Archive for the ‘Social/Society Poetry’ Category

A Motion Cycle’s The Resolution. The order in which the poems should be read. These poems will appear in a poetry e-book I’m writing titled “Fishing for Sirens”.

The Fisherman
The Resolution
The Divine
The Antagonistic
The Needy
Fated for Catastrophe
The Veil
The Logical Sense of the Granted
The Pretender
The Wounded
Aphorismos
Finding Work in Idle Hands
The Executioner
Agean Chain
The Invisible
Elysium

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Potential Ryan Lyandree Poem. Still not sure.

Causality

So the bill has been signed
It’s the law, and you have to abide to it
Either you like or not
It is necessary for those who watch over majorities’ well-being
But when you’re a minnow
In this shark infested pool
Well, you better swallow up your pride and feed off your saliva.

This is necessary
For the sake our economy
Dispose of a few unknown second hand creatures
Off to the grinder, more grub for the gluttons.

Endearing offer, indeed…
Just a causal casualty…

No need to be concerned
We will rise up against, down on the streets
Signs and gasmasks at hand
Until another fire signal starts, shifts our attention from the objective
The news will all cover it
This has lost priority
Above all, to everyone, the new diversion plan’s working perfectly.

Such lack of majesty
Always under veil
Million dollar campaign for the malnourished crowd
Makes us shed off our eyes, but not off our wallets.

Profound and prolific, yes sir…
Just a casual casualty…

The woke-up-twenty-second-reflection-army is not doing much
As they eat of their caviar and drink on their champagne.

Show of hands if you agree
Down with all of this politically correct bullshit
Nobody wishes to die of cold or starvation
Everyone prays to rise above.

No fingers to point at
No one to blame at all
It’s just necessary evil
Simply collateral damage…

Just a causal casualty…

Another poem/song by “Ryan Lyandree”

The Wounded

Obsessed
Obsessed with it all
With the destruction
And the restoration.

Fixated my eyes and my thoughts
And my heart on the malice
And the harmony and the grudge
And the ever lack of redemption
Through the darkness
Through the hollow, the gap
The cul-de-sac
All the way back to the beginning.

Questioning my own reasoning
My endless naivetés
The absorption of my compassion
The extinction of my own self.

And through the wounded
I find myself
I find the hatred for myself
I find the stupidity, and simplicity
Of how a human being
Sabotages itself
Dismantles itself
And tries to redeem itself
By giving the love
That it doesn’t feel for itself
To others
And all this
Till the point it cannot no longer
Forgive itself
No matter what.

Not at all
Not one bit
Over and over again
The guilt takes over.

Obsessed
Obsessed with it all
With the oblivion
And the instauration.

Fixated my eyes and my thoughts
And my heart on the umbrage
And the tranquility and the ire
And the ever lack of atonement
Through the shadows
Through the idle, the void
The dead end
All the way back to the beginning.

And through the wounded
I’ve found myself
I find the love for myself
I find the stupidity, and simplicity
Of being a human being.

Another one under the alias “Ryan Lyandree”

The Executioner

Timber and down it goes
“Boom!” goes the nuclear bomb
The burning sensation in our flesh
That sticky compound on our skin

Just right where we once stood
Ashes to ashes, back to the dirt
Funny how little we understood
The imminent crisis… as to avert.

Is this the end of the countdown?
That we’ve been calling on for millenniums?
What fortune tellers and divine revelators
Warned us of in books, Hollywood movies and factions?

We’ve had eternity to reflect
The Executioner is up to do his job
“Hosanna” the crowd vociferates
A turnaround for those unaware.

Timber and down it goes
“Boom!” goes the nuclear bomb
The burning sensation in your stomach
That dawning incision on your soul.

Just right where we once stood
Eye for an eye, as only to hurt
Funny how little we understood
Our innate position… as to revert.

Is this the end always foretold?
That we’ve all known now for millenniums?
What fortune tellers and divine revelators
Have warned us in books, Hollywood movies and factions?

We’ve had infinity to reflect
The Executioner is up to do his job
“Hosanna” the crowd vociferates
A turnabout for those unaware.

Fire… water…
Sickness… loss
We’ve seen this before
But never like this.

Fire… water
Illness… death
We’ve seen this all of our lives
But this overruns everything.

We’ve had forever to reflect
The Executioner is up to do his job
“Hosanna” the crowd vociferates
About-face for those unaware.

Mercy!
Mercy for those who still lie under
Those who crawl
Even those who tried to bruise my heel.

The Needy

Nobody listens to the desperate calls of the lost
Nobody notices the pleading shouts of the needy
Within an alternate breadth, where individuals turn insignificant
The blood on our hands doesn’t appear bestowed by grace but rather seems spilled deliberately.

Nobody cares about the true identity of the host
Everyone seems to care about the spot that’s greedy
Behind these mirrored walls, where self-gratification’s glorified
The bones in our closets don’t appear to ask for our better nature but comprise our own egocentricity.

Aloof in your back padding, all this time you’ve thought you were the very best
Full of it, truly, not your fault, not in its entirety, for years this lie you’ve been told
‘Cause truth upfront, you’re ungenerous, uncongenial, when it comes to the guest
Yes, you’re tightfisted and vainglorious, unwelcoming to those waiting out in the cold.

New poem by ‘Ryan Lyandree’

Fated For Catastrophe

The king is at its castle
Another dumb puppet chosen by dynasty
Let’s crown this asshole
Let’s embrace our own empirical hypocrisy.

Here comes his majesty
The trumpets announce his entrance here
In with the “new” ministry
The surface of this place is flat in this sphere.

And so it’s time to choose sides
It’s time to stay closed, or open out wide
For larva are accumulating in our mouths
What about the dear old worms when everything goes south?

The lord is at its temple
Praise the pagan figures built by mortal men
Darkness is that simple
It enters though the gaping holes of human sin.

And so it’s time to choose gods
It’s time to stay close, or to let go
For dust has been gathering in our hearts
What about the dear agony that comes along with the scars?

And so it’s time to push open that third eye
‘Cause how obvious can it be to read between the lines?
It’s time to swallow the truth and savor the lies
How oblivious can we be about a balance that declines?

Choose now to live or to die
Choose now to give up or to stay alive
For our king has spewed “off with their heads”
And I think he’s speaking about the living rather than the dead.

The Math
(Written on June 5, 2016)

So the sky fell into the dark days
So the road turned into a swerve way
And the mirage of the divine
Turned your beverage back from wine.

Such a perfect picture of disenchantment
When the wolves hide within the sheep
And though now you’re blinded by this excitement
Pray to God this doesn’t drag you in too deep.

If the result doesn’t add up with the numbers
There’s something certainly wrong with the formula
When fire weeps sound like roaring thunder
Then the conic section is an ellipse instead of a hyperbola.

So it was written a long time ago
But we were encouraged to believe so
When the devil talks like a Deity
We tend to turn our faith into absurdity.

Such a deceptive way to be captured
When our wounds become compulsion
And though then we waited on for the rapture
We decided that this was true absolution.

If the result doesn’t add up with the numbers
There’s something certainly wrong with the formula
When fire weeps sound like roaring thunder
Then the conic section is an ellipse instead of a hyperbola.

I’ve heard the voice of the devil
And he sings like the sweetest thing
I’ve seen the deep roots of evil
And they look like the most heavenly beings.

So when the waters rise soon to drown
We still will never learn the line needed to be drawn
For the greatest fear’s being taken for granted
But we again ignored it for the sake of feeling wanted.