My Expectoration

 

They criticize the people

Who paint their

Hair odd colors,

Then make their faces match,

Yet they paint the sky

With the smoke from

Their destructive weapons,

And say that we are

The ones ruining art

Whilst they choke

The artists with their

Acrid fumes, a mix

Of the poison from

Within their bitter factories

And the burning flesh

Of the people they

Kill without a thought.

 

They tell us that we

Are the ones who are

Apathetic, but we merely

Choose to fight with

Words rather than with

Bloody fists and

Brutal guns and

Steely knives because

We believe that

Hurting someone to

Help ourselves

Is not the way to

Get what we want.

 

They say that our

Music is merely noise,

Yet the sounds they

Surround themselves with

Are the voices of

The dying, crying out

For mercy and pity;

The shrieking of scared

Children, ignored in the

Night; the racket of the

Guns, firing upon the

Faces of fellow humans.

 

So who are the ones

Who truly have no taste:

Those who pierce their

Skin with beauty

And dye their hair

With radiance,

Or those who pierce

The night with the

Screams of the innocent

And dye the earth

With the blood

Of the pure?

 

Reviews

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Wow, I am truely amazed! This is the first poem I read from you, and from what I just finished: I want to read more!
I honestly can tell you that anyone who reads this piece will relate to your every word. You have images, and with you language, the pictures sit in front of us, waiting to be seen and recognised for their beauty (though most of what was here wasn't exactly something you want to see)! I truely admire your style, a fast-paced, yet easy-to-understand format.
As far the content goes, I have to agree on everything you said. People like you inspire me--give me the strength to stand for the right. Who is there to blame: them, not us. This really opened my eyes to just how wrong people are when they stereotype others (me): the way they dress, the way they express themselves. Then, they never question in THEY are...
The way I read it, at loud, and with much emotion, this poem turns to be more powerful than it seem. keep this in mind: the delivery is just as important as the actual piece!

Great write, hope to read more!

[bluessadmood]

oh dear all you say is right ,what is painting a hair or a face or anything to add beauty to face or some music ,high and loud what is it compared to the sound of fire and gun shooting to kill ,breaking the silence of day and night,painting earth with red fresh blood still hot run like rivers from bodies of some innocent people who knows nothing of whats going on,oh yes they see everything evil in small silly things but they ignore the killing in masses of fellow human ,no they say thats just fair war to restore order to a troubled war,who will account for the killings of masses of young women and children,no thats not a sin,oh what a state of affairs of affairs do we have here,this world has gone shameless and nothing we can do ...

[Thomas James Martin]

Powerful and very true! I seem to remember hearing some similar stuff when I was a young man. Society keeps on beating the drums of war and blaming the young for looking to their own culture.
Tom

[Andromeda]

wow. intense and thought-provoking. but all of your stuff is hahah. fantastic job!

[Kena Dawn Augustine]

that is intense, and yes, i always enjoy your poems. the way you wrote it, and broke up the sections made it easy to read, it flowed. and the imagrey you painted in my mind was like watching an episode of CNN, and I saw EVERYTHING you wrote about. above average poem.

[KEi]

Ooooh. I've never really been one for poetry, but I like your style.

:)

I shall certainly, certainly be checking your other stuff out soon.

[Christopher 'Windstorm'..]

The Earth Revenge
By Windstorm Kells �2004

Unrelenting, unrecognizable penetrating gloom
Desperation stagnating beauties bloom
Every word spoken of hasty destruction
Death leering around every corner, frustration
Raping her savagely leaves only scares
Her beauties ripped and pour into jars

Revenge served with a side order of death
Cancer parching her breath
Cold rain melting her warm passion
Trash clogging her inspiration
Our Great Mother seethes with anger
Sands of time will unleash I'll wager

Repulsion of time will see
Mark the signs I ask thee
Take time to bless and clean the ground
Pick up the trash and look around
If you don't then beware
For she'll destroy our world and you can only stare

this is what will happen, but you can see that by the way she is reacting now.