Poetry

Featured Poetry

Dark Days

Dr. David Cartland0
The dark days of these last few years, A new war, no need to fight, Totalitarian legacy, A battle of dark versus light. A new disease sweeps through the world, The media swelled the public fears, That broke a generations psyche, With a multitude of tears. Day after day the psyops grew, Of death, despair, infection, Apocalyptic imagery, A solution……gene injection. Locked in, shut down, alone in homes, The elderly
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Featured Poetry Society Tech Terrorism

Headless Hounds

Caitlin Johnstone0
Poetry from Caitlin Johnstone. From now on when they talk about "setting the dogs on you", it will have a whole new meaning. They do not make good pets either [Tony Broomfield Senior Editor Dangerous Globe]     Headless Hounds Headless hounds from Boston Dynamics. Headless hounds from Raytheon. Headless hounds in our nightmares huddled shivering under US flags beneath a night sky whose stars were replaced by satellites and
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Featured Environment Poetry

Apocalypto (Poem from Junkie Spirit Collection)

Robert DiBlasio0
Apocalypto Currency in crypto Any day the world will break apart You won't be saved by a liberals bleeding heart. No solution from the fools on the hill Mental anguish, can't be cured by a magic pill. Environmental catastrophe, It's seems big brother's always after me. Could it be true or just another conspiracy? Every word I say they're really hearing me What's in store for 2022? More strife and
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Question-Time
Featured Poetry Politics

Question Time

Mike Bell0
Heating the piled politics to a thick lathered buzz - Question Time's audience is a scream-streamed TX Almost over directed for a hyped-up reception - Our screens are re-tuned to TV's deception Below the radar into our licensed homes - finding the softest - in our sofa-slumped zones - Some people will toss their floating votes - they'll re-tune held views via the set-top box to long-lost frequencies of old-school
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No_Confidence
Poetry Culture Politics

No Confidence

Mike Bell1
The Mother of Parliaments emits a low groan - her confidence shot - as our distrust grows We smell the foul essence worn by the rich - it's the stench of the moneyed on the front bench The PM frowns as her voice thins and strains - repeating her mantras - again and again The deceits are disclosed in emotional stories of neglect and fear under the Tories those perfidious
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Echo-Chambers
Poetry Politics

Echo Chambers

Mike Bell0
It’s too easy to hate, to say with screams, to find alt-solutions in final extremes, your volume racked up In your echo chamber, Knowing your hatred Reverbs beyond there; Too may such rooms, with men pushing in these are the places where the end begins.
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