Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2017 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   249868 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry


Read Poetry
Rage Against This Machine

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

Oh, Now, The Pink Moon

And Even Stars Die

You Are Not My Audience, I Just Borrowed You For Awhile

why not ask the cat?

Odd Thoughts and Juxtapositions

Some Meaningful Proof For A Hopeful Dreamer's Eyes


If This Is Any Art For Which You Care


Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

So You Do (May 10, 2010 written for June 1987)

the life and times of Medusa

I Talk To A Machine In My Darkness

A Man Called Tsuris

Tuesday afternoon in the jewelry box

All Beings Considered


Woman Of A Certain Age

Better Than A Cyanide Capsule

The Life of Tigger

I Feel Fine(r)

Like A Snow-globe

Mrs. Stine, Isn't It Time?

So Much Beauty

Max on the max

Certain Succulent Pieces Of Time

What Is This Death? ( As I Grow Older And Nearer To It)

Great Big Waterproof World

un-Completion (I Prefer It)

More Poetry >>


  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook



Football, all organized sports,
Hollywood and the movies
are mere distractions to keep our minds off
of the truer realities.

How dangerous of me, a singular insignificant citizen,
to write more than a few lines of protest
from her home computer, when it's rumored that
they can listen in, or monitor all of my/our
daily trivialities.

I'm just one who writes.
I'm just the hands and fingers of the meek.
But I write of more than mere distraction.
I have facts, new information. Perhaps it may rise above
the other din that's spoken and begin like a mouse
to squeal and squeak.

Here's just a few small items to get your gears churning.
Just some thoughts to agitate them who've been
permanently placed from out their seats.
I'll cherry-pick somewhat as they do...
you be the judge, decide exactly
or in-exactly  what you believe.

Not too many decades ago in a South American country
some protesters demonstrated against the government.
They were arrested, tortured, drugged.
Then received a one-way ticket on an airplane,
from which they were thrown into the sea,
weighted human pterodactyls, foot-bound,
plunging towards earth on broken wings
to their extinction.

No evidence. No trial. No justice.
No trace.  Disappeared.
Disappeared? Now contrast and compare rendition.
Getting uncomfortable?

Recently an Expert Scientist said I have proof.
Special cameras that show the moon is colored and
the colors are like Terra, our Earth, in vivid blues and greens.
He had special knowledge that wasn't meant to be shared with
the populace. It was a product meant to be disseminated, consumed
shared by only the elite.

" Look," interjected the Expert,
"You don't believe me? Oh how they surely know!"
 Whereupon he showed photographs of prominent Senators
with water skis on their feet on a lake...
"They are water-skiing," He exclaimed,
not smiling, "Not here, but on the moon!"
Not long after, the Scientific Expert disappeared,
and with him any further knowledge.
All too soon, again,
we sat gaping at the World Series
or was it the Super Bowl?

Recently, a bright young man was at the airport
on one of his regular business trips.
He noticed there was a sign above a red button...
" If you wish to forgo the scanners, then,
simply press RED button."

He decided to opt out.
He questioned, unlike the lines of travelers
shuffling on through.
He decide to opt-out of being
irradiated by the x-ray,
so he pushed the red button and eased on through.
Soon he was surrounded by airport security,
who wanted detailed exacting explanations.
And so, he gave his answer:
 "I'm merely exercising my right
to opt out of the potential cancer.
It says right there, in big bold letters,
on that sign, its my choice,
my choice to protect myself,
my choice to choose."

The airport security officials were dumb-founded.
Perhaps even, a bit affronted and afraid.
The bright young man made a blip on the evening news.
He did not disappear. He did not go quietly.

More recently he spoke once again
 on late night radio.
"Be more aware," he said "of what they're doing."
"What they're saying to you."
" Read, listen, be informed."
"Don't simply go along to get along."
"We have our rights, we are individuals who can assert
our power through our choices, voices and actions."

Do not disappear, I thought. Your voice is strong.

Copyright Melissa A Howells September 18 2012 All Rights Are Reserved By This Author
Melissa/Meloo, straight from her Tilt-a-World.  

A fine teacher of mine once said all good writing has certain elements. when
writing, the writer is not obligated to fully reveal himself or his opinions
by writing what is non-fiction. You decide. What is the truth. What is not.

Vote for this poem

Please Comment On This Poem


 Email Address


Vote for this poem