Welcome to Day 16 of the 2012 April Write – the Poets Jubilee Olympiad.
The other night I had a dream, and this is where the inspiration for today’s title came from.
Visit the facebook group later on, to see what I wrote, as I don’t want to influence what you come up with next.
So what ever this phrase means to you…. Your topic and title for Day 16 is: “Sound Off”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8PQjYnQ6GOs
Angee
xoxo
The April Write 
Justice Clarke11:24pm Apr 15
Barnacles on my Pen by Flowetic Justice
They came to him with their eyes open
in the guise of friends
concealing the footprint left by the shoe of the plunderer
spotters all
revealed as leaches on the poets wall
proclaiming tales of agony and pain
for all who would stand and listen
hear them now
false victims to the charade
but the poet was swayed and was not afraid
he came with arms open as always
for he too came from a place of hurt
where the tears fell fresh and the river of sorrow boiled hot
but these pretenders suffered not
they just came to read what the poet bled
cared not for the heart and soul of the man
only of what he wrote and what he said
imitation is not the fairest form of flattery
it is the weak minded the talent seeking
who have no spark in their own battery
and their mental cells have died long ago
strangled in the noose of fleeing fleeting thought
so they ride the cuff of the ones who walk above them
vacationers of the empty pages
seeking to take from those who have truly been touched
to catch what falls to re invent the former
and the mark of the thief still taps them all the while
swimming in the ink of the poet
as his ship cleaves its way through the waters of conception
as if they were here without detection
some cannot even see
that their creations are but mere shallow copies
of the words they could not create on their own
from his poetic collections
to his daily status
they steal slivers of his freshly baked pie
feeding on what has been taken
bitten
smitten
and re written
even those who have had their own single feminine thoughts
sicken the writer to his core
for they show no appreciation
no concern for what he feels
only for what they attempt to steal
so many hands grabbing for his earthly inventions
attempting to cease the revolutions
of his daily worldly intentions
but believe in the poet
for he shall strip away your guise before the reading eyes
and leave you bare as what you are
parasites of the write
trembling shivering and quivering raw
for you have no tile of you own
no seeking mind to touch the stars
no soul to fill with anticipation
no ears that hear the silent rods of dawn take form
just another faker
wishing they could don the hat of the real baker
but his mind is too deep
his shoulders too broad
and the recipes of his mind far beyond their reach
the time for tolerance is done
the poet will and must walk alone
no more literary closure for the posers
for they shall and will be destroyed
and the wrath of the poet has never been more real
more earnest and more true
he will crush those who seek to find fame from his flame
without him they would be nothing
wielding words with the weight of air
nothing to rise from the dream like smoothed cream
no talent to share no words to compose
just the fickle trickle
of the drops dripped from the withered rose
for your own ink is tainted with the ingredients of others
but I shake you from me
for you are no poets
no writers
and certainly no friends
for in the end all you ever were or ever will be
are barnacles on my pen
Thoughts of a Single Man 2012 tm
Justice Clarke11:37pm Apr 15
Poker Face by Flowetic Justice Clarke
In after thought I wonder just who you are
why you came to me as you did
under the guise of someone who had been hurt before
some one I could believe
its so sad to think that you were not as you seemed
the portraits of a nightmare
rather then the shadows of a dream
just who the hell do you think you are
some one on a pedestal shining bright like a shooting star
you are far from that
just another poser wearing the shelter of a liars hat
I must admit you got me good
for usually my defenses are up and I rely on my gut
and my senses are enough
but I allowed myself to let down my guard
trying to believe that people are not so empty
and the game of love not so hard
but you were the one
who knew how to play with knives and daggers
and attempted to leave me scarred
what is the point of the phone calls like we were heavy and hot
when you knew that it was just a matter of time
before they stopped
you see I am a decent man
I only talk to one woman at a time
but you never respected that
my character or my mind
but a piece like this will revel you as what you really are
nothing of value
like new paint on a middle aged car
and you will never get to far now
you will see others become un blind
as the poet comes to post her place
letting mankind beware
of your hollow poker face
There you were
spewing fantasies about us mingling between the sheets
like that would leave me vulnerable and weak
like you were something sheik
but you are nothing but a shaved female canine
whose greatest trick was to learn to walk on two feet
how sweet and innocent you tried to sound when you would call
preaching of past painful memories too hurtful to recall
but they are as empty as the shallow short comments
you left upon my wall
telling me how you were so hurt by other men
and you were used weaving lies of how you cried
when you were mistreated and abused
but that was just fiction
written for entertainment like a college thesis
so you are not laying in a bed of roses
just a woman wet in a sack of feces
some one like you does not deserve to be made love to
just skinned like the other vermin
I wouldn’t even ejaculate on you
just cover you in urine
I would never want any woman to be struck
but those like you who scratch the itch on the rash of betrayal
make my shoulder twitch
like I could slap the teeth from your lying mouth
and leave you like the slut you are
out in the club or giving free grinds and hugs
waiting to drop to your middle aged knees
for another velveteen rub
and now you are gone and all I can do is shrug
I hope the next person you play with
leaves you laying in the gutter where you belong
as a symbol for all women who like to do men wrong
so others will learn how to really see your kind
and note her traits
and never fall victim
to the empty poker face
You came into my life like a passing breeze
and went away with such ease
delusional you are
do you thick you are the only one
who came and posed falsely
attempting to deceive the single son
you really have some nerve
like you are the only woman out there
with breasts hips lips ad curves
pitching that curve ball like I could not see the swerve
what is it with some women
why is that all they are about
they just like to mess with the mind of a man
roll the dice and then cash out
or do you think you are desired by all because you skin is pale
while those average looks of yours fade
more every day as you reach for your coffin and it’s nails
think we as dark men
are foolish of heart men
never that
or was it just to get your self off
with some dirty naked and suggestive pictures
sent with the intent
to keep me from getting soft
sorry to say that you severely failed
like I would not know your favorite past time
is sending your pu**y through the mail
or so when the night when you were bored and alone
you could play between your filthy thighs
until you let out a filthy moan
you hand wet with your funky foam
you could never even understand me
your feeble brain could not truly comprehend what I think
and to believe I wrote a piece for you
and wasted my valuable ink
never again
and this last time will be the end
no more precious moments
handed out to charlatans and whores
undeserving of my pen
well the light of reality is hot
and shall set fire to you forked tongue
cleave the acid from the mouth
where those crooked words fell from
so you and the home you have is built
on a house of cards will fall
and then perhaps you will know the pain of real scars
rather than the stains of bathroom stalls in bars
and the fires of goodness will outline and roast her shape
and men will stand and cheer at the loss of another curr
disgusting and un trusting
demon spilled semen filled
filthy poker face
Thoughts of a Single Man 2012 tm
.
Zita Holbourne12:31am Apr 16
SOUND OFF
If you’re upset that your pay’s been frozen
Angry about your job being taken
SOUND OFF!
If the government’s stealing your pension
And money’s too tight to mention
SOUND OFF! SOUND OFF! SOUND OFF!
If you’ve had enough of service cuts
Disgusted by each door that shuts
SOUND OFF!
If you’re struggling to keep your head above water
Can’t afford the cost of studies for your son or daughter
SOUND OFF!
If you’ve been bullied into workfare enslavement
If you can’t even afford to pay your bills and rent
SOUND OFF!
If you’re suffering from poverty and deprivation
Experiencing bullying and discrimination
SOUND OFF!
If you’re stripped of human rights
Fed up and saddened by your plight
SOUND OFF!
Had enough of lying politicians
And leaders that abuse their position
SOUND OFF!
Feel you’re ignored and taken for granted
Feel forgotten and disregarded
SOUND OFF!
Feel you can’t cope with the attacks on you
Want to take action but don’t know what to do
SOUND OFF!
Sound off, join likeminded people
Know you’re not alone in the struggle
Recognise the strength of unity
Mobilise within your community
Organise a campaign to defend and fight
Rise up, resist and see the light
Don’t wait to be asked, take the lead
Demand don’t ask if you want to be freed
If you’ve reached the stage where you’ve had enough
SOUND OFF, SOUND OFF, SOUND OFF!
Zita Holbourne, copyright April 2012
“Sound Off”
The Sound Off is the call to arms I hear
The sound of marching means help is near
Sound Off, One, Two… Sound Off, Three, Four
The Sound off brings me images of war
Battles, fighting, death and more
Sound Off, One, Two… Sound Off, Three, Four
The Sound Off signifies families are split
Mothers from fathers, parents from kids
Sound Off, One, Two… Sound Off, Three, Four
The Sound Off still has other connotations
I can have my say, let my voice be heard in orations
Sound Off, One, Two… Sound Off, Three, Four
The time is now for a different kind of arms
Full of vocal intensity, I’ll be wielding wordy charms
Sound Off, One, Two… Sound Off, Three, Four
I’m tired of experiencing bad things that happen to me
So I’m going to DO something about it, make changes to be FREE!
Sound Off, One, Two… Sound Off, Three, Four
©16th April 2012 Angela Edgar All Rights Reserved
Bayley Marina
Are you ready to be counted?
Can you hear the charge’s call?
Will you be the one, who is ready stand for us all?
I am just one man
Yes I hear the call
I’m not affected, so I will let them brawl
And I am not the only man who can answer this call
Are you ready to be counted?
As fertile lands are laid to waste
As the people stave and the rich man fills his face
I’m just one man
And the problems are so far away
What people do they do? I mean, I have nothing to lose
Are you ready to be counted?
Do you hear the children’s cries?
Tears of pain, not joy, will you wipe their eyes?
Yes I hear their lament
They moans are part of life’s bigger game
But I have none to my name
But all the same, I know someone will ease their pain
Are you ready to be counted?
Do you hear the children dying?
Do you hear the mothers crying?
Yes I hear all of this,
But their problems are not part of my list
I need a new car, locks on my doors and to move far from this
Are you ready to be counted?
As other people walk by, with blinkers on their eyes
As the politician make plans, so full of lies
You are just one man, it true
But it doesn’t take long for one man to become two
And two become four
Or are you waiting for them to knock on your door.
(c)April 2012 Marina Bayley