Best Huns Poems
Remember all the Wise Men on their knees upon your yacht?
With orphans on their backs they’d crawled (with others that they’d brought)
Through rubble on the highway sands and residues of Lot.
They came from severed cities selling postcards of your thoughts,
Though offered for a penny piece, not even worth a jot.
They mused
“How are you feeling? What it is you want, you’ve got.
The words you scrawl on calling cards: ‘I AM – the others NOT’
Shun wisdoms of the Seven Seas: ‘Salvation can’t be bought’ –
Your fathers tried before you and your fathers came to naught.
“You started out by gelding goats and then by casting lots
Of bodies to the battlefields, contorted, tight and taut,
Then wallowed in the wake of trails the dervish devil trots.
“With marching bands of fatherlands, and drums of Hottentots,
You lure your legions in harm’s way like giant juggernauts.
Like Tweedle Dum your minions come (the sober and the sots,
The troglodytes, barbarians, and mislead patriots,
The Vandals, Huns and Hannibals and seaport Cypriots,
The Japanese, the Congolese, Americans and Scots)
To vanquish bows and arrows, spears and catapulted shots
Of those who hide in bamboo huts their families, pale, distraught,
(Their withered wives with dried up breasts, their swollen babes in cots)
Who swoon, engulfed in poison darts and vats of acid hot,
Consumed by magic mushroom clouds, atomic megawatts.
“In churches of your deities, your Holy Huguenots,
Your Imams, Rabbis, Voodoo Dolls and Mitered Lancelots
Lit wicked kindled candled walls in temples (while we fought)
(Used pins and needles, magic spells on makeshift mock whatnots)
And mosques, cathedrals, synagogues have blessed each new onslaught
With prayers for pipers, puppets, pawns, your rigid armed robots.
Continued in Part 2…
Your one hand holds the bowl of golden wine
Your chin and cheek redden in olden desire
In your eyes are shadows of the hillside pine
In your glances exposed dance of fire
Of my wine cup animatedly full to the brim
I am careful not to shed a drop on floor
In our restive eyes sparkles the impatient dream
The Huns and Vandals about to break open the door
In your chest you have stored the frozen ocean
I know I have had the key to the coveted lock
And the charge to set them free in splashing motion
For a while the time pauses in our passion clock
The maddening twirl you send out from the corner of your eye
Is too much for my folded fountain keep its poise
I can see the beautiful breaches in your cloudless sky
And then the awesome surge from both the oceans turquoise
Some miniature tremors of cracked blue time in brain
In consequence gushes of pink flood and the ruinous rain
All boundaries breaking down and nothing and none to help
A fleeting annihilation of the stupendously crushing self
________________________________________________
June 21, 2016
For the contest : That is sexy
Sponsor: Lewis Raynes
Cro mag non man was a birth of a nation
Crete led the way for civilized creation
The Etruscans became the first Mediterranean power
Indo Europeans Settled Europe as others cower
The Aryans in India established a civilization
The Nile valley would be dominated by Egyptians
Chorus
We've once again taken history’s place
To show again we are the face
Our past is forbidden , the truth is hidden
We've once again taken history’s place
300 Spartans showed what there courage could do
Alexander The Greats strength was unmatched by few
Rome led 1000 years of prosperity before the decline
The Visigoths chased the Huns back over the European line
7 crusades led by a Christians to stem Islam
Ferdinand and Isabella condemned the Moorish harm
chorus
Everyone feared the fury of the pagan vikings of the north
Napoleon Bonaparte would bring military genius forth
The British empire would colonize every land
William Wallace bravely fought for the freedom of Scotland
The Teutonic knights helped spread across Europe Christianity
The 30 years of Christian wars brought nothing but insanity
Chorus
Expansion of discovery could never be touched
The United states would rise and the British would be crushed
The south would rebel for liberty and freedom
The British would slice the throat of the Ottoman kingdom
The first brothers war was thought to be the final stand
The Afrikaners fought relentless for the right of there land
chorus
The Bolshevik revolution brought a new plague into the world
The Germans brought a new hope as the banners were unfurled
All of Europe would unite under the waffen for it's European identity
The Marxist hippie movement brought moral hygiene to it's knees
Now it's the today and we have to keeping fighting for a new tomorrow
We must secure our destiny and keep having our history grow
chorus(2)
True story, my uncle was a famous safe cracker
Before becoming a soldier in World War I
Known to police in New York City for robbery
The army wanted his skills against the Huns
Employed him to defuse bombs the Germans threw
In the trenches around the front lines
And also to defuse all the mines around them
Till the end of the war was showing signs
Dying in the war he received a medal of honour
Posthumously for his heroic bravery
Made amends for his past so unsavoury
When I came along I was named after him
Quite a hero I always looked up to
Before the war, a criminal known to police
After death got the recognition he was due
© Jack Ellison 2015
A lush green tranquil field
Hides it's secrets well
Once a muddy blood stained land
Were many young life
Was sadly taken far from home
In a living foreboding hell
The rattling of the Huns machine gun
The deafening pounding of falling shells
Filled many young boy with dread and fear
Who shed their anguished tears
That burned from trembling heart.
During the Malay of confusion
Admit the dense chocking sulphurs smoke
The ground quakes and shakes
As the relentless fury of hell is unleashed
UNFINISHED.
Momma tell your son
It's not about guns
It's not about the buns
on his sweet little huns
Momma tell your son
It's not about shame
It's not about the blame
or the old con game
Momma tell your son
It's not about hate
It's not about the things
In his grand estate
Momma tell your son
that satan hasn't won
and it's not too late
to hit his knees and pray
Momma tell your son
It's all about faith
"God is"
the highest power
and will return one day!!!
Sebastian Was His Name
There a single figured stood
In a land that no man claims
Leafing though an ancient book
And Sebastian was his name
It was the first spring of the war
And with victory nowhere at hand
The only way for keeping score
Was counting words scratched in the sand
And every voice that spoke that day
On either side, gave all they could
Until there wasn’t much to say
Then fell together where they stood
No one can say, the reason why
That young Quotes come to such an end
Or if indeed they really die
Instead by fate they just transcend
Sebastian led the charge that May
As text from scrolls fell ‘round his feet
The Huns where burning books that day
But he could barely feel the heat
It wasn’t ‘till he made their line
He realized, alone he stood
And all the quotes that he possessed
Have done the others little good
With enemies now all around
And the margins closing fast
He set to pen another round
Putting all the Huns to task
After all the ink stained pages
The flowing discourse pooled like blood
Like the knowledge of the ages
Now were trampled down in mud
There a single figured stood
In a land that no man claims
Leafing though an ancient book
And Sebastian was his name
Look at Tommy go.
See Tommy fall,
row after row.
Cut down by Maxim guns.
Sacrificial victims for the Huns.
Romanus country
Romania to us
Iron curtain frontier
Dismantled by fuss
Like us all invaded
But by Goths and the Huns
Typical past history
Populations on the run
The Ottoman Empire, absorbed their souls
A free Romania the ultimate goal
Modern Romania has had its fears
The first world war
In neutrality gear
But by 1916, they released their fear
Allies they joined
As they sung the same song
Austria-Hungary they fought
To get rid of the wrong
In the second world war
Under Stalinist pressure
To remain neutral
Avenues of different measures
The Axis they joined
Once again with the Hun
With Italy and Japan
Their armies over run
Second world war over, but left with a horrific scar
Another country that went to far
Their part in the holókauston
A non defend-able time
The Antonescu regime
Crossed the line
Antonescu's approval for the removal of Jews
To concentration camps, quite horrific news
Eichmann and Richter, confirm the above
Jewish families on their final shove
The most recent chapter, in this ancient place
Nicolae Ceausescu, the people he would face
With the recent demise of the Berlin wall
This dictator so horrid, would also fall
A two hour trial on television
Would see him sentenced to his execution
Taken outside, him and his wife
For treason and genocide, they were shot on sight
Romania to date
A democracy
No longer Iron Curtain
A country now free
" In dedication to the Romanian Poets on Poetry Soup "
Tommy
So there is Tommy in the trenches
And Tommy on the guns and Tommy halfway
across no man’s land, used as a target by
the Huns.
Then there’s Tommy in the
surgeons tent both legs one arm a
missing and Tommy blinded by the gas
lungs so bad he is hardly whispering.
Then there's Tommy in the firing squad
waiting for the shout
And Tommy
blindfolded, tied to a post wondering, if
this is what life is all about.
Then there’s
Tommy giving the order with pistol in
hand, ready to deliver the coup de grace
so other Tommys will understand.
Then there's
Tommy in the war room with his Earl gray
tea and biscuits, Followed by a nice spot of lunch
at the officers club with the valet to clean
up the dishes.
But of course at the top,
there are many tough decisions to be
made with many live at stake,
So be a good fellow Jeeves
and pass me another glass
of Chardonnay
And nice piece of
Christmas cake.
True story, my uncle was a famous safe cracker
Before becoming a soldier in World War I
Known to police in New York City for robbery
The army wanted his skills against the Huns
Employed him to defuse bombs the Germans threw
In the trenches around the front lines
And also to defuse all the mines around them
Till the end of the war was showing signs
Dying in the war he received a medal of honour
Posthumously for his heroic bravery
And his great contribution to the war effort
Made amends for his past so unsavoury
When I came along I was named after him
Quite a hero I always looked up to
Before the war, a criminal known to police
After death got the recognition he was due
True story, my uncle was a famous safe cracker
Before becoming a soldier in World War I
Known to police in New York City for robbery
The army wanted his skills against the Huns
Employed to defuse bombs the Germans threw
In the trenches around the front lines
And also to defuse all the mines around them
Till the end of the war was showing signs
Died in the war, received a medal of honour
Posthumously for his heroic bravery
A sad end to his heroic efforts during the war
Making amends for a past unsavoury
When I was born I was named after him
His exploits made him my hero!
its alright
its okay
we feel and then we dont
these lives all form a sequence
to what end is for the show
feel good enjoy the onset
go low to see the sunset
some refer to context
minds at risk go unchecked
my toes pointed downward
heavier though lifted
silence is for cowards
timing a polar shifting
admire the royal missing
redial the normal listing
sire the serfs are pissing
the garden a guarded wishing
the apples in all the eyes
the scaly skin metallic
they worship any phallic
no wonder we organize
cultures and nomenclature
these vultures ashamed of nature
we're soldiers of social failure
911 on wisdoms pager
some egos are rampant
running amok amongst some monks
punks do lunch more than once a month
a dunce is shunned the huns a hoarde
then guns were plumbed from sons of song
all along alas we last will fast a grasp and gasp a taste
i ask that acts of crass be vast and first to take a place
an ass and jack of trades these games are tough across the face
tho crux beyond can wait the spawn i laid will cost your grace
an ace of spades chased in caves the lathe will lay the ways to change
youre made for chains this pain as plain as gains in polls black souls insane
no more tame the hodor brain which side do lies say mordor stays
a quarter praise to the sorta wakes the portal plays an orders fate
Resolution To...Too... Tooth... Thou..
(house sand zero, and own nine)
Wine hot ja... jes... justa bead devout
boo... boos...booze hound 'n
frog git (hic cup) bout...
new yea ears rez: hill loo... dang
(burp) louche huns, eh an...,
and beg... agh hen ah nee new wheel 'ear
as zha roosting gadabout
fra... fru... froom this ska...
ski... skid... row... man hunk scout,
ah so... sub... sober chip... er ...,little
tea...poe... pot short and stout
er... chap, cuz in necks stay...hm...
here...ism handle, and thar hiz muss spout
oh...ha rill lee odd doubt
y'all 'member wha...whi...
whoa, what 'prom says 'eed shout
th... hiss hex 'spurt advice
fro...fru...framed dis lout, yea?
What a difference (in meaning), clear
as hub ba hell...(belch) bell jar quake
obvious, (when one not pull lath ta heard) ,
my...er re... rev vol ting... lush 'n not be opaque,
one alphabetic character doth make
duff France sans, the nineteenth versus twenty
first letter of English... lake
really awesome man, how dog nabit,
I could hood ho...hu... hoof accomplished...
rather steal piece o'@$$ er...rather tastykake
alm high ghouls when hide goot awake!
As somewhat (hmm...) not so evident,
one need not be a rocket
surgeon, or brain scientist
visa viz mastercard whiz
at effect of one sprocket...
nor a judge explaining gobbledygook
of law to witness in docket,
cuz this po boy haint moost
richly endowed in his pocket,
nor talented ska, rocksteady,
or reggae tunesmith
never earning any moolah, but forced to sell
off each dreaded locket.
Fellow Americans, this poetaster
lacking hocus pocus
not merely here tubby chiefly
as time waster, with locus
of airy mission to plant sole
lee seeded to shift your focus
from aimining to satisfy reVolution verse us
impossible mission couched
as reSolution lest ye be deemed
moost laughable joker, who makes major fuss!
How wrong is the notion than having two great loves...
doesn't make a heart absorb what it immensely adores.
My natural motherland is that southern European country
kisses by the warm waves of the Mediterrean sea,
where a great empire rose and conquered others,
only defeated by the barbarians like the Huns.
My adopted motherland was discovered by Columbus,
who with three ships sailed the Atlantic Ocean confidently,
hoping to find a route to India, the land of spices and mystery...
and he thought all along it he had found it without any loss.
The first one made a dreamer out of me overnight,
and inspired me with her breathtaking landscapes and skies;
who has ever see Mount Vesuvius throught a teenager's eyes,
and be somewhat moved by the magnificent sight?
The second one nourished my erring and poetic spirit so sensible:
seeing snow-capped mountains, green vallies and sun-drenched canyons;
there all thoughts fled to find inspiration...like kids playing with crayons,
attempting to draw with ingenuity images very awesome and beautiful.
These two countries are loved by me as I loved sweet mother;
the old one holds her strict religious values and the other has more realistic freedom,
not suggesting to quickly discard one, and embrace the other;
I will definitely love them both and honor their flags with the joyful beats of my drum.
How happy and grateful I am to have had these friends fulfilling my worthiness
that daily shaped my character and broadened my avenues towards success.