the careful mother

When the right time comes

The girls are not for sale

When the old minds will understand that

When the cruel hearts will wake up to see

That the little girls are still pure angels

Do not steal away their rights to live

As a human being

They are not for sale
They need the innocent care

They need to feel safe

At the world surrounded with fear

Take off your nasty hands

The girls are not for sale

For the sake of millions of stolen childhoods

And their stolen futures and forgotten rights to have a future

And for those who are deprived from existing their normal lives.

Take off your nasty hands.

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Our Leaders Are Not Our Nation

Toast tyranny a wager at the checkmark in the box
With cryola ideology simpatico to your thoughts
Compromise your belief with a representative of choice
In a year they'll impeach a bipartisan platform

When the tally is in it will make your head spin
Crush your faith to a pulp, Thomas Paines be engulfed
Your realities a minority dog food for the majority
So commune to the bars in your fishbowls for debating

For our leaders are not our nations
They strip mine the facts for elation
Our leaders are not our nation
They all toast their own egos fornication

Take a page out from Hinkley, apply a gun to the vote
Register complains sitting outside of Sussex drive
Watch out for the cameras and the guards in the cars
Don't fault a Fawkes pass if you want the blues loose

How many years since the Accords of Meech lake
Repatriate out country into the piece of a steak
Found in pockets of a restaurant, goodbye equality
Now go and play some Hockey, who cares about Gomery

They double talk for fun and expect us to bark
Anytime their occurs a sudden mishap
Meanwhile we suffer by corporation's power
Becoming state junkies for good deals at Wal-Mart

But our leaders are not our nation
We give them their place and station
Our leaders are not our nation
Execute them from the sovereign equation

If green peace were Fenians, Fort McMurray would burn
Learn from the Arabs and make a splash in the spring
Protest your unrest and leave no stone unturned
Or else you face the Ides of a Ceaser on the march

So if you are a patriot go fight for what is right
Don't dance talk in circles when I see you fire blanks
A citizens a champion for their freedom far and wide
Our leaders are not our nation they are servants to be tied

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They Won't Want To Go Back

While we live our lives as best as we can,
There are those who couldn't care less,
The criminal fraternity do what they like,
We're left to pick up the mess.

Soft justice favours the criminals,
While the victims are the ones left to rot,
To turn the tide the other way,
A hard lesson needs to be taught.

Take the murderers they don't give a damn,
Jail for them doesn't hold any fears,
Three square a day free drugs and no rent,
Then back out in just a few years.

There are those who advocate killing us all,
Yet these terrorists are now cowering in fear,
Saying please don't send us to the U.S.of A.
We'd much rather do our time here.

The rapists and thief's who couldn't care less,
They'll do it day in and day out,
They show no remorse for their victims,
Then ask what are we all about.

If they mug an old man or a women,
Which results in their violent demise,
They will not be charged with their murder,
For their lawyers make out it's all lies.

We are now running scared of the criminals,
The do gooders have them in their sights,
There's money galore to be made from these thugs,
It's the innocents who have no human rights.

Society now favours the criminal,
They're much better off than us,
When we ask why there's no retribution,
We're told to stop making a fuss.

They now live in five star prisons,
We want more is what their lawyers shout,
The more we give them the more they demand,
No wonder they don't want to come out.

Soon they'll be appealing their sentences,
Telling us we need to be tough,
They're enjoying prison life so much,
Their sentences are not long enough.

The do good brigade fall over themselves,
Criminals aren't bad they'd have you believe,
While criminals make them lots of money,
They'll continue living to deceive.

These poor souls need everyone's sympathy,
For their crimes they are never to blame,
This attitude is why they don't give a damn,
Then go out and do more of the same.

They tell you they had a bad childhood,
They were given a really hard time,
The hardships they've had to endure in their life
Is why they were drawn into crime?

They wouldn't know a hard time if it hit them,
But they're brainwashed that's what to believe,
They've wanted for nothing all of their lives,
Yet the victims are the ones left to grieve.

There are people who've fought in bloody wars,
Those who have worked all their days,
They had rationing and living with nothing,
They were never part of the criminal craze.

It's now time to get tough with these scumbags,
Soft soaping them is one major gaffe,
If they knew they'd be properly punished,
They wouldn't be so quick to laugh.

They need to know that when they're caught,
Their punishment will be severe,
No remission or an easy life,
That must be made crystal clear.

They must pay all their own legal fees,
That will stop their endless appeals,
No drugs or mobiles, no satellite T.V.
Fed with the most basic of meals.

One hundred years for murder,
No mercy or any parole,
They'll endure hard labour until they are dead,
There'll be no repose of their soul.

Trafficking drugs you'll be jailed for life,
You can't say you were being led,
You're responsible for your own actions,
You've created the walking dead.

Raping, burglary and knife crime,
Will be treated in much the same way,
If you're willing to commit the offence,
Incarceration is the price you will pay.

Paedophiles are truly a breed apart,
For them no mercy should be shown,
They must rot in jail until they are dead,
Punished for the seeds they have sown.

When they learn we mean what we're saying,
They'll beg us to cut them some slack,
When our prisons become a deterrent,
you can bet,

‘' They Won't Want To Go Back ‘'

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Some Things Are Not True

some things are not true
though they all want to adopt the color of truth
they just can't be
because they are false, they will always be
that is the truth.

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You Are 'Not' That Good Looking

I like to kiss.
Hold.
Get naked and touch.
Foreplay leads to gratifying sex.
I love it!

'Me too.
And 'maybe'...
That night will come,
When you will stop bringing the mirror to bed!
You are 'not' that good looking.'

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They Are Not Saddened Enough

They are not saddened enough.
They expect more of it.
And that they did not get.

They are not saddened enough.
And the demon residing within them,
Is having a fit...
Trying to understand all of it!

They are not saddened enough.
And any happiness expressed,
Offends!

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Seeing Things That Are Not There

Sometimes our feelings
run deeper than they should,
we mix them with our imagination,
seeing things that are not there.
We see things out of context;
only imagine what
we want them to be,
then getting badly hurt
when we fall back
to the harsh reality.

23 April 2008

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As If They Are Not Deserving

The thing I love most,
About the aging process...
Is observing the change of seasons.
And those who are totally unaware,
Of those misdeeds they do...
That come back to haunt them.
With a whining done,
As if they are not deserving...
To get their allotment for the cultivating,
Of those 'acts' that to us come back.

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All These Poems Are Not Good Enough

ALL THESE POEMS ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH

All these poems are not good enough-
I am not good enough-
And my life is going to end
Without my having been good enough.

Good Enough? .

Good enough for what?
For whom?

Not Good enough
To be among those who wrote lines
Mankind loves to remember.

Not good enough-
Clearly not good enough.

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