A forgotten man

[deubel]

Here is a quick poem, written for Gongadze, a man seemingly forgotten in all the political mumbo jumbo that pervades for common sense and justice here in the Ukraine. May we remember.


A Fireside Chat

-- in memory of Georgy Gongadze

They killed him
again and again,
one stab, one kick, one grin
after another, after another, after another
while the darkness all together smothered
any heavy breathed fright
and nervous dogs whelped out of sight.

And I in shock
by the fire
in my more than human way
stood up to say;

" Stop! Isn't once enough?",
to which the brightest replied
(a grinning toddler at his side),
"For the dead yes, but for the living never!".

[Tentmaker]

The stinging bite of bitter sentiment,
Or a predilection for the coarse.


An opinion of emotional significance,
Only to those steeped in the nostalgia.


Ah! For the day of Romantic Idealism,
To sweep away the indistinguishable.


Tentmaker
Ever a goodly shelterer

[stardust]

ahhh,

Interesting bits of logical sentiment and good meaning words are always a welcome feast in the treasures of life.
Taste the food eaten and all it's flavor as to establish a pallet of good versus evil.
People do things in fear and haste that wash away the fears of days gone by but always they are packing the bitter truth of there deeds to themselves.
Killing is something that animals understand all too well and relish the fray. We being people on the other hand must be taught to be killers in many respects. I wonder which is worse the animal or the human?

[Tentmaker]

As the lean leech, its victim found, is pleased
To fix itself upon a part diseased
Till, its black hide distended with bad blood,
It drops to die of surfeit in the mud,
So the base sycophant with joy descries
His neighbor's weak spot and his mouth applies,
Gorges and prospers like the leech, although,
Unlike that reptile, he will not let go.
Gelasma, if it paid you to devote
Your talent to the service of a goat,
Showing by forceful logic that its beard
Is more than Aaron's fit to be revered;
If to the task of honoring its smell
Profit had prompted you, and love as well,
The world would benefit at last by you
And wealthy malefactors weep anew --
Your favor for a moment's space denied
And to the nobler object turned aside.
Is't not enough that thrifty millionaires
Who loot in freight and spoliate in fares,
Or, cursed with consciences that bid them fly
To safer villainies of darker dye,
Forswearing robbery and fain, instead,
To steal (they call it "cornering") our bread
May see you groveling their boots to lick
And begging for the favor of a kick?
Still must you follow to the bitter end
Your sycophantic disposition's trend,
And in your eagerness to please the rich
Hunt hungry sinners to their final ditch?
In Morgan's praise you smite the sounding wire,
And sing hosannas to great Havemeyher!
What's Satan done that him you should eschew?
He too is reeking rich -- deducting you. (AB: DD)


Tentmaker
Ever a goodly shelterer