Welcome to my reality based website
This website features both secular-generic and
Christian poetry, such being my personal journey; a cathartic exercise,
a
collage, a kaleidoscope of thoughts, concerns, musings, views,
beliefs and experiences, and all being my own work.
A number
of light-hearted poems are included too. 
Website aim, via calling it as it is...
To stimulate thought; generate discussion; and facilitate change. Issues that need addressing. Things that need saying.
Poem coverage, in brief...
Relationships;
love; life; empathy; human rights; equality; suffering;
poverty;
death; suicide; values;
health; tyranny; environmental/animal issues;
freedom/liberty issues;
religion; politics; welfare; age; violence; wealth; war; crime; etc.
Note: The number of verses in my typical poems vary, (as opposed to my alternative poems which have no verses), and so too can the number of beats per line in any given poem.
Ten random SAMPLE POEMS can be seen below, (and not elsewhere on this website). The tenth-cum-bottom poem is one of my — ALTERNATIVE — poems. These samples may change from time to time.
Why make this website?
To understand the purpose of this website, and my poetry, click on the PURPOSE button. Or, alternatively, first read my poem "Poetry With A Mission" (and attached poems) by clicking on the button to the right; then follow the link (beneath those poems) to the PURPOSE page.
What this website is committed to...
Freedom of expression; civil-religious liberty; human rights;
peace; the search for truth; and concern for creatures and the underdog.
Oh, by the way...
Please bear in mind that my journey hasn’t ended, and that as a consequence, I’m still stumbling, still making mistakes, and thus learning and growing just like everyone else. Therefore, if I have erred somehow, I ask your forgiveness in advance. However, it should always be kept in mind that both this website and its contents have primarily been designed to provoke thought that might not otherwise be forthcoming. If you disagree with something that I’ve said-cum-think I’m wrong, remember this: How can I grow if you don’t let me know? — should it be that I am wrong. And yes, I would like the chance to reply.
You won't leave unaffected — therefore, expect the unexpected; and please remember
the following: That personal expression is exactly that, and that you chose to enter. Bravo!
No inappropriate content — just communication that's straight, open, honest and sincere.
"He who dares not offend cannot be honest."
Thomas Paine (1737-1809)
Poetry
that shouts, confronts, questions, rouses, informs, pleads,
shares, inspires, encourages, heartens, empathises, weeps, sighs,
smiles and sees love as the only answer.
Poetry that takes no sides but that of all
who’ve been wrongly accused or mistreated — in other words, poetry that
condemns wrong wherever and whoever it's coming from, and whatever
that wrong may be.
Poetry
that often behaves like prose thus making prose behave like poetry;
such being an experiment that bridges the two and frees poetry from its
somewhat rigid constraints
— the message contained within each poem being more the focus than the poetic artistry.
Such
poems, (a good portion of my poetry), could possibly be viewed as being
somewhat like paragraphs or a complete page in a book where the end
of each line happens to rhyme.
INTRODUCTION
“Lance Landall reporting for duty, Sir!”
“Time you got here. Okay, son, get that rhythm and rhyme flowing, be it pithy words or witty fun, and see that there’s no slowing, ya hear. And while you’re at it, son, lots of verses too, not just one or two, and share — yes, every single one. Bowl them over with poetry and prose, anything poets might dare to compose, rattle their brain cells, yank at their heart, and tickle their toes — yes, make ’em laugh, make ’em think, make ’em cry — even get them wondering why. And while you’re at it, son, throw in a little bit of this and that, and don’t stop until it’s done. Now scat."
"Yes, Sir!"
SAMPLE POEMS
I don’t care whether someone is rich or poor, black or white, a waiter or a surgeon, a Muslim, Jew, atheist or Christian,
As they’re all the same to me — humanity — my brothers and sisters, and as far as my life and circle go, not out but in,
For all have a place in this world, and are no less worthy, no higher or lower — and I, always there should they call upon me,
As such is how I believe things should be, and just how I would like them to treat me, and given that we’re all one big family.
Therefore, I won’t betray anyone, dob them in, kick them when they’re down, talk behind their back, stab them in the back, nor hold them back,
And I won’t lay a hand on them, fool them, rob them, spurn them, mock, knock, threaten or manipulate them, nor somehow get my own back,
For what would such say of me? — and all it would do in fact, is just drag me down to a level that would hardly benefit me,
A level I choose not to sink to, for it’s a dead-end street, something that works against rather than for, injuriously.
Yes, I don’t care where people are from, what their past was like, whether they’re short, tall, slim, fat, bald, cross-eyed, missing a limb, or ugly,
As they’re all the same to me — humanity — my brothers and sisters, worthy of my time, effort, thought, wealth, love, care and mercy,
And on their behalf I will speak or stand, hoping that they would do the same for me, and if they didn’t, it still wouldn’t stop me,
For I must be true to myself, my conscience clear, my actions transparent, impartial and fair, and I thus acting honourably.
And I’ll decide for myself what someone’s like, not what I’m told is so, allowing them to defend them self, and overtime grow,
Bearing in mind that we all make mistakes, and deserve another chance, and that when it comes to others, what do we really know?
And hence why I refuse to label or pigeonhole people, or misjudge them, and why I don’t care if they’re three or ninety three,
As they’re all the same to me — humanity — my brothers and sisters, and all deserving of the same freedom and liberty.
Yes, I don’t care whether someone's a liberal or conservative, a meat-eater or vegan, a prostitute or a tramp,
As they’re all the same to me — humanity — my brothers and sisters — yes, despite whether they’re in this camp, that camp, (or are camp) —
As every human is precious, and why the greater their need, the greater my response, for the litmus test of our decency
Is how we treat those who’re different-cum-less understood, the disadvantaged, vulnerable, suffering and minority.
By Lance Landall
The above poem is referring to that love that we should have for all.
Sometimes we can feel like a nobody, lost within the great sea of humanity,
A grain of sand pushed and pulled by life’s tides, or shoved by waves of insensitivity.
Or perhaps a leaf, one that’s detached and floating aimlessly, adrift on a cool breeze,
One caught in some melancholy Autumn, concerned that fate’s careless rake might cruelly seize.
Yes, sometimes life can leave us feeling left out, that we don’t fit in, and we feel alone,
Lost in caverns of introspection, where we wrestle fretfully, and inwardly groan.
Or we struggle to find our way through the maze of past mistakes, regret nipping our heels,
And we wonder — yes, we oft wonder — is there anyone else who the same as us feels?
A nobody, a grain of sand, a leaf, an after thought possibly, or last resort,
Someone who hardly figures in the mind of others, a vessel that’s without a port.
Yes, somebody just like us, aching inside, wanting to be noticed, or even heard,
Who’s seemingly destined to go it alone, others nodding but not saying a word.
And yet, our value is just as great, and our place on this earth just as necessary,
Thus, regardless of how we may feel, we have an important place in humanity,
For every beach relies on every grain of sand, and each leaf has its place on each tree,
Thus, should our time on earth expire, so much the worse for our absence this world would be.
By Lance Landall
Don’t be fazed by film stars, pop stars, presidents, kings, queens or popes, nor consider yourself any less,
For they’re just as human as you are, and no greater, despite their position, power or success.
Yes, they too, have to attend that little room where one is humbled, and they too, become elderly,
For they’re just as mortal as you, simply have a different function, are known far more publicly.
And hence why I’d never pay homage to one who’s as earthly as me, though I’d still act politely,
Aware that some have a certain role to play, a certain authority, responsibility.
But though such be so, I also knowing that they don't have a different body or brain to me,
And hence are thus my equal, and there to serve too, not to lord it over me, or humanity.
History’s littered with ambitious, deluded fools, propelled by delusions of grandeur — their own —
They wanting to make their mark, and boy, they sure do, terribly so, dictating from their self made throne.
Others strut like egotistic peacocks, lapping up the attention, basking in their own glory,
Only to suffer the same fate as anyone else — lost looks, old age, a plot in a cemetery.
Meantime, amidst their power play, or love affair with the limelight, they act as if they’re more worthy,
When in fact they’re often less so, given that their acts or behaviour work more injuriously.
And those who could be deemed as worthy, and even greater, are humbly lost within society,
Where they quietly leave behind a better legacy — selflessly, and even unconsciously.
By Lance Landall
Even when life has dealt us blows, left us with hurt and pain, it’s better to remain loving,
And midst the fog of broken dreams, heartache and loss, to seek out others with whom we can sing.
By that I mean, to lose ourselves in selfless acts and gentle ways, and words that warm and heal,
For responding any differently, even more joy, peace, hope and happiness will steal.
Yes, such is how we make our heart smile again, how we still move forward, and find our way through,
Searching for any little thing that will brighten, found in those things that for others we do.
For as we lift another’s spirit, ease their lot, and via those loving acts of kindness share,
Our own load is lightened, our season soothed, and possibilities are oft seen to appear.
We shouldn’t dwell on what we’re missing, on what might’ve been, or even on what should’ve been,
But rather, make the most of the present and what we have, for things will always intervene.
Hence why life’s really in the living, the being, our sight, our hearing, even our sense of smell,
And not so much in grandiose plans, nor romantic dreams, for many betray, kiss and tell.
Better to thrive on little, for little disappoints less, given expectations are low,
And given that acceptance and contentment are the two greatest friends that any can know.
For we all arrived with nothing, and will leave with nothing, given living is in the being,
And why we’ll never experience true peace until this little gem of truth we’re seeing.
By Lance Landall
It’s sad that it can take almost a life-time before we’ve learnt, and then it’s often too late,
For the damage is done, our energy waning, and troubles and poor health lying in wait,
And we, very regretful, our back against the wall, and old father time ticking away,
All of which then seems to conspire against us, as if wanting to make us suffer and pay.
When all is said and done, it’s all about treating other folk well, and not causing them ill,
For come those twilight hours of our life, and amidst deep reflection, past wrongs may haunt and chill,
Yes, rather than the warmth of much happier memories, and deeds more noble and worthy,
We may feel cold draughts of restlessness and anxiety, and sleep may not come easily.
And we may also be forced to live with the baleful results of our callousness and folly,
Be that via personal scars, or scars we’ve inflicted on others that shout at us daily,
For all that we do and say — results in something — be it minor or major, good or bad,
Which, amidst our final years, will leave past years looking beautifully or shamefully clad.
Or to put it another way, such will leave us selflessly clothed or selfishly exposed,
Our conscience clear or pricking, and we, thus either agitated or serenely composed,
For all that we leave behind, either remains behind, or catches up, eventually,
A fact that has borne the test of time — one that rather than later, is better learnt early.
By Lance Landall
In this sad old world of ours, where hurt, pain and darkness stalk the land, and enemies are varied and many,
There’s nothing like those helping hands and loving arms — in other words, ears that truly hear, eyes that truly see.
But how rare such are, leaving so many to wash up on life’s uncaring shores, or to smash on callous rocks,
Victims of the coldness and indifference that pervades this Earth, and that strangles, smothers, thumps, shakes or mocks.
Thus, heartache flows like a swollen river, one linked to a turbulent, restless and frightening sea,
Where human shipwrecks lie prostrate on its murky floor, and they, encrusted with wounds that gape with acts of cruelty.
This after having been dragged down that river, tossed about like broken branches and uprooted shrubbery,
Victims of wild, drenching, stormy weather, unleashed by those with no conscience, or simply behaving selfishly.
And so it goes, that scrap-heap in life growing higher and wider, where others are dumped insensitively,
Their presence barely noticed, or only when it suits, and they, thus neglected, shunned or misused, shamefully.
Yes, just the fodder and playthings of those who live for themselves, those who have no heart, or some wicked agenda,
In other words, anyone who in someway chooses that path and mentality that fouls the offender.
Oh, if only helping hands and loving arms represented humanity — that is, rather than the few,
They being, those who look beyond themselves, and a better, brighter world for all desire to see, and thus pursue.
Those who know that only love should dwell within each heart, and nobleness within the mind — their deeds pure and true —
And also aware that any other way just leads to injury, and in time, a dead-end avenue.
Do you have helping hands and loving arms?
By Lance Landall
You may not approve of same-sex sexual acts, gay marriages, pornography or abortion,
Cults, certain religious beliefs and practices, door knockers, dope smoking or prostitution
— And that’s your right —
But for crying out loud, don’t ever mentally or physically abuse anybody,
For hate filled words, cruel acts and violence are not only moronic, but weak and cowardly.
Okay, so someone hurt you — so what? — for you don’t have to retaliate, thus acting like them,
For how can you stand tall and protest when indulging in the very same thing that you condemn?
No, striking back is a mug’s game, and who wants to emulate the behaviour of fools and bullies?
For all who treat others badly are partakers in evil, suffering from the same disease.
Yes, you’ve a right to your view, freedom of expression precious, and rightful avenues of protest,
But for crying out loud, never lay hands on anybody, nor in abusiveness invest.
For sad rhetoric and callous behaviour are good friends of bigotry and persecution,
And thus always add to humanity’s problems rather than joining hands in any solution.
You may not be happy with some who’ve authority, their introductions or audacity,
Or you may have a problem with some organisation, and some underhand things that you see.
But whatever or whoever, you get to choose your response, for that response doesn’t choose you,
And whatever that response, it’ll paint you as bad or better, as one’s words and acts always do.
So for crying out loud anyone, stifle those words, unclench those fists, and shun any weaponry,
For though you’ve a right to think and feel differently, you’ve no right to mistreat humanity.
And should someone hurt you, don’t jump on the same merry-go-round, but rather, help pull on the brakes,
For the one who doesn’t becomes a party to the crime, and love, wisdom and foresight forsakes.
By Lance Landall
The above poem is referring to our general treatment of others.
Some of us have done crazy and regretful things that we can’t believe we did do,
That is, now that many years have passed by, and that via wiser eyes we see anew.
Perhaps having grown up, perhaps having sorted ourselves out, and learnt the hard way,
But now, wishing it was all a bad dream, rather than the folly of yesterday.
It seems that when we’re in our youth, (even a little older), we’re somewhat blind,
And that it’s not until many years later that twenty twenty vision we find —
Figuratively speaking, that is — and then, like someone who has regained their sight,
We see what we didn’t before, and where there was darkness, now there’s revealing light.
Yes, light that shows the true nature and painful consequences of those self-centred deeds,
And oh, how we regret our foolishness, how our more pure and sensitive heart bleeds,
For not just we are left suffering, but whoever was on the receiving end,
Be they a spouse, a son or daughter, a family member, a stranger or a friend.
If only younger bodies had older heads, far less cause for regret there would be,
But no, it seems that it’s not until later that we finally or clearer see.
And when we do, it’s sometimes with utter disbelief, and terrible pangs of pain,
For certain things we did before, we wouldn’t dream of doing now — and can’t explain.
By Lance Landall
When I see love in action — love that’s genuine and true — I just know that there must be a plan for man,
One with the best of intentions, one that’s been awaiting its time — that is, since evil somehow began.
And I’ll keep on believing so, for there’s one thing I’m sure of — LOVE WILL TRIUMPH SOON — and permanently,
But not before we’ve seen the worst of evil, its final push to ensnare all — albeit temporarily.
Yes, I’ll take love’s side any day, for I have seen its fruitage, and thus know of its possibilities,
Unlike evil — a dead-end street — which, when it’s reigning within folk, just acts like a terminal disease,
One that’s contagious, though there is a cure for those who wish to be free of its poisonous infamy,
And that cure is love — unconditional, unadulterated love — for I have seen its potency.
Oh yes, nothing works like love, nothing satisfies more — for love, unlike hate, is balanced and in harmony,
A beautiful holistic tree, bursting with bountiful promises — yes, cheery growth that one can see.
A tree that keeps on giving, no thought for itself, but nourished and fed by its own generosity,
Each one of its flowers leaving a lasting sweetness in the air, one rich in selfless ancestry.
And why I just know that love’s the answer, and that in due season it will deliver, not disappoint,
Unlike evil, which leaves a bitter taste, a cruel legacy — not a home, but some sleazy rundown joint.
Yes, only love knows the way, only love provides hope, purpose and light, a coming solution filled day,
And why I won’t stop believing until that time when love will have the final say, and thus evil slay.
By Lance Landall
ALTERNATIVE POEM
Dear fellow traveller, amidst the billions on this Earth — I’ve a message I wish to share, given your inheritance by birth, and your existing presence here.
This planet is yours and mine, it doesn’t belong solely to kings or queens, popes or presidents, prime ministers in residence, nor any government; even power or society behind the scenes, but rather, to us, the people — yes, not someone on a throne, behind an official desk, or ecclesiastically ensconced under some steeple.
No disrespect is intended here, but only the clear recognition, that this Earth belongs to humanity, you and I — in other words, us, we — not solely to those in power, regardless of their position, regardless of their authority, and including any majority, for humanity is also the minority, given that we’re all linked genetically, historically, and universally, and given that such is acting humanely, quite honestly.
Though rightful laws and order have their place, no one should seek to conquer and rule the human race, and all who would seek to do so, by stealth, legislation or might, wouldn’t have justification, would be lovers of darkness rather than light, who though pretending otherwise, would ultimately catch by surprise, thus displaying their true face.
Yes, this planet belongs to you and I, who likewise, pressure or force cannot justify, (despite how much we might try), for the birthright of all is freedom and liberty, (be that civil or religiously), the right to be left alone to live in peace and harmony, to be free from the evil plots, plans and tentacles of tyranny, and not to mention, the right to have access to every necessity.
Yes, we weren’t meant to be controlled, bought or sold, trampled on, sneeringly looked upon, coldly mistreated, shackled, persecuted or defeated, somehow abused, indifferently used, played with like marionettes, gathered together in plotter’s nets, nor considered as if just a clone, for we’ve a brain, a heart, a dream, a path, a life and purpose of our own, and were born to love not hate, and to goodness, mercy and kindness radiate, for such always works for the best, ensuring that all are blest, whereas hate just destroys, and all manner of evil employs, for it’s tied to lust and power, seeks to overthrow not empower, and all the while, oft hiding behind a smile, (which given time, quickly turns sour).
Though we’re humanity, we’re not some herd to be rounded up, processed and programmed physically, mentally or emotionally, nor were we meant to be serfs at the beck and call of bureaucracy, but rather, are individuals in our own right, little worlds of our own, with corresponding patents and copyright.
Yes, it’s our world, not the possession of a group, a majority, nor some man, who, were these given control — that is, of the world as a whole — would prove a threat to all, and eventually, flames of trouble just fan.
By Lance Landall
“Lance Landall reporting for duty, Sir!”
“Time you got here. Okay, son, get that rhythm and rhyme flowing, be it pithy words or witty fun, and see that there’s no slowing, ya hear. And while you’re at it, son, lots of verses too, not just one or two, and share — yes, every single one. Bowl them over with poetry and prose, anything poets might dare to compose, rattle their brain cells, yank at their heart, and tickle their toes — yes, make ’em laugh, make ’em think, make ’em cry — even get them wondering why. And while you’re at it, son, throw in a little bit of this and that, and don’t stop until it’s done. Now scat."
"Yes, Sir!"
SAMPLE POEMS
They're All The Same To Me
I don’t care whether someone is rich or poor, black or white, a waiter or a surgeon, a Muslim, Jew, atheist or Christian,
As they’re all the same to me — humanity — my brothers and sisters, and as far as my life and circle go, not out but in,
For all have a place in this world, and are no less worthy, no higher or lower — and I, always there should they call upon me,
As such is how I believe things should be, and just how I would like them to treat me, and given that we’re all one big family.
Therefore, I won’t betray anyone, dob them in, kick them when they’re down, talk behind their back, stab them in the back, nor hold them back,
And I won’t lay a hand on them, fool them, rob them, spurn them, mock, knock, threaten or manipulate them, nor somehow get my own back,
For what would such say of me? — and all it would do in fact, is just drag me down to a level that would hardly benefit me,
A level I choose not to sink to, for it’s a dead-end street, something that works against rather than for, injuriously.
Yes, I don’t care where people are from, what their past was like, whether they’re short, tall, slim, fat, bald, cross-eyed, missing a limb, or ugly,
As they’re all the same to me — humanity — my brothers and sisters, worthy of my time, effort, thought, wealth, love, care and mercy,
And on their behalf I will speak or stand, hoping that they would do the same for me, and if they didn’t, it still wouldn’t stop me,
For I must be true to myself, my conscience clear, my actions transparent, impartial and fair, and I thus acting honourably.
And I’ll decide for myself what someone’s like, not what I’m told is so, allowing them to defend them self, and overtime grow,
Bearing in mind that we all make mistakes, and deserve another chance, and that when it comes to others, what do we really know?
And hence why I refuse to label or pigeonhole people, or misjudge them, and why I don’t care if they’re three or ninety three,
As they’re all the same to me — humanity — my brothers and sisters, and all deserving of the same freedom and liberty.
Yes, I don’t care whether someone's a liberal or conservative, a meat-eater or vegan, a prostitute or a tramp,
As they’re all the same to me — humanity — my brothers and sisters — yes, despite whether they’re in this camp, that camp, (or are camp) —
As every human is precious, and why the greater their need, the greater my response, for the litmus test of our decency
Is how we treat those who’re different-cum-less understood, the disadvantaged, vulnerable, suffering and minority.
By Lance Landall
The above poem is referring to that love that we should have for all.
Don't Doubt Your Worth
Sometimes we can feel like a nobody, lost within the great sea of humanity,
A grain of sand pushed and pulled by life’s tides, or shoved by waves of insensitivity.
Or perhaps a leaf, one that’s detached and floating aimlessly, adrift on a cool breeze,
One caught in some melancholy Autumn, concerned that fate’s careless rake might cruelly seize.
Yes, sometimes life can leave us feeling left out, that we don’t fit in, and we feel alone,
Lost in caverns of introspection, where we wrestle fretfully, and inwardly groan.
Or we struggle to find our way through the maze of past mistakes, regret nipping our heels,
And we wonder — yes, we oft wonder — is there anyone else who the same as us feels?
A nobody, a grain of sand, a leaf, an after thought possibly, or last resort,
Someone who hardly figures in the mind of others, a vessel that’s without a port.
Yes, somebody just like us, aching inside, wanting to be noticed, or even heard,
Who’s seemingly destined to go it alone, others nodding but not saying a word.
And yet, our value is just as great, and our place on this earth just as necessary,
Thus, regardless of how we may feel, we have an important place in humanity,
For every beach relies on every grain of sand, and each leaf has its place on each tree,
Thus, should our time on earth expire, so much the worse for our absence this world would be.
By Lance Landall
Don't Doubt Your Place
Don’t be fazed by film stars, pop stars, presidents, kings, queens or popes, nor consider yourself any less,
For they’re just as human as you are, and no greater, despite their position, power or success.
Yes, they too, have to attend that little room where one is humbled, and they too, become elderly,
For they’re just as mortal as you, simply have a different function, are known far more publicly.
And hence why I’d never pay homage to one who’s as earthly as me, though I’d still act politely,
Aware that some have a certain role to play, a certain authority, responsibility.
But though such be so, I also knowing that they don't have a different body or brain to me,
And hence are thus my equal, and there to serve too, not to lord it over me, or humanity.
History’s littered with ambitious, deluded fools, propelled by delusions of grandeur — their own —
They wanting to make their mark, and boy, they sure do, terribly so, dictating from their self made throne.
Others strut like egotistic peacocks, lapping up the attention, basking in their own glory,
Only to suffer the same fate as anyone else — lost looks, old age, a plot in a cemetery.
Meantime, amidst their power play, or love affair with the limelight, they act as if they’re more worthy,
When in fact they’re often less so, given that their acts or behaviour work more injuriously.
And those who could be deemed as worthy, and even greater, are humbly lost within society,
Where they quietly leave behind a better legacy — selflessly, and even unconsciously.
By Lance Landall
Catch On?
Even when life has dealt us blows, left us with hurt and pain, it’s better to remain loving,
And midst the fog of broken dreams, heartache and loss, to seek out others with whom we can sing.
By that I mean, to lose ourselves in selfless acts and gentle ways, and words that warm and heal,
For responding any differently, even more joy, peace, hope and happiness will steal.
Yes, such is how we make our heart smile again, how we still move forward, and find our way through,
Searching for any little thing that will brighten, found in those things that for others we do.
For as we lift another’s spirit, ease their lot, and via those loving acts of kindness share,
Our own load is lightened, our season soothed, and possibilities are oft seen to appear.
We shouldn’t dwell on what we’re missing, on what might’ve been, or even on what should’ve been,
But rather, make the most of the present and what we have, for things will always intervene.
Hence why life’s really in the living, the being, our sight, our hearing, even our sense of smell,
And not so much in grandiose plans, nor romantic dreams, for many betray, kiss and tell.
Better to thrive on little, for little disappoints less, given expectations are low,
And given that acceptance and contentment are the two greatest friends that any can know.
For we all arrived with nothing, and will leave with nothing, given living is in the being,
And why we’ll never experience true peace until this little gem of truth we’re seeing.
By Lance Landall
Mind What You Say And Do
It’s sad that it can take almost a life-time before we’ve learnt, and then it’s often too late,
For the damage is done, our energy waning, and troubles and poor health lying in wait,
And we, very regretful, our back against the wall, and old father time ticking away,
All of which then seems to conspire against us, as if wanting to make us suffer and pay.
When all is said and done, it’s all about treating other folk well, and not causing them ill,
For come those twilight hours of our life, and amidst deep reflection, past wrongs may haunt and chill,
Yes, rather than the warmth of much happier memories, and deeds more noble and worthy,
We may feel cold draughts of restlessness and anxiety, and sleep may not come easily.
And we may also be forced to live with the baleful results of our callousness and folly,
Be that via personal scars, or scars we’ve inflicted on others that shout at us daily,
For all that we do and say — results in something — be it minor or major, good or bad,
Which, amidst our final years, will leave past years looking beautifully or shamefully clad.
Or to put it another way, such will leave us selflessly clothed or selfishly exposed,
Our conscience clear or pricking, and we, thus either agitated or serenely composed,
For all that we leave behind, either remains behind, or catches up, eventually,
A fact that has borne the test of time — one that rather than later, is better learnt early.
By Lance Landall
Helping Hands And Loving Arms
In this sad old world of ours, where hurt, pain and darkness stalk the land, and enemies are varied and many,
There’s nothing like those helping hands and loving arms — in other words, ears that truly hear, eyes that truly see.
But how rare such are, leaving so many to wash up on life’s uncaring shores, or to smash on callous rocks,
Victims of the coldness and indifference that pervades this Earth, and that strangles, smothers, thumps, shakes or mocks.
Thus, heartache flows like a swollen river, one linked to a turbulent, restless and frightening sea,
Where human shipwrecks lie prostrate on its murky floor, and they, encrusted with wounds that gape with acts of cruelty.
This after having been dragged down that river, tossed about like broken branches and uprooted shrubbery,
Victims of wild, drenching, stormy weather, unleashed by those with no conscience, or simply behaving selfishly.
And so it goes, that scrap-heap in life growing higher and wider, where others are dumped insensitively,
Their presence barely noticed, or only when it suits, and they, thus neglected, shunned or misused, shamefully.
Yes, just the fodder and playthings of those who live for themselves, those who have no heart, or some wicked agenda,
In other words, anyone who in someway chooses that path and mentality that fouls the offender.
Oh, if only helping hands and loving arms represented humanity — that is, rather than the few,
They being, those who look beyond themselves, and a better, brighter world for all desire to see, and thus pursue.
Those who know that only love should dwell within each heart, and nobleness within the mind — their deeds pure and true —
And also aware that any other way just leads to injury, and in time, a dead-end avenue.
Do you have helping hands and loving arms?
By Lance Landall
For Crying Out Loud
You may not approve of same-sex sexual acts, gay marriages, pornography or abortion,
Cults, certain religious beliefs and practices, door knockers, dope smoking or prostitution
— And that’s your right —
But for crying out loud, don’t ever mentally or physically abuse anybody,
For hate filled words, cruel acts and violence are not only moronic, but weak and cowardly.
Okay, so someone hurt you — so what? — for you don’t have to retaliate, thus acting like them,
For how can you stand tall and protest when indulging in the very same thing that you condemn?
No, striking back is a mug’s game, and who wants to emulate the behaviour of fools and bullies?
For all who treat others badly are partakers in evil, suffering from the same disease.
Yes, you’ve a right to your view, freedom of expression precious, and rightful avenues of protest,
But for crying out loud, never lay hands on anybody, nor in abusiveness invest.
For sad rhetoric and callous behaviour are good friends of bigotry and persecution,
And thus always add to humanity’s problems rather than joining hands in any solution.
You may not be happy with some who’ve authority, their introductions or audacity,
Or you may have a problem with some organisation, and some underhand things that you see.
But whatever or whoever, you get to choose your response, for that response doesn’t choose you,
And whatever that response, it’ll paint you as bad or better, as one’s words and acts always do.
So for crying out loud anyone, stifle those words, unclench those fists, and shun any weaponry,
For though you’ve a right to think and feel differently, you’ve no right to mistreat humanity.
And should someone hurt you, don’t jump on the same merry-go-round, but rather, help pull on the brakes,
For the one who doesn’t becomes a party to the crime, and love, wisdom and foresight forsakes.
By Lance Landall
The above poem is referring to our general treatment of others.
It's Not Until Later
Some of us have done crazy and regretful things that we can’t believe we did do,
That is, now that many years have passed by, and that via wiser eyes we see anew.
Perhaps having grown up, perhaps having sorted ourselves out, and learnt the hard way,
But now, wishing it was all a bad dream, rather than the folly of yesterday.
It seems that when we’re in our youth, (even a little older), we’re somewhat blind,
And that it’s not until many years later that twenty twenty vision we find —
Figuratively speaking, that is — and then, like someone who has regained their sight,
We see what we didn’t before, and where there was darkness, now there’s revealing light.
Yes, light that shows the true nature and painful consequences of those self-centred deeds,
And oh, how we regret our foolishness, how our more pure and sensitive heart bleeds,
For not just we are left suffering, but whoever was on the receiving end,
Be they a spouse, a son or daughter, a family member, a stranger or a friend.
If only younger bodies had older heads, far less cause for regret there would be,
But no, it seems that it’s not until later that we finally or clearer see.
And when we do, it’s sometimes with utter disbelief, and terrible pangs of pain,
For certain things we did before, we wouldn’t dream of doing now — and can’t explain.
By Lance Landall
When Love Will Have The Final Say
When I see love in action — love that’s genuine and true — I just know that there must be a plan for man,
One with the best of intentions, one that’s been awaiting its time — that is, since evil somehow began.
And I’ll keep on believing so, for there’s one thing I’m sure of — LOVE WILL TRIUMPH SOON — and permanently,
But not before we’ve seen the worst of evil, its final push to ensnare all — albeit temporarily.
Yes, I’ll take love’s side any day, for I have seen its fruitage, and thus know of its possibilities,
Unlike evil — a dead-end street — which, when it’s reigning within folk, just acts like a terminal disease,
One that’s contagious, though there is a cure for those who wish to be free of its poisonous infamy,
And that cure is love — unconditional, unadulterated love — for I have seen its potency.
Oh yes, nothing works like love, nothing satisfies more — for love, unlike hate, is balanced and in harmony,
A beautiful holistic tree, bursting with bountiful promises — yes, cheery growth that one can see.
A tree that keeps on giving, no thought for itself, but nourished and fed by its own generosity,
Each one of its flowers leaving a lasting sweetness in the air, one rich in selfless ancestry.
And why I just know that love’s the answer, and that in due season it will deliver, not disappoint,
Unlike evil, which leaves a bitter taste, a cruel legacy — not a home, but some sleazy rundown joint.
Yes, only love knows the way, only love provides hope, purpose and light, a coming solution filled day,
And why I won’t stop believing until that time when love will have the final say, and thus evil slay.
By Lance Landall
ALTERNATIVE POEM
It's Our World
Dear fellow traveller, amidst the billions on this Earth — I’ve a message I wish to share, given your inheritance by birth, and your existing presence here.
This planet is yours and mine, it doesn’t belong solely to kings or queens, popes or presidents, prime ministers in residence, nor any government; even power or society behind the scenes, but rather, to us, the people — yes, not someone on a throne, behind an official desk, or ecclesiastically ensconced under some steeple.
No disrespect is intended here, but only the clear recognition, that this Earth belongs to humanity, you and I — in other words, us, we — not solely to those in power, regardless of their position, regardless of their authority, and including any majority, for humanity is also the minority, given that we’re all linked genetically, historically, and universally, and given that such is acting humanely, quite honestly.
Though rightful laws and order have their place, no one should seek to conquer and rule the human race, and all who would seek to do so, by stealth, legislation or might, wouldn’t have justification, would be lovers of darkness rather than light, who though pretending otherwise, would ultimately catch by surprise, thus displaying their true face.
Yes, this planet belongs to you and I, who likewise, pressure or force cannot justify, (despite how much we might try), for the birthright of all is freedom and liberty, (be that civil or religiously), the right to be left alone to live in peace and harmony, to be free from the evil plots, plans and tentacles of tyranny, and not to mention, the right to have access to every necessity.
Yes, we weren’t meant to be controlled, bought or sold, trampled on, sneeringly looked upon, coldly mistreated, shackled, persecuted or defeated, somehow abused, indifferently used, played with like marionettes, gathered together in plotter’s nets, nor considered as if just a clone, for we’ve a brain, a heart, a dream, a path, a life and purpose of our own, and were born to love not hate, and to goodness, mercy and kindness radiate, for such always works for the best, ensuring that all are blest, whereas hate just destroys, and all manner of evil employs, for it’s tied to lust and power, seeks to overthrow not empower, and all the while, oft hiding behind a smile, (which given time, quickly turns sour).
Though we’re humanity, we’re not some herd to be rounded up, processed and programmed physically, mentally or emotionally, nor were we meant to be serfs at the beck and call of bureaucracy, but rather, are individuals in our own right, little worlds of our own, with corresponding patents and copyright.
Yes, it’s our world, not the possession of a group, a majority, nor some man, who, were these given control — that is, of the world as a whole — would prove a threat to all, and eventually, flames of trouble just fan.
By Lance Landall
HUMANITY'S BEST INTERESTS MY PERSONAL MISSION.
Best we choose to see what we need to see than be forced to see what pains more to see.
Until
we regard every human as a precious and sacred creation, (never to be
violated in any way), and the well-being of creatures and this Earth as
our duty, we’ll never progress beyond where we are, except in mere
outward appearance perhaps.
This website only endorses rightful, non-destructive-cum-non-violent expression.
My poems began around 2002, my website was founded in 2005, and 1000 poems were penned by May 2012 — that figure having become a goal. Now to potter.
