A people next door.
Nations for neighbours.
Closeness; that which can but rub.
Friction; sets aflame!
It is always so.
Who can avoid it?
One block, continent away
"Friends" safer to name!
I’ve heard
there are those
who dance in the rain
with cherry lips
and salsa hips
against
those who run
their mind upside down
dash for cover
with umbrella
Envoy
may rain
as a measure
remain
Electoral mortification
The ego of one man
chaotically divided a nation.
Hypnotically humiliated
and brought its people into dissolute hatred,
plucking each other limits.
Dehumanized the intelligence of great minds.
This team of trumpers!
imperious loud mouths,
puissant leaches stumping on others,
with ominous filthy words.
Despicable regard for biblical equal.
Do not unto others what you would not do unto yourself.
Leave the hate,
it’s like a malignant tumor,
it consumes time to no avail.
Color is just a shade,
Blood in man is indeed unique,
whether it was brown skin Jesus, dark skin Moses you or me.
as it retains a unified bond beyond us.
Someday,
I may need you and you may need me
for something grater than -
this evil influence crawling into our lives.
Your cry and my cry the same, seeking comfort.
©Al Juman -The "said" Poet, 11/25/2019
A Lesson in History: How to Subdue a People
Be brazen in thievery and sweet-tongued deceit
To, of their lands and people, take receipt.
Merchandise their inhumane objectification,
And keep them checked with generous flagellation.
With threats of nooses around their necks, or mutilation,
Deny them education for continued Blaxploitation,
To engrave ignorance and inferiority in their genes,
And achieve their eternal subjugation by any means.
Pretend yours are the magic words to open doors,
Seize their diverse tongues and give them yours,
Forbid songs of their motherland in your fields of cotton,
So their origins, after few generations might be forgotten.
Confiscate their identities and give them your name
And refuse them every chance at some historical fame.
Rewrite as idiots and cowards their dead heroes and braves
To kill their ancestors again, even in their graves
But beware, for they’ll pull your cobwebs off their eyes
And in time, in bits and droves, see, hear, and begin to rise.
Their voices will grow deafening and their impacts more felt;
None can eternally hold a people with a whip and its welt!
An Ode to a People Who Are Suffering.
First came the war
Iranians had to fight
Eight years of suffering
Warlords hardly are right.
The war was over
Many souls were lost
No more soldiers, no more bullets
But a terrible economic cost.
Because of sanctions after sanctions
Iran´s sun cannot shine.
Iranians are still suffering
But the politicians are fine.
Suddenly, a deadly virus
Started infecting everyone
Among the Iranians who are dying
Are the poor and the rich one.
The end of this tragedy
Depends on God´s will
Iranians’faith is so strong
That it can move a hill.
Raul Máximo da Silva
Portugal
It is easy for me to look beyond myself in Canada,
I do not have to go to a third world country;
or very far, I just need to look in Northern Ontario,
to the First Nation reserves to see horrible conditions.
Yet, although these people have no access to water,
overcrowded homes, unemployment, high food costs;
limited health care and are poor beyond poverty,
they have something within that there is no price for.
They have courage, you can see it in their eyes,
and they have forgiveness for all that has been done;
there are lessons to be learned from these people,
that no amount of money could ever buy.
They have strength of character, respect and love,
of their community, belief in the Grandfather Spirits;
they care for their old, do the best for their children,
and can smile though they have nothing of value.
But I think they have a lot of value . . .
_____________________________
February 3, 2019
Poetry/Free Verse/A People of Courage
Copyright Protected, ID 19-111-690-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Introverts like animals better than people,
like to read, can entertain themselves for hours
I am an introvert.
Extraverts like being with friends, like being the center of attention,
like being loud and obnoxious!
I am an extrovert.
Oververts like exaggerating, making up stories, and like doing
things with a zealous spirit that scares people.
I am an oververt!
Underverts like to do things without taking credit, especially if it
helps someone, likes not being noticed by bosses or authorities, and
keeps their feelings inside at all times.
I am an undervert.
Monsterverts like to have their own way, sneak around, manipulate
others, demand their own way, pout like babies, are difficult to like.
I am a monstervert.
Babyverts like to be nurtured, be sung to, sit on laps, be cherished, be
caressed, be patted, and loved.
I am a babyvert.
Geoverts: all of the above. Anybody want to guess whether they are one too?
If you have a need to know log onto: www.geovertpsychologicalstupidtest.com
You dont have to be moved,
we are already in a revolution
A different kind, one where futures are decided on couches in front of the television.
One which undoes it all
Implanting the seeds that usurp
men and women; both old and young along with their hot blooded ideals.
I make a imaginery toast to a time when we raised fists in unison.
While I watch in much intrigue and an impending sense of horror,
a tide wiping the minds of the free of all that is red
With the sterility of modern celluloid fiction.
The profane fantasies consisting of comic book superheroes fighting crime.
Morphed, rudimentary ideas of justice.
Just another vulgar display of neo liberal superficiality.
Meanwhile my mind wanders far away
To the remote and torrid jungles of nowhere
My comrade mothers her child
who is to be weaned off of her bossom,
It Blissfully titters at the breathtaking landscape now under seige.
As she cuddles her child, her eyes peer into the vastness.
Her heroes are dead, but not her resilience.
white light or black
its a fact
brown or round
from city country or town
to have dreams
mabe its little mean
to say
love come in everyway
we'll all sister and brother
from above
WE NEED EACH EACH OTHER
I am calling Him and he is calling Him
Everyone is calling Him to heal pains
Very closer to us He is very near to us
We are searching with our closed eyes
Though His glorious face is in front of us
In our dirty and dark heart
We are searching Him in that dark and dirty
He has millions of hands to help
We are asking Him very silly thinks instead of our capital ones
He is smiling for our ignorance and weeping for our sorrows
Though He is in our heart step and in our eye step
We are searching Him in all rocks and trees
Our searches are going on beyond the sky and in our books
He is smiling and waiting to help in our needs but
We are searching him in our paintings
Search not Him in the caves and mountains
Feel Him as air to our breath and take Him as your food
He will be with you as your thoughts and mind
A people without a god
I ask you to serve our goddess,
to pay the dues of our kinds,
leaving those western men you call priests and imams at the expense of our shrine masters
and their fabulous incantations,
pouring wine at our ancestral shrines,
perhaps dance the formidable tunes of our “Nfehveh;”
But you rather preferred the Yahweh and Allah of our western compatriots, soaring with
them … just feeling happy,
getting in motion with their beloveds rhythmic melodies,
placing all evil curses on me and calling me an animist;
Forgetting the good old past of our ancestors that have sunk into this stock of past events,
terming our tradition an enemy of progress
and changing the dancing path of our marvelous “samba;”
Besides,
time may have change
but the past is still part and parcel of life
and it hurts more when you grow wild ignoring me,
giving me impressions that I need redemption;
To be continued...
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