Best Bidders Poems
a sample of rock
collected from the moon - -
bidders go crazy
for Carolyn's gemstone contest
A BALLAD TO THE ANCESTORS
Like ripened fruits plucked from a flourishing tree,
They were stolen from a lush paradise garden;
A self sustained dwelling having no need of a warden;
A beautiful paradise where all could work and live free;
But the thieves of the sea came, taking them to the shore.
Cabled towed neck to neck; waist shackled like others before.
They were stacked in ship bellies reeking with death, feces and pee.
God please let their souls’ survival spirit always abide within me?
Though many of our ancestors chose the freedom of death
Over the slavery of life, others chose for one reason or another,
To survive the Middle Passage in hope of returning to the home they left;
These arrived as chained exotic human cargo for trade and barter.
From sea ships’ corrals to auction blocks, they were bought and sold.
Skilled craftsmen they were—intelligence secret—skills used later to get free;
Fooling bidders believing the dumb beasts were well worth their weight in gold.
Oh God I pray their souls’ survival spirit will always abide within me.
Four hundred years of bloody slaving labor from can see to can’t see—
Our ancestors—bonded—free fodder fueling a peculiar institution
In which one had to be fully white in order to really be free.
And all blacks—objects of pleasure for all whites’ ravenous satisfaction.
The black woman—fertile young and old—became its chief breeder.
For pleasure or profit—fertile mother of bastards she was branded to be.
For all children, black, mulatto or white, the black breast was the leaking feeder.
God please allow their souls’ survival spirit to always abide within me?
Yes, through skills, blood, sweat and tears, our ancestors learned to prevail;
Leaving us here still able to struggle and fearlessly fight to be totally free.
With the undying spirit of our ancestors’ audacious faith and hope, we will not fail;
For God has decreed their souls’ survival spirit to always abide within you and me.
She flinches, shudders as chains tug at her flesh
The ruthless slave trader and rapist whispers to the auctioneer
And instinctively she knows that it is her turn to be sold.
The noise heightens, her eyes focus on a kind face in the crowd.
A well dressed man with a curly mustache wearing a black a top hat
His expensive suit quite obvious as he moves deliberately through the crowd
He approaches the platform and takes the slave trader aside
As the bidders become raucous, jostling and argument ensue
Her eyes trail the well dressed man with the curly mustache
As he haggles with the ruthless slave trader
Again, looking up towards the sky once more, she day dreams
Her Mama had been sold some time ago, never to be seen again.
And as she recalls the soft murmuring words of comfort
Tears fall easily from ebony eyes rolling down her face.
Then she heard a voice whisper, “Don’t cry.” “Don’t cry, Heddie”.
I am here. I am with you. And wherever you go, I will go with you.
The road will be treacherous and mighty long. This road will be hard, the
Journey, long. Yet you will be resilient. You will endure and you will be strong!
Today, I bring you a gift for all your days and beyond. The gift of song!
May your soul find rest when you sing. In joy or sorrow, trials and trouble, worship
And praise, you will sing and your spirit will ascend to God’s throne of grace.”
In that moment the chains that shackled hands and feet fell loudly onto the block
(That was the beginning of a new life for Heddie. The well dressed man with
The kind eyes rescued Heddie and the others that day. As the story about her great
Grand mother is told to her grandchildren sitting at her feet, they all realize that the blessing
which was given eons ago as Heddie stood on the auction block at twelve had been passed
forward to the present generation. They are the descendants of Heddie and the well dressed
gentleman who had moved to upstate New York where he married Heddie and gave the
slaves their freedom.)
This is written in celebration of "Black History" Month and in collaboration with Jimmy
Matthew Anderson
Form:
You auctioned my love
Because you couldn't pay
The price of keeping me
In good repair...
Too time consuming
Too hard
Too demanding
Too tough
And so you auctioned me away
You auctioned my love away
And watched
All the bidders
In a frenzy of excitement
Raising the price
sky high
For my finish was fine
Aesthetically pleasing
A "masterpiece"
They did not see
They did not know
What you auctioned was flawed
You auctioned me away
You auctioned my love away
“Going once…
Going twice…
Going three times…..
Gone!”
You cried a little on the inside
When you saw hands reach for me
Mr Auctioneer
But the tears were not enough
Not the tears of sacrifice
Which was the greater price
For having me
How can you keep something beautiful
Without the sacrifice of time
Emotions
Energy
And your very soul?
Too great a price
And so you auctioned me away
You auctioned my love away
And to this day
You wonder where I've gone
Where I've been hung
Which wall I decorate
How I’m being handled of late
You auctioned me away
You auctioned my love away
And now you pay
Now you pay….
Eileen Manassian Ghali
In the shadows of an African flora
embracing my title as a mercenary
a title with little content except the smoke fumes
from illegalised seeds
the red-hot point defining
intervals of mental genocide
and the false bravado from fired wits.
Patting the enticing behinds
of hypnotized beasts,
beasts with bracelets that jingle
in the rhythm to the tangle of the jungle
This jungle the vast platform for emotional motions
motions whose basic notion
is the vigilant search for death
and when found bought by the highest bidder.
Other losing bidders joining the swim in lake 'CHATEAU',
and from its coolness gaining
a semblance of better days.
mirages of imagination,
the illusory images of reality
and in this sub-conscious existence
all aimed at the gates of HELL
Form:
I remember the day we first met
Those pinkish cheek. How can I forget?
Like flowers in spring that bloom
I heard my heart beat like drum, boom!
Together we climbed the highest hill
Together we shared each others chill
Everyday i felt like we're in paradise
Each day of my life you gave me surprise
When i was sick, you never left
Through thick and thin, you never rest
Through all the sorrows and pains
You held my hand, help me kept movin'
You never gave up, never surrender
Stayed by my side you made me better
Gave me your love unconditionally
Always there enlighten my way
You're the brightest stars i looked upon
The shadow that covered me from the sun
Thunders, storms and even tsunami
Nothing departed us still you and me
Many years passed, many dawn and dusk
Your sweet smile and love? No need to ask
Thank you god for this wonderful blessing
The man of my life i had been longing
The precious one i have ever hold
Highest bidders or kings can't afford
Each moment I treasured and cherished
The warmth of your love never ended
Forever valued this gift that i have
Forever kept and locked it in my heart!
by: Leila Mijares
3/23/12
(This poem is heartily dedicated to Arthur John Gruvman from your ever loving wife Mimi)
Shall I compare a summer’s day to thee
in an effort to make lust seem profound,
you’re hot, wanted, and can make men sweaty,
but is it worth it when the sun goes down?
Paying so much to go out on the town,
at the nicest restaurants you have to eat,
vacation at the ritziest sports around,
reveling in being looked at as meat.
Knowing what you command with your beauty,
hoping to bring the high-bidders in close,
living the high life until you’ve drained me,
then to the next man you so swiftly go.
You’re hot, but you are a pain-in-the-neck,
is it really all worth it just to get sex?
Drama on Social Media
With every passing day
and every passing hour
world comes closer,
globe contracts
with silvery lustre
of social media.
Some, call this media
a social monster,
others, addicted badly,
few, known for moderate use
for purpose and reason.
It is the platform of continuous drama
of uniting friends and foes,
art and the artists,
leaders and the bidders,
entertainers and commoners,
gossipers and chatters.
It’s the platform of melodrama
bringing angel and fairy closer
displaying their lovely chats to public,
making tantrums and shouts in public,
their cat & dog match viewed widely,
entertaining the world of netizens.
And, one day..
angel and fairy
bid farewell
closing all their accounts
blocking and quitting social media
to end one more social media drama.
Soon, the new accounts were
opened,
fairy is seen with another angel,
angel is seen with other fairy
to begin one more entertaining
drama on social media.
******
A famous song in his own ear
Often sung enough for him to hear
Upon his being does the tune call
To make him dance just as he’s touched
By notes of thoughts on memory’s lane
So life would’ve been but not in vain
Being able to think and gather
The memories of friends and brothers
As life still is he can just think
About what for doth he still live?
Should grace within from him depart?
He would feel all but won’t feel glad
And where he lies should help seek him
What does he wield to help it with?
For as he stands he will need help
In future times and future nears
Now bidding by the bidders pass
They bid to help but woe alas
For they’re in need and cannot give
What they don’t have nor would receive
The needy lies with helplessness
With needy souls he lays to rest
And helps them out in selflessness
To get from them his long sought help.
here is to him a true christian,
worthy one, the Vincentian.
Ambition breeding cold determination
Every facet guiltily held in jotted keys
Lurking making numerous opportunities
Pleading quick reaction seldom thinking
Undermining valiant workers xenophobic
Yearning zealously among bidders
The Body of Christ has been mutilated,
Placed on scale balances for bidders,
His blood used yet still in profanity-
Drunk by freemasons and the guilty.
The devil has seized it, in it he bathes and laughs!
Why not? why not?
Our Holy Lord has been desecrated
By clerical cupidity and nominal indiferences.
Look ahead son, look over there!
beneath that roof where congregates
menfolk and clerics
The Body of Christ
is being weighed for the buyers.
Unblinking reflexive opinions lean
indubitably, favorably and certifiably
with minimal pandering soliciting
uber voodoo yawping woos
socially quintessentially obviously markedly
consciousness brakes alignment
defining mine political views
loosely yet not strictly, jerry-rigged,
hidebound Democratic
fealty haltingly pledged ones and twos
to roster of candidates
slated to challenge incumbent Republicans
all to quickly accused,
sans participating sinister ruse
this active voter puzzled at controversial
eye opening ex post facto
fractious, governmental
harmfully injuriously jaw-dropping
suppression within top secret queues
during nasty donkey kong braying p's and q's
(case in point) scurrilous, opprobrious,
and malodorous Clinton administration,
where (based upon my recent perusing
"The Peoples History” –
me strongly endorses
(authored by Howard Zinn news
worthy revelation, (whose recounting
atrocious, calumnious, egregious
glaring ignominious knowledge
jackbooted, mandated, predicated
on blind trust, essentially billeted
charade, facade, inlaid faux Hope loose
bandied cutthroat gratuity legislation
favoring pandering "pork" via
pretentiousness to wealthy gentiles Jews
abandoning average civilians snuffing out
sputtering, grousing, and hoo's
flick erring tapering fuse
whereat this news worthy informed citizen
totally tubularly unaware of any clues
pertaining to antithetical maneuvers,
(loo win ski) shenanigans, and undertakings
today yields genuine boo's
toward Clinton, where I despondently feel
he renegged promises
made to electorate (except top 1 %) got souled
(sold) to remaining 99% cheapest bidders
as-sized thirteen duff heated no nothing
sneezing Schnorrers
spluttering phelgm at me at-chews.
What the Loo Cleaner Saw:
vicars'
knickers
hippo's
nipples
bidders'
skidders
hatters'
splatters
farters'
garters
written 22nd October for Jan's Footles contest
The Stradivarius
(A rare violin)
The Stradivarius lay still, waiting for a master's skill
The silent bow with deep yearnings,
for a master's touch upon its strings.
Across the case a price was laid,
that the auctioneer had displayed.
The sale began, the atmosphere tense.
The amount of interest was immense
The offers soared, the fervour increased.
Then the gavel came down and the bidding ceased.
A bidder had been willing to pay
to claim his hearts desire that day.
This prized treasure had been sold
to its owner, more precious than gold.
Now the violin would be heard again,
its silence broken by a sublime refrain.
Then the maestro picked up the violin
and placed it fondly beneath his chin.
With masterly strokes and tender care,
such heavenly music filled the air.
The noise in the room just faded away
as the bidders were hushed by the master's play.
The hearts of the people were deeply stirred
by the haunting melody that they heard.
Many tears were shed on that day.
Then the violinist just walked away.
pitter
patter
goes the
rain
upon
the roofs
upon the
streets
upon the
heads
of us all
walking
in the
west
to our
nearest
grocery
store or
convenient
store
with our
common
human
thirst
coming
from the
daily
grind, yet
our own
exertion
here is
absolutely
nothing
like that of
the people
in the lands
far far away,
whose
resources we
have become
experts
at squeezing
every last drop
into our cars
into our products
into our lives
& now back into
our
bodies
as we take the
last refuge---that
very nectar of
life which keeps
all of us humans
trucking here on
this planet---
water.
as bottled water
runs more expensive than
gasoline,
coca-cola &
nestle (to name
a couple) start to build “the next
empire”---one in which
fresh water
gets sucked up from wherever it
naturally flows
& pumped into tankers
owned by private companies
which will
divvy up the goods to the highest
bidders
in the near future.
so to the people of the third world---
whose most valued natural resource,
of which whom some walk
miles to get every day---
we of the
west,
we of the 1st world,
raise our middle fingers up with both hands in
tandem
shouting
“good luck, suckers!
we welcome your business in the future---
be it selling you bottled water or
cemetery plots, coffins, urns, and
shovels.”