Long Fish Poems. These are the most popular long Fish by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fish poems by poem length and keyword.
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Phantom Journal Entry 1
Wednesday 8:03 A.M.
I found Jesus at a bus stop this morning. He recommended that I comb my hair. I told him if I had any nails I would hand them over. Monty found a shoe full of vomit by a dumpster. Someone had an interesting night. This apartment smells like stale french fries. Frank is still sleeping on the counter next to Mr. Coffee. There is a stray cat clawing at the windowpane. The town is gradually waking up. The park across the street is filled with shirkers. My mind is still living in last night’s conversation. But I don’t remember it very well. Shit, I’m going to be late for
Phantom Journal Entry 2
Wednesday 11:13 P.M.
Work sucked. I think the bartender is an alcoholic. She hides a flask in her bra. It fell out when we were in the stall together. Frank is sprawled across the kitchen floor. Monty steps over him to grab a beer. The stray cat is now sleeping on the windowpane. Nothing ever changes from morning to night. Except Monty is drinking coffee and not beer.
Phantom Journal Entry 3
Good Friday 9:47 P.M.
The ocean left the brine. The girls here are all made of smoke, and their dreams are living in my beer. The worms are drunk on the stove. Frank passed out hugging the toilet. Monty takes a piss right next to his face. Some girl just asked me what I was writing. I told her that I was rewriting the Bible. She seemed confused. Her hair wasn’t combed either. The guy at the bus stop would be ashamed. I can’t remember his name though. The television can’t stop spewing poorly scripted ‘reality’ shows. This Friday isn’t very Good.
Phantom Journal Entry 4
Monday 3:12 A.M.
My eyes are broken garage doors off the tracks. I’ve drank too much Red Bull. She keeps waking up and asking me for water. Apparently her mouth is in a drought. A dead soldier lays between her breasts. Frank keeps drooling on the carpet. My favorite ash tray is tipped over next to Mr. Coffee. This desk keeps hiding words from me. Monty wonders how much a plane ticket to Hell costs. He never sleeps.
Phantom Journal Entry 5
Thursday 12:31 A.M.
It smells of raw fish and bleach in here. My palms are sore. Monty told me to stab myself with pencils to make sure I could still bleed. So I did. That girl ordered me a pizza. But I forgot it under the couch. The medicine chest is nearly empty. When Frank wakes up he is taking a trip to 5th Street to get more. I wonder if they sell bandages there? Will Mr. Coffee brew marijuana for us? My brain is starting to throw up.
Phantom Journal Entry 6
Thursday 12:38 A.M.
This desk keeps mocking me. I offered it to the guy at the bus stop, but he said he didn’t want anymore wood. The dishes are now a chemistry project. But Mr. Coffee is always clean. I can’t get this girl to stop showing me her tattoos. I miss the bartender at work. She got fired tomorrow. So I bought her a new bra. The medicine chest is empty now. Frank is never awake when I write.
Phantom Journal Entry 7
Thursday 4:30 P.M.
I finally got the garage doors fixed. I guess they weren’t closed enough. There is a ghost that keeps haunting the hallway in my dreams. She is pretty hot. Except she keeps tilting the pictures on the wall.
The thirsty girl still won’t leave. Neither will the cat. We may have found the cure for cancer in our dishes. But probably not. Frank is talking in his sleep about stepping on rats. Monty is listening to Beethoven while he attempts to write poetry. He is an awful writer.
Phantom Journal Entry 8
Monday 1:49 A.M.
The guy at the bus stop asked me if I wanted to drink his blood. I told him I wasn’t thirsty. The water was running from the shower. Frank was dreaming in the tub. Monty ate chicken wings with the tattooed girl. I can’t remember her name. I think that cat is hungry too. Mr. Coffee wants to go to sleep. There is broken glass sticking out of my feet. The sky is bleeding white. My mind begins to masturbate.
Phantom Journal Entry 9
Sunday 3:33 A.M.
The brine is looking for the ocean. The girls here are all made of smoke, and their realities are dead on the floor. This desk is growing a face. The medicine chest is full. Monty picks up a filthy habit from the black lake. I haven’t seen Frank for a few days. He must be under the couch. I robbed the guy at the bus stop. Turns out he didn’t really save much. The thirsty tattooed girl shattered Mr. Coffee last night. I will miss him dearly. Now my shot glass is spawning worms.
Phantom Journal Entry 10
Tuesday and I don’t know what time it is
It’s been 369 days since I last wrote an entry. I’ve simply had nothing to say. Monty is living in the streets somewhere. I think of him every time I buy a loaf of bread. I wonder if he found out how much tickets cost? That cat finally starved a few weeks ago. I married that thirsty tattooed girl. I still don’t remember her name though. Frank went to sleep in someone elses apartment. Never did talk to him much. The worms are all marching in a line. Someone stole my medicine chest. I think it was Monty. The guy at the bus stop was thrown into an asylum. But somehow vanished one day. The garage doors are now closed on a regular basis. That ghost finally straightened out the tilted pictures. I think I’ve been combing my hair a lot better lately. I am still a phantom to society. But that’s okay. Nobody knows my name.
By the lamppost at night
with the pale moon shining bright
but obscured by the fog
I saw her in the harbor
standing where my boat lay moored
but she knew that
her azure eyes beckoned me to come
smoke from the cigarette in her hand
trailing upward and blending with the mist
and the gold braid around her wrist
I remembered my gift
I stood transfixed
if only for a moment
then I walked to her slowly
and tipped my fedora
and the little joke we shared in love
I asked,"Where have you been all my life?"
Waiting for you, she said
I laughed at her resentfully and said
You left me here from this place
without a note, without a trace
I scoured old haunts, you weren't there
you left as if you didn't care
Remember our walks along the shore
your favorite drink,that special place
in the cafe by the window
where the sun would shine on your hair
and leaving a golden glint
like it did on my boat
when it was in full sail
Then one day you went away
our love became a mystery
that was never solved
now your'e here and I ask you why
There was a war, she said
I lost this guy and you came along
to fill the void and share my sorrow
I loved you, Jake, your silly hat
the way you tipped it, the boat , the cat
who begged for fish after each catch
she paused and lit another smoke .
took a puff and exhaled and said
Then one day , he showed up , his name was Clive
the guy I mentioned had survived
and left his tags with a guy who died
and he became an MIA
he was hiding out in Mandalay
involved in something, he wouldn't say
but he wanted me there, he promised me fame
I was a singer, you know
and all the dough that I could want
or all I could take
I just had to know how to play the game
Then I thought of you Jake
and what we had
and I told him , No
He got mean, Jake
and threatened to expose me
for what I really was
and I couldn't bear for you to hear
my sordid past, my constant fear
we're both alike, you and me, he said
We'll take what the world has to give
and grab it by the throat
or I’ll destroy you if you don’t
As time went by,it didn't take long
to see he was singing a different song
His lies and schemes, the other dolls
I lost my respect and I didn't care
I had to get out, I needed a plan
to rid myself of this rotten man
There was this guy, Buck
who ran the bar, he pitied the plight
that I was in, he hated Clive as much as I
I told him I watched Clive at the end of each night
the cash he hid in a special place
no doubt to leave in a hurry in case things got hot
he would check to see how much was stashed
if it was worth the dare, we would split down the middle
and make our departure at the crack of dawn
I knew a Burmese captain who owned a scow
who asked no questions for a fee
he'd have some cabins for you and me
Just before closing , I feigned getting ill
and called for Clive to aid me somehow
to stay awhile and give me a pill
and while he was there, Buck went to that spot
took the cash and lit out that night to wait for me.
at a pre destined place
My bag was packed in another room
I told Clive I would rest and join him soon
But as soon as he left, I slipped out
to the back, grabbed a cab
headed for freedom away from that man
thinking of you and to make things right
She paused for a moment and put out her smoke
and I thought I saw a drop of blood
form on the corner of her mouth
she quickly wiped her hand across her face
and continued her story at a slower pace
I arrived at the pier where the scow lay docked
took one look behind me and looked at the clock
of the building where we were to meet
checked my watch that matched the time
I saw a jeep pull up and he saw me
two grips in his hand and a smile on his face
he said, I got his dough, I'll leave his jeep
It's the least I can do for that miserable creep
I said there's no time to waste
just show me the dough
we'll split down the middle and get ready to go
he said, "Oh"
I'm ready to go but my plans have changed
I'm traveling alone
but I'll leave just enough to change your luck
this one's for you and this one's for Buck
I suspected as much and I scowled as he grinned
but his mouth shaped an O as he looked down below
the knife in his stomach pulsed blood from his guts
too late I saw his gun come up as he fell
I fell a pain in my side and clutched my coat
I picked up the bags
and summoned up strength to get onto the boat
I looked at the captain and said
There's double the price
if we can get away soon
get up some steam
and head for Rangoon
the captain patched me up
as good as he could
with the aid of some rum and a smoldering wood
to cauterize the wound
I knew it was wrong to take his life
but I was prepared to kill him
to end this strife
as a precaution, I took the knife
that we used to cut bait with
a long time ago
the knife stirred up memories
that you and I had
that pressed my decision to leave that cad
but the wound didn't heal, the lead lay impacted
I was resigned to my fate to see you once more
before it's too late... and here you are
She collapsed in my arms and I held her tight
with tears in my eyes , her audible sighs
gasping for breath and leaning toward death
And before she expired, her hand on my face
Where have you been all life, babe
waiting for you, I cried
waiting for you
A tribute to the black and white movies and dialogue of the late 30’s and 40’s
© Ralph Sergi
Close your ears, close your eyes and pray to me
for, as close as this, you may never get to God.
What immortals have you hoped to see? What espirit
de corp have you longed for? Who will guide your earthly plod?
Kiss me for I have kissed the lips of Lestat,
nipped and pricked, punctured and sucked to husks,
occasionally with regret, but more often lust's ascot
what once was I, reveling in your taste, your musk.
As Louis, I beguile with tawdry tales surreal
visages of plantation nights, horror of the color green,
Letiche roaming creatures who our trails conceal,
the true demons whose glamour goes unseen.
Yes, I prayed for death, wrapped in the pain of lost kin
but, by God I never wished, I never wished for Him.
But, by God, I never wished, I never wished for Him.
Eternity alone is such a hollow thing, unripe,
never, ever, feeling full, a marrow-less bone, scrim-
shaw's sorry surface, a sperm-less whale to pipe.
Such as this was He, when him came to me that mid-
night, pleading, bleeding, ever feeding morbid life.
A cameo on cowry shell, with skin which bid
the touch of cheek on cheek to assuage my grief
to fill the brother-less gap the lack of wife.
This is how he lured me to the kill, the blood spilled
how fire and innocence flamed when he arrived.
Do not hate me for the fate his kiss instilled
Surely, a family is the normal thing to long for
alive or dead to long for an espirit de corp.
Alive or dead to long for an espirit de corp
crestfallen at the lack of hearth and home, pride
we hidden monsters kill what we adore, and more ...
leaving us in marble crypts with no warmth inside.
Then He saw her, the child beside the corpse of mother
half dead, the pox upon her face, amidst the tears
certainly to save her was His goal, what other?
But now I think her savior - a most foul affair.
Claudia, the child eternal, bidding, unformed blight,
monster among monsters, her wee wicked formed unbudded
curdled, curling ever inward, a trickster charming night
stalker, dragging porcelain dollies by her side.
Daughter mine? Temptress, maker-killer, unformed bride
have you killed your father, dumped him in a swampy hide?
Have you killed your father, dumped Him in a swampy hide?
Years you've planned and plotted, Lestat to defy and I
absorbed in misspent fantasy with you; my fate allied.
Damned one, poisoner, death angel, do you deny
the desecration of the His unmoving vessel,
fed to the fishes, the bottom feeders, oh but He made do ...
absorbed recaste, laid in wait each hungry cell.
We fled the patricide, you and I sought others of
our kind. What gruesome, ill bred misfits the world held
and so hardening the unbeating heart ... beloved
to mankind we returned as if compelled.
To the core of life and lore to Paree, to the bloody stage
the Theatre des Vampires is home. Mockery's the rage.
The Theatre des Vampires is home. Mockery's the rage.
Do you see them now? Four hundred years and Armand
has not changed. See them lure the human meat upstage
with laughter. Reality's the rage and oh the blood coined.
"How gauche!" our petite Claudia sighs, the excess in
gore and waste. But, the coven has my Armand's grace.
For Claudia, Madeleine the doll maker dies, reborn
to mother the horrific woman 'neath this childish face.
A family formed again when Lestat steps in alive and
the coven lets the sun take Claudia and Madeleine.
I entombed, walled in, buried alive, if not for my Armand.
Their ashes, oh my dears, in death entwined.
I burned the lot of them within their caskets, burnt alive;
the curtain fell yet there was still Armand and I.
The curtain fell yet there was still Armand and I.
I could nor forget, would not forget, the fate of Claudia
of which he was no small part, it was a small lust easily untied.
Home was all I wanted, the damp, the swamp, the bougainvillea
sickened of my Old World haunts, all I wanted was home.
Never, never would I make another, a comfort I decline.
Let the modern age wonder where it is I roam;
penance unearned and ungiven in the shadows I hide.
I can not live, I can not breathe, death's my only company
my wife, my child, my brother, so many others. The living dead
is what we're called, Vampire, do you pity me?
Lestat "Do you see me? Your sight I dread!"
West coast, golden gates Baghdad by the bay
in the bars I linger where men are men, aren't they?
In the bars, I linger, where men are men, aren't they?
I find you here, or you find me? I bare my soul to
you of lessons learned, of men, of plays, ah cabarets.
"What do you do, what do you say, you writer you ...
two footed harridan of clay? You long for the eternal kiss
as if the bliss of life was so very little to pay.
Fool that you are ... not in life or death would you be grist
a waste you are, a mortal led so far astray.
No passion's left, no fond memories ... but her golden hair.
Perhaps, I'll take a taste of you, foolish fop, and sigh;
no immortal will I make. On the floor, I will leave you there
refuse beside the pages, the sordid tales as my reply.
As my lips close on your throat, heaven's absentee,
close your ears, close your eyes and pray to me.
It is so hard to let go of love,
unpeels more gut more quickly
than reel or reeler ever lost
in all those years of lazy inches
in and out:
winding in and playing out,
hardly fishing, rarely catching
from the deepness out of sight,
hardly ever losing . . .
Blisters lust into the greedy thumb.
the startled brake lets go.
It dives full length into the never,
finds the limit of its leash,
pounds against its half-round prison,
at end of end of rope -
Got you, shrieks the reel and reeler
cranking in the give and take.
The line is taut,
the weight upon it heavy,
and waiting . . .
. . .waiting for adrenaline:
against the angry, smoldering thumb.
Caught to catcher,
fish to fisher:
let me go!
It tries too hard to turn to something else: away.
Away and bottom still beyond the knot,
the creature climbs toward the light,
her leap, an alchemy:
silver unto gold.
crinkled all about.
Million mile amnesia.
a flash of tooth,
then placid lips close over any sign of youth . . .
. . . as if the fish had never been.
-the fisher wonders:
The line is limp
as if . . .
for all the years of it,
nothing at its other end.
A flash of recognition:
she leaps another time,
not knowing if what held her holds.
Silver fish scales golden ladder
a sunbeam at a time,
and all the rungs of memory -
breaks air an instant.
The line has held
and as she leaps, it claims her,
a thunder clap.
Arrested in her flight,
she drops deadweight into the bucket sea-
fish to air to gold to water,
Of the gold,
an afterglow centered in the thumb.
Did it happen?
Was she really there?
Air turns to air once more,
the fisherman to memory,
pig-a-back the job at hand,
one slender monofilament insisting: no!
and memory, another plastic,
refusing to let go.
my pretty lovely,
so flying and so softly spun,
you seemed the air to me.
So high and free,
so very near the sun,
my tears dissolve the earth’s connection.
The line my hands are holding:
to limit freedom at its height,
impossible without restraint-
the line between us,
subtle and so gossamer.
There, it glinted,
there! So very real.
Real . . .
The hook is realer.
Tangerine transfusion from the fastened lip,
bleeds unreckoned into the larger blue.
The sea - as wide as weakness -
sucks the strength without a hunger.
Tired, the hooked,
and tiring even more,
the line grows stronger,
shortening toward the bobber boat.
I’ve got her, cries the fisherman,
raping at dead weight,
dragging mystery toward the kitchen
-on his mind is steak.
Slaughter, separate from supper,
passion with a knife,
the knife . . .
. . . the knife is ready
held tight between the skinless thumb,
and vendetta fingers -
five Sicilian brothers
waiting for their sister to come home.
The other hand around the rod
is closing on the lover’s throat.
The rod’s erect,
the reel is angry.
Come, my dear, come, come.
She hears the music of the end,
the bowstring whine of gut
still lean and taut from her weight alone,
hears the rhythm of the reel
and tries to run once more
-provoking lust to snatch still harder-
but can’t . . .
. . . is free at last
surrendered with the last of blood:
quicksilver nearing zero-
and two dollars worth of ice.
(a virgin: never dead before)
betrayed and penetrated,
(it’s time now to give in, enjoy)
rests her weight upon the line,
toward the bottom of the boat.
The whore! I see her in the water!
She gave me quite a fight.
The captain, ready with the gaff,
the lover, in his rented swivel chair,
seize her from the water.
The maiden’s heartbeat
is faint and futile as a final cry of rape.
Her breath is fear, yet sounds like passion
at the very end.
Her swoon is now complete.
Her swain is prickled with his heat.
His blood pounds within his thumb.
is left alone with her.
He ponders . . .
. . . while he does,
she pales and sheds her rainbow.
Her eyes turn glassy from the air,
She’s turned to meat.
He lusts at memory for a moment,
then dries the little sweat
and goes forward for a beer,
and band aids.
The captain’s seen it all before,
surgically removes the hook
and tidies up the gear.
He and the mate carry her to the ice
and lay her out within the cold.
The mate disinfects the deck
with sea water and a stiff brush.
Returning with his second beer,
a badge of gauze and Vaseline upon his thumb,
the lover is confused.
The deck, shipshape,
of scales and blood
it all might not have happened.
Then there would be hope.
The mate calls him to the ice chest
for the viewing,
opens it . .
I’ve lost her. There she is.
The smell . . . it must wash off !
Time to go home.
The sea is empty.
It is over.
As I drove through the heavy snow of Manquiville,
Deep in silence back to Grandfather's house, all frightened faces
Full of solemnly dreams, I remember the smell of the sea.
The unseen Grandpa's hands, pulling and pulling
The full net of fishes.
I remember my Grandpa at this moment haltered
His muscles so tight that I was able to see the thin
Veins become heavier, healthier, richer,
While his sternly eyes ahead like two brighter poisonous souls,
Waiting and waiting and waiting, whatever the reason
He had in mind.
I remember just to follow him where the wide sea even powerful
As he was growing now calmed through the tide waves falling
Behind his horizon. I love see him like this,
Where the dreadly underworld as unique as mercy
Could not control him.
I'm driving slowly now, and I can see the road,
The sea behind, the trees old and shadowless,
The town of Manquiville quieted, deathless, soundless,
All gone and dumb, behind the weaken sun.
I remember I looked down satisfied in the way it is going,
Who guarded the visitor’s hope, who greeted
The intruder who more than 25 years was gone!
What a delightful remembrance to see the dangerous
Floor through my mind beginning to murmur thousand
Of happy slaves soon or later be caught!
How close we are listening by the jealous Visitor,
Always in circle, still far away from the smell
Of the fisherman!
But there was no one. All empty and in white,
Cobwebs everywhere, the insects had come and gone,
Birds' nests are there, a snake emerged and hissing away,
All seem that they don't care who I am and why
I came back. It has been so long since the Fisherman is dead!
I remember the sea...that day, I think,
Oh, how wonderful is the sea lyre that you are dreaming
To hold underneath the stormy afternoon.
I remember the sea...the sea! Seeing the sky-blue crown
Give to my Grandpa and Me, almost tremble, the unknown pray
Of God, which carrying golden fishes, your treasure wall,
Deep, enormous, cold and deathly, we are still afraid of you!
I stop my fancy car, all around is the designed
Of muddy roses, birds and horses, wild squirrels,
Like a feast of yellow swamp, and I stand there,
Dressed by tie and fancy suit, a lawyer,
A sucked soul, coming to see his Grandfather deepened
In the muddy ground, filled with nasty fishes.
I remember so suddenly, the nets of that day
Became tensed, like our hearts and our eyes,
Which it was unable to handle by myself.
There! There! I cried all along inside the small boat
And here and there is when my Old Man becomes only one
Where body, soul, mind, wisdom, and energy --
Become one forcer to kill
And as he was pulling and pulling. His old arms,
Still strong like two brawny-whited iron pistons,
Pulling and pulling, and the fishes as ghastly eye,
Jumping and jumping, coolly frightened, exposing themselves Completely under the half-light of the moonlight!
Now I cannot move. Why I am here? Why did I come?
With love, with pain, with doubt,
All I cannot say, behind the muse I have,
How I can explain myself the beauties of my Grandpa?
But I remember that day. Oh, what a shining light!
I was there, with the oak wood, deathless,
Like tiny hands, but the spirit of some old Song,
Helping my Grandpa.
I remember I was wondering if those fishes have any souls.
To live, listening the other side of my head,
Where my Grandpa told you're not born being a Fisherman
But as a blending poet as myself.
I remember I caught his mouth full of smile, with a promise
To die anywhere except here in the sea.
I bend my knees, with his nostrils stealing
Of his arms, pulling and pulling like a long sound
Of violin which I never knew why he had told that.
And I remember, you could not play with the sea
Or the hungry fishes, now handsome and wilder,
To survive like me, to become a stranger
In the middle of the sea.
Now here, I am growing smaller
My smile fading, no reason to be here, who before the infant
Archer who crying freedom, ready to a man,
I bring shame to the place of Fisherman;
I smiled sadly, looked ahead, with wishes to kiss
The Old Man's face drawing by the ocean air
And let that old hands of fisherman carried my hair
To my blending soul,
And tell him I made a city boy under the sunlight,
But never as a dream piercing through the dimly sea.
As October 1 approaches, HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY……………………
I have enormous tracts of land and vast volumes of water, but cannot feed myself.
So I spend $1 billion to import rice and another $2 billion on milk.
I produce rice, but don’t eat it. I have millions of cows but no milk.
I am 53, please celebrate me.
I drive the best cars in the world but have no roads,
so I crush my best brains in the caverns,
craters and crevasses they crash into daily.
I am in unending mourning, please celebrate me.
My school has no teacher and my classroom has no roof.
I take lectures through windows and live with 15 others in one room.
All my professors have gone abroad, and the rest are awaiting visas.
I am a university graduate, but I am illiterate. I want a future, please celebrate me.
Preventable diseases send me to hospitals without doctors, medicines or power.
All the nurses have gone abroad and the rest are waiting to go also.
I have the highest maternal and infant mortality rates in the world;
and future generations are dying before me. I am hopeless, hapless and helpless,
please celebrate me.
For democracy’s sake I stood all day on Election Day.
But before I could ink my thumb, results had been broadcast.
When I dared to speak out, silence was enthroned by bullets.
My leaders are my oppressors, and my policemen are my terrors.
I am ruled by men in mufti, but I am not a democracy.
I have no verve, no vote, no voice, please celebrate me.
My youth have no past, present nor future.
So my sons in the North have become street urchins;
and his brothers in the South have become kidnappers.
My nephews die of thirst in the Sahara and his cousins drown in the Mediterranean.
My daughters walk the streets of Lagos , Abuja and Port Harcourt;
while her sisters parade the streets of Rome and Amsterdam .
I am grief-stricken, please celebrate me.
Pen-wielding bandits have raided everything in my vaults.
They walk the land with haughty strides and fly the skies with private planes
They have looted the future of generations unborn;
and have money they cannot spend in several lifetimes,
but their brothers die of starvation. I want a kit of kindness, please celebrate me.
I can produce anything, but import everything.
So my toothpick is made in China; my toothpaste is made in South Africa;
my salt is made in Ghana; my butter is made in Ireland;
my milk is made in Holland; my shoe is made in Italy;
my vegetable oil is made in Malaysia*** my biscuit is made in Indonesia;
my chocolate is made in Turkey and my table water made in France.
My taste is far-flung and foreign, please celebrate me.
My land is dead because all the trees have been cut down;
flooding kills thousands yearly because the drainages are clogged;
my fishes are dead because the oil companies dump waste in my rivers;
my communities are vanishing into the huge yawns of gully erosion, and nothing is being done.
My very existence is uncertain and I am in the deepest depths of despondence, please celebrate me.
I have genuine leather but choose to eat it.
So I spend billions of dollars to import fake leather.
I have four refineries, but prefer to import fuel,
so I waste more billions to import petrol. I have no security in my country,
but send troops to keep peace in another man’s land.
I have hundreds of dams, but no water.
So I drink ‘pure’ water that roils my innards.
I need a vision, please celebrate me.
I have a million candidates craving to enter universities,
but my dungeons can only accommodate a tenth.
I have no power, but choose to flare gas,
so my people have learnt to see in the dark and stare at the glare of Unclad flares.
I am shrouded by darkness, please celebrate me.
For my golden jubilee,
I shall spend 16 billion naira to bash around the bonfires of the banal.
So what if the majority gaze at my possessed, frenzied dance;
drenched in silent tears, as probity is enslaved in democracy’s empty cellars?
I am profligacy personified, please celebrate me.
Why can I not simply reflect and ponder?
Does my complexion cloud the colour of my character?
Does my location limit the lengths my liberty?
Does the spirit of my conviction shackle my soul
Does my mien maim the mine of my mind?
And is failure worth celebrating?
I AM NIGERIAN, PLEASE CELEBRATE ME.
Two friends were travelling to the east seeking unexplored lands
eventually they reached some grim looking tall mountains
slowly they made their way up to the summit and stood there
Breathlessly they were amazed by the panoramic view before them
Vast areas of open lands stretched out with lakes and forests dotted about
"what a wonderful place" said McLeod "lets climb down and explore it "
they set off it took a long time to get down to the valleys below
they set up camp by a crystal clear spring full of big fat fish
"Supper" said McBram "lets try to catch some" with only their hands
they set about fishing, soon four
fat silver fish had been tickled out
lighting a fire they found a good flat stone on which to bake the fish
the teasing enticing smell of the fish soon filled the air
They saved two which they smoked to carry with them
that night as they slept a bear raided the camp stealing
the smoked fish. Luckily sated it did not attack them
"Drat no breakfast" said McLeod " lets catch and cook some more"
Finally ready they set off following the stream down to a lake
there were plenty of familiar fruits and berries for them to gather
also many strange ones that tempted them "best not eat them" said McBram
"They could be poisonousness". "No look the birds are eating them"
Reassured they tucked in eating a few and collecting some for later
suddenly with a mighty sound a mound rose up with a cave in it
the two friends looked at each other in bewilderment . "What's that
where did it come from?" asked McBram as slowly they entered the vast entrance
An eerie light flooded the cave, it was being emitted by some red crystals
they looked at each other and going over to them they touched them
with a flash they were suddenly spinning through time itself
crashing down they found themselves many moons in the past
Before them they could see strange looking people that bowed before them
a weird man dressed in skins with a stick that was shaped like a snake
pointed it at them it seemed alive as it hissed at the friends wreathing
"These are the promised ones" he said "The ones foretold of in prophecies"
"They have come here from the future to fore-fill the ancient legend"
the friends were feted by these people who treated them like kings
and the following day they were led to an ancient monolith
and strapped to it. "What is going on" asked McLeod "why have you tied us up?"
"To stop the dragon carrying you off" said the shaman "The prophecy foretells
you must defeat it to rid our lands of its evil purpose. At full moon it takes a maiden
and some of the children and feasts on them. You with your swords of iron can
defeat it." "Well we have never seen on before" said McLeod
"How are we supposed to defeat it" "I have a magic potion" said the shaman
"drink it and its fiery breath will not harm you. With its protection you must
then strike the dragon in both its eye then its heart" Giving them their swords
the villagers scurried off to hide. Soon there was a mighty roar and the dragon
flew down breathing fire, its talons outstretched to grab them. McBram went
for its eye running his sword into it sending it blind, while McLeod struck it deep
in its heart. The dragon fell to the ground and laid there dead. The villagers
came out of hiding and prepared a great feast in their honour
Towards the end of the celebration the shaman gave them both a bowl
"Drink this, he said "It will return you to your own time" So they drank it
and found themselves again spinning through time. They saw many different times
and strange places as they were whirled back to the present
Unconscious they laid on the ground slowly coming to, they were back at their camp
on coming to they looked at each other in puzzled bewilderment. Talking about
what had occurred they decided it must have been an illumination. Until they saw
lying on the ground some dragon scales collecting them up they returned home
Their friends scoffed at their story saying they had dreamt it all, there were no
longer dragons in this land. The two friends showed the others the dragon's scales
which were stared at with awe and amazement. Right there and then the two
friends decided they would stay at home safe with family and friends
Maybe to be continued
By 9:00PM I was ready to go. Dark pants, shirt, shoes, and watch cap. The classic night on the town combo setup for a not so hip killer. But these days you could get away with it because gothic was a style. I didn’t bring my girl with me. I never kill on the first reconnaissance. I did pack a knife and 32MM Walthers just encase things got dicey. I took my time and slowly slipped up into the hills, no need to get pulled over by LAPD. As I closed in on the house I turned off the lights and the engine and glided to within 50 yards of the target. The upstairs lights were still on and I could see one or two shadows moving around. I would have to get closer. I figured I would give it about an hour after lights out and break in and get a lay out of the house and see who was there. It was dangerous but I had done it before and learned that moving slow was the key.
Lights went out at 11:30 PM on the nose. A man of habit I liked that in a mark. I smoked and waited another hour and then slipped out of the car and moved quickly toward the house. I went over the back fence and stopped and waited. No dog. Even better. Staying in the shadows I moved to the backdoor and picked the lock. Once inside I settled down for a few minutes to get my bearings and listen to the sounds of the house. It is very important to know how the house sounds, how it breathes, moves, and lives before you start to move around in it. It can give you away in heartbeat. I calmed my breathing and started moving slowly through the kitchen. I could smell fish and vinaigrette. Some one had been eating healthy. A bottle of wine was corked on the island. The dishes were put up and everything appeared spotless. Either there was a woman in the house or this guy was gay. I settled for the former and not the latter. There was definitely someone else in the house. A familiar scent caught my attention and then faded away. I needed to be careful. Something wasn’t right about it this hit. Once through the kitchen I made my way to the master bedroom, which would no doubt hold, my victim. He was asleep with a CPAP machine by the bedside and a mask over his face. Apparently he had sleep apnea, which means he was probably taking Ambien and a combination of other sleep drugs. I crept over to his bed stand and slowly took his medication bottles to see what he was taking. I was right. He was sleeping with the prince Ambien. He was out like a log. And even if he did wake he wouldn’t remember a thing. Suddenly I heard footsteps upstairs. I lay flat on the floor and froze. Within a few minutes I heard the toilet flush. He definitely had a friend. Time to chill and then go upstairs. I didn’t want to have to kill two people but sometimes it is necessary.
I don’t know how long I lay there on the floor but it seemed like an eternity. I checked my watch and it had been 30 minutes. Time to move upstairs. Stairs can be tricky because they always creek and groan. I have found that quickly but lightly moving up them causes the least amount of problems. I was on the second floor in a matter of seconds. Again I smelled a familiar odor. What was it? It seemed so familiar. There were three doors in the hallway one closed and the two open. I assumed the other person was behind the closed door. I quickly checked the other two rooms and nothing. A bathroom and a spare bedroom turned into a study. With the patience of a cat I slowly tested the knob on the third door, it opened without any resistance. I slowly pushed it open and stayed close to the floor. I could hear gently breathing in a slow rhythmic pattern. From the sound and the aroma I could tell it was a woman. I was beginning to think I new this woman. As I got closer I realized it was Anna. I hadn’t put it together the last name of Collins but there it was, right in front of me. I pulled up a chair and watched her breathing. All I could hear was her and the clock ticking out the seconds. Time seemed to stand to still. I had a problem. I needed to think.
She Wrote To Me
My secret lover I left you 5 years ago I could not take it anymore I had
to fill my emptiness without you since I left I would cut out my heart
every night & in the morning its full again.
I got married to a rich noble politician thinking I can forget you I made
myself well known here in London as a musician playing the piano in
my own theater every night.
The theater was full the sound of my piano was known to everybody
living all over London due to my husbands political involvement in the
area for many years the whole theater would be booked.
My entrance was always approached with loud voices cheering till I give
the sign of performing .That specific night i was in a very determined
mood to involve my audience listen to the sound of my piano around
and everywhere the lights were on me already but no sign to begin
waiting for another noble to make his entry in the front row.
I was wearing that long dress in black and white strapless the one I had
worn on our first date doing my best to belong to my audience tonight
while craving to catch a glimpse of your existence live standing opposite
me the way we were your place was empty but not in my heart.
The audience were standing up clapping waiting impatiently to listen to
what they had already known music from the tip of my fingers will allow a pause through their breathing.
The lights dimmed no introduction was needed I was going to play an old
tune from the 80`s called Feelings remember when we danced to that tune I am dedicating this musical evening to you my love my first lover before we were obliged to be separated due to family upbringing.
That same evening tragedy stole my expectations of living a love to
perform an absolute change of a physical identity a living spirit awaiting
to be executed when suddenly I collapsed unconscious on stage my fingers
were numb my blood betrayed my heart.
It was a heart attack paralyzing me on the left side cure or no cure
is still unknown that had left me scarred when witnessing my dreams
shatter in disrepair.
I have been forced retirement at a prime age left with no choice
hide behind the shadows of the twilight abdicate my thrown
to an unknown.
Escape was a forgotten word before this chute as an invalid carcass today
my escape to the cottage was essential maybe a celestial miracle would prevail.
The cottage by the deep sea will become my quarantine from what was an enlighten world to a world of darkness, my retirement was a runaway from
the mockery of mankind who might disperse my dissipated soul.
My shutters are unclosed as their usage was worthless brightness
obscurity made no difference to me in that room.
The ocean view struck me by its calmness, huge waves were
not prepared to release their passion and splash on the shore to bring
forth their own melody.
I went for a walk walking like in a dream a dream with no feelings of body
and soul the moon provided me to detect another lonely shadow of a stranger yet this time it was the shadow of a lost fish wavering on the sand nearly lifeless, our eyes met needed to be rescued I said to myself even not feeling my withered hand I bent down kindly carried it and threw it back to life what a wonderful sensation. You will do that to me my darling, I will wait.
My decision to escape to the un inhibited cottage was a knowledgeable
step as only seclusion and spiritual wounds would heal to prompt a new attitude that will lessen my sorrow inspire my moral to long for
a tomorrow differing than a yesterday.
Stand by me today, my awakening will hoist a sparkling light of recovery
during this long coming journey. Intentionally I am your free woman.
Here I will sleep now until destiny will allow both of us to cure and leave our fears behind with our past, together venture back to where we belong.
I loved you and still love you. Me!
Here comes the hurricane
The storm is worst then a earthquake
Ima gas planet like Jupiter & saturn
Sufficication no life just toxic gas
Blow u to pieces
It's so interesting
Reachin for me is like reachin the stars in the solor system
U'll never get to me son
Think twice before u wanna try me
The size of Tyson
Gorilla in the mountin
I dominate this with out fear
I'm better then most u hear
Hate the truth
I don't give a ****
I'm not the type to smile about *****
I'm smart I osverb the poetry,biology,philosophy,history & literature
I mind **** so many people
It's like a video game I'm playing with my brain
I go off like I'm on speed
I'm so crazy in the brain
I can't stay normal
I puff good green
To keep my head good
Most of ya wack
Ya fake take the make up off
I'll spray u with the hose proudly
Ima problem child
No one can touch me
U couldn't be me if u took Notes & did research
Ya talk too much like ya was the broadcasters on the news
I'm far from the sun
But I have a heated temper
The flame I leave on the mic it can't be out out
Call the fire department
It ain't gonna do any good
The savage poet on the loose
Taking mc's out
Eating em out like oral sex
As long it don't stink ima eat u out the frame
Ya like on the breakfast menu
Put u in the cementary
U forgot I'm the grave digger
I dig graves for fun
Most of ya dig ya own graves
Talking about money cars & hoes
Its having a Knat in ya ear while u sleep
Ya niggas stupid most of ya belong in special ed
The graves I dug
I show no remorse
I'll continue I'm iller then a bad cold
Cough it up u like swallowed hair
Inhale the good *****
Never the doo doo type
U style is lame u sad go to the circus
Marry the beard lady
U envy me like the rest
I can scoop a lesbian turn that ***** inside out
Niggas hate on me I know they don't like me
Ya niggas are ugly it's like u got scraped with a fork
Watch the king at his best
I can take many sittin on the throne that's how ill I am
Take em out no competition
Booyaka it's gettin real
It's scary the nightmare on elm street
Coming for u in ur dreams
**** Freddy Krueger
I'm the true grim reaper when it come to takin souls
Take u out Ur misery
U a kid in a growns mans world
Ur breath smells like ass & fish
Take the mic from ya ur skills is dry
Buy a toothbrush mouthwash and a pack of gum
I'll put u in the graveyard
Dig ur grave
Dress u up with ur hands crossed with ur eyes open
Ain't it terrifying
Sign my name on ur casket
Put u in the dirt put u 6ft under
Ur gone ur forgotten
Goodnight sleep in piss *****
Wack niggas wanna be down with the j
But my circle is small
Sometimes I don't roll with em
Ya Niggas closet fags
Stay on my dick keeping my name in ya mouth why
What ya in love
**** off i ain't into that
Going off like I was in Vietnam fighting Vietcong
Beating my chest like King Kong before he fought the t-Rex
I'll kill ya lawyers
U soft u wouldn't hurt a fly
U talk a good game
U a motor mouth
****ing with me
Ima cobra ima spit venom right at u
Watch u shake screamin louder then a chick
Goons always got em on dial
Latin kings don't get it ****ed up
I'm nasty as a mold growing in a corner in a bathroom(eww)
Worse then a bushy pussy with a fowl smell(gasp)
What's gets worst then that
I can think of many
My mind is like a computer
The power is on
I'm full of energy
I said enough I feel I'm done
Adios I'm ghost I killed it enough