Best Intellectual Poems
Witty
Brave
Brilliant
Charming
Charismatic
Hypnotic smile
With sense of humor
I’m always up
For an intellectual massage
If you’re offering
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on June 26, 2019 for contest YOUR CHOICE LIGHT VERSE sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 3RD
Originally posted on February 23, 2019
Aimlessly walking across the wasteland
of your mind,
you pick through the emotional trash
with random intensity
Crushed bottles of plastic thoughts;
half drank, half spilled on dozens of bridal dresses
Crushed cans of metal demands;
hard lemonade speeches, soft wine cooler caresses
And betrothed napkins
blow away in the wind
Rusted pennies for your thoughts
lay strewn on the sidewalk,
as you pick through the mental dumpster
with no sense of urgency
Scattering everywhere your intellectual debris
You find a good pair of glasses of never used honesty
Though you can see your true feelings better now,
you still try not to think too ostensibly
Walking with a more focused purpose,
still with your eyes looking down
and selectively looking around
For what? You’re still not quite sure
As you stroll, traversing the ruins of your mind,
you’re certain of one thing:
Beneath every barren ground,
there’s a treasure trove
of doubt
waiting to be found
Intellectual peer pressure
The faces change from smiles to sneers
from effusive praises to contemptible jeers.
A man whose wisdom has been seen for years
now forced to face his prideful peers.
A man whose intellect is simply beyond compare
those who read his works just stop and stare.
How can someone hold their own and debate such a man?
His thoughts and reasoning's are as well laid out plans.
His eloquence, his observations, are without any match
outwitted, his enemies, launch and scheme a hateful attack.
He knows their devotion, to unproven theories, is like a religion
He does not cower as he faces their vitriolic words of derision.
The odds are against him, hundreds to one, but he declares his faith in God!
Silence is deafening for a few moments, then one brave soul applauds.
The crowds turn against the two of them, in a heated hateful rage
Ignorance and prideful enmity, is clearly on display!
Without acknowledging that he might be right, they were both voted out!
But, forevermore in the back of their mind there is that lingering doubt...
John Derek Hamilton
February 16,2016
Majored in Social Anthropology -
Healdtown a significant influence
in his life .Not only was Mafeje an
influential academic, he was a man
of brilliance, intellect and insight.
His trials and tribulations were many. For example,
Archibald addressed a crowd which was ‘illegally gathered’,
and for that reason he was arrested. He did not despair.
A force in the fight against injustices and marginalisation.
A custodian of African heritage, awareness and identity.
A protector of the African identity, of African roots and rights;
Mafeje contributed to South Africa and its nationals. An ‘intellectual
pathfinder’ who played his role in enhancing the people of Africa’s
knowledge and self –worth. That which he bestowed, both on the scholarly
and political spheres was no mean feat. He shone in both scholastic and
insightful ways. A man of brilliance, intellect and insight. A focused pathfinder.
He laid the foundation for future African scholars embarking on a similar path of study. He also raised the benchmark in his field of study. A fountain of
knowledge and an author and researcher of repute.A focused pathfinder.
INTELLECTUAL HEART
______________________
A scholar can be prosperous.
An intellectual heart is divine.
Twins, a million miles apart.
Parallel they trek, the rugged road.
Its only if and when they meet.
Burden of life's journey is eased.
Refuse their union?
Your soul will be scarred!
and can never be at peace.
Let not; your mind, alone; lead your life.
Mind is filled with things material.
You were not born with astuteness.
It’s the input, that’s in your mind.
Riddled of things that are unclear.
Fear dulls, your logic every day.
Superstition, she plays her evil part.
divorcing the heart and mind apart.
Wisdom she loses her sense.
Listen to your murmuring heart.
She is guided by your soul.
Every reasoning is well defined.
Expresses the zeal of HER DESIRE.
JUST LISTEN TO YOUR ACHING SOUL.
Intellectual
Inaccessibility
Intolerable
Stagnated culture
intellectual rejects
Our society
Hafez and I grew up together
in Shiraz, centuries apart with
similar poetic ether.
Wandering the world together
as if from the same mother.
We were never actually together
the word reincarnated is better.
He lives in me and we suffer together
humanity's woes and ethnic the other.
We're global intellectuals chanting together
not the salute of flags and land of the mother
we preach the ethos of unity and together
in trenches of peace and harmony with the other.
We renounce war as our destiny together
and throw nationalism to dustbin as we gather,
tall we stand, and humble, together
on shoulders of giants like Tolstoy, Schweitzer, Camus and reverent other
But, wait, Hafez has asked to write a new stanza together
song of world peace and none other.
In you, full of yourself, we enter together
Go fill your heart with love of the other.
Dedication: To Noam Chomsky
He danced on the decks of tossing ships, danced only for dimes
He danced to the lash and sound of whips, hip moving like dream
And when he reasoned, his words sublime brought heavenly climes
Dance from plantation to Greathouse, dancing in gully and stream
And if we dance again today, he choreographs nuance and fiber
Still; this talented son, this bright native of the Martha Brae River.
He is the twin soul of that Manley, our horizons in the sun
And when at Mona, he taught me how to run with my ton.
O farewell, brother of my brother, mentor that from your distance shape
Me into a patriotic landscape where my children may build, farewell
Sweet intellect; and O may they bring our Mframadan like cloth to drape
Your rest. All your public life was nobly spent, farewell, Rex, farewell!
Your footprints are bright, not castles in sand, from high hills shine
The glory of your days. O Griot, go the bidding now of the Divine
O Blow the abeng now, beat the kumina drum, O village peel
The bells of jubilee again. Aluta Continua, Rex, go take your seal!
Mi mumma band her belly and bawl long time, yai water like rain
Hot like Clarendon springs, and the world like blue mountain mist
So cold, O emptiness, emptiness is such a dread, O such a pain
What shall we do with out hollowness now, and how shall we resist
Again the shackles of injustice, O that there were Marley
To sing this icon into the icon of memory, for all our history
Is but words on a page until we can retrieve the past to right
Today and make tomorrow bright again. He was that light.
Coda
O Kilmanjaro weep! O Timbuctu weep! O Meroe and kujo's clan
Weep for the death of man, a sterling man, a grandiose design
That met its worth in gold in deeds of him. All our life is like sand
Worn from the rock of being by tides and seasons, and no sign
To tell where wind or water carry us, we are blown away
The shadow of the sand is gone, but never cannot decay
It is too immaterial, its presence is like his fragrance here
Bill still O Niger, and you great Nile, I borrow you for a tear.
When I was in grade school
I was, already,
on my leftbrain dominant path
toward acting the intellectual snob.
This, in large part
my best offense,
my trump card, sadly,
against marginalizing prejudice
of our community's non-farmer economic
and political Elite;
The few kids
whose parents went to college
and/or inherited some above-the-norm property
business, preferably not agribusiness,
professional service assets
even the most straight white male
would appreciate
like doctors
and nursing wives,
two income households
with academic bright credentials.
By the time I reached high school
being on, or at least within sight of,
the top of my class,
and president of as much political property as possible,
or at least vice-president,
became my trump card
for getting out of rural SWM oppression,
depression,
suppression,
Where I was not safe,
back in the 1960s rural midwest,
and I could never possibly matter,
become one of the local community's Elite,
a pillar of church and state
while overcoming the guilt and shame
of being the gay son
of a below median income family farmer.
Intellectual snobbery
was my leftbrain overwhelming defense
against rightbrain amygdala loneliness,
extreme social-sexual isolation,
drowning in cortisol-baptized self-stigmatization.
Leftbrain dominant academic skills
were my best offense
for succeeding out in urban
urbane
multicultural
cosmopolitan
singing and dancing
democratically compassionate
win/win feeling and acting society.
The only healthy society
that mattered;
where I could possibly matter,
and become transparent
and vulnerable
and connected
and safe.
That defensive snobbery
still, in 2020 hindsight,
lives in my deepest closet,
longing for warmer
more inclusive acceptance,
invitation,
compassion
For right brain radical interdependence
with those of us,
regardless of income
and lack thereof,
regardless of self empowerment
and lack thereof,
capable of engaging
and energizing this tragic comedy
of small staged love lives,
Rural and urbane
Healthy and wealthy
Ego and eco-therapeutic
Left and right brained
Smart and warmly co-passionate
Proud and humble
Divinely humane
playing more win/win trump cards
through most cooperative co-investment.
Even if we will never touch
Or see the other one just as much,
Our conversations still takes a tone,
Between the whispers and after moans...
As soothing treble become the bass,
On such a level your voice escapes,
Replacing touches you used to feel,
With words in such a way that's so real...
Massage my cortex and rub my soul,
With bits and pieces that make you whole,
Such alphabetical pleasantry,
You're hypothetically here with me...
Comprise a theme full of lust and sin,
Inside a dream that you'll hide me in,
Then bare your mind unto only me,
Prepare to find what your body needs...
Although you linger on every word,
Remember what you have felt and heard,
So when you daydream you won't forget,
The reason why it will end so wet....
Terry
WWW.WhiteLionPoetry.com
I have seen this river swell mighty
Like a woman with fetus near to come
I have seen it lift its burden heavy
Cottaless and laughing in its kingdom
But to today is a different rainy day
Nothing wash the brown of sorrows away
O hear the river lament in its clay
For its son, its only son has passed away
I have seen this river in tropic glee
Dancing down the mountain in childhood
Pushing back the angry colonial sea
O nothing could compare to its manhood
But today is a different rainy day
Sorrow is a hurricane in the fish pool
Where his eloquence held lofty sway
Our favored son, our star bright mule
O my heart too carries sorrow like a river
He was model, mentor, brother keeper
My island's best gold when love was silver
In sun or moon, or sweet translucent water
I hear abeng wailing, jon kunno bawling
O today is a different rainy day
Mframadan come down your pole crawling
Weep with us, weep with Martha Brae
Did you hear this Rex talk, or see him dance
Did you know this scholar, this special son
Did you sit in his class and dream in trance
With this son, the Shaman of the olive sun?
O today is a different rainy day
Today is the day of tears and broken heart
I want to hear the drums of Martha Brae
Weeping in Kumina where the waters part.
Intellectual Sale
What is within sentiment,
but questions of a word.
What is it that is meant,
words upon words, absurd.
Believe to see invisibility,
look for what's not there.
The visibility in its reality,
is the nothingness of nowhere.
Confusion on what is respectable,
and what is able of respect.
The discount priced designer label,
a 25% off sale of your intellect...
bmdavey@1/21/12
I was born in some troubling times,
And bred to work hard and not whine.
Like now, people didn't always behave
As they should, but there was never a
Question about where everyone stood.
But I am seriously saddened these days
Because there are too many foundational
Ways of life disappearing fast or already
Departed. I fear that they rather not return.
I was taught the ten commandments in
School and in school, I learned the golden rule.
Articulation was a major key and coveted tool.
We learned to debate and retain good attitudes.
Lincoln's cherry tree story taught us about honesty.
Our homes, churches, and state taught us about integrity.
Among such colossal treasures, there stood one,
Intellectual Honesty, which is presently a rarity.
Have you seen her? Do you not miss her too?
I look hard and long for such treasures in today's
Great debates and discussions. She's very seriously
Lacking in our halls of academia and governance.
But instead, I find Intellectual Dishonesty in hostile
Conversations. Too few even bother about whether
Something is right or true, but rather, 'Did it go 'viral'?
Back when and where I used to roam, she stood tall
And firm; not considered by anyone an endangered
Species. But currently, there is much concern.
022223PS
i'm not an intellectual
really
i'm not
i've read a book
or two
lost a buck
or few
i'm not an intellectual
really
i got
more heart
than brains
more wings
than chains
besides,
a smart ass
is exactly that