Best Histories Poems
Histories Hysterectomy
Do we want the truth; can we handle the truth?
Give us a fairy tale filled with complete devotion.
A broken heart we might mend.
Oh my some of us patrons of the arts;
Looking for hidden meanings;
Searching for useful prospects
Can we not appreciate the abstract?
Does the raven never stop at our door?
He’s just a winged bird looking for seed right?
Have we entered this auditorium as spectators?
Do we wait in line to ride a roller coaster;
Only to walk away when it was our turn?
God save us all from our own fears;
Let us be free to delve into;
The life we could never live.
Histories Lesson
Rice papered traced belief,
parchment preserver of time.
Dipped ink quills of word relief,
the preservation of numbers prime.
Stick figured carved cave teachings,
soft brushed dusted sand of stone.
The all of everything the past is preaching,
is the answers are better off unknown...
bmdavey@
02/22/16
I prefer the myths to the dry histories, where truths come and then crumble away,
For history is written with a quill of feathers, but the myth, eternal, beats with wings of iron.
Mythology dresses lies in dazzling robes that over time are clothed in truth,
And it gives birth to a wisdom that time can shape as the river shapes the stone.
Intelligence, deaf and blind, listens only to defy or to nod in assent,
Thus the message, like a drifting ship, is lost on misunderstood seas.
Instead of welcoming the word as a guest to the tables of meditation, it would tear down the messenger,
And we, mortals learned, have lost the art of sitting with the message, of cherishing the story.
The fault, it is said, lies in the arms of that education which molds us into valiant soldiers of certainty,
Not into wise seekers of questions, of meanings hidden in the folds of the everlasting myth.
Our world stubbornly struggles to tear the thick paper of deep understandings,
Poisoning us with dogmas, forgetting in the procession of days that all which was once a lie may bloom as the apple of new knowledge.
Touch, translucent, delicate and sparse,
Awareness fleeting and fragile;
Treasure of treasures, Lo and mark,
Seeker born quick and agile.
Peripheral only, inward glancing,
Laughing at clumsy gestures of life.
Around, yet beyond, in silhouette dancing
Coalescing at times into strife.
I, but a dalliance at your disposal,
Significant only in ego's arousal;
Clinging to fringes as bee's to aroma,
Dancing as mules in the heat of the day.
Unyielding the struggle to reach the return,
Hasten the kiss of the flame without burn.
Feel; yet not touch - deliver; yet stay.
Become both the twilight and dawn of the day.
Bring me my head and deliver my heart,
Cast not the ending from out which my start.
I have found burst and bewilderment channeled,
I have danced ever in mists of the morn.
I have been dazed in the blindness of passion,
And from this, I now have been torn.
Endless longing, deepest ache,
For glimpse of glory in the crack of life,
I, who have held, the briefest of story,
Lay baffled and bleeding on the grounds of my life.
A place without struggle between silence and pain,
Tween the birth of religion, and thought before stain,
Where feelings of affections cry false
And the feelings of coarseness disdain.
Where feelings priori shadowed and subtle,
Give birth to the lie egos feign.
There is no lie in the light that is life,
For the dark, who knows what is true.
The meaning of struggle and search for rebirth,
Is your Shadow becoming You.
The holocaust.
A historical event known worldwide
Taught in every history class
The point being is its known
Why is that important?
It overshadows
It takes the spotlight
It is also white history
Because even though it was mainly the persecution of Jews
At the end of the day they are still white
But what about another holocaust
Another genocide of people
Those who were discriminated against
And were targeted by Germany
In this case they were black
This was the Germans first attack
The wipe out of generations
Innocent children and the elderly
Innocent black people exterminated
All because of a rebellion
Of a people defending their nation
Herero and Nama
The retaliation from the Germans
Catastrophic
It changes the lives of many
The murders and separations of families
Around 100,000 hereros
And 25,000 Nama
Brutally murdered in a genocide
Silenced by the colour of the victims skin
It didn't end there
The Germans had won
And Hereros and Nama were defeated
Instead of the Germans leaving
They took souvenirs
Those who survived
Were imprisoned
Starved, dehydrated and beaten
If the genocide hadn't killed them
Then the concentration camps certainly did
The jews were given historical grace
And the Southern Western Africans were erased
And you wonder why we make 'everything about race'
Is because you wouldn't care if the history Of my people was slapped in your face