Best Councils Poems
Prince of this world,
you've meddled in the affairs of mankind
since the beginning
From the time of the Egyptian pharaohs,
whose gigantic pyramidal tombs
had been built primarily by slave labor
A living testament to man's ingenuity and cruelty
Then you were behind the Assyrian reign,
carnage was the calling card hallmark
these fierce kings signed whenever they came
But the Babylonian kingdom you really liked a lot,
ancient free market traders and slavers
Their god was commerce;
they bought and sold any and everything,
they trafficked in any and every whatnot
Then came those warring factions of Persians and Medes,
pure lovers of aristocratic indulgences of greed
They would fight you to the death,
until the Greeks came along
and became the gold standard, the best
They loved to preach democracy,
they loved to practice idolatry
For every god you said you had,
those Greeks said they had three
The Greeks fell to the next kingdom,
not so much by war, more through debauchery
But the prince of this world
came out of the shadows,
and was moved to want to rule when the Romans came
They had them lying cats named Caesar,
and crucifixion was their favorite capital punishment game
The Romans learned a lot from their fellow Greeks;
give the conquered their councils,
give them a voice with a vote
Then let them exercise it wickedly,
declaring the innocent Jesus Christ guilty
Oh, the prince of this world
was as ecstatic as a mad despot can be
The Romans were the best kind of servants ---
they were cruel, they were hard
They killed you dead with no regard
But alas, even their mighty kingdom came to an end
Since then, all of his wicked servants
and their feudal kingdoms have served him well
But alas, it was the Roman kingdom
he brooded over the most when it came to an end
And it's been a long time, since the prince of this world
had a Caesar he could call friend
In light of locution
whispers
dance delicately off her lips
"Lux Vitae"
Tree of Life,
Trinity,
tribal councils conferred
the coffers, re-offers
enriched and enhanced
erectus
three times three
smoke rises from the ash
and anew you glow
a river of gold
connecting
the body to the soul
blue of sky
the sun of spirit's eye
beheld
in fate of copious moon
intrinsic
the sum
not one, but all
in feel
layers peeled slowly back
from black to light
from day to the night
perspicacity, acuity
filters undone
your wit teases
the brain's
restless receptors
insane we see
weightlessness of the breeze
carrying of scent
her fragrant scent
where angels once undressed the devils
and the lion frantically chased
the dainty dragonfly's peace
breathless
she enters
his anchored mind
libertas quae sera tamen
and free you shall be
enplaned upon the shores of love
where blues breathe in smoke filled rooms
and stars do a tango
overlooking
the electric light
exploding
in the reflection of river's bend
your bow, not too tight
wrapping around
the fringes of my tattered soul
kisses
the parched lips of a wanted life
"Vitae Lux"
Great country rich, land of my birth, that cradled my childhood and taught me of
Worth.'
Land of struggles, and dreamtime lore.'
A country of invention, and of weathers raw.'
Do we have an easy history.? I must answer no.' I owe us; that much at the
least.'
In my mix of emotions, i shall try to so'
Well, to put a relief of our history in this
I'll tell.'
Of a crowns avairice, of some humans in
Chains, others free agents who came to
Make gain'
They came to Australia..with expectations
And dreams, some of great horror' they did
Create scenes.'
Then there were the existing, the Aboriginal
Mobs, living for millenia with their corroberee councils..
Hunters and trackers, survivalists and they paid their costs, leaving newborn infants, in
The open to die.' If the extra life would be too much? This was a part of their bush lives; to oft..
Then there were the guvenors, and officers of the crown, instructed to tame the country.'
With their own views.' As they built the settlements, and kept their convicts
Down.'
There were lashings and hangings, And genocide too.' All tasmanian Native
Peoples wiped out..Its quite true.'the decades advanced..
( The boomerang factor )
From the past collision of cultures, a new country was emerging..Herb Elliot was to become a champion, Lionel Rose Evonne Goolagong,
Shane Gould..We were really flying.'
In the 1960s and 1970s there was an atmosphere of change and hope.' A wish
To be more unified, and a regret.' I tell
No jokes.. I ask all Aussies can we
Go back.? And fix the wrongs we did not
Do.'
Or do we move forward on Australia day.'
And all the days that follow too.? Can we
Be free of trauma.? Yet refer to lessons past.? I advise resume in the ' true blue spirit ' and give the world a blast.' Avoid the
Forigen influencers who want to rake dead
Coals..' Only to enslave us all..!!! Now
get up' be your best; be really bold.!!!
Ask a swallow why he nests
below the edge where daylight shuns
catching insects sheriffs fail to warn blue
doctrines stones emit the scent between
evisceral guardians thoughts intact
feign judgements eliptical repast upon our
gains as men can see the folly laws oblige your
honor swears red moon's deputy witheld
injustice paints in swooping arcs such grace
joins legions far from rivers flowing seige
kaleidoscope of councils sit both foreign prisms
lakes reflect I've said it twice so shall love be
more begotten fires rampage incessant burning
naught said I who danced in darkness lies
of so called yet named by masters travelled time
police strike fear where unborn truths remain the
quest is real but never seen your eyes are closed
requires the writ belies our rights that beings
swept in neon ads for latex lives beknownst
to none arrested by the thought germander sage
until found essence herbal strength respects the
valiant of thee... tree, barn or cliff set free patterns
winds of destiny abide in spirits eternity make
xylons play majestically forever peace may humble
yawn, the sheriff and the swallow find forever
zeitgeist pond
11/19/14
© james marshall goff
A Comrade like Ben
A statesman like Mandela diplomatically
suspended the necessary struggle of opposites,
gummed his fragmented land together with reconciliation….
exploiters to exploited , murderers to martyrs
imperialist to invisibled indigenes
lives in Sandton and councils Bill Clinton
and Naomi Campbell on plush carpets
a sinewy activist, hard as nails, like yourself…
Ben Palmer Louw, always
cajoling
conspiring
criticizing
organising
uprising
forever
beautiful in your pregnant concern
that freedom , dignity and justice
is tangible and beautiful as black skin, kinky hair
is real when a continent’s wealth is fairly shared
is manifested when the state collapses in selfless deeds
old man Nelson turned ninety and is now a teddy
to those who feared the terrorist at forty.
He no longer speak for himself but for his party
and the party is a self-serving affair.
Pity your death at thirty-something
when Nelson started talking to his racist oppressors.
For ten years you and your young militant army
punctured holes in the racist ideology,
marched flames and thunder through townships,
died in your thousands,
stopping with blood and bones
bullets casted for centuries by the fascist
in black holes of greed and fear.
“A shame … but subversion is to blame ”
`` the defenders of law and order loudly exclaimed
“Not good for business”…the moneybags conceded
“ if Soweto bleeds , profit –rates receeds . ”
“Give black chiefs and compradors the garrotte
and stick the small change of capital under their nose .
They will throttle the radical noises at the root ”.
Wounded deeply, your rapid-firing baritone voice
still thundered on battle-fields and in halls,
urging us to destroy mental and wage slavery.
I saw you fight for freedom
the whole scorching way,
every hour of that long bloody apartheid day…
but one night
you leaped ,
proud black brother of mine,
right into the sky…
fist raised high as heaven with a two-hour smile
whispering re-assuringly “Don’t ever give up, gents…
the harder they come , the harder they fall.
See… brothers and sisters…revolution is!
In memory and respect to Ben Palmer Louw (1950-1987)a student leader of 1976 soweto insurrection
Peasants of the Playbook
You’re peasants of the playbook
Yet you think you know the reason
For the failure of the team
That does the best it can this season
And, massing in the mews
You’ve raised the mewl to a mew
Questioning the mastery
Of a coach as good as two
By what method do you meter
The mettle of this man
He coaches and he councils
And he does the best he can
With material you’ve provided
He’s positioned at the mandrel
Where he hammers out their character
It’s more than you could handle
Your mantle flounces flutter
When subjected to such folly
Your seething is better served
If you’d support the coach, by golly
It’s then we’ll see the sextant
Guide the gridiron guild to glory
And add a happy chapter
To this teams’ historic story
Calls for resignation in cities
When press powers overlay budget of objective
Journalism
Speaking for others illustrates division wrong
Pilot project cost the city $287 per ride given
City Councilman Bill Miranda speaks to the driver of the city's trolley before boarding Monday. Perry Smith/The Signal
The employment obstruction of causeway
Is debilitating to finance language
In America
These root answers create pause in print
To retract office and improve democracy growth
Term limits aren't viable excerpts
No age allows frequency in representation
Open market Economics allows applications
Trickle Down Tips
Mathematically stated,
Budget given from total gdp
Allotted and zeroed burden
Shortfall stated mathematically,
Citizen and journalism benefit of?
Concert opinion
In no boycott
All are conveniegned
The arrogant treasure is slushed
In life styling the outgoing fund phrases
Those whom capitalize
remove civil liberties
This is lobby, page, reception, speculation
Book of retraction for new
Journalist objective argument
In dissection of
Insolvent democracy per acre or
Hectare
The statement of cost
Is evidence over budget allowance
This is corruption
Term slush
Fund not empty
Being spent in spiral
Loss of life as replaced in numerical
Press campaign powers
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This Concludes Lesson 1
Plagiarism and Capitalism
Verse As Boycott
The Holy Bible is an ancient collection
Of 66 books comprised
Thirty-nine books mainly in Hebrew
The OT, by the Jewish people still prized.
The NT books were letters
Written in the Greek language.
The first five books were written by Moses,
Who out of Egypt conducted Israel’s passage.
Around 450 BC, the Jewish scriptures
Were arranged by rabbinical councils,
Who acknowledged their sacredness,
Called Tanakh in Jewish circles.
In 250 BC, the Hebrew Bible
Was translated into Greek;
A translation known as the Septugint
For 70 translators this task did seek.
After approximately 400 years
Jesus arrived on the scene.
He often quoted the Old Testament,
Especially the books of Moses so pristine!
Jesus spoke of the laws—
The prophets and Psalms.
Concerning His prophetic life,
With the OT, He had no qualms.
In AD 40, The Gospels of the NT began to be written
During the 200’s they were translated
Into Latin, Coptic & Syriac
In the 1450’s, the Gluttenburg Bible was printed.
In 1516, Martin Luther declared his intolerance
With the Roman Church’s corruption,
So the Diet of Worms Council decided
To Martyr Luther by selection.
Instead of killing Martin Luther,
The Council translated The Bible into German.
Similarly William Tyndale translated it into English
For British, private sermon.
In 1535, Coverdale printed the first English Bible,
But if found in one’s possession
Queen Mary would burn you at the stake—
The burning of Protestants was her obsession!
Shakespeare quoted from the Geneva,
The first Bible taken to the USA.
In 1610, the King James Bible was printed
And we still have it with us today!
Copyright © Maureen LeFanue 2007-2011
Was it someone's cunning plan,
To persuade talent to leave Government agencies,
And councils by the score,
For better money and conditions,
So the one who thought up the plan,
Could have money for Jam,
As by leaving those not fit to make jam behind,
It was obvious talent would be called back to consult.
Or perhaps those who held the purse strings in,
Both Government and council circles did not know,
How to sort the wheat from the chaff,
And price the talent accordingly.
Either way,
Planned or unplanned, consultants are on the rise,
Along with the cost of getting the job done,
And money for jam for those who employ the consultants.
The questions that are on more than just my lips, are:
Now that talent is paid to consult,
Is that talent as impartial as it was before,
When they were working for the good of all?
And is some talent just cherry picking off the web,
Whenever they are called to consult?
Or do they really bring jam to the table,
That is better quality than you or I can produce.
The answers could well determine what action if any can be taken,
To see that more than just a few have money for Jam,
At a price that won't break the banks,
Or the jam itself may be only available to zillionaires.
With the quickness ...
unprecedented corporate rise
Fabulous omni-view sky work space,
immune to boardroom gossip sickness
Poker-face negotiator disguise ...
keep the key competition guessing
Do the necessary background homework,
anticipate any proprietary lies
Next gen capitalist with no corruption trace ...
squint the inside of planetary councils
Logic sequencing of managerial decisions,
investors' hugs are a burgeoning dividend embrace
Lawyers love the legal byzantine thickness ...
corner the market on low g orbital gear
Warp expansion of the company's political assets,
explains how a lowly rock hopper ascends with the quickness
III
What shame if might measures not with muscle?
What disgrace awaits those who fail?
Should wanting life be held lèse-majesté to a tussle?
Should a nation thrive as in a sundered jail?
To the high nor low slams the door
To him who seeks the Law and more.
Take, take the Golden Mean road!
Truth your only key, never the sword!
Decades from now sawn men will in right ask:
Had we then no will to attend to our wounds?
Should not the White Master be called back to task
To bear the burden of our graveyard mounds?
What guidance should wise men need
More than their own tested counsels?
Lay, lay aside the pride of higher breed
Like two strong men upright in councils!
IV
People are made to feel their lives rendered great
By what their leaders do to invoke fate;
Destiny asks not who may stand in as its fated mate,
When all around lives are lost through hate.
To the high nor low slams the door
To him who seeks the Law and more.
Take, take the Golden Mean way!
Truth the only key, no, never slay!
If the Lion strays from its prescribed domain,
The Tiger will seek to sink its fangs in flanks.
Two kings bide their time in a land full of bane,
While the common folk lie razed by tanks.
V
Seek not to replace life with conundrums.
Seek only a life-giving solution.
Herald not the arrival of the enemy with drums.
Let only your heart speak in absolution.
The mountain cannot reach up to the sky.
The lake at the summit is full.
If monsoons come, calling cranes will cry.
Kindred spirits will rally in full.
To the high nor low slams the door
To him who seeks the Law and more.
Take, take the Golden Mean way!
Truth the only key, no, never ever slay!
Can a people simply grow strong in broken places
While strong men before the hour vacate places?
“Man can be destroyed but not defeated.
Man can be defeated but not destroyed.”
© T.Wignesan 2005 - September 21, 2005- (from the Sequence: "Words for a Lost Sub-Continent", Paris, France. Pub. in Rama and Ravana at the Altar of Hanuman: on Tamils, Tamil Literature and Tamil Culture. Chennai: Institute of Asian Studies, 2006.)
A personal view of the Devizes Neighbourhood Plan
and the referendum on Thursday at the Town Hall
All careful plans of men may fail and fall
And falter, crumble; leaving broken stone
No reason to devise no plan at all
For no man lives by wild chance alone
There has been an edict from on high
“Thou shalt build houses here within ten years
Three hundred homes and thirty three.” Then why
Not have a say and ease those planning fears
This Plan has seemed quite hard to understand
To many folk irrelevant, a bore
Yet now the vital hour is at hand
The issue far too pressing to ignore
“What consultation has there been?” the voice
Comes from the floor, comes loud and with an edge
“No one told us that we had a choice
And where are all the leaflets, in the hedge?”
It goes like this; the Trust have made a plan
Consulted up the Brittox, in the post
Collated all the info, then began
To work out where we wanted homes the most
They spoke with parish councils, factored in
The traffic, schools, the shops and open space
They put in measures to avoid the sin
Of building ugly stuff that spoils the place
Without the Plan the builders have free rein
To ride roughshod across our lovely land
At which point, just don’t bother to complain
The horse has bolted, galloping, unmanned
If jobs for boys there are let them be ours
Let local builders lay their firm foundations
On brownfield sites, not green fields full of flowers
With guidelines from the Plan’s considerations
No plan is perfect; yet no plan at all
Will simply give us no control, not clever
Consider this; vote Yes at the Town Hall
Or mourn the loss of favoured fields, forever
by Gail
( This is the first among the 100 poems dedicated to Barack Obama in his endeavor to retain the most powerful office on earth!)
Africa has had a four-year dance
Upon the pedestal of fame;
That little boy with a funny name,
Barack Hussein Obama the darling of chance
Has brought glory to a derided soil.
Had I a say in the heavenly councils;
A voice among the celestial consuls,
I would turn and twist both fortune and fate
And give that blessed tongue a landside triumph in every state!
Were I the omnipotent son of God
Dwelling in that magnificent city of gold,
I would open every American eye,
So that it may see with a sigh
The gift bestowed upon that fruit of a Kenyan loin;
And in his genuine cause I would all and sundry join!
Were I the merciful Ruler of the Universe,
I would with all minds converse;
I would both convince and enthuse
Upon all mortals the luck they refuse!
But since I'm a powerless being known by none,
Mine shall remain a wish at best;
That the will of heavens may be done,
Praying with a pleading tongue before the Mercy Seat!
The best of life is waiting for us to enter in
to covenants and promises and cleanliness from sin.
God's gifts to us are many. We see them everyday.
Good friends, a full and joyful life, are treasures
for which we pray.
In faith, we must believe that Jesus is our Lord.
He wants for us Eternal Life. You are cherished
children, treasured and adored.
When we change our heart and soul, doing all we can.
He welcomes us into His arms. This is His Father's plan.
As we repent of broken ties
He binds and mends our wounds.
He was wounded for our sins.
He came here to atone. Christ bids us to follow Him.
He's obedient to the Plan.
He is obedient to His Father.
We must do all we can. Jesus makes up the difference.
He saves us from the loss.
Sin and sorrow can defeat us.
For us, He paid the cost.
Obedience is the answer. In humility we pray.
We change our lives to honor Him.
He councils. We obey.
Sometimes we stray from the path.
But Christ is always near.
His loving voice is calling us.
His warning is always clear.
Return home with honor. Forgive your fellow man.
God will save us from our sins. He sent One who can!
Out of foxhole field and bunkered platoon
a patriot leads the clarion’s blare -
answers his country’s call to arms but soon
duty and honour rise a toll I fear.
Let not councils of God and man restore
the fallen soldier lest he fall again,
or bear the vile frights and alarms of war
and live in knowing he himself has slain.
That his rage of pride no battle increase
when he in fear his mighty weapon wields,
for it is only the dead who find peace
in the battery smoke and killing fields.
Where the Dove flies the Hawk becomes a snare
and death and sacrifice your Cross to Bear!
Written: November 1992