Oh rise above the raindrops
that fall upon oil stained streets,
above the half alive spectacle of political fretfulness
that causes border states to be born.
Rise above the prostitute of international banks,
rise above the jester whose only prop
is a money ladder.
Rise above the marketplace
where we barter our blood and spiritual sweat
for a few morsels of nourishment.
Rise above the non-dawn of another bleak morning
and remember that you carry a flame of deliverance
within you.
Rise above the pre-historic religiosity
that pretends to be the great liberator,
rise above the terraces of the damned.
Rise above the sirens, the Third World hovels,
the dichotomy of an unbalanced humanity.
Rise above the governors who rule with a trembling hand,
above the practitioners of racism
enslaved with a godless anger,
above the clergymen of calamity,
above the mechanical rapist who penetrates
the divine oracle of the Earth in an attempt
to leave it mute and fruitless.
Rise above the decadent drivel of the mass media,
above the telegraph wire of whimsical wistfulness,
above the movie house that is terrified to portray
the simplest of truths.
Rise above sorrow born from a womb
of psychological disorder,
rise above the anxious caress of motherhood
watching children slowly succumbing
to the thralls of starvation.
Rise above the aching bombastic bellowing,
above the un-nirvanic chaos,
above the biological war perpetuated by sex organs,
above the harrowing hallucination
of a demonic presence who snickers
behind it’s mask all torn and stained
with innocent blood.
Rise above the landscape where there is no colour
because the light cannot penetrate through
the dark malaise of industrialization.
Rise above the numerical equation
that tries to catagorize,
rise above the genocide perpetuated in Peru,
in Afghanistan and in Tibet.
Rise above the avalanche of debris
strewn across the planet,
rise above the oratory that screams
from the mouths of the unwise and the insane
who pollute the soul with inconsequential rhetoric.
Rise above the barricades
built by the manipulators of false enterprise,
rise above the slogan slinging silhouettes
of lifelessness who smother the horizon
with propaganda culled inside a boardroom
of innuendo.
Rise above the waterfall of acid rain
that murders the flowers in the garden,
rise above the decaying scent of trees
cut down for no particular purpose.
Rise above the frog, born without eyes,
as he desperately tries to look up at the moon,
rise above the leaders of the world
who were also born without eyes
and then rise above your self
and know that you are not alone
and that there is much more to perceive
in the mysterious conundrum
that is your life.
A contest entry
- Tell me why by astralshepherd.
450 points, ended October 16, 2007, 37 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Suprise me.. by PoeticallyTintedSml.
615 points, ended November 24, 2007, 29 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Speak out! by Luna Argintie.
930 points, ended September 9, 2008, 205 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Thank you so much for entering the contest, I appreciate your effort. What you have here is a majestic vision, I think, one that shows the great ability this writer has as I spent many long hours digesting this poem line by line. Flow is excellent as is the vocabulary – word choice and a magnificent sense of presence as I reflect on all that has been writeen. There are too many wonderful images to enumerate, suffice it to say, this is a powerful poem one that borders on the prophetic. Blessings and best wishes, ~richard
1) Content 8.5
2) Originality 9
3) Flow 9
4) Word choice (vocabulary and/or rhyme) - 10
5) Imagery 9.5
6) Grammar 9.0
7) Form 9
8) Spelling 8.5
( catagorize should be categorize )
9) Emotional Impact 8.5
10) Rumination factor (how well does the poem make me ponder) 9.5
.
astralshepherd’s completely subjective total score = 90.5
.
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..Oh Marc...I feel the awakening of the third eye...seeing beyond the 'debris' and finding that 'flame of deliverance' beyond myself...such power here...in your 'foolishness of words', as you once put it...(warm smile)...no, not foolish at all...very enlightened...Peace, Rhonda
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I am sitting here crying you know how to put the rape of everything into words Lute said to invite you I had no idea you were some one who lived it. Is this a repetition the world destroyed to rise up and repeat this all again? The south is so hot right now my beautiful horses are foundering from heat. Children and the elderly can not breathe the air. houses are where farms were just a few years ago. NC will never recover from over crowding and weather changes. my beautiful mountains are taken over and exploited the oceans are reacting trying to fight back to the pollution of hog waste my NC is gone I can not revive her. Every where I go I see a wallmarts I wonder if Sam Walton is in any kind of hell.
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In reference to the fundamental message, this reminds me a little of Max Ehrmann's 'Desiderata', or Allen Ginsberg's 'America'. It's dramatic, didactic, insightful and undoubtedly compelling. It communicates effectively (to me on personal level as reader), partly because I love poems filled with gritty realism,
that liberate on a cerebral level and leave you with much to consider and contemplate. You have incorporated some powerful and evocative images, and it's a poem I'd love to hear read out loud for sheer emotional response (from the audience)! A very inspirational write :-)
Sonia
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Marc this deserves more than the 3 paltry stars i am allowed to give here, Bravo Marc, this piece was awesome!!!!!! stellar in every line every stanza, One of your best i think so far
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