Long Pollution Poems
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What do you believe?
What do you know?
did you have any clue i read tarot cards professioanlly for the oldest restarunt built
in my city
and predict surprised birthday parties that have passed
and cfan tell you all sorts of secrets of exaggerated emotion and paranoia
that only the moon knows
So like the life lesson of the hanged man
are you here to realise you are gullible or to see through me and know ive been
telling the truth
is this a test for you flase prophet
or your spiritual awakening with another card before you saying all of my poetic
poems that sound personal are nothing more than fabrications
and many of you judge me
and that further goes to prove my writing ability?
Is it true do i know anything of being bonded to the material
and the devil who reminds me the keys to my chains are within my grasp
And the tower of unforseen catastrophe always has a happy ending or a rainbow
but only a true prophet in the year 2012 in las vegas understands the
conspirtualacy of my craft
Is the hierophant all about the conformity of society
and the grouping together of the nonconformidt youth
so when the saints and sinners pull to gether to revolutionise and pull this star
from the sky will our dreams or nightmares come true?
Tell me prophet Am i a fool because the magician never taught me his tricks
but i understand the perfect shufles and have a deck of freudian slips of my own?
the blue moon sunrise and the three levels of the game of reality
we take babysteps of fear to beat or fail to proceed or return to the start
Where exactly is the emperor's crown of authority when society understands the
slide of psychology
and the one of a million being catered to
and the billion sof like minded individuals that spiral out from this psychological
understanding
Am i in the driver seat of the chariot and do i have enough temperance
to balance the forces of good and bad to see the pros and cons
of the blessings and ultimatums of desires and consequence
were you gullible all this time to fall for my lies?
or were you smart enough to see them as works of art?
or are you a true prophet and need to start the revolution from the earth and the
pollution of our skies
here i am
a false martyr
tell me prophet whats in store for me
and what am i to do?
Salutations!
Are we all just a figment of GOD's imagination?
Or just a simple angle of schematical equation.
Perhaps, we’re just a footnote in God’s mental thots?
He’s gotta BIG BANG Universe to run, does He not?
Are we all flashing back on one of God's holy hallucinations?
Walking on water, EGGSHELLS! Raise Cain! Raising you know what and who!
Are we all just a spark in God’s expecting spectacular speculations?
Or a One-time ticking timebomb from nuclear annihilation.
Are we all just a coat God puts on His “quotations”?
Keeping us in order with anti-inflammation.
Rambling hypocrisies, babbling Biblical prophecies.
Or are we all just simply subjects of our own bad inventions?
Subjected to the whims of fanatical sabbatical radical intentions.
Getting lost in a crowd, getting lost at Sea, Dead to the world.
What’s to become of me? I’m only one but I’m not alone.
I’m only one... one amongst millions and millions of Billions!
Who all call Earth HOME! Don't we all call Her home?
Billions who just aren’t me! Yet sorta look like me. But do they think like me?
Do they love life? Do they seek out the truth, new life and Lady Liberty?
Peoples who wanna share, peoples who wanna care, peoples who wanna dare
To have a positively positive outlook on life!
Wanna little betta Light to Sunshine on, you, see?
Wanna betta lifeboat just to stay afloat, indubitably?
Are they capable. Of being civilly chivalrous, acting responsibly?
There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be freee!
Free from the scrutinizing eyes of oppression and tyranny
Free from the sympathetic lies of social suicidal tendencies.
Are we all just a sing-along of one of Gods’ songs unsung?
Justa tryin to figure out whatta hell is going on.
Or are we all just a song in a Godsong sing-along?
Just tryin to figure out what da hell is going on.
What if ...
We’re NOT all just figments of God’s imagination
But possibly, there's no other possible rationally obtained explanation
For all the misconceptions and misinformation ordained!
Are we all really looking forward for this final absolution?
Over population, crime, world domination, slimed, improper pollution
Best to jest to keep on singing songs
And just keep on blindly playing along
With God fearing reindeer games.
Oh my, time flies ...
The Dreamer never dies!
ELOQUENT GEMS
Part 2
But it’s show time, word genius making a fuss within ya brain hemispheres,
I’m rear in all the ages, pages outdating your solar systems burning spheres,
I leave ya mind scared with the truth, scared of what you will lose,
These writings are like hip hop and blues, blowing your mental fuse,
Your used, abused by your ignorance, cant advance from ya current mind stance,
With plans upon this planet, over running ruins, within ya delusions, ya say plans?
You ran away from your divine land, residing instead blind following lies,
Firmly as earning spiritual advice, nice and nicely played out well,
As you fell I tell a real story of glory of the real history with fury,
Furious but word notorious, worry about these things, they are nearly near,
Yeah bearing witness to those that stumble and don’t get up, find ya wings,
Hear the voices singing songs, lethal sequels seeking ears to hear,
Fear the mighty word warrior, steer your vessel, bless you from the summit, right up there,
But I don’t care, I steer a mind behind the vessel, as I wrestle good and evil,
Always climbing levels…. Depart devils, be gone please, ya don’t stand a chance,
One glance of these words puts you in a trance of stagnant brain operation,
Change up ya station,
Excellent, your seeds growing,
Into a plant with enhanced reception,
Tuning in, dismantle the stress,
Confess your ruining ya perception,
In the life of Mass Deception!!!
The completion is to reach them, all of them,
Mindfully seen through intervened letters to them,
Them? Who’s them? Remnants of the mighty men of old?
The Chosen few… come on I don’t know….
So I can’t just follow in blind faith,
Distasteful foul ways of the fools,
Who are schooled within disgraceful enslaved schools,
Check ya schedule, Like King Saul you will fall,
Slayed by your own sword and missed out on the reward,
Plagued by an evil spirit, devils mindset absorbed,
Records show a man that didn’t grow so jumped overboard,
Absorb these words, sort what distorts and delete,
Don’t retreat and be defeated in this heated war of good and evil,
Find your tranquil place and be seated, meet the inner self,
Where the real help resides, inside your house, your temple,
Disassemble and reassemble yourself, resemble principles possible,
Irreversible when awake!!!
Quincy Mac
date written: 5.12.2015
The Sweat of Thy Face
When we were young, we were given a charge by the Almighty…
“ Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it.”
( This, we seemed able to do.
It was the second charge we've had trouble with…)
“...In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground…”
History, according to the Bible, tells us that, one reason Adam was formed was because God wanted someone to till the ground…to work the soil, planting seeds and reaping the fruits of their labor.
Since it goes on to say we will do this with the sweat of our face, we can deduce that this will be hard work. Perhaps mankind misunderstood the words, “of THY face”, reading it as, “the sweat of THEIR face”?
****************************************************************************
Slavery,
Bond servants,
Free labor…
Sacrificing humanity and compassion for a footstool.
****************************************************************************
Freedom! Finally, unpaid and forced labor is rejected and despised…outlawed.
However, the ones in power were still the wealthy.
Mankind, always searching for the loophole to save their soft, lilly white hands from respectable callouses.
We began to forget how to work, how to grow food, preserve it, and how to be self reliant.
We sacrificed quality for quantity, flavor for convenience, health for sloth.
We've been blessed with intelligence, ingenuity, common sense…what do we accomplish with these blessings? Discovering more and more ways to avoid a sweaty face and those calloused hands.
****************************************************************************
The industrial revolution,
The Sciences, Technology,
Our superpower, Pollution.
****************************************************************************
Now, on the cusp of inventing the ultimate slave, we could be creating a world where human beings are merely dumb animals relying on our own creation to do all the hard stuff…like thinking.
Once again we create the tower of Babel.
Not to reach heaven, no...
a tower that controls our very own Adam...
Our highly polished, Eve.
When one tries to control Artificial Intelligence , how will we know who holds the leash and who wears the collar?
The world does be a mysterious place to live in
Already hampered with its yet to be unlocked secrets
It does cause us all to enjoy while, at the same time, having us basked in sin
If I could change some things about it, pray, life would be as sweet as a ballet
See, humans would need to become pure
No more shall there be wars to endure
Humans shall be tolerant of one another
Even if differences of all sorts, around us all, do hover
Religions would need to be more unifying
Indeed, Holy Books, of the way to Heaven do teach
But then, humans, of hatred and mockery for one another do be screeching
As if, of peace and tolerance, their religions do not preach
Earth has had enough of its fill of pollution
Machines and gadgets I would bring forward,
Having the preservation of nature as their main mission
No more would trash and dirt fill the nooks and crooks of the world
Pollution does cause the death of life
Nature does become impure to our health
So much that Earth does feel like she is going on her way to her own death
Pray, a new world it shall be, one with air so fresh
If I could change more about the world,
Why, I would make sure death and disease do be in-existent
Pray, death does be so bold, it does cause us all to be so sad
Disease and the loss of our loved ones do cause us all to fall to our own detriment
Why, of course, humans and animals would have eternity to live
But at the same time, they would need to be made of good feelings
No more evil, no more sin, no more harms
No more disturbed thoughts, no more wants of abuse
My world, if I could have my way, would be free from poverty
Each and everyone of us would have his own share of gold
So that content shall be his stomach and that of his family
Content shall also be his heart, indeed, content shall be his little world
Why, does the world be a place where we, fallen souls, come to grieve
Does it be a place where our souls are to be always ringing with sorrowful alarm
Why, I do claim not to have, at my disposal, the one magic finger
But I shall try my best, to make of my world, a place, one so better!
This rhyme does be my prayer
May the Heavens bestow upon me, their power
Pray, if I could have my way, the world shall be the solace of all of life
Indeed, such a vision does be in my heart, the strength of my own faith!
10 April 2016
How can we not have this conversation
where footprints of the poor vanish
beneath the boots of investors,
and the river sings only
to those who can afford its luxury?
In Chobe, the elephants roam free,
but people walk caged in poverty.
We call it coexistence
when tusks are protected,
but mothers bury their sons
gored near neglected kraals.
And no one comes
unless it's a game drive
and the victim is not black.
How can we not speak
when the lion's roar is louder
than a widow's cry for compensation?
When leopards eat goats
and ministries write reports not cheques?
Let's talk about the five-star smiles
that greet foreign tongues
while the Batswana mop floors, serve beer, and sleep on concrete after ten-hour shifts.
Let's talk about uniforms and pay slips
that smell like servitude,
contracts folded into silence
in offices lined with antelope heads.
And let's speak of the racism
how a Black woman was shot by a white woman
who said, "I thought it was a monkey."
As if her body was a silhouette of threat.
As if Blackness is always a blur
on the edge of someone else's comfort.
The river bore witness, but the law shrugged,
and headlines softened the bullet.
Let's talk of fishermen
banished from their birthright,
told their canoes spoil the view,
that their laughter scares the tourists,
that their presence is pollution.
Let's speak of lodge owners
who toss insults like breadcrumbs
to those who clean their sheets
lazy, slow, replaceable.
No chains, but contracts.
No slurs, just smiles
with knives beneath them.
We cannot be quiet
when the sun sets
behind lodges built on lies,
and the river is fenced
not for safety, but exclusion.
How can we not speak
of the politics of permits,
where land is leased
like livestock,
and council seats are auctioned
to the highest foreign bidder?
Corruption blooms like water hyacinth,
choking life from the roots
of communal trust.
The sand knows.
The baobabs know.
Even the crocodiles know
how long we've swallowed
our own tongues
to protect the myth of peace.
So let us talk.
Let us gather in the heat
of midday truth,
where no luxury air-con hums.
Let us speak until the sky listens,
until justice stalks this land
as fiercely as the wild.
Because silence, here,
is complicity.
And we have been quiet
for far too long.
Form:
Free advice to those* who would be King from the THIRUK-KURAL with notes
[*like presidents and prime ministers of declining (falling or fallen) nations]
K381: padaikudi kuulamaiccu nadpuaran aarum
yudaiyaan arasarul eeru
An army, people, wealth, a minister, friends, fort:
Who owns them all, a lion lives amid the kings. (Transl. G.U.Pope)
[army= the most formidable air, sea and land forces; wealth= minus the eighteen (?) trillion debt and not counting his own well-earned piddling billions; a minister=read as Prime Minister (V.P. or Sec. of State?); people=less by three million-odd democratic votes; friends=dwindling, save for staunch Israel by marriage; fort=impenetrable nuclear shield. ]
K448: idippaarai illaatha eemaraa mannan
keduppaar ilaanum kedum
The king, who is without the guard of men who can rebuke him, will perish, even though there be no one to destroy him. (Transl. Drew & Lazarus)
K444: thammit periyaar thamaraa olukuthal
vanmaiyul ellaam thalai
So to act as to make those men, his own, who are greater than himself, is of all power the highest. (Transl. Drew & Lazarus)
K447: idikkum thunaiyarai aalvaarai yaaree
kedukkum thakaimai yavar
Which king who (encourages and) heeds the criticisms* of his henchmen fears conspirators? (Transl. T. Wignesan)
[*not-heeding the advice of Ivanka and son-in-law on climate change commitment in Paris, even if the polls show a majority in favour of polluting the planet.]
K448: iduppaarai illaatha eemaraa mannan
keduppaar ilaanum kedum
The king who insulates himself from his helpers'* critiques will perish even if his enemies left him alone. (Transl. T. Wignesan)
[*the role of the media in keeping the WH incumbents in check, for without the journalists working over-time to whet and wet-blanket the language and blunders, the King would have perished by now.]
K450: pallaar pakaikollin paththaduttha thiimaiththee
nallaar thodarkai vidal
Having to put up with the enmity of legions* is ten times less harmful than forsaking the support of good (impartial) people*.
[*legions= Hillary Clinton and the NDP; *good (impartial) people= like FBI Dir. Comey for one, even if he has an eye (twenty-twenty vision) on the presidency in 2020]
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Oh well here I go again,
wishin for a dream that I could be wrapped in,
entrapped in,
torn away from addiction,
destroy the tele…
vision they strive to force upon you,
its all false but you know I’m true.
They will not protect you when you scream your broken cries,
they are merely evil faces of masked men behind illuminati eyes
with which they hypnotize,
brainwash you with their lies.
I've got those deep thoughts pouring in,
all the roads I've traveled down
conditions I have traveled in
here in my pretty town,
the 910 deserves a crown.
East Coast I'm representing,
I promise you I am not venting.
High on that purple haze,
And still haven't slept for days,
excuse these bloodshot eyes
with a krispy kreme glaze,
some will try to say its just a silly phase...
My mind is so graphic,
use words like special tactics,
unmistakable like D'Jango,
or a peace signs' angle,
destroy the crave for war and struggle,
no need to explain all the trouble,
with places burstin’ into rubble,
Rebel! Rebel! We’ll show ‘em hell!
I’ll be fightin’ when I'm dead,
kick and scream till my blood is shed,
let authorities know the message will be spread!
Put on a show with a little bit of passion
or the bad things will continue to happen.
Get the love through your head,
all this hatred should be dead,
what I'm saying must be said,
before the gauge goes into red.
With vocabulary this brilliant makes a female more vigilant,
like brothers boston what I speak
my words alone will make you weak, make you faint,
Like blood spilled by hands of a vigilante saint,
trust me lifes too short,
you dont have the time my young cohort,
wait until your words make an enemy
cause their threatened by the uncertainty
that you will make it this far
make a point unlike this war
next thing you know you see ‘em sweat
words fresh like paint drippin with purpose,
makin ‘em wet.
I finger paint a master piece with a just simple rhyme,
just don't pull your piece on me just let me speak, my mind,
while I unwind, rewind all this blasphemy,
continential catastrophe,
I may have to beg and plead so that my boys can rest in peace
sorry for the interruption,
don’t blame me for the corruption,
for now I'll put my words at ease,
hope you told someone you loved them today and that it wasn't a white lie,
just a tease.
04.27.2013
Form:
I was walking down the neighbourhood,
reminiscing how it all
used to be where we made believe
that we were nymphs in a wood,
except the once moist earth was parched,
and the once white air was brown...
and footpaths and landmass
were suddenly under a filter of grey...
Here I stop by this grandfather tree,
one in my eyes would be older than me.
But when I touched the bark
and the lowest leaf,
it whispered, "Speak, child of Eve,
now that I'm awake from my sleep."
I walked backwards,
scratching and tilting my head,
wondering what was messed with my senses;
had climate change really gotten into my head?
Now although I am shocked,
and my mind can't think so fast,
my tongue does the work for me:
"How have you lived this long?" it asks.
A wind blows, and my eyes take up,
imagining him stretching the rusty spine of a trunk.
He then speaks, in the gruff and cranky voice:
"You humans do whatever you want,
kill what you see with your eyes,
and spare what they think would fit their design best."
My eyes wander, to the settlements gray,
and remembered, the green kingdom where we'd played.
"Do you ever miss them?" I wish I hadn't asked,
but there is no way of turning time, and I continue to ask:
"The others of your kind, the ones that fell,
were they family, or friends at best?"
The grandfather shuddered, cold and angry,
I could feel his thoughts, how he wished
that I'd not reminded of what sored him.
"But what good would it do to think of the dead all day?"
He adds, "Isn't that what your mother always says?
Best ask her yourself, I'm sure my answer would be same;
for though you'd branched out early, we share one ancient family name.
But for now leave me be, your kind has hurt me enough,
to be sworn enemies, still, I'd rather sleep it through."
I turn around annoyed, wandering what tricks my fancies play,
then I stop so suddenly, with one last question to say:
"How do you know me?" I ask, not expecting replies,
but he says in return: "I used to watch you as a child,
"And in your early days I'd hold you when your limbs weren't so ripe,
I'd watched you walk, then I was worried,
when my own limbs tripped yours.
I'd thought since that misplaced root, that you'd never come back.
But now that I've talked to you, I feel
weirdly warm and comforted to sleep."
The windows are closing in, and gaps are getting thin, mankind has paid the sacrifice for useless pollution on the surface of the earth and their lungs are filled with dirt.
I look above the benevolent sky and search for the big lie, Fossil Fuels supply eighty four percent of the world’s energy and you want to phase it out in a hurry, what alternative do you have to supply the world with clean energy?
The scientists don’t know this and the chemist cannot prove it but the physicist can narrate it. Their work is outside but the formula is embedded inside and the philosopher is their guide.
Hydrocarbon is lining the throne and natural gas is homeward bound. The coal is floating around in abundance and the oil is shooting through the pipes what the row is about is to bring it to net zero or phase it out?
They come from all over the globe to listen to the multitude shout and have joined the climate change choir and expressing their innate desire. The band is in place and the musicians are on the stage, they have composed the fossil fuel hymn and everybody began to sing.
But the rhythm and the harmony are not right and there is a silent internal fight, the heavens are standing tall and the mountains are rubbing against the wall.
The chief is singing the base and Opec giant has entered the debate and blocked the fossil fuel phasing out scheme and have shattered the green minded countries dream.
What alternatives do you have when the world demand for fossil fuels doubles every twenty years? Why are you in such a hurry when there is no other voice to join the choir.
Climate Change is real and you have got to have continuous negotiation to generate a practical solution to appease your fossil fuel ambition. You must knock off some of the theory and stitch the entire loose edges together.
Carbon emission reduction is on the agenda too, it is causing controversy for me and you and if you put fossil fuel and carbon emission all together the internal combustion will move the engine around the world.
Tomorrow when you meet and start to greet you must come up with a solid plan to moderate carbon emission and fossil fuel demand on the land without causing power outage and fuel shortage around the globe. The row will continue until you figure how to sort it out.