"Civilization today reminds me of an ape with a blowtorch playing in a room full of dynamite. It looks like the
monkeys are about to operate the zoo, and the inmates are taking over the asylum.”
Vance Havner (1901-1986)
Poetry With A Mission
My website, Poetry With A Mission, contains purpose based poetry,
Poetry that cares passionately about our planet, humanity.
In other words, love using poetry as a vehicle to express
Its concern over many things that we need to face, and quickly address.
Yes, poetry, (alias me), that is wanting the best for you and I,
Which is why it’s terribly concerned over things that are going awry.
And why it’s attempting to play a part via the use of rhythm and rhyme,
As changes are badly needed, we’ve rivers to cross, and mountains to climb.
And hence its very thought provoking content, that hopefully you’ll dwell on,
Lest silence, indifference, or inaction, see the likes of liberty gone.
And freedom also, for both will certainly go if they’re not protected,
And also if subtle erosions, (helped by foul play), go undetected.
You see, our choices, dear friend, individually or collectively,
Determine not only our destiny, but also this planet’s destiny,
Whether crime will rise, warring continue, strife, starvation or poverty,
In other words, friend, whether good or evil will triumph, ultimately.
There’s no question that this world is in a mess, and quickly heading downhill,
And in fact, there are those of us who consider it terminally ill.
But whether it's terminally ill or not, it’s clearly in a bad way,
Hence those things we need to face, address — no, not tomorrow, but now, today.
Yes, sometimes we need to be stirred — that is, shaken out of our apathy,
Or we foolishly have our head in the sand, or believe something falsely,
Or we are biased, prejudiced, have been somewhat programmed, or wrongly fed,
Or we're simply not prepared to do or say anything because we’re scared.
Well, fear’s certainly understandable sometimes, but fear won't get us far,
Unless we want to be controlled, that is, for those who let fear win, soon are.
Life without that freedom and liberty that we've known, is just existing,
It’s kowtowing, capitulating, just tyrants and dictators assisting.
Today, and far more than ever, we need men and women who’re not for sale,
That is, those who can’t be bought or sold, and who’ll see right and not wrong prevail,
Yes, those who're prepared to call a spade a spade, and remain honest and true,
Those who are prepared to make a stand, despite whatever they might go through.
Sometimes — even often — straight things need to be said, need to be heard or read,
And far more so, wherever people only want to hear nice things instead.
After all, reality needs to be faced, lest some danger overtake,
Which it will do, if we are falsely lulled, have a closed mind, or aren’t awake.
We may not like what other folk have to say, but we should never stop them,
And all attempts to curb or halt freedom of expression, strongly condemn.
For after all, it’s only via such freedom that truth can ever be found,
Hence why those who've something to fear, or hide, want the truth gone, or tightly bound.
There are certain medicines that we hate, yet need, in order to get well,
Which only the very foolish would refuse, and whom we would soon farewell.
Yes, “No pain, no gain,” is certainly true — thus, some medicines we should take,
Be that via the mouth, the ears, or other, lest we badly suffer or ache.
And therefore, with the greatest of respect and via poetic tradition,
I humbly present my poetry website — Poetry With A Mission.
But please be aware that the reading of my poetry will soon reveal
An open, inquiring, receptive mind, or a closed one, some Achilles heel.
By Lance Landall
May this website enlighten, and thereby, many lives brighten.
"To
go against the dominant thinking of your friends, of most of the people
you see every day, is perhaps
the most difficult act of heroism you can
perform."
Theodore H. White
(1915-1986)
I'm No Hero
When I was a youngster, I somewhat lived in a world of my own,
Playing on a grassy river bank for hours on end, and alone.
And there, I lived adventures, acting out things that I'd read and seen,
Quietly creeping through bushes and trees, ears and eyes sharp and keen.
Oh yes, I was a cowboy, a sheriff, Colt 45 in hand,
Or nose down in its leather holster — just a toy, you understand.
And I was on the lookout for anyone with evil intent;
Yes, a crack shot, upholding law and order, hot on someone's scent.
With growing stealth, I daily patrolled my bushy territory
That is, as a defender of right, facing dangers fearlessly.
Yes, there beside the flowing river, locked in childish fantasies,
I battled forces of evil, displaying daring, skill and ease.
Well, dear friend, time has since moved on, and I’m no hero, believe me,
And I’m a hater of guns now, for I’ve met with reality.
Thus, it’s just a pen that I wield now, though still doing what I can,
For defending that which is right, is what truly makes one a man.
Now, I’m just the same as anyone, and could fail, ultimately,
But meantime, while I am able, I will make a stand, openly.
That is, I will not be silent, but will use my voice or my pen
In order to warn of folly, danger, those evil schemes of men.
Or simply to enlighten, for wisdom’s getting lost, being rejected,
And as a result, ignorance is rampant, as would be expected.
And trouble is hot on its heels, along with much heartache and pain,
Which I and others are trying to halt, reverse, somehow contain.
Yes, just like many others, I’m doing what I can, while I can,
Trying to act unselfishly, showing thought for my fellowman.
For to not speak out when I'm able, would be far more cowardly
Than failing sometime in the future due to greater threats, should such be.
However, I hope and pray that I won't fail, when push comes to shove, and,
That in the meantime, wherever it's needed, I will make a stand.
For silence where silence shouldn’t be, is simply cowardice, and,
Such will not build muscles, that later on, give one the strength to stand.
Oh yes, times have changed since I was a young boy, (playing on that bank),
And behaviour and attitudes have changed as well, to be quite frank.
Most people appear caught up in a shameful self-preservation,
That once, friend, would have received the very strongest condemnation.
Thus, due to such selfishness, peer pressure, indifference or fear,
There are far fewer voices speaking out, less folk that seem to care.
And should those strong voices become even fewer, where will things end?
And who of us will share in the blame? So, please think it through, dear friend.
As I said, I’m no hero, I’m simply just a man — made of clay,
But having said that, what exactly is a hero anyway?
Could heroes simply be those people who are doing what they can
On behalf of, and out of loving concern for, their fellowman?
In other words, just an everyday person who has a good heart,
One who's making a stand, speaking out, and thereby, playing their part.
Yes, not remaining silent, despite the deep frowns and jeers of men,
And doing so amidst their own struggles, via their voice or their pen.
By Lance Landall
May strength prevail, weakness not assail, and raised voices never fail.
“The
masses have never thirsted after truth. Whoever can supply them with
illusions is easily their master;
whoever attempts to destroy their
illusions is always their victim."
Gustave Le Bon (1841-1931)
I Can't Talk?
Yes, I’m no better than you, mess up too, even get scared, you know,
Don’t want to be disliked, struggle with things, and often ebb and flow.
And I too, can put my big foot in it, act rather wrongfully,
All of which concerns me, given what I’m expressing via poetry.
However, not just I, but all, have a duty to express things
That from a healthy inner realization, and disquiet, duly springs.
For should those things not be mentioned, even more remiss one would be,
Aiding and abetting via silence wrongs within society.
We can’t wait until we’re perfect examples to speak, obviously,
For such we’ll never be, (though we should try to be, naturally).
Thus, we’ve got to speak out now, do what we can, despite all our flaws,
Lest, in the meantime, things get far worse, and we’re faced with closing doors.
Hence why I’m doing what I can, while I can, midst my own mistakes,
And despite any affliction that my little world rattles and shakes.
For how could I not do so, given what could happen to you and I,
And given that this planet we’re on is sadly going awry?
I can’t talk? No, but I must — and so must you — as it's foolish not to.
By Lance Landall
The following poem is an add-on.
Long Live Free Speech!
Once we legislate to curb ill that some folk may say, we lessen our own rights, and imperil what rights remain,
For freedom of expression is where it’s all at, regardless of hate filled words that may cause a certain pain.
And hence why we shouldn't play with freedom of expression, for there's not one reason good enough for doing so,
And let’s bear in mind that many an ill has begun with some well-meaning but very unwise embryo.
Yes, it’s bad enough that there are those who would like to curb freedom of expression to achieve some evil end,
Without us playing into their hands by going along with legislation that would curb what might offend.
And besides, there’ll always be those who’ll think, speak and act wrongly, regardless of that which is designed to curb,
And why in this imperfect world of ours, there will always be things that will anger, distress, pain and disturb.
But sometimes we need to hear the truth — warts and all — and need to face up to things, though unpleasant they may be,
And hence why even the provocative has its place in all this, be such expressed via the pen or verbally.
However, whether it be this way or that way, the right way or wrong way, let all have their say, and freely,
We asking for nought but due respect and thoughtfulness, for limiting free speech acts far more injuriously.
Yes, some things said may not be nice, even wrong and cruel, but we need to toughen up, not respond childishly,
For we’re hardly living in a nursery, weren’t meant to be wrapped in cotton wool, for that’s absurdity.
In fact, we grow by being confronted, not by being sheltered from reality, nor those harsh things some may say,
Which often convey what we need to hear, and what’s better allowed than not, lest with even more rights, folk play.
Rather than curb, we need to educate, both by word and deed, for laws don’t solve, but simply restrict and prevent,
Thus hardly changing the heart and mind — and if they are foolish laws, they simply cause discontent to ferment,
Or worse — and hence why freedom of expression should never be played with in any way, for such will bring ill,
And in time, the greatest ill of all — a total loss of freedom and liberty — which here, I fear I foretell.
By Lance Landall
These poems are best read in conjunction with the "Purpose" page.
