593.
Learn History of Medieval Period!
Learn Medieval Period History
Invasions, religions, lordship & slavery
Rise of lords & kings, counts & barons
Knights & serfs, Christian & Islam religions
Monarchs among the English, French, Europeans
Conquerors among the Mongols, Ottomans, Persians
Crusades of the Christians, Caliphates of the Muslims
War & trade among different realms.
-12/12/2017
(Dumarao)
*WHN Poems
Tangerine tan man masterplan such chumps
Plumps to rain down bombs on Iranian clumps
Logic stumps as facts and pacts again dumps
Throat lumps as fossil fool fuel prices jumps
Getting trumped and thumped at the pumps
Oil barons gloat gazumps.. economy slumps
No cargo due to embargo everything flumps
Even a MAGA fan is now down in the dumps
Grumps got the hump with Mar a Lago frumps
Thicker than Forrest Gump deadlier than mumps
Andromedan castles
moat has little blue boats
servers are maidens joyed
white iris gardens
deep canyons
radars aimed
soft cadence
magnet minds
love balanced
Orion forts marbled
shining with platinum bands
armoured Galactics cruel
stone and steel makes head reel
bold barons
orlon vests
high pylons
canon shots
warring sons
______________________________
Monday morning sneaks through shack and grime,
Bullets whirr where drug barons plot their trade,
Gatas tread gingerly.wasting hours and time.
The spaza hums,mugs chime,Rooibos Tea in the lane,
Bambinos sidestep shadows,mae geri into dustty tins,
Old timers murmur incantations under the day's first pain.
Smog sprinkles from braai stands where mamtanies fry,
Pirated Kalashnikovs twinkle in the sun's first glare,
Yet souls beat steady,declining lies.
Klevahs shuffle,wallets empty,agrrements whispered fast,
Tiny tots peep through windows,hearts throbbing loud,
Even in agony,a tenacious hope holds steady steadfast.
Through shacks,mirth trembles,sharp but bright,
The day starts with grit,with pain,with dreams,
In this dream struggle, the spirit fights for light.
The cattle barons rode into town
They were dressed in blah, black and brown
Faces stoic and plain
Bulls of Iowa fame
They marched to the square to confront the clown
The clown was frightened of these big six
There was not a happy one in the mix
Hamburger? No way!
We are here to stay
Clown, owner of the diner, was in a fix
Fifty years ago...the age of self-reflection
Hollow crumbs, shadows of proud vestiges
As minneapolis' jim crow vanished slowly,
Painfully, no longer admired at country club
Cocktail parties celebrating ribbon-cuttings
My family was inside and unaware of history
Working class achievement,
First deli in marble edifice
To corporate greed,
Connecting the longest Minneapolis
Skyway North to Washington Ave.
Dallas barons, puppet-masters
Guilding their empire on the backs
Of working class talent, eager to eat the
Crumbs of capitalism
Spoon (Mr Witherspoon) slaved to achieve the
Pinnacle of jim-crow "shoe-shine" stands in
Pillsbury's new world headquarters
Admired in his community
Proudly placed out front, then moved
To the back of a hair salon, ignoble-crushed
Under the weight of boardroom glare
jim-crow lost it's shine
Spoon
Lost
His
Leg
4-18-25
5:55am
The kings of backgammon, descendants of
Bulgarian kings and Austro-Hungarian princes
Russian counts and countesses, Czech barons
Your ancestors have seen better days.
They accepted their fate as the natural state of affairs
And when it turned out to be just a fickle fortune
They had the nurture and tact not to show their shock,
Though usually such a ruthless discovery crushes many.
Now, as you spend your days playing backgammon in smoky cafes
You rarely remember the fragments of days gone by.
You've learnt to rejoice in trifling victories, and not to be disheartened by losses.
The descendants of exiled kings and ruined nobles
They organise championships of sad joy
The winner owes a round of beer for everyone.
The new Russian opposition makes the right acquaintances
Just like the old one did a hundred years ago
And in their later years, they all convert to Catholicism
Since Orthodox churches don't have pews
At least with Catholics you can doze off unnoticed
With a sniff of incense through the candle light.
To make money do what you may
And let no rules come in your way,
Capitalism blares
As laissez-faire declares
Wild ways to thievery,
Packaged nigh cleverly
For robber barons of today,
Who should look in mirror
To reflect on error
And ponder, made they are of clay.
____________________
Happenings |19.11.2024|money, business, mirror
Poet’s note: US, who has charged an Adani company of financial misdeeds, needs to look into its own history of capitalism. The first two lines of this ditty talk of what laissez-faire was and still largely is. A list compiled in 1934 named 26 robber barons (a German term for knights who charged illegal tolls from travellers along with other forms of thuggery). The list includes Andrew Carnegie, JP Morgan, and John D Rockefeller-- who later turned philanthropists and promoters of art to earn rubber stamp of public approval. The country reminds us of a cat on a pilgrimage:
Upon killing hundreds of mice,
A cat is out to wash her vice,
On holy pilgrimage
To pop up her image,
Poor mice paying her laundry price.
Now the Earth slowly dies
It burns before our eyes
The facts are unopposed
And yet our eyes are closed
The rich who try to hide
Most leaders on their side
They'll turn our world to dust
And still we choose to trust
Money is the master
Leading to disaster
Nothing worth defending
Such a sorry ending
Oil barons never learn
They say just let it burn
Rainbow robber barons
loose cannon lephricaners
rollin'n' tumblin' dice
When shadows fall across embattled land
Dusk creeps slowly westward over the plains
Comes a-wailing, howling of the coyotes
Searching for prey among the dry creek runs
Thirsty animals, like humans, take risks
Seek out the sweet nectar of the rainclouds
Potable water, life’s necessity.
This cracked earth, barren of tillable soil
Given for our homeland--great Sioux nation
And Lakota--once land of thunderbeasts!
Our land carved from brokenness and hardship
For generations we courageously fought.
We will never surrender one acre
To greedy Eastern oil-hungry barons
Not one dried-up ditch for a leaden pipe
Winding across our sacred tear-stained soil.
July 8, 2022
Submitted to "2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 7" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Written/Edited June 13, 2022
Submitted to "Creatures of the Night" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward
furry maniacs
acrobat squirrels
apple tree robber barons ~
furry maniacs
2-1-22
Contest: Squirrel Haiku
Sponsor: Robert James Liguori
Snapshot Dating
The right place
The right time
Again the day begins with
Faint sunshine
Over the sleepy villagers
Gathered in cities like stooks of corn
Stacked against the rainy form of
Another stormy morning
The black & white snapshot
Might tell a better story of
Grandfather sitting silently
On hay
Perfectly posed
in a quiet repose
He’s said nothing since his funeral
That Saturday
In town
The young boys gathered round
The Model T with the flat tire
It’s easier than replacing horseshoes
Said the young liar among them
Lighting a smoke they went about
The work before them
Greasing their fingernails in the
Futures of Oil Barons
The someday of overcoming fears
Has come and gone
The guides have taken the supplies
And gone their way
There is still plenty for the taking
As is love for the making of
The generations yet to come
I stand alone on a hillside barren
Of trees and rocks, and similar thing,
Once they were lush with foliage green
But now they are stripped of everything.
Ancient mountains verdant ripped away
The price of greed more than evident,
By harvesting narrow top seams of coal
Crushing heavy equipment came and went.
West Virginia’s hills were once majestic
Grand and proud they towered brave,
Where I stand alone on a hillside barren
Saddened like standing before a grave.
Coal barons who built a mansion near
Must feel the pangs of injustice here.
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Brian Strand's Sonnet Contest
July 21, 2021
SILVER MEDAL WINNER
"Where Have All The Mountains Gone" Poetry Contest
All Poetry - October 10, 2021
When shadows fall across embattled land
Dusk creeps slowly westward over the plains
Comes a wailing, howling of the coyotes
Searching for prey among the dry creek runs.
Thirsty animals, like humans, take risks
Seek out the sweet nectar of the rainclouds
Potable water, life’s necessity
This cracked earth, barren of tillable soil.
Given for our homeland--great Sioux nation
And Lakota--once land of thunderbeasts!
Our land carved from brokenness and hardship
For generations we courageous fought.
We will never surrender one acre
To greedy Eastern oil-hungry barons
Not one dried-up ditch for a leaden pipe
Winding across our sacred tear-stained soil.
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