Best Exceed Poems
Freedom of Expression is Only Free to The Members of The Dominant Class, Race, Religion Or Segment Of Society.
For The Rest of US Payments May be made in Blood, Tears, Rights or Civil Liberties.
I am a Brother of a Different Race, Ethnicity, Color, Language and Creed, Though I Can Identify With Your Journey.
For My People Walk a Similar Road.
We have Known Slavery, Whips, Chains and the Continued Attempts to Silence Our Collective Voice(s).
This Road is Long, the Path is Steep, and the Friends willing to travel with you are Few, But I would say to be Encouraged.
You Will One Day Get There, If You Are Willing to Continue the Journey, Endure the Race, and Aim towards the Higher Calling.
Though Water, Time Zone(s), and Distance May Separate US, Know That If Your Pursuit is Positive, Intention(s) Are Honest Regarding the Freedom of All Citizens, and your Motives are Sincere and Pure, Then I Will Stand With You.
The World is Watching, Documenting and Praying For your Positive and Peaceful Resolution.
Best Regards
Paul Cumberbatch (Author, December 12, 2020)
in poison nectar is not there
in nectar poison is not there
both are things impartial
i take i suffer
when i exceed my own limit
The sun seemed to go down a few degrees
Behind the clouds, it cast its beams
The radiating light gave clouds uncoating of white
Sun tickled their fancy as they laughted with delight
The heat of the day approaches with speed
Soon outside will be uncomfortable to exceed
Life's duty calls to come inside, get busy with work
Do the jobs desinated to the call of wife
Couplets...Well, sort of ..Just hastily written on the porch
On retirement all The Due proceed,
Because cars don’t their speed exceed;
In their pet jobs hope to succeed,
Sometimes sensible warnings don’t heed.
A solution to the riddles of idleness,
And checking of their feelings of awkwardness:
Relieved cops a vigilante floating,
Ex-civil servants at the likes of Bureaux gloating,
Former dispensers, stocked drug stores running,
Home-sent vets, neigbours sick animals and the mourning,
A sender to early graves,
Of those who more swollen envelopes crave,
For attendance to their mounting needs,
That can’t be handled by what simply feeds.
Usher of fuller reunion with family,
A picking of fresh interest in being homely;
Our resting of our long besieged bones,
In our houses, now The Best of Thrones.
So, the Retired from his darling job,
Is not at all being asked to sob,
He having his service year completed,
And his efficiency surely depleted;
The age for a compulsory lay-off clocked,
For which more busying of self is true progress blocked;
A life to be lived has gone down,
For past stewardship, a dignifying gown,
Ageing men hostages to funny diseases,
Only off and on enjoying lucky releases.
Hence, managements forward their goodbye paper,
In this seeing a pursuit of The Safer,
To all retirees “wisely stay at home”,
Save those it is their nature to roam,
Anywhere they choose by all means to surface,
Provided it is not a very hectic office.
Not honey-sweet what the retired swallows,
Sometimes in court challenging it like the gallows,
A doubly confirmed injustice form some adversary,
Via a tall order, neither timely nor necessary;
Always a building resolve to contain some mischief,
And a mission to save one’s job from a work thief!
I’ve got my hand in the fire
getting high on how it burns;
I feel every ounce of it,
screw the comfortably numb;
Soothed by your rushing water,
pain’s fall bridges to pleasure;
You exceed expectations.