Best Blood Brother Poems
Music needs lyrics to make it whole
Lyrics are words that touch the soul
Listening to one song after another
Springsteen singing "My Blood Brother"
It tells a story of of childhood friends
A genuine love that never ends
Growing up and parting ways
Changes coming in passing days
And it takes me back to the things we did
The friends I had when I was just a kid
Although time has pulled us all apart
I still carry each one in my heart
But the stars are burnin' bright like some mystery uncovered
I'll keep movin' through the dark with you in my heart
My blood brother--Bruce Springsteen
I am black,
and you are white, my friend
On the surface, it would seem
we are two completely different human beings
But cut me,
watch me bleed
This is where we share our common bond of unity
It's in the blood, brother
Our blood is the same as one another,
our blood is all the same color
Scarlet are my sins,
color me bloody red ...
I have been spiritually dead
But I got revived,
born again
Now I have a new set of eyes;
I see everyone as my sister and brother,
my family is your father and mother
Yes, cut me,
watch me bleed
My heart bleeds for peace and harmony
Blood brothers let us all be,
let love multiply, let love abound aplenty
It's in the blood, sister
Our blood is the same as one another,
our blood is all the same color
Great are his exploits
honour and rank
he's celebrated
he's immortalized
He's fondly recalled
Back to memory
The great legends of Old..
Great Chief Waiyaki wa Hinga..
Aged nine he killed a lion
with his bare hands...
When the imperialist came.. Waiyaki..
Raised a huge Army armed with bows and arrows
Testing the might of the staff which spat fire
Fore told by the great seer Mugo Wa Kibiru..
..see people dressed like butterflies
they come from the sea of the hawk
and move on an iron caterpillar to the
lake of the eagle.. they carry a walking staff
which spits fire killing instantly... your weapons
will be useless when faced with this magical staff..
The great seer advised the people to learn
The pale skinned colonizers magic..
At right time armed with the right knowledge
The land of the slopes of Kerenyaga..
Will be liberated by its sons
The mountain of splendor and mysteries
Where people since ages ago have offered prayers
To the Supreme Deity Ngai Murungu..
Who is all loving and of good virtual
The supreme deity's Prophet Mugo wa Kibiru...
Is office of the chief seer..
Water Tabernacle the resting place of - Managi
The greatest Holy relic and the Box that is the relic
I recap they say Great Chief Waiyaki
Was betrayed by the pale colored..
foe he had called blood brother..
Angry Waiyaki took out his favorite club..
Mathiokore.. it was nicknamed..
Within minutes brains of the Great captain
were scattered on our rich soils
The invaders captured Waiyaki..
Our great Chief and opened his skull
Waiyaki died not.. they buried him alive
Head facing downwards.. Great Chief..
You should have heeded the Great seers
prophecy..
...don't allow the butterflies to enter your homesteads...
Buried alive..
Immortal Warrior king fate
The annual pilgrimage around
Kereenyaga - the abode of Ngai
Goes on each year.. pilgrims
Make seven stops as they
Circumbulate the Holy Mountain..
Of stories and more stories from the land
Where gods.. immortals.. and mortals
Rub shoulders looking each other..
Eye to eye... tales of KENYA
code 254
LEWIS NYAGA
Loki
In days of Old Norse
Tales of the trickster were heard
Stories of his deeds
The sly one, the shape changer
Had wicked tricks up his sleeve
Loki had two sides
Bringing treasures to the Gods
Then he brings chaos
The blood brother to Odin
The legend that is Loki
AgMoore© 07/20/11
Amanda Moore
Bag if tricks contest
My childhood friend, my blood brother
We did a lot of fun things together
Playing carom, table tennis and skating
You were the dull school boy
My eyes were always pained
To see you struggle through school
The painting on the wall of the little boy in tears
Always reminded me of you
And so I kept a close watch
To give your dull mind a spark
Now and then teaching you, stoking your inner fire
What a fine eagle you turned out
Life’s battle you have won
Whereas I have lost one and all
We have now parted ways
You are now wrapped up with another
And I in my lonely mansion with father and mother.
(OIL PAINTING 1)
Brothers on the beach,
Seaside in reach,
The two amigos,
Blood brother bros,
Fraternals and kin,
Pals and companions,
Sidekicks and playmates,
Coastline siblings,
Buddies in the shingles,
A forever brother band,
Golden memories of the strand.
I Hear Drum-Beats Across The Land… Can You Hear It?
All Our Homes Are Handed Down by The Highest Spirit
Long-Ago, The Native Peoples of The Land
Knew… The Earth and Us – Go Hand in Hand
I Hear Hoof-Beats Across The Land… Can You Hear It?
Its Not The Buffalo or Antelope – Who Grew To Fear It
Its Battles of Braves and Soldiers – Both Grim Reapers
Can’t Forget… We ‘Are’ Our Brother’s Keeper…
Blood – Brothers
… We Are Blood-Bound To Love
Blood – Brothers
We Are Blood – Brothers Of
All Sons and Daughters of Mankind
The Great Spirit Binds…
… Blood – Brothers
I Heard Hate – Beat Down The Land… Did You Hear It?
Pollution and Persecution… Its Time To Cure It
End Our Journey On The Trail of Tears
With Broken Arrows and Rivers – Running Clear
I Hear Heartbeats Across The Land… Can You Hear It?
If You Turn and Face The Wind… You Are Near It
It Pounds Deeper Than The Skin, Or A Flood
It Echoes To All … Its In Our Blood !
Blood – Brothers
… We Are Blood – Bound To Love
Blood – Brothers
We Are Blood – Brothers Of
All Sons and Daughters Of Mankind
The Great Spirit Binds…
… Blood – Brothers
* * * * *
The Eagle Flies On The Breath Of Life
And So Do You
May The Blue Sky And Your Clear Eye
See Many More Moons
Keepers Of The Earth… Guard This Turf
And Each Other
For Every Human Birth… Has Worth
As A Blood – Brother
For Those Killed and Blood Spilled
The Ground Cries
Soaks The Dust… And Curses Us
When A Brother Dies…
Blood – Brother …
‘Twas the Night before the day of Halloween’s Eve
The air was cold and the wind was mean
And on it traveled the fairest soliloquy
Betwixt Good and Evil as they strolled
The breeze brought me the story they told
Of sleep, dust, and shadows
Of teary lakes and headless plateaus
Of the blood brother of sleep
More restless yet deep
Around which broken dreams of split saplings rally
Thus marking his easy to find but hard to leave valley
Moreover mentioning the interloper
Some fine fellows, others right scurvy
An earthly animal, but Heaven worthy
Who at best is Good’s noblest paradigm
And at worst is Evil’s paragon in time
The infinite being in a finite creature
Dwelling in a bottomless cell without walls or ceiling
A void of finality with infinity features
Where the soul can gain or lose feeling.
The interloper possesses a body, heart, and mind
All can be broken, which you will find
The heart can meet the end of love’s stake
And bones of the body easily break
The mind can be destroyed by its own thought.
In the end we are but dust, shadows, and forgotten wrought.
And only as they go
Do I noticed Evil’s haunting ghost
Who walked with Good as the unknown foe
Who thrived in the dark of night
But did so best with a glimmer of light
He is boldest in the day
But while I lay
And as they stride
He has no light in which to hide
For a shadow only plays
While there is light in the day
And Evil is ever and again the master
But solely in the seeming absence of its caster
I was born at the tail end of the Goldhawk Road
Which runs through Shepherds Bush
Like an artery,
And in the mid 1960s,
Served as one of the great centres
Of the London Mod movement,
But I was raised in relative gentility
In a ward of nearby South Acton
Whose vast council estate
Is surely the most formidable
Of the whole of West London.
Although my little suburb
Has since become
One of its most exclusive neighbourhoods.
My first school was a kind of nursery
Held locally on a daily basis
At the private residence
Of one Miss Henrietta Pearson,
And then aged 4 years old,
I joined the exclusive
Lycee Francais du Kensington du Sud,
Where I was soon to become bilingual
And almost every race and nationality
Under the sun was to be found
At the Lycee in those days...
And among those who went on to be good pals mine
Were kids of English, French, Jewish, American,
Yugoslavian and Middle Eastern origin.
While my first closest pals were Esther,
The vivacious daughter
Of a Norwegian character actor
And a beautiful Israeli dancer,
And Craig, an English kid like myself,
With whom I remain in contact to this day.
For a time, we formed an unlikely trio:
"Hi kiddy," was Esther's sacred greeting
To her blood brother, who'd respond in kind.
But at some stage, I became a problem child,
A disruptive influence in the class,
And a trouble maker in the streets,
An eccentric loon full of madcap fun
And half-deranged imaginativeness.
("Born on the Goldhawk Road" is a versified version of one much reproduced in various forms throughout my writings, although it bears little resemblance to its original, which first glimpsed the light of day in around 2002. It's undergone much modification since then, including the alteration of all names of people and places for the solemn purpose of privacy.)
A Friend Such as Him
His Love and Friendship I do not doubt
Never have I once seen him distraught
Not his blood brother, not half related,
He grooms another with teeth serrated.
Grudges in his Heart, has he ever kept?
Spirit does not wane; his Eye never wept.
A serene Slave turning another cheek-
In a Dog a Heart of Patience do seek!
***Inspired by a Dog scratching another- wondering how the hell he would know where he has an itch and for what benefit!
***The only time a human being comes so close, is when he is robbing another!
***Should you bestow your heart to Dogs, you're assured of genuine friendship!
JM
12th Nov’ 2013-11-12
Breathing underwater
Deep in the arctic
Yet my skin grows hotter
Bench pressing the weight
Of the world without a spotter
No creature is scarier
Than the human monster
Been told to go kill myself
By my own loving father
Hated and despised
By my own blood brother
Now you know why I'm
Too much of a renegade to act proper
Razor blades and grenades
Underneath my pillow covers
Can't wait for tomorrow
And see what I'll discover
Out of every shadow they creep and crawl,
twisted faces of pain, more evil grins with the night time fall.
The shadows swallow themselves in deeper pits of black,
kind, considerate? These are just the begining of the things they lack.
Children once, beloved by none. Tormenting each other just for fun.
Light hurts, so they stay out of the sun. But even in a sliver of shade there could be a ton.
Fighting, ripping and gnashing at one another,
hating, even though they should be considered blood brother.
A door creaks open, they fall silent and so does the air,
Stillness creeps in heavy like a cool blanket of shivering fear.
She is happy, her long blonde hair flowing out behind her,
"Don't worry Mom! Nothing will happen!" she yelled behind her once more.
Wrapping her scarf around her neck like a noose, it was a little too loose.
She skip-walked, humming a little tune to her childhood,
trying to remember it the best she could.
Whispers in the alley. The drunkard passed out and coming down off crack.
The whispers talk of murder, fowl play they say. Stumbling upward off his back.
Black broken boots belong to a broken owner, doing a stagard walk down the alley.
/Flip Flop\ Goes the clip clops as they meet the side walk.
Up the ally the voices still in the back of the man's head with the murder talk.
/Bump\ Drunkard and Girl face to face. Her heart pumping hard it just started to race.
Out of his pocket flys a hand. She flitches. No Hit. As her mind catches pace.
"Spare some shchange?" asks the man looking like he is covered in mange.
(bet you all thought this was going to end a little different, huh?)
Ruslan is Caucasian and he’s my true blood brother
Unlike me, he has a rare Herculean body, and mind
Strong and bold he is, yet gentle; tall, and yet humble
Letting his shadow walks in to lowly, unrhymed mine
As protective carapace, against evil vices of this world
Not really happy seeing me, with a red pack and lighter
Speaking humbly the tongue, of love--the eye of peace
As we sat, contently, on the field of golden green tares
Nurturing his great ambitions, for my own wicked self
Thrashing out the timidity, of my broken heart and soul
Inspiration he is, for me, till I became exactly, like him
A silent poet, like fog in early morn with a gentle rhyme
Good morning to you, good morning to me, O, I see you
O my dear Robin, go now and fly, over the Caspian sky
Just try to imagine,
A world free of lies,
Where within,
Never a lover cries.
Hopefully I can do better,
Than the men who came before,
No tears upon your sweater,
You will be hurt no more.
But you say you'll never trust me,
For I am just another,
That will never come to be,
Just another non blood brother.
So I have found a home,
Of people with the same tone,
Which is that of a sad tome,
Welcome brethren; to the friend-zone.
IN THE NAME OF ETERNAL LOVE
Since you have left, my one and only,
the sun became perfectly cold.
Its golden heart,
completely forgotten, lies in the golden cradle:
Oh, Lord, the sun is so cold,
it wrapped itself around my heart,
like a vampire's golden claw.
Its cold fingers of gold
are ripping off parts of my heart
and throwing its bloody food at death's feet.
I am looking for the shadow to save me,
the same shadow
in which you used to read my poems,
whose verses were so touching and yearning,
so perfectly life-like and human
when your soft voice sent them on their way to people's hearts.
If I knew that I'd touch the sky with my verses
and revive you
to warm my cold heart,
and the entire cold world around me,
I would agree at once to brand my verses with my own blood.
But the sun is still so cold
and shining like gold:
cold and deadly blinding;
They say that the night,
the dark night,
is the right place for dying,
but you know, my one and only,
that this is not true,
because you left me when the sun shone at its brightest,
and when the golden stream murmured across the white heavenly fields
gilding our verses.
Oh, Lord, death in a golden dress must be so noble,
when it takes the soul to meet the angels.
You know, my one and only,
that our verses
that joined us with an unbreakable brace of love and immortal memories,
these dear and painfully lively verses are my only link to you now.
While solitude whips me, I voice myself in our verses
into the sky,
to approach you
so closely as to hear your voice
when you read our verses to angels.
While the present haunts me to the past,
I am chasing my spirit towards the golden cradle
to become a blood brother to the newborn verse,
because my end is near;
They say that the night,
the dark night,
is the right place for dying,
but my place is on the golden hearse,
right next to the golden cradle,
right next to the newborn verse,
when the sun is at its warmest and brightest,
when the sun's golden hearts is lively ticking in fiery breasts –
so that death may await me in the golden cradle,
like you, my one and only,
so that we may sow our verses
along white heavenly fields:
because it cannot be any other way,
it should not be any other way
in the name of eternal love.
©Walter William Safar