Come,
All of you, my brothers and my sisters,
Let us join hands and march on God's path,
The divine path,
The one that would lead us into His arms
Whether you are:
Christian
Moslem
Hindu
Buddhist
Shich
Jew
Animist, or
Of any other religious persuasion.
Come,
You are all invited
You are all welcome
You are all needed.
We need each one of you
We need your presence
Your help
Your energy
Your enthusiasm,
Therefore,
Let us join our forces
For
We all are God's children, and He loves all of us the same,
No matter what our nationality,
Our color
Our creed, or
Our status.
Come,
Let us embark on Faith's boat and sail over the enormous
Ocean of spirituality,
Keeping our eyes on the lighthouse of love,
The only lighthouse able to lead us
Into the blessed harbor of understanding
Of acceptance,
Of compassion,
Of peace and of
Universal brotherhood.
Come,
My brothers and my sisters, come,
The future of humanity depends on
Your arrival
For
To end the reign of war, division and
Hate!
-
-
© Demetrios Trifiatis
29 March 2023
Categories:
animist, god, humanity, love,
Form: Free verse
He lights cigarettes not his regular,
The Poorest Tobacco making popular,
For it parting with hard earned chinks
And its service enjoying with blinks;
Beer not his proclaimed Brand
Still finds its way into his hand;
To its bringer The Longest Hug,
Much of the beer spilled on a rug …
A woman in the skin-tight
Has made her flaws light,
He willing to be quiet
And concentrate on inner riot …
He is The Permissive Hedonist,
Not qualified to rubbish An Animist:
Feeder on Worldly Pleasures,
Bat-blind to other treasures.
Categories:
animist, addiction, corruption, drink, evil,
Form: Rhyme
He does not treasure his link
With four Arab Terrorists:
Men who’d pretended they could think
But for their savage strikes, Humorists…
He shall his thoughts bare and not blink
“His haters now whisky glasses clink
And in The Blue Sky also pick out Pink”.
This is no picture of A Challenged Scenarist,
Rather A Good Nose’s for the smell of An Animist
Off and on, his rivals at one another wink
For The Armada about to profitably sink.
The four accursed terrorists
He’d taken for amiable tourists,
Until up the ugly heads of shotguns reared
And in the shooting the bullets veered,
Plus involvement of a wasting grenade
That looked like it had been Russia-Made…
And in his hotel the four didn’t shrink,
When the strongest beverage was the drink…
Mr. Mole guessed he must do something, meanwhile
And not away image-saving time while.
Categories:
animist, death, integrity, memory, violence,
Form: Rhyme
From assassins fleeing but finally spotted,
One’s good image guarding and still it is blotted;
An ill-omened murderous car
Crushing one’s guiltless star!
A team playing out its heart but lifting no trophy,
Zero approbation bagging for one’s philanthropy;
A last- round knockout receiving from a punch-drunk pugilist,
God truthfully serving but still tagged an animist.
Also, forever battling with recognition
While not indifferent to its precondition
Or, of a sudden, experiencing health issues
After stepping into demanding shoes…
The jaws of Devourer Fate
Remain The Widest Gate:
That which would storm one’s path
And for days not important a bath.
Categories:
animist, anxiety, bereavement, creation, destiny,
Form: Rhyme
By men’s dismissing laughter challenged,
It being sheer insanity ignoring the lips-twisting thing:
Round-table talks on it speedily arranged,
No more sexual meetings with any man, no fling!
By the suckling of her infant measurably scared,
Because of its disfigurement of upstanding breast.
So, why her at all lecture, preachy lips insensibly bared,
Seeing that vanished could be the trust rest.
Ceaselessly warming up for her entitled presidency,
Very hard for her first tenure, her first-rate jewelry:
Any silly story of her electoral defeat to be fought with urgency,
If the winner dares dine with her, lethal weapon their cutlery.
To-the –core feminist
Always is angry with Man…
The Nasty, Nosy Animist,
Who could never be her fan…
And never could her outsmart with a pen.
Even with Ingratiating luck not on her side,
As now as she was then:
The one veritably ingenious but choosing to hide…
In deed, literally does bound forward-A laureates:
There was one I’d been reading-A poetess.
Categories:
animist, character, eulogy, hate, integrity,
Form: Rhyme
An animist believes there are living souls in trees.
I agree without any kind of extra persuasion.
I already believe the stars and faeries have souls, right?
And the moon and the sun, and lakes and meadows light.
What of sandstone, malachite, turquoise, opal, you know their souls linger.
Totally God-made, diamonds definitely have souls on the right person’s finger.
Topaz? Emeralds? Sapphires? Hematite? Granite? Shale? Yes, of course.
Let’s not forget the animals, the pig, the cow, the lamb, and the horse.
What of places – Stonehenge, in particular? Jerusalem for sure.
What of thoughts – the good ones that make you feel kind and pure?
What of families, and school communities that show you love?
Souls are all over the place, sprinkled here from the beauties who live above.
Categories:
animist, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Rhyme
COPLA 103 RESOLUTION : This Bad Guy World
Roughly speaking hindus are Indians
North Americans protestant :
Give or take some
Most catholics invest Europeans
Plus the South American continent :
Save Brit Kingdom
Almost all the Malay world’s muslim
Likewise Maghreb and the Middle-East :
Africa mixed
Buddhist tour à tour East Asian
Chinese orthodox Slavs communist :
Rest animist
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Categories:
animist, conflict, religion,
Form: Dramatic Monologue
Let them say I was a simple, stubborn person,
hypersensative or insensative, a dispenser of partial justice,
a person of particular patience,
may those who encountered me in moments of bliss or blight,
in instances of charity, charisma or condemnation speak of me ruefully & beautifully,
some will surely say that I was apolitical, asexual, atypical,
an atheist an animist, a racist or an altruist, a want to be soldier,
a combatant for my liberty,
others, I suppose, that I was selfish as sin,
courteous like kindness, and furious as a frustrated phantom,
maybe they'll say I was gay or anticompliance,
I do not dare require truth, fact or fiction from my bifurcated biographers,
I only ask for their breath,
their rosey & ruse recollections of my life so stark,
let them say that they knew me,
let them say that I lived,
that I lived lovingly, lonesomely, and learnedly,
let them witness my reality like laughter in the dark -
J.A.B.
Categories:
animist, atheist, happiness, introspection, me,
Form: Epitaph
Longing for the rainforest,
the smell of life eternal springs
and wafts across the oceans deep
to my chilly home to bring..
images of orchards bright
in high trees with roots a dangling
of butterflies, I've never seen
and crocodiles prey wrangling.
Longing for the forest in spring
the eastern coast of Australia,
the gushing falls high above all
Kingfishers dressed in regalia.
I dream of Daintree and sky walks
above the forest's fecund floor
of mangrove trees riverside,
rousing morning doves galore..
Ghadja I, ghost spirit white,
I dream of Australian spring time
far across the deepest sea
down under I walk in dreamtime.
*In the animist framework of Australian Aboriginal mythology,
Dreamtime is a sacred era in which ancestral totemic spirit beings
created the world.
Categories:
animist, adventure, imagination, nature, dream,
Form: Rhyme
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...
Categories:
animist, faithme, allah, me, ,
Form: Free verse