Best Idols Poems
They are like two beam lights that claim the stage
on a hot summer eve in the middle of a makeshift
floor parkette made of wood, varnish, and lights that aim
They are more than two American dollies dressed
in French lace and boudoir lipsticks
They are idols of the theater talking through
cables and conductive material.
The imagination of the viewers soar as they lose themselves
in the dark curtained stage, where reality has gone dormant
The only sound they hear is the tingly sounds
of unfolding fans made of feather and paper,
by the old vintage theater Madammes who cluck and gossip
in hushed tones when the first dolly gives the other dolly,
a soft kiss.
The End.
The answer has been my motivation,
keeping me awake through the night,
keeping me in love with my passion,
the language of my forefathers,
The answer has been given, inspiring
those before and after his own words,
Yet it rests clear as day in one
of Uncle Walt's most prized pieces,
The answer is my reason for choosing
to be any and all that I am,
The answer is the most beautiful
phrase known to my amateur ears,
The answer, I say, as he comforts me,
as I begin to tear up from his guidance,
"To contribute a verse"
"To contribute a verse!"
I answer proudly to my most revered teacher,
And as if new sight has been given to me,
wiping eyes, I make a promise to my fallen idols,
Saying with the fury of fire in my follicles
"To contribute a verse, and by a child's love,
a man's honor, a student's respect, and a writer's creed,
I intend to...I must...
I shall...I promise..."
With new confidence I am child and man,
With new hope I am afraid and fearless
A child of my ancestors, a man of my word,
Afraid of failure, yet fearless on my journey,
An impossible journey that ends at death,
For death decides if my promise is protected,
Waking to see the world as a blank page,
I will blindly find my way to immortality,
Not for glory, not for honor,
Not for praise, nor for fame,
Merely for a promise to yesterday,
and a responsibility to tomorrow,
With hope, I walk toward the unknown,
unafraid of the outcome of my travels,
With intentions of contributing a verse,
and more importantly, finding myself ,
within my own words...
Reach into my depths, I could,
pulling out pieces of fallen idols,
From contemporary to eccentric,
From cynics to realists, to romantics,
searching deeply to find my voice,
If indeed, I have acquired such a tone
as those who inspire my very thoughts,
Thoreau, Coleridge, Crane, Byron, Poe,
Frost, Hayden, Hughes, and Gibran,
Pertinent pioneers of published passion,
Experienced educators of endearment,
Do I dare follow their footsteps
imprinted in the wet cement path of time?
Or do I respectfully deny my destiny
out of fear of inferiority, for who am I?
Questions that echo in my mind,
punishing with each powerful pounding pulse,
No answer awakes within my heart,
nor does my mind mentor my vehement
in self doubt, "I am nothing, I am afraid",
Instead, in the midst of my crossroad,
coming to the rescue in the form of an apparition,
stirring in my soul are the words of Uncle Walt,
"O' Me, O' Life" he repeats with tears in his eyes,
"O' Me, O' Life" he says, wiping my fears away,
"Why do we live child?
Why do we wake and breathe
to prolong our existence on this corrupted orb?
What in your heart is the most alluring reward
for being chosen to walk amongst the grandfathers
of your expression? What is the most precious
opportunity that any man can have in the epic
piece of literature that existence has become?"
(Continued on Part 2, please post all comments on Part 2)
Grand basilicas
built to papal false idols
of graven image -
to apostate relics from
pagan Rome and Babylon!
Latter day idols
Scrape the sky and
Stand as Monuments;
Harboring the corruption of men.
A true monument
Stands out in the open.
The real beauty
Forgotten by the Creators.
Beneath the feet of these giants,
Lay solemn foundations of hope.
Life's theatre, tears and faces
Dreams have burnt with silent stories
Hit in back with shot or lances
Idols die without their sorries
Smoke of drugs syringe injection
Stars are putting out in spirit
Take guitare and drums, make action!
Bear illusion just like titbit.
They are known and they are famous
Gods of word and restless sinners
They will die in wealthy palace
They can't breathe, but they are winners.
Turn around and walk in glory
Choose the fame in eyes of sponger
There's black card I'm really sorry
Be the idol, sting them stronger.
Life's theatre, life is title
Our reason is defeated
Turn to me your back, my idol,
I will hit, because you need it.
Stone Idols and Crimson Angels cannot give us what we need
Instead, create confusion, delirium… living on the edge
Luring temptations, no explanations, give way to condemnation
The “fog” never lifting, while searching for that “perfect seed”
Trust not, Stone Idols and Crimson Angels,
You keep us needing, thru emotional bleeding, shame and sorrow
Feeling nothing, as an empty suit, we search for elusive joy
Idols and Angels consume our minds, living for tomorrow
These Idols and Angels , take us into the rear view mirror
To view and relive an imperfect past
Wanting us to change the past, not learn from it
Which would give us perfect joy…at last
Make it mandatory, take each day, our inventory
When our future comes calling, plan for dreams come true
Build our foundations, fulfill obligations
Our elusive dreams in hand…no need to still pursue
Stone Idols and Crimson Angels beckon each new day,
Temptations lead to defeat
I choose, instead, to take the leap…the leap of faith…
Letting go, real angel wings, now at my feet!
Form:
Fallen Idols
You worship the golden calf
I see you are still in the valley
Crawling on your knees
Looking for forgiveness
Crying for mercy
Hungry for manna from heaven
A slave to that idol
Made by your blood stained hands
Conceived
A new birth
A citizen of Sodom and Gomorrah
On the alter of false belief
A consuming fire devours your soul
Damned by an eternal fire
Lay down your self appointed prophets
Burn them down
Burn down the temples
That preaches false hope
Killing off the priests of Cain
Murdering the children of God
Innocence lost
The church sings songs of rejoice
To preach of salvation
Not a word was spoken
idols become gods
leaving churches desolate
like ancient ruins
rising without glory
but still reaching for heaven
Under the sun and moon, flawed men linger in the cold
Who in the mist of darkness, cut and rip apart trees eons old
While stepping on grass and insects for wood to be sold
Deaf to the pleas the light within makes to them while men seek for gold
To make for themselves gods to care as well as impugn
Blind to the Father of Greatness who stands above the sun and moon
Carving the wood with knives with the edges razor thin
Into aggressive lions, venomous serpents, armed men of sin
Maidens with iron-grey painted on their senseless skin
Leaving spikes to pierce through the lights of purity trapped within
And with skill, they craft horned bulls painted with bronze for flair
Leaving the spirits to burn in despair, with smoke to fill the air
And to sell them like slaves that customers have to pay
Though these gods are the apparent wisdom and light, or so they pray
Hanging them with silver chains by their necks as display
Trading them as property despite calling them the gods each day
Painted in blood red to make them easier to trade
With tears unseen flowing to the blue sky for tranquillizing aid
Bowing down to the wailing statue to be devote
With the worshippers filling the room with prayerful chants with each throat
Maybe praying for their deceased children’s river boat
While blindly bowing, with raining tears, to their children’s wooden coat
A statue sitting down with a serene face and veil
With souls in that chaotic Samsara, in that cyclical flail
Giving fruits of all colours that are pleasing to see
For the trapped souls to smell their brethren rotting as a death-filled sea
Pouring fish blood unto the wooden corpse of a tree
To show loyalty to the wooden carcass with their prayerful glee
Half the wood they burn for food which is perishable
Half the wood they worship as a god who is imperishable
Craftsmen make wooden crosses of a man crucified
To honour the one Christ whom the world of winter’s darkness denied
While nailing the Suffering Jesus with hands applied
Further crucifying the Cross of Light within the wood that died
May the light be free from the lion-headed craftsman
May the light, through the sun and moon, become the one and only Perfect Man
Prophet Abraham took an axe
He smashed the idols
He broke them except the biggest one in size
He hung the axe around his neck
When the people came back
They were shocked to see broken idols
They said who could have done this
Abraham have you done this to our gods?
He replied ask that big one
They said you know idols can't speak
He said you mean they are just dumb and deaf statues
Why do you worship them if they aren't god?
They started yelling toheen blasphemy disrespect..
Q.What lesson do we get?
Ans.Chak day phattay.
Masjid dha day mandar dha day?
Dha day jo kuj dhenda?
Us banday da dil na dhavin
Bhulya jiday dil vich Rab rehnda...
Praise not icons
But follow the unseen
God's larger than a portrait
That of faith and blood is what washes you clean
So be strong and wise
And do not make a graven image of thee
Repent and be earnest
Because great rewards await thee
would I were in a lifeless world
in which I had no ancestors
in which there was no mark of man
which was blank with no sectors
I see history as enemy
as brutal face of man it shows
the bloodshed, heads with no bodies
heirless corpses under rainbows!
in which I was bound to nothing
a world without a single grave
a world in which wealth was unknown
in which there was no lord, no slave
where goddesses weren't worshipped
with nude idols by lustful eyes
in which I were the first subject
the first person to see sunrise
September 10, 2022
People in the Bible worshipped idols time and time again.
They did it even though doing so was a terrible sin.
People once worshipped Baal, it was one of the idols.
People refused to worship God even though it was vital.
When God saw people worshipping idols, it really angered him.
They had to suffer the Lord's wrath when he punished them.
Some of those people's cities were destroyed and some became slaves.
Worshipping idols was a stupid and shameful way for them to behave.
Some people still have idols, one of which is movie stars.
Jehovah God is watching, he knows who these people are.
The Lord is the only one who people should idolize.
If you worship him, it is a decision that is very wise.
Once upon a golden calf
is now a raging bull
Once a saviour walked on water
now He walks on oil
Surrounded by disciples bent
on scorching fertile soil
Oligarchies drunk on power
will never have their full
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