People Ain’t No Good

 

 

People Ain’t No Good

 

We don’t need humans

Look at us, standing tall and proud

Why do you pollute our sky?

Why do you stain our land?

 

We don’t need human’s

Look at us. walk and fly

Why do you catch and cage us?

Why do you shoot us and make our babies cry?

 

We don’t need human’s

Look at us, swim and dive

We don’t need human’s

Look at us, eye to eye, and don’t lie

Why do you poison our earth’s waters?

Why are you committing suicide?

 

Ivor Steven (c)  Dec 2019

A Different Beat

Hello dear readers, again I’ve been browsing through some of my older poems, that have stashed away, and not been published by me/nor posted here on WordPress. And here’s another one of these personal love poems, from a time, when I had new lady in my life. I thought maybe it’s about time I presented these pieces from my archives. The relationship finished four years ago, so I thought that enough time has lapsed, for me to now show you, another side/story of my life……

A Different Beat

 

They say, “love makes the world go around”

I think my, “loving world” has just been re-found

My life is madly spinning like a colourful top

Whirling at a humming speed, unable to stop

 

My once lonely heart, is pounding a different beat

Throbbing from inside my chest, to the soles of my feet

This surprising emotion of sharing all my deepest love

Could have been ordained by my angel, there high above

 

Ivor Steven (c)  October 2019

I Shower You All, A Thousand Kisses Deep

Family, friends and followers

Lend me yours ears

I’ve only been blogging

Not even two years

A medium I did not understand

A venue way exceeding my expectations

A happening beyond my imagination

A journey I lovingly shared

I have enjoyed every unsteady step

What else can I say

I shower you all, “A Thousand Kisses Deep”

And my Nautilus is awash with likes

Fifty Thousand Leagues (likes) Under The Sea

In my ocean full of pleasure and love

I Thank you all

I am not drowning, but resurrected

 

 

 

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

Feeding Them Up On Bullets Instead

I wrote this poem last night, when I woke up at 1.30am. The featured image above, is looking up at the Geelong hills north of the town, they are called the “You Yangs”. I suppose my poem below is about, how our politicians, should look up , to see what’s coming down on their heads. This post is for the Weekly Prompt, Photo Challenge: Up  <<Click on, to view The Weekly Prompt site…..

Feeding Them Up On Bullets Instead

 

How hard must we hit the nail

On their heads

Before the white house wooden hearts

Finally count the living-dead

 

How hard does the rain have to fall

On their heads

Before the farmer’s empty buckets

Only fill via tears from the living-dead

 

How hard shall the sunshine burn

On their heads

Before the number of extinct birds

Light-up the dark gap between government heads

 

How hard do crumbling icebergs break

On their heads

Before both polar ice-caps melt

Flooding our storage silos and sheds

 

The answer my friends, rests

On their heads

Before all the starving arise from earthen beds

Crying out, stop feeding us up on bullets instead

 

Words, Between the Lines Of Age . Neil Young.  Lyrics

Someone and someone were down by the pond
Looking for something to plant in the lawn.
Out in the fields they were turning the soil
I’m sitting here hoping this water will boil
When I look through the windows and out on the road
They’re bringing me presents and saying hello.

Singing words, words between the lines of age.
Words, words between the lines of age.
If I was a junk-man selling you cars,
Washing your windows and shining your stars,
Thinking your mind was my own in a dream
What would you wonder and how would it seem?
Living in castles a bit at a time
The king started laughing and talking in rhyme.

Singing words, words between the lines of age.
Words, words between the lines of age.

Ivor Steven (c)  2019

Heavy And Hollow, The Whitehouse Door

I’m too tired to continue

Carrying this Olympus torch

The flame is not staying alight

Under my sheltering porch

All I want to do

Is watch the birds

And selfishly forget

The hungry and dying herds

My bell has become too hollow

To ring against the war

Too heavy to lift

High above the floor

Too wide to pass

Through the Whitehouse door

Too noisy to tell

Humanity the real score

Soon we’ll all board the Ark

Row away from our shores

Fly our rescue flag aft

Explore the sky with Thor

Listen to the heavens

Hear the peace-bells last encore

Proudly ring the bells that still can ring

Chiming so loud, no-one can ignore

Ivor Steven (c) 2019

Silent Sky

I am also posting this poem “Silent Sky,” on “Go Dog Go Café” via the fantastic idea of “Promote Yourself Monday”.. << Click here

My morning sky is silent

An empty clear blue vent

A vast quietness

Cloudless and soundless

The world has turned mute

We cannot hear

The whales crying

We no longer see

The birds flying

We now refuse to speak

Words of peace, they’re slowly dying

My morning sky has no sun

Spent gold, overused, and undone

A grey dullness

Viewless, a hollow darkness

The world has lost sight

We no longer see

Industrious bees

We cannot hear

The animals fear

We now deny the people’s voice

Words of peace, our children’s choice

Ivor Steven (c) 2019

A White Wall, Whiter Than White

 

I’m lying here in my white-walled bedroom

My body’s been feeling white-hot

The white ceiling fan is cooling me down

Laying under only white sheets

Covering my white skin

This is not the White House

I don’t lie that much

I’ve not white false hair

So my white halo stays on

Without looking like a silly clown

 

Outside, my great side wall is white

The back courtyard is safe and secure

No non-whites can’t get in or out

Unless they desperately needed to

The great backyard wall

May be easily scaled

With a sturdy white ladder

I’m trumped, here in Australia

Walls don’t even keep out the flies

 

I’ve been reading my history books

The white walls built in the past

They have never lasted

Over they climbed

Or under they crawled

The walls were eaten by dust mites

Resilient as a feather duster

And pulled down by liberators, in disdain and shame

 

Ivor Steve (c)  2019