Best Clergymen Poems
“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”
Plato
Politicians keep lying
Hate keeps breeding
Jets keep firing
Babies keep dying
Mothers keep crying
Homes keep tumbling
Hope keeps crumbling
Time keeps ticking
Injustice keeps screaming
Funerals keep delaying
Peacemakers keep meeting
Media keeps shocking
Propaganda keeps faking
Tanks keep bombing
Earth keeps shaking
Fear keeps spreading
Soldiers keep fighting
Widows keep weeping
Sorrows keep growing
Babies keep dying
Mothers keep crying
Tears keep flowing
Hunger keeps increasing
Journalists keep reporting
Poets keep writing
Music keeps playing
Teachers keep teaching
Clergymen keep praying
Preachers keep preaching
Protestors keep protesting
Faith keeps searching
Peace keeps fading
Ignorance keeps showing
Missiles keep shooting
Humanity keeps bleeding
World keeps sleeping
Babies keep dying
Mothers keep crying
Gasping
rasping
clasping
grasping
condemned man's last gasping, rasping breath,
hands on the noose clasping, grasping- death
(* Tyburn was the site of public hangings in London from the 12th century,
executing everyone from Highwaymen to Clergymen, at what is now Marble Arch)
For contest 'write me a Tyburn', sponsor Kim Rodrigues
24th january 2018
The mighty dragons which came
roaring on that fateful night
took great pride in disintegrating
everything in their sight
Nothing was left that was not
scorched by their flame
although to the fire-breathing
dragons it was all but a game
No trees were left standing
and nay grasses retained green
it took three and a half years
for the streets to scrub clean
There was no building that
wasn't burnt to an absolute crisp
The laughing dragons noted down
another wondrous trip
All the churches did indeed receive
three hundred and thirty-three degrees
The poor clergymen were seen praying
whilst fallen down upon their knees
As the puissant dragons kept up their
ferocious attack, some pastors were heard
screaming for the good lord to come back
When the libraries burned down
it was such a terrible loss for the town
as the most intelligent of the peoples
were nowhere to be found
Then all the pubs and neon clubs were ravaged and wrecked
The fire-breathing dragons just said, "We don't give a feck."
What good is the confession
of a compelling woman of deceit
if devoid of remorse and consequence?
Karma has a greedy reach
annoyed by clergymen
arbitrarily marketing divine amnesty
like some bulk commodity
they can't give away.
To the teams of rescuers on the front line in Haiti
The Pilots, the Soldiers, and Truck Drivers
The Doctors, Nurses, and the Aides
The Clergymen, Volunteers
To the average Haitian giving of themselves
To meet the needs of their fellowmen
Your light shines bright in this dark hour
As a beacon to all the world
Rewards more precious than priceless gems
To you and yours are assured
In a place where time can neither erase nor robbers pilfer
God blessings to you all
The Cardinals Birds Will Sing
Lying to yourself about this and that
a higher power knows
About the: this and that
The makeup and the cover ups
The cardinals will sing in a
Beautiful tune, the raven never
Came back, but the dove return
He never forgets
What he sees, so he whistles a tune
Does it matter, how long?
How intone: Clergymen
Bishops, Priests and Deacons!
Then there’s Rome: and the Nuns
Come, out of the closet
And sing, to the world.
I can’t be *****. Saintly
Or holier than thou
Sacrilege: remember your vows:
A Trouble, trouble
Roman Catholic Church
If lawyers get de-barred and clergymen de-frocked
Does it naturally follow and make sense
That electricians are de-lighted and cowboys de-ranged?
Need some answers, no sitting on the fence!
Can a motorist be de-fined, a balloon's mood de-flated
This silliness surely must stop
Do dead mailmen de-liver, are old ships de-ported
Better stop before I call a burly cop
Do musicians get de-noted, dry cleaners de-pressed?
Now hold on, I'm getting quite upset
Can models be de-posed, do tree surgeons de-bark?
Haven't heard any answers as yet
Do skirts get de-pleted, has your hair been de-parted?
This must be some kind of a plot
Artists quit by de-sign, symphonies de-compose?
I think about de's things a lot!
© Jack Ellison 2013
MLK recruited teens to march in demonstrations in Birmingham, AL. Due to ADULTS
would not be influenced to march by his speeches. Fire Water hoses were turned on
the disobedient teens at a high power that rolled them down streets and over cars,
tore their shirts off, while MLK Jr sat safe in jail, writing letters.
Twenty-four hours after his arrest, King was allowed to see local attorneys from the
SCLC. When Coretta Scott King did not hear from her husband, she called Walker,
and he suggested that she call President Kennedy directly.[48] Mrs. King was
recuperating at home after the birth of their fourth child when she received a call
from President Kennedy the Monday after the arrest. The president told her she could
expect a call from her husband soon. When Martin Luther King called his wife, their
conversation was brief and guarded; he correctly assumed that his phones were
tapped.[49] Several days later, Jacqueline Kennedy called Coretta Scott King to
express her concern for King while he was incarcerated.[18]
While in jail on April 16, King released his "Letter from Birmingham Jail", written on
the margins of a newspaper, scraps of paper given to him by a janitor, and later a
legal pad given by his SCLC attorneys. The letter responded to eight politically
moderate white clergymen who accused King of agitating local residents, and not
giving the incoming mayor a chance to make any changes. Bass suggested
that "Letter from Birmingham Jail" was pre-planned, as was every move King and his
associates made in Birmingham. The essay was a culmination of many of King's
ideas, which he had touched on in earlier writings.[50] King's arrest attracted
national attention, including that of corporate officers of retail chains with stores in
downtown Birmingham.
(I got his info. from wikepedia) I was not born until after his life ended--so I really
did not know anything about MLK Jr.. I thought this was interesting, his wife and
children were home. Others put themselves in danger for the cause.
(Dictated in the final moments to her son)
(She speaks to her executionists in between her sentiments)
I smashed my bare knuckles upon your painted truths
“No, no visitors.”
Understanding the recklessness of your youth
I went to prison just so you wouldn’t go
“No, no H2O.”
You couldn’t take it, didn’t I tell you so?
At fourteen, you killed three, then gave me the gun
“No, no club soda.”
I put my fingers over yours, everyone
Knowing your sugar coatings would crack apart
“No, no clergymen.”
I covered all your explanations with my heart
I found rivers that held your tears of regret
“No, no family.”
Flowing like loans from someone like me, in debt
Many times I caught you before you hit ground
“No, no Mickey D’s.”
Supported you; every time you turned around
Whether right or wrong, I swore I’d pay the price
“No, no magazine.”
I defended you, I was your sacrifice
I saved you from a curse, of living peril
“No, no Psalms prayer.”
Dodging bullets from drive by gangs in feral
Hearts always have ability to forgive
“No, no cell phone calls.”
Whatever torture you chose, was mine to live
I forgive you, for not visiting, I swear
“No, I am guilty.”
Love your Mother, the final time, from “the Chair.”
Fiction
~~~~Submitted for the contest... "Love and Forgiveness” sponsored by Jim Fish~~~~
If lawyers get de-barred and clergymen de-frocked
Does it naturally follow and make sense
That electricians are de-lighted and cowboys de-ranged?
Need some answers, no sitting on the fence!
Can a motorist be de-fined, or a balloon be de-flated
This silliness surely must stop
Do dead mailmen de-liver, are old ships de-ported
Better stop before I call a burly cop
Do musicians get de-noted, dry cleaners de-pressed?
Now hold on, I'm getting quite upset
Can models be de-posed, do tree surgeons de-bark?
Haven't heard any answers as yet
Do skirts get de-pleted, has your hair been de-parted?
This must be some kind of a plot
Artists quit by de-sign, symphonies de-compose?
I think about de-strings a lot!
Once upon a time in times forgotten
A land saw great conspiracy
nameless deleted scores of people
leaders sabotaged investigations
Journalists boycotted meetings
and refused to pen down issues
judges indefinitely suspended hearings
as clergymen refused to hear confessions
Owls that prophesied the homicide
migrated to the mountain hide-outs
the children that witnessed ugly events
could not find speech in their lips
The land of darkness became darker
As ghosts of victims cried quietly for justice
[3RD CONTINUATION]
Many fell in my charm, because in a few days,
Hundreds of people took me in their arms with many a happy face.
Nurses, doctors, clergymen, many men and women,
Hugged and cradled me as if I was for all men.
Now I shall speak of my days in the world;
Going chronologically so that all everything is called
To mind and seen as I see them myself.
If the heavenly realm and humanity is ready, then enjoy yourselves:
FIRST DAY:
The bells were tolling as I came in to the earth,
Ending at the twelfth stroke as i had said,
And heaved twelve times as I was cleaned by the doctor
On call to my home, who scrutinized my face with rigor:
T'was as if he did not believe I was a normal baby
And was just out to clarify his doubt. How searchy!
But..He had the right to believe so
For my arrival on earth was poor.
Normal babies cry to announce their arrival
On earth per se to join in human slavery as constitutional:
I merely kicked and furtively gazed through ajar eyes
At all who appeared, awaiting my cries.
Hundreds of people were soon in my home
TO welcome me because i had come
Strong and healthy, Strong and healthy;
At the time when the family was wealthy.
My earthly mother had been rushed to the hospital
Because of some impervious pains which grew so tall.
Soon there I followed to be lactated
Despite her failing health.
My earthly father was the Sheik of the Moslem Community
In the town. It was indeed a large periphery,
Out-growing those of other religions.
Sheik Modigbo was his name from tradition.
As the day grew old many people arrived
To behold the baby and touch it because much could be derived
From the first child and son of the Sheik of the Land.
Let them come and enjoy my great tan.
I was lactated and left to sleep in peace,
While earthly mum was cared for by a Miss;
A beautiful doctor who had caressed my face,
Setting everything burning in place.
My eyes were close as always and body still-
With the impression that I was asleep on the hill
Of peace and happiness.
How feignacious! What a distress!
At midnight I was asleep-
Gone to my real world so deep,
In the fabrics of the universe
Where stood the famed Mount Everest.
[TO CONTINUE..]
NO BODY BUT JESUS
There are many first responders
Doctors, nurses, lawyers and rescue workers
Laymen, clergymen, Pastor’s, preachers and teachers
Oh
Oh
But none of them
Can save you!!!
Nobody but Jesus
Nobody but Jesus
Nobody but Jesus
Can save your soul
God the Father has allowed
For Christ to take the place for your sins
Only He can redeem your heart and soul
No, nobody but Jesus
No, Oh, no one but Jesus
Can make you whole
You’ll be born again, (if you choose)
No body but Jesus, Jesus the Christ
Nobody but Jesus
Nobody but Jesus
Nobody but Jesus
Can save your soul
5/7/18
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2018
From anthology “Sound Track For My Life” 2018©
I was born in the odds,
I lived through it,
dotted the lines on my path
I was born among hyenas,
these scrambling to stiffen the last breath,
Amidst hurts and hate first from home,
A lot cast in mirage and fantasies,
Hope too soon cut short,
Survival, a struggle,
Unexplainable Fratricidal warfare,
The closer in blood, the more bloodier,
A race without consent
A badge of calumny,
Shot on the heels like Achilles,
Bore cruelty from innocence to adulthood,
Unending miasma, the debacles of a short existence,
Abandoned, secluded,
for reaction occasioned by their own bile,
Childhood stolen,
set on a slippery path as they watch a peradventure slide to my ill.
From ambuscade, they drew their swords,
Their arrows bathed in blood unabated,
Aiming at my marrows,
I groan and mourn in the dark,
Enemies as friends monitoring,
Friends as enemies watching.
This path not by Choice.
I lived through it,
A thousand bands of beasts assaulting,
Into this war, enlisted.
I was born there, buoyed by troubadour,
Somewhere in Africa,
My right are taken away from me,
Where laws are drafted by criminals,
Where the police pay themselves on the streets,
Where certificate are mere papers with payments,
I was born there ,
Where criminals are protected and sanity deemed madness,
Somewhere in West Africa
where compassion is extinct
The survival of the fittest,
Street boys kills to survive,
Scholars abandon politics to simpleton,
Where the brightest are critics and cadres prevents the ambitious
I live there,
Where certificate is a document to escape,
Lawyers now charge and bail for survival,
Doctors protesting like urchins
Poets selling cosmetics,
bankers riding "Okada",
Amongst drug peddlers,
Amongst cultist,
Where clergymen induce the gullible,
In this cage we call country.
I was born there.
Twelve accusers hoping
Eleven charges pending
Ten summoners summoning
Nine lawyers proselytizing
Eight defendants screaming
Seven protesters protesting
Six reporters reporting
Five ambulances on call.
Four morticians digging
Three activists sitting
Two clergymen preaching
One hangman salivating
And zero politicians waking
from their dreams.