Best Equatorial Poems
Hark! Don’t forsake me.
Search for me.
Look down low, in the underbrush.
I will be good for you.
Though I’ve been given just a little of our endless world,
I have the glowing fire of raging cordilleras,
The blazing sunsets of Equatorial skies,
The lustrous skin of succulent citrus.
I am orange truth.
We are all essentially African. That's where humanity first took birth.
Some then left Africa to populate every land mass on planet earth.
Those of us who remained in equatorial Africa kept our very dark protective skin.
It served as a natural sun block,
preventing harmful ultra violet rays from contaminating our bodies from within.
As we migrated closer to the poles we began to slowly depigmentize.
It was an evolutionary trade off, one might call evolutionarily wise.
The rays of the sun when closer to the poles
are not as harsh as in sub tropical Africa and the pole's climate is cold.
Where as in Africa we walked naked with our protective dark skin,
The poles were colder. We wore clothing over our slowly depigmentizing skin.
Depigmentizing all the quicker because of very little exposure to the sun at all.
Because we differ in skin color doesn't mean anything good or bad at all.
We were and still are all the same human specie, unlike our cousins, the extinct Neanderthal.
We are all *****sapiens. We are all the one and only Human Race.
In a nutshell, that says it all.
To All Hate Groups Out There and hate individuals too.
Be forewarned. Be aware. Your over due extinction is about to come true.
I speak for all with knowledge who have truly evolved too,
"We All Welcome The Extinction Of All The Ignorance Created By All Of You."
You should all welcome it too, so that all of you can truly, for the common good,
intellectually evolve too.
You are the river running through
unfathomable greens
glassy yellows
down in the core of the river
flicker lightness on top
You increase me…swell me…impregnate without word or deed
push me to the fore till my sail fills with your carbon
a deep blue undertow …rip tidian
only moderate and full…like a plate of food...of vegetables …of fruit…of corn
You are the dark brown peat from which I absorb minerals
vitamins … steel ...magnesium…sulfate
the pillow of my essence’s rest in your name …hurricane
You fall on me
Wash off delusion
And I am a small green thing …a fine rooted thing
Small leaves of me stretch for your chloroformian shadows
My roots dig deep
hear your drum beat in the equatorial regions of the flaming core
I bend around the rocks …look under ever beetle’s shimmering skin
in all things you can be found
Amorous and craving …a magma surface of tension and sun
in tree tops …dark places
in the dark alleys
You are the blue jay…the cardinal but also the raven
the oak knows you too well…the west wind too and swells up in my skirts…my cottons
my downy …my linen …my lead
you stand … your hands on your hips
look out over the possibilities
hungry for returns
I echo
Light housing across ….a sound burst
a wave in a vast universe of waves ..so many
too many waves
but you will hear me
Master of my heart
lover of my flesh and bone…my fat ..my thinness…my crispness…my luxury
You will hear …what no one else will ever know
and call it home
born under the sea, an irresistible force
two bodies reluctantly embrace, shunting, shifting, tectonic drifting
alongside the southern Iapetus Ocean
equatorial deep-time child of Laurentia and Avalonia
journey northward, surfacing, submerging
surfing the waves again, a colder Hibernian dalliance
precariously perched on Eurasian plate
old bedrock confused, youthful erosion above the ancient order
darkness entombed around channelled winter light
early New Grange civilisation, the Boyne valley before the blood
river mouth vikings, raiding, assimilating
birth of the coming capital, eastern stronghold, Baile Atha Cliath
chain-mail Norman conquerors castle-building
appointing pious supplicants with sword, cloth, crook and cross
wholly unholy alliances unravel
rival hierarchies sharing ill-gotten earthly reward from overseas
saintliness, brutality, men and women
expanding Christendom, pagan kingdoms adjusting to defeat
Patrick, Brigid, Columba, Columbanus
Irish civilising roman catholic conduits, Dalriata to Lindisfarne
outreaching, a strand of Irish character
yet to encounter future revisionary metaphysical thought
protestant rebellion, mainland overspill
praying elites competing, preying on the island's god-fearing people
avian watchers on Skellig pinnacles
warm ocean currents well-up, catching the southwestern gale
enduring the ill-will of nature and man
supplanting, subjugating, saving souls, the power of might and fear
treachery within or well beyond the pale
fair and dark hair, ginger genetics existing on the edge of life
tossed thin people hanging on, many leaving
scraping blighted ground, returning to the sea, promise of the unknown
. *
*
*
*
*
.
*
.
* *
A constellation,
Equatorial beauty;
Known as the hunter.
Untamed and overflowing snug jungles thick and fruitful burst rife pregnant and spouting lavish green expressions. The white broil of the day globe supreme in its blistering febrile; relief sought in the milky turquoise waters teeming smooth unbroken tide. Rain falls in delicate melody curling upon lazy afternoon buffalo. Torn coconuts nestle upon the waterfalls as locals, sweet dove like drifting valley flowers. Ants fuss upon the barks of the mango trees, white stalks and avocado lark free. Here lies an island of unbroken weight, primeval and rampant, supreme unearthly, an equatorial heaven, here on earth.
They, the blind
Heavy laden with mystery of denial
Empty of eclectic views
Yearns for Island of blinding white light.
They hate the color black
Every woman's sexy black dress
Every man's spotless black tuxedo
Every child's mem'ry of a clean blackboard.
They hate the color black
Black American history, mighty as Montenegro
Bleach cannot blot out its strength.
They hate the color black
Face the Sun!
Hold a conversation on equatorial black
Black rain clouds cleansing, hydrating, renewing.
They hate the color black
Black, the night, showing starlight
Black ink on sheets of white
Black the beginning and end of life -
They hate the color black.
*
For milliards of tough years
You have stood in our midst
Unperturbed, indomitable
And you have enticed the rain
And it has showered our fields
Our ridges and verdant plains
And filled not only our rivers
But our streams and rivulets
And much else of our realm
For milliards of long years!
When the first rays of the sun
Gently slap your sleepy face
Urging you to part your garment
Of white and grey and sometimes
Darker cumulo-nimbus colours
Do you ever shy away and turn
As though from a sight unloved
Or summon your three peaks
To hide you from the earliest
Touch of a brand new dawn?
When I think of your numerous sacred grooves
When I dream of your twenty or so glacial tarns
When I fathom your five thousand metre height
And this right on the path of the equatorial sun
I am deeply humbled and promptly reminded
That the God of my people and of our cousins
Dwells up there untroubled by the elements
I am reminded, too, of the elephant highways
Which traverse our ridges on the way north-east
To the warmer grasslands of Nyambene Hills
I dare not look up to you
Without plenty of gratitude
I dare not hide my shy face
Without plenty of ingratitude
For I know and all of us know
That you have been our dear
And most beloved benefactor
That has withheld not a thing
That has stood by the people
Beyond measure, beyond all
Thank you for your tears
Thank you for your prayers
Thank you for your ice and snow
Thank you for your rivers and rivulets
And thank you, too, for your love
For the men and women galore
All children of all races and hue
Who inhabit for the time being
Limbs of your most splendid
And most bountiful slopes!
Two eloping hearts evergreen like equatorial rainforests,
entwined in the eternal escalator of love,
leaving a trail of lovely lavender fragrance;
her touchscreen face tempting him to touch,
to caress carelessly and to bring about cascaded tapestry .
=====================================
By:kashinath karmakar (19th Feb.2011)
A special little whale,
Born in the dark depths of the ocean.
An abnormality, random variable, first of its kind.
A soft blue blob,
Looking for a home.
Warm ocean currents with the softness of spring
The blooming corals of youth
The merpeople proposing with blinding seashells
The pleasant brilliance of the ocean exploding
A bomb of colour.
The baby whale's heart was sky blue and free.
It wailed in happiness for its bright future - 52Hz.
A soft blue blob,
Looking for a home.
Scorching fire from the equatorial waters
Taught it to survive in the harsh world.
It earnt its battle scars.
Yet, as always, it was alone.
The baby whale roared in anger
and perhaps,
on a more subconscious level,
loneliness - 52Hz
A soft blue blob,
Looking for a home.
Autumn, the season of heartbreak.
The dejected blob had grown older and more
forlorn.
The coral path of love,
Painted in the colours of the sunset.
A lively orange ending in a sad, coffee brown.
Sadness at 52Hz.
A soft blue blob,
Looking for a home.
The coldness from the northern ice caps
numbed the beating of its heart.
A monotonous life in black and white
- Mostly white.
It would have frozen its tear tracks
But then, can one really cry in an ocean?
... - 52Hz
Time had left behind a dejected blob.
Giving up, it let its weight drag its soul
down into the dark ocean floors from which it was born,
its eyes like the burning embers of coal.
That was when it saw
Another. :)
warm breeze caresses
an equatorial bliss
trees which sway and play
I am reading
"Democracy in Black"
by Eddie S. Glaude, Jr.
but continue reconstructing this title
"Hypocrisy in Only White."
Because
when I let my memory
look back to my own self-interests in history
as archaeological digging and prying and discovery,
adventure and curiosity
of my internal ecological development,
I reweave back
through still on-going matriarchal lines
that include,
are shared with,
anyone capable of reading
and comprehending
these words of regenerating memory.
Back
to darker
denser
richer genes and memes
of cooperative to still thrive today,
saving competitions for survival moments.
Back to
better to prey together
side by side
as neanderthal brothers and sisters
than to grow predative
against each other.
This Golden Rule
of dark Afro-Eurasian
equatorial resonant depth
of historical origin
in normative play
at least until we substitute capitalism's
supremacist agendas
for rationalism's ego-ecocentric
reweaving memory
of this original Earth Mom
magical and mysterious
then worshiped and danced
ritualed and cooperative ownership co-governing,
then more modern radical eccentricities
forgetting our shared matriarchal
regenetic
memory of dualdark
hypocrisies of merely white inferiority
complexes
disease
dissonance
despair of remaining fully
who we together are,
where we have been
predating history
where we could return
each morning
with greatest polyphonic joy.
To paraphrase David Holmgren
(Permaculture, p. 113)
Containers were one essential organic innovation
necessary for this cooperative agrarian revolution.
Opportunities to refill organically produced bodies
are enormous
transitioning into recycling energy descent
for shared cooperative memory.
Reimaging full organic containers
is far better than sending us
away and down and out for recycling.
Most official ecopolitical waste reduction strategies
place little emphasis
on organic reuse refilling re-educating
deep ecologically learning containers,
or confuse WinWin refueling,
reweaving,
with capitalism's WinLose recycling,
switching productive containers
into merely consuming eventual empties,
bleached-out white-washed faded hypocrisies
of purest supremacy against nothing
deeply densely
richly resonantly valued.
All chocolate comes from the cacao trees
They grow best in tropical vicinities.
The tree first grew in Central America
although most of them now grow in Africa.
A portion of them also comes from Asia.
Equatorial climate proves most ideal,
so the tree has plenty of pods to reveal.
The pods on the trees contain many small beans.
These beans have to dry by the usual means.
They have to spend many hours in the sun
before any further processing is done.
Once dry, they are processed with fermentation.
They get chocolate liquor through extraction.
The beans have to be shipped to facilities
where they are scoured for all impurities.
The brown dried beans are then roasted for some time;
long enough to bring out flavor that’s sublime.
Further along in this commonplace process,
butter is extracted by hydraulic press.
They add alkali and emulsifier,
along with sugar and vanilla flavor,
to a thick consistency that would favor
pressing into molds that are briskly shaken.
Air bubbles escape; solid bars are taken
to another room for wrapping and packing.
Finished products are ready for marketing.
June conspires
Sun and rain and wind;
Equatorial somnolence
Ways and means
Cluster of conflicts;
Confront life's business
Down winding roads
Cityscapes retreat;
Highrise dwellings clutter
Bus ride to nowhere
New estates emerge;
Road map carbon copy
News flash and highlights
Routine monotony presides;
Celebrate gratitude then
Order in sure fashion
Odd ball roller coaster;
Jolly simplicity
Next year's birthday thoughts:
Celebrate 50 years --
City-state nation
Forged from uncertainty
Precarious transit pains;
Here we are now
Ageing population
New age crisis;
Opportune reminders
The years have been kind
To one and all here;
Confront crises head-on
No need for complaints
There is only one way;
Move forward always
Attitude counts
Work on your gripes;
Excellence takes effort
All in due time
Evidence speaks sharp;
Discern lessons well
Talk feels empty
Do it with aplomb;
Results surmount obstacles
We start, we end --
Let gratitude mindset
Frame sure attitude
Despite constraints
We get along;
Common courtesy works
There is no other place
Beyond our fringes;
Here ample lots farm
A cityscape where
We co-mingle, interact;
Live a common agenda
Home is where
Heart lives sure spark;
Touch weaves new songs
Leon Enriquez
04 June 2014
Singapore
#1
broken icicle
equatorial fossil
turned now into stone
Brian Johnston
June 20, 2016
Poet's Notes:
Expect more to come! Ha!