September 17, 2013

  • ElectricPoetry: Why Why Why

    Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
    9/17/13 6:00 am pdt

    When faced with the question of why
    I am prompted to answer why not?
    We're naive until we're enlightened
    Possibility is all that we've got

    I am personal lonesome but willing
    To talk and to reason without quarrel
    But I'm old, and forgotten, nattering
    Hiding nuts, a grey garrulous squirrel

    I ponder humanity's questions
    And I suffer for humanity's fate
    Have the wheels of questioning stopped?
    Sometimes I think it's too late

    Why not halt before rash actions harm us?
    Why not reason instead of rampage?
    Why not seek to get help cause it's out here?
    E'en as it seems we're in a dark age

    It's the young who are killing their elders
    It's the young who don't know what to do
    Will I hide in my tree with my nut hordes?
    Until I'm felled by projectiles too?

    There are millions of options and answers
    But why won't the troubled listen?
    Why not discussion instead of destruction
    As fresh blood seems always to glisten?

    When faced with the question of why
    I am prompted to answer why not?
    I shed tears for humanity yet again and again
    But those tears are not all that I've got

    Please hear me, oh troublesome youth
    Please listen to jabbered discourse
    I may be old and in the way
    But perhaps long ago I followed your course

    I've been angry and pushed to the limit
    I have thought about ending this life
    Enlightenment tells me that's just wrong
    Why not pause before beginning this strife?

    It's never too late until it is, friends
    Cries the squirrel from up in his tree
    I pray it's not too late for humanity
    I hope it's not too late for you or for me.


    "War Time All The Time"
    Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
    11/6/09 9:38a.m. pst

    What are we always fighting for?
    Why do we have to go to war?

    If wishes were horses, then soldiers would ride
    shedding their helmets, no arms by their side

    The brave join to guard us, to stand tall and proud
    They don’t want to harm, but to shout freedom loud

    Why can’t discussion replace fighting words
    Why can’t our leaders keep watch o’er their herds
    What are we always fighting for?
    Why do we have to go to war?

    If soldiers weren’t needed, then peace would reign nigh
    We’d all love our brethren, and no one would die

    The senseless is useless always for all time
    People are angry, this is such a crime

    Why can’t we tolerate those who don’t agree
    What does this say about us throughout history?
    What are we always fighting for?
    Why do we have to go to war?

    If war were abolished by worldwide decree
    Then innocent people like you and like me

    would not need to ask questions, about death and life
    and suddenly hope would replace deadly strife

    Why can’t we love instead of hate
    But maybe this just isn’t humankind’s fate
    What are we always fighting for?
    Why do we have to go to war?



    VIII “Social Networking Menace”
    (part of the Cycle of Abuse)
    Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
    10/05/09 6:15 a.m. pdt

    Only fourteen
    and frightened constantly
    Father left when he was seven
    Mother drinks, and seldom comes home
    Sis and bro are little, and get in the way
    Sitter is no help, always texting
    Only fourteen
    and upset at the world

    Video world awaits after school
    (on those days when he attends)
    He’s king of the old PS2
    Grand Theft Auto, Final Fantasy, Ultimate Ninja, Mortal Kombat
    Lost in places where he kills his fright
    Where upsetting images
    replace upsetting times

    Mother is yelling about something
    Always yelling, or passed out
    in front of the TV
    The video screen in his room is blank
    The PS2 is old stuff
    He’s bored, and mad, and pissed off
    Sis and bro are making noise
    Mother is yelling
    Got to get out of here

    Family PC is in the den,
    sitting unused for a while
    Internet access is active
    and Sitter sometimes uses it
    (when she’s not texting)
    Halo can be played on the PC
    but it stalls a lot, and it’s old
    Only fourteen
    but internet savvy, and primed for
    a dog to kick online

    Internet world awaits after school
    (on those days when he attends)
    He trolls the social networks
    As xKillerx or slicemup or whatareyoustaringat
    He’s not afraid anymore
    hating, and hacking, and trolling, and berating
    spamming, and commenting, spreading vitriol
    Nobody’s safe
    Not the writers, nor the commentators
    The musicians, the instigators,
    They’re all fodder for his
    stifled imagination
    and spiteful online ways

    Nobody knows his age
    Nobody knows his pain
    Everybody hates his rage
    Everybody hates his disdain

    He’s the ultimateninja452
    hacking into the peaceful lives of all
    on the network
    His profile pic is scary
    And his comments are known
    throughout cyberspace
    He’s feared, and loathed
    and he loves it

    Only fourteen
    and already a
    menace to online society
    Years pass
    in an abusive world
    where he is king
    Mother finally stops yelling
    and maybe passes out for good
    Sis and bro are taken away
    somewhere, but he hardly cares
    When the plug is pulled
    he goes out the door
    and into the dark night
    of happenstance


    "Peace A Chance"
    Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
    1970 (16 years old)

    March for a flower
    Blossoming in a pasture
    Shoot for a bluebird
    Flying through the trees
    Stop for an hour
    Admiring the mink's fur
    Speak for a true word
    Bending troubled knees

    Where do the bullets go
    Streaming through the stale air
    Why do the people die
    Falling in the mud
    Listen to the wind blow
    Turn to them who care
    America under sky
    Where our fathers trod

    Why are there enemies
    Why is there war
    Why is there garbage
    Why strife above
    Why not intimacies
    Why not care
    Why not a new age
    Why not love

    BEHIND THE POETRY: It seems like I've been writing about peace, troubled people, and asking the same questions since I began writing poetry. My latest, simply titled "Why" was inspired by the carnage in the Washington D.C. Navy yard yesterday. A line from the news feeds really stood out to me. The shooter was in his early 30s, and his victims were in their late 40s to early 70s. He possibly didn't care who he killed. He was young, angry, and simply careless. My initial thoughts, as always are directed to the terrible demons which must have haunted him, and must haunt any human being who dares to play God's Executioner, spreading his own fire and brimstone across the sullen path of human destruction. I would hope someday I can simply stop writing these kinds of poems, which for me, attempt to make sense of the senseless, until perhaps I too, and you, and you, are felled in our lifetime's tracks by the stray bullets coming from some troubled felllow human's rage and anger. Michael F. Nyiri, poet, philosopher, fool

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