The Tour
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The Tour

 Viktoriya Neverov-Krstic
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 Viktoriya Neverov-Krstic
The Tour
by Viktoriya Neverov-Krstic  FollowFollow
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Viktoriya Neverov-Krstic was born in Samara, Russia. Though her family immigrated to the United States as Religious Refugees when she was only...read more five, her grandmother already managed to engrain nearly fifty poems into her consciousness by that age. By the time she was ten, she began writing her own poems. Her father, a gifted musician, pulled her even deeper into the world of artistry and emotion by teaching her all that he knew about music. She loves traditional styles of poetry and aspires to write such work herself, though she can thoroughly enjoy contemporary poems. To her, poetry is the music of words and she strives for her poems to touch the hearts of her readers the same way their favorite melodies do.
The Tour
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Welcome Welcome, Welcome beings
Welcome gods, divinities and demons
Welcome Angels, Welcome heroes
Welcome nymphs, deliverers, and Spirits
 
Good to see you… and I’m sure,
Though your first one, It’s quite a tour
Might I add my gratitude
Here on earth, that’s our solute
 
I must beg your pardon here
I am but a mortal mere
And to you my deepest bow
I send forth and thus I vow:
 
I shall let my will subside
Be your knighted subject, guide
Be that humbled soul inside
Once there was, though now it died
 
Onward now! I’ve spoken much
Please forgive my human touch
And excuse my eager grin
With my pleasure, let’s begin

Earth is not like where you’re from
Here there’s pain… unlike thine home
It’s this feeling that you get…
Beyond worry, beyond fret

Here at times your pulse will rush
Frantic sweat your brows will brush
In your throat you’d feel a burn
And for safety you would yearn

All the rumors that you’ve heard
Were not true of this place earth
Oh, they’re deeper, harder, worse
Blacker, darker than night’s curse

Ah this little planet blue
That you’ve hung amidst dark hues
Carries such a burden grave
How has Atlas not concaved?

Here is where that famous Troy
Prospered loved believed enjoyed
Yet, that fateful Wooden horse
Took away its happy course

Alexander walked this plane
Vict’ry pulsing through his veins
Hannibal and Scipio
Chiefs beyond explained valor

Caesar, Cyrus, Genghis Khan,
Robespierre, Mao Zedong
How they loved the color red
Gruesome scenes of many dead

Josep Broz, Hitler, Stalin
Mussolini, Fidel Castro
Many more, yes many more
Salivate at death and gore

Please my gods and please my heroes!
Why so glum at my revealings?
Did you not look down at us?
Ever watch our woe, our fuss?

Have you never even glanced?
Wondered why, for what – this stance?
Did you never take the time?
Drop a tear, speak out in rhyme?

We were only your creation
Outcomes of imagination
And you never took a glimpse
At your deformed childs’ limps?

Why it’s just my human reason…
But I assume this might be treason
Have I offended you your grace?
Believe you me, tis not my place…

I simply wanted you to tour
The horrid horrors we endure
From day to day, and age to age
Without a reason, without a change

Would you rather maybe see?
A sandy beach?  A peaceful sea?
The gorgeous mountains of Tibet?
And hear a lively string quartet?

Yes, my gods, that sounds appealing
But you have come for a revealing
Of human lives, of human actions
We live life not in such attractions

Oh might I wake you from your slumber!
That you have torn us down asunder
We have no love, we have no faith
And even prayer is now a fake

      And even if you like it not
We shall continue on this plot
For yes you’re gods, but it’s enough
Of your prestige and phony love

Now, if you glance here to my right
You’ll spot th’ Armen’an genocide
Where they were forced to make that march
To their own death, with no right charge

Oh and to my left, the Holocaust
Perhaps in gore its unsurpassed
Except perchance, the Rape of Nanking
And gulag tortures, by commy kings

Here’s Hiroshima, Nagasaki
You might consider them as lucky
When looking at Bubonic illness
That broke down towns with eerie stillness

The Reign of Terror in all of France
The Trail of Tears – they had no chance!
Atlantic Slave Trade, inhuman acts,
Now corporations took on this pact

The list goes on and on and on
Beyond all reason, beyond all wrong
And we as humans can stand no more
Your unawareness when we implore

Yes it’s true we have our highs
Our Dostoevskys and Pavarottis
Our Ciceros and Paganinis
Davinics, Einsteins and Caccinis

We even have our Mona Lisas
Our David Statues and St. Theresas
Our Nesun Dahrmas and Mio Bambinos
Chateau Morgauxs with Bordeaux vinos

But then among these great diversions
We also have some dark inversions
That guillotine, electric chair
A dagger, sword, that loop in air

True, we humans get inspired
A muse might come, we’ll play the lyre
But this comes only in darker days
Through turmoil, troubles, pains, dismays

Oh what a way to live for souls!
Survive a battle – come out unwhole
What misery in which we’re placed
By one’s ennui, alas, misplaced

And that, my Mighties, concludes our trip
I hope your thoughts your minds might grip
But worry not, Your majesties
We’ve been for years in travesty

We have not had your help so far
Can’t get much worse, at least by far
Go on, retearn t’ Olympus Mount
T’ Elysian Fields’ Eternal Fount

And leave us be just as before
Let us be evil, let us abhor
And meddle not in our affairs
It’s much too late to show your care

We can’t accept benevolence
Tis not our fault that we’re amiss
We know not how, what’s never been
Thus, turn around leave our sin
We simply thought you’d like to meet
The human race you’ll devastate
For not much longer we shall be
Adieu, my gods, our misery
2 comments

Discussion

  3 years ago · in response to J. Claudius Cloyd

    thank you for your kind words. I wrote this during a period of frustration - if that isn't already obvious. I'm glad others can enjoy it. I suppose it's a good example of something negative bringing about something positive
  3 years ago
It's refreshing to read a poem in rhyme. I like the misanthropic tone of the piece as well. One suggestion: your poem does a great job of cataloging the horrors of history. This is just a suggestion. I think that you should consider both describing and showing the actions in this piece. Otherwise,...read more great poem. And "Here's Hiroshima, Nagasaki / You might consider them lucky" is one of the most wicked rhymes I've heard recently.
 

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