Are You Ready?

chaotic

The ink in my pen is dammed for sure,
when inspiration no longer flows
and invading thoughts are not at all clear,
what light once beheld in darkness now folds.

Despair abounds amidst nightmares of pain.
The droughts of passions wreak only bitterness.
And the thoughts I had for a better world,
are never to be known in the face of such wickedness.

Fear what will come when the sun turns shy.
And the roses of the earth will blush no more.
Purity and faith have no place here,
as man never knew just what he killed for.

No help for a child who is born without chance
to survive in a world that’s been damned to hell.
The sins of man hath destroyed his home,
and the only sound is a tolling death knell.

Though we will regret what was torn asunder,
twill be too late to relieve our plight.
For the day of reckoning will soon be upon us,
and no path out of darkness will lead into light.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2014 Shelby I. Courtland

Are you ready for mass starvation? Are you ready for riots in the streets? Are you ready to join the homeless? Are you ready for what’s coming?

I have never been one to harbinger bad news on a global scale or pounce on any made-up omens of events yet to unfold, but I sense an approaching storm, an impending doom and although I was not one who went out and purchased duct tape when the Homeland Terrorize the U.S. Security Agency told us that those awful gummint sponsored terrorists were coming and to keep our battery operated portable radios on to receive the latest terror alert threat, that did not worry me. However, things just ain’t looking good, not at all. I have come to a point where I have just run clean out of hope and though I wrote on another post about the fact that my pen has run dry, it actually has. https://shelbycourtland.wordpress.com/2014/01/31/i-heave-a-sigh/

When a person who writes from the heart, feels a drying up of energy, there is something to that. I can honestly say that for the first time in my life, I feel that there is absolutely nothing more that I can say that I haven’t already said. I took a look back through my own archives and I’ve covered it all. I’ve written extensively on homelessness, on poverty, on injustice everywhere, on the plight of the indigenous peoples, on the plight of those who are locked-up in for profit prisons, I have penned poem after poem about the need for action as opposed to apathy and complacency. I have moaned and groaned and displayed anger and hopelessness and helplessness and frustration and I have come to the realization that I am drained and dust is thickly settling on my poet’s pen.

Another blogger who is a poet felt the same way and he pretty much let us know that he’s also drained. And I know exactly how he feels. He is another one who feels and feels deeply and he has put down, for the moment, his poet’s pen.

I take heed of this as there is not many who can feel and channel the energy or who can feel when that energy is gone; that which gives us hope and keeps us going. When it no longer flows like the river, we heave a sigh and we droop. I am drooping. I feel a drain, a tug downward, a diminishing of energy. Is it temporary, I don’t think so and I cannot force that which will not come. I don’t write just for the sake of writing. I write because I have something to say. If there is nothing coming from my center of energy, it is because something so profoundly depressing has taken root and has repressed the flow of positive energy and any need I had of holding on to hope and has therefore, drained my pen.

Call me a pessimist, but I call myself, a realist with eyes wide open!

I Heave A Sigh!

sigh

I heave a sigh for the hungry children,
who will go without a meal tonight.
I heave a sigh for the sick, old man,
who’ll be dead before morning’s light.

I heave a sigh for those who are jobless.
And for the ones who are out on the street.
I heave a sigh for those who are in cages
and for whom the word freedom, is obsolete.

I heave a sigh for a world in distress
because the needs of the many aren’t met.
I heave a sigh for the broken and forgotten
and for the homeless Vietnam vet.

I heave a sigh because my pen runs dry.
My voice is silenced by a deafening snore.
I heave a sigh because I don’t understand
why we cannot help the weak and the poor.

…..I heave a sigh!!!

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
© 2014 Shelby I. Courtland

Food stamps have been cut AGAIN! The hunger problem in America is about to get even worse as food shelves are already stretched. The programs that help those in need, including children, are being gutted every time there is a new budget deal struck between America’s two sets of thugs, the DemocRATS and the ReTHUGniCONS! The military budget is more important because killing will always remain America’s top priority. And for those who are caught up in a never ending struggle for survival amidst all the lavishness and decadence displayed by the ‘powerful’, who grin at your plight and spit in your face, I heave a sigh and my pen is drained from bemoaning your fate!

A World Of Debt

ball-and-chain 2

 

I have turned purple and I have turned blue.

And still, I cannot get through to you.

What more is left for me to say?

Nothing changes from day to day.

 

The time for action will pass us by.

I wring my hands but my eyes are dry.

Face set in stone, teeth are clenched.

Throat muscles tight; nostrils are pinched.

 

For the day of reckoning, I am prepared.

With nothing to lose; why should I be scared?

Our freedoms are gone and justice is dead.

Liberty resides in a padlocked shed.

 

Take my hand; do not let it go.

Together we stand against our foe.

We will not lean and we will not fall.

We have heard the cry; we must heed the call.

 

How did we get so much in debt?

Those who would own us will soon collect.

Do you really want to become their slave?

Whose debt has a banker ever forgave?

 

Written by,

Shelby I. Courtland

© 2013 Shelby I. Courtland

 

 

 

Join The Movement!

globalization

When the parasites have sucked us dry and evil rules the day,

we’ll turn upon each other as the ‘Hunger Games’, we’ll play.

One by one, we’ll be picked off; the lords will slap their thigh.

The ruling class will drool as they watch the peasants die.

We need no drummer’s beat, this is no marching band.

No dress rehearsal needed, the final act is planned.

Before the day is done, will our numbers shrink or gain?

Or will the movement grow just like a spreading stain?

Fear is not our friend, it’s the enemy don’t you see?

They want us to give up, and never to be free.

Some have lost it all, they’re hollow-eyed and gaunt.

Others lie in graves; their spirit’s on the haunt.

Need we all succumb to the lords’ decree for us?

When they throw a hungry victim underneath another bus.

The battle will be long and there is no way to know

if we will be victorious in vanquishing our foe.

There soon will be no option as it all comes to a head.

Either we engage the enemy or we will join the dead.

Written by,

Shelby I. Courtland

© 2013 Shelby I. Courtland