Best Consequently Poems
Must money make man mad?
Money makes man mad
Meanwhile, man made money
Must millions make man mad?
Massive money many mention
Mighty materials, man’s main mandate
Making many mentally magnetic
Mean money might mar man
Con-men crave catching cash consistently
Committing crimes continuously
Consequently, they’re caught, captured, killed
While we wonder where we’re
We want wealth which withers
When we wouldn’t wake
We wouldn’t work without weighing ways
When we weigh madness with mildness
We would work with wisdom
When we work wisely,
We would win
MUSE: AKINDELE OLUWAJIMI
The Dancer
From afar I watch intently
as she moves about so gently
knowing not, and consequently,
unaware what’s in my heart.
Such a beauty this sweet creature
as I watch her from the bleachers
gazing at her shapely features;
has somebody claimed her heart?
Knowing not, the weight is crushing;
through my veins my blood is rushing;
deep desires, my thoughts are blushing;
could she love me with her heart?
Guess I’ll never know the answer,
truth about this darling dancer,
questions spreading like a cancer
feeding on my hungry heart.
March 19, 2023
The writing is on the wall.
The writing is on the wall, an old saying used even until today
for those found lacking or deficient, Divine judgement is on the way
It means that there has been a weighing done on the scales of justice
by an impartial God who knows us, and the good or bad we practice.
The writing is on the wall even today, in our ultra modern society
for those who choose critical and independent thinking, instead of piety
for those who deny there is a God, or who simply worship in their own way
for those whose judgemental hypocrisy is super abundantly on display
The writing is on the wall, for all warmongers filled with nationalistic hate
For all those inciting our youth to violence, malevolent voices that resonate
The writing is on the wall, for those who say good is bad, and that bad is good
and for those who kill the innocent child, it's well deserved and understood.
Writing on the wall comes from the Bible Daniel chapter 5 where the Babylonian King is judged by God's handwritten cryptic message on the wall. The prophet Daniel interprets the writing and the King was killed and replaced that same evening. Consequently the expression the writing on the wall portends judgement and destruction.
John Derek Hamilton
April 19, 2016
Battle of the Sexes
A Collaboration Between: Pandita Sanchez and Eric L. Boddie
As beautiful and smart as you are,
you always seem to take it too far.
I know some of it is just;
but there is still so much that never needed to be discussed.
It could be that you too often misunderstand me,
overcomplicating and seeing life differently.
They say men are from Mars and women from Venus,
so things will never be simplified between us.
Tell me, what am I to think -
I mean, your mood changes within a blink;
so much emotion can sometimes get in the way,
you like pushing buttons - what's that shade of gray?
One minute you say that I’m too emotional;
then when I prove to be your equal, you call me irrational.
Is it just that I’m way too much woman for you?
And, perhaps, you really don’t have a clue?
There you go again thinking you are all that;
that's the reason we are always off track.
I love everything about you, but I tire of the stress;
and I can't calm you down unless I get you undressed.
See that's exactly what I'm talking about -
resorting to caveman tactics makes you believe you have clout;
but you're no longer a boy, so you should know better, Boo,
you're wearing me out with your commitment issue.
You see, I just can't ever win.
So don't stand there trying to pretend
like you are faultless in all of this;
but the blame always hits me - it has never missed.
While I admit that I’m not totally blameless,
I’ve been the one who‘s always willing to do more while you do less.
In fact, like Rodin’s ‘Thinker’ you just brood over our problems;
but I’m the mover and shaker who actually tries to solve them.
You know what? I am done with all this…
I mean, you know I am addicted to your sweet kiss
which, consequently, makes arguments hard to resist,
all because there is not a feature about you I want to miss.
So please just let me say -
the indifferences need to end, and let's start anew today.
Well we don’t need to be arguing all the time sinking into quicksand,
if like two adults, we address concerns before they get out of hand.
But in spite of what our differences may be,
I know we love each other to the nth degree;
and in the end, we know we’re worth it, and we’ll see,
man and woman, we can work it out together, Baby, you and me.
"Light travels faster than sound".
A fact that appears quite unique.
Conversely, sometimes people appear to be bright,
until after you hear them speak!
Things don't always stay the same
if you know what I mean?
Consequently, "Change is inevitable".
(except from a vending machine)
Patience can be a misnomer,
so don't let yourself be coerced.
The "Things that come to those who wait",
are what's left, by those that got there first!
To get "Justice by going to trial",
can turn out to be kinda fruity!
You're putting your trust in 12 people,
not smart enough to avoid jury-duty.
What is "a fine and a tax"?
Well friend, it's easy to tell.
A "fine" is a tax for doing wrong.
A "Tax" is a fine for doing well!
I've gone thru all my poetry notes
and this is the best I can do.
It's probably not what you're looking for,
but I'll leave that up to you!
Ralph Taylor
*Image of Hallmark Channel by Giphy.
Chimed Upper Room
Chimed new day shines...eagerly corrects an upper room looks,
An attic improving rapidly...promotes roams of diligence,
Lacks found bordered leathered album...trapped topped a cornered desk.
Cutting edge mounts an Everest...Grand Canyon grooves a pass,
Emptying a corridor...grants patience traces of sweat caught brow,
Weighty whatnots slothfully shift...relief of prized treasure.
Lives confined--stilled in a photograph...bound neath grained-hewn film,
Reviving breaths aids wiping palms...adjusting dust rules idle air,
Widen pupil's gaze...proffers freedom to locked memories.
A leisurely dance of fingers...entertaining a page,
Courses from staging consequences...flips driftingly e'er so oft,
Cherished persevered poignant times...plus occasional laughs.
Age feebly trades a gentle glance...to sights of swept-up youth,
Niagara Falls revisit eyes...interlude recalls Wordsworth,
Rousseau swells the lulls...till Longfellow's maiden turns a page.
A soothing thoroughness applied...o'er sovereignty once claimed,
Delighting a soul wanting remembrance...effervescence inched rise,
Bestilled processing images...icons pageants the heart.
Strokes into yesterdays...fulfill a distant emptiness,
Once existed in certainty...consequently in dreams of need,
Now physically held...persuades rising tips of a mouth.
2020 July 30
*2nd Place*
Dusty Old Memories
~~Constance La France: Judged 2020 August 06
I Must Walk Little Steps......
From a day called the beginning;
to the one christened contemporary,
I must have certain understandings
of what has gone before,
I must consequently;
truly understand wise words of council be,
when written on manuscripts past,
that before I can be great
I must humble myself!
so, I can understand,
that I must walk in the shoes of another,
and before I can truly love
I must embrace a child,
then before I can be wiser within myself,
I must talk to the elders of my space
then before I can confess to knowledge
I must understand the pasts
and deeper still to engage my forefathers
I therefore must walk little steps.
Francis Cooper - Mac
“Whatsoever that be within us that feels, thinks, desires, and animates, is something celestial, divine, and, consequently, imperishable.” Quote by Aristotle
The aurora borealis glowed above us,
Beckoning us to the stars,
where meteoroids and asteroids challenge,
microgravity becomes our new reality.
stardust speckles our skin,
creating an ethereal glow.
I’m lost in your soul's windows,
diving into your solar plexus,
drowning in the Milky Way's whirlpool.
Our bodies sweat, cosmic confetti bursts,
celestial hallucinations haunt my mind,
my engine is ready to combust,
asteroid ashes and space dust swirl.
As our lifetime dissipates,
I stitch my lifelines to your skin,
in shimmering ink,
we await the encore of rebirth,
new bodies formed from cracked constellations,
descending from heaven's opalescent gate.
Both Sides Now
Billowing clouds up above
Sometimes smoky or just dust
Bluebirds maneuvering through
While Butterflies withdrew
All my past loves float away
As in vapored clouds today
Becoming concealed by the moon
Only returning in afternoon
Consequently standing here
Between the earth and atmosphere
Taken from my innocence
As I look back and reminiscence
Memories only display
A vivid image I’ll downplay
Recalling this won’t be allowed
I can see from both sides now
Uncertain and feeling confused
Not knowing what my life will do
Covered in a canopy of tears
Wrapped in a trap of fears
Consequently standing here
Between the earth and atmosphere
Taken from my innocence
As I look back and reminiscence
Margaret Franceschini August 1, 2014
life is a thin ladder its actors climb.
No matter how they climb,
Some will watch other's tails as they follow steps.
You might see another going farther with speed,
But that shouldn't impel the eyes to wake greed.
Instead, watch attentively the finesse of his legs .
Learn and direct your steps.
For when greed wakes, it connives with the mind.
The end result is always 'pull him ' .
The hands implement Greed's dream .
As the hands pull, the legs come to a stand still.
That one whose legs you pull has his hands holding the ladder while you attack.
If you apply force, then you have to pave way for him to move back.
Consequently, you both will retrogress.
Thus switching your mind from success.
So Irrespective of how you pull, he will never be behind you.
Why not wish he moves for you to follow?
When he gets to the peak, just a stretch of his hand will also make you a hero.
Remember whiles some are behind you, others are also at the bottom waiting to climb the ladder.
Time and patience really matter.
So climb higher but don't pull.
For pulling makes you a weak actor not a bull.
Life is a ladder
Brave New World
A 'world' it is and it spins around in mad circuits of loopy loops.
Has reached an infinite array of denominations in which foolish
insane clowns have taken over the asylum once more as bedlam
pretends liberation as the counterfeit currency of nauseating progress.
'New' I have my doubts though when fiddling with reconstruction
conjures novel aspirations from Holocaust to Hiroshima from pure
race unadulterated megalomania to narcissistic greed ‘all can be
done’ but the genie emerges from Huxley’s toxic bottle unrestrained.
'Brave' should pertain to courage when golden means and common
sense of virtue defaced by ugly grimaces facades mascara of tainted
moderation succumbs to mediocrity construed by disingenuous evil.
An aberration of jesters plotting naked feasts of blinded engineering.
Temptation is an ancient theme and just because we are capable to
plot our own demise does not preclude some hesitation or valid
inhibition as courage must incorporate the rationale. Not to follow in
wolf’s clothing a script of Faustian cloning just because we can.
Manipulation of chromosomes through twisted recombining helices
as a stairway to hell gave us Dolly the sheep. Another incarnation
braying ‘Give me body parts’ to harvest stem cells modified amino
acids like little devils on steroids and protein shakes of unpredictability.
The most cunning argument for creating whole new persons brought
to the fore the notion that if we the ‘good ones’ do not follow science
to create what evolution failed to build from nature’s garden and God’s
promise then the malign others surely will and consequently all is lost.
The mind boggles in the light of self-righteousness and the delusion
that refusal and resistance are signs of cowardice and the misconception
that two or numerous wrongs result in right and law when duty could
prevail as guardian for another world of sanity and accepting our limits.
The thought police and miscreant paradigms of Dolly’s dogma will surely
try to silence my opinion that courage has another merit than the scientific
infestation that my mind and brain needs to be cloned in order to restrain
my voice of caution but when I shout ‘enough’ at least my dignity remains.
Chicken Little ( by Myself and Shukura Porter)
A crackhead stands out on the corner holding a torn Bible...claiming he has found religion...still very much in the midst of his own addiction ...a "wino" sleeps in the streets only to wake up and remind others that he once was a he great "war hero" (that's an oxymoron by the way)....A wayward woman kills and buries her own seed insisting that this was a part of some path to ultimate "righteousness"...*DECEPTION OF SELF* ...lies lies what a web of lies....the mistreatment of dear life ...such a painful sight to witness... and though I'm not sure where it all actually began the end is quite clear...that if we're not careful it could for us be also near....while these words may seem cynical I write not only to incite fear...but a sense of urgency...THE SKY IS FALLING...a once primitive civilization of people now decayed from decades of decadence....it's evident in what we have now become to be...THE SKY IS FALLING....and if you even began to look you would understand...consequently so are we... -"CiD"
All of this has grown even worse in a rapid motion. Waves of self defeat engulfed the souls that walk the land of the free. Betrayal has become a friend of many and she brings Misery and Death with her to watch the THE SKY FALL.
There is a great war happening between the soul and the flesh. A war between the eyes and hands. The suffering eyes are being blinded, covered by the hands. The suffering eyes are paying for what the hands have touched. Now the windows of the soul have become clouded. Mutiny to life. The ears and tongue are allies in the horrific battle but are the enemy to the eyes. The hands lead the way, the mouth declares decrees and demands, the ears hear indirect instruction. Eyes are blind to the sight of the truth of self power to overcome. THE SKY IS FALLING - Shukura Porter
Form:
THE GIFT OF LOVE
I know that life is agleam.
Incandescent is the word used.
You are from the time of little people.
You empower to keep the peace.
No one can define the world quite like you.
You are a universal guru.
Consequently, I want to contribute to your happiness.
Subsequently, I will give poetry.
This is the gift of love.
May be small but real
Not just something boxed to give.
This is a comforter when you down and out.
You asked me for something unique
Therefore, I will give meaningfulness.
Bringing in the New Year, a smile is worth seeing.
The roaring of joviality is a blessing to hear.
You had your confrontations and you resolved conflicts.
Today spirit is fulfilled.
Oh, merry bonhomie
A feeling so blistering - so intense
Your heart is full of joy friend.
As a result, your happiness must continue.
This is the year humongous
Pop the cava and let’s party.
Perpetuating things to come
Accordingly, exhilaration
Oh, merry sylph
This is going to be a life worth living.
|_____________________________|
Penned on November 28, 2014!
" She was born in 219 A.D.,
I met her in 235 when she was 16 years old.
I was working hard with her father as a mercenary
from a Belgium territory, trying to persuade a chieftan named Horaic
to attack the Roman garrison west of the river.
Tamitha had the energy of a robin & the curiosity of a pirate,
she loved hearing accounts of mesoamerican cultures;
I gave her a jade owl from the Andes
which she held onto like her heart depended on it.
One day a couple of bandits scared her off from the woods,
she fell from her horse,
broke a few ribs which puntured her lung
and she died nine days later in agony;
there is a balance to the Cosmos that I cannot interfere with.
1300 years later I found a girl that resembled Tamitha,
brought her to an artist named Michaelangelo
and arranged for him a Vatican Commission
if he would draw for me that picture
based on my recollection and this girl from Constantinople."
I asked, are you capable of having children,
Lucifer answered with a pensive dignity, " Yes,
actually I possess the libido of a rattle snake
but I dare not concieve,
any biological offspring of mine
may successfully challenge my supremacy."
So that Biblical story of you and Eve
is simply a myth like the lost city of El Dorado,
He replied, " Since you have broached the subject
I'll reveal something that is very precious information for me,
Jesus, whose original name was Mephistopheles,
was my first and only biological Son.
Mephistopheles was born so long ago
that the stars you see today
in the canopy of heaven were but afterthoughts to him
when his regicide was affected.
We coexisted for millenia,
sometimes happily, sometime scornfully,
our goals were more regional then,
not so much global, he lacked access to primordial wisdom
and consequently developed philosophy & strategy
diametric to fundamental nature."
J.A.B.
a thriving ploom in the garden of life
waving in the cool breezes overhanging a cliff
roots embedded in the continent of Africa
branching into Europe, Asia and the Americas
through misguided uncompromising fallacies
some of my branches have lost their leaves in the canopies
my beautiful human fruit have become so rotten
to show any taste of love between themselves forbidden
consequently they’ve become shrivelled and dry
self condemned to die...why?
I’ve been through many-a-forest fires
that have wiped out entire species when times were dire
perhaps I’ve grown too tall for my own branches
because war prunes them into their own dark dug trenches
so as my tops suffocate
in the thinned poisoned undercurrent
collapsing under political instability and overpopulation
disease and lack of absolution
my own weight supported
I’m cultivated
for industry
but oddly enough not forestry
watered by oil
then set alight to boil
to bear evil seeds
by artificial means like weeds
exposure from too much sun
a mutilated son
capable of matricide to shovel
my severed lifecycle
my soul died a thousand years ago
I now only exist in the soil of man’s ego
as he climbs higher
I freeze in the winter
my shade is nothing if not colder
each day he becomes defiant and bolder
black or white
wrong or right
day or night
dim or bright
dark or light
to the lumberjack
><
we’re one trunk
08-22-2015
Tbang